Act III, Scene II — The Hall of Rotted Banners
Enter PRINCESS ALFREDA, cloaked in travel-stained garb. LORD HOWLANDE stands before the throne, flanked by courtiers.
ALFREDA:
You speak of blood, my lord, as if it were coin—
Stamped, weighed, and spent by men like you.
But mine runs with fire, not ink.
And I have walked the frost-bound roads alone,
While you dined beneath banners stitched by traitors.
HOWLANDE:
Bold words from a girl who wore no crown.
The realm needs steel, not sentiment.
A sovereign must be more than her mother’s smile.
ALFREDA:
Then let steel speak.
If you would test my claim, draw blade and not breath.
For I have learned that truth, when cloaked in silence,
Is the sharpest dagger of all.
She throws back her cloak, revealing the sigil of the Phoenix Crown. Gasps ripple through the court.
HOWLANDE (aside):
So the fire lives still. Gods help us.