The throne room was illuminated by light filtering through the stained-glass windows, casting golden and crimson reflections across the tapestries that told the glories of the Erkhan dynasty. King Felipe Erkhan, his face hardened and jaw tight, listened in silence as his chancellor delivered the daily report.
"Your Majesty," the chancellor said, his voice threaded with concern, "the temples have grown in influence at a pace beyond any previous record. In particular, the Temple of the God of Lightning has mobilized crowds who are no longer content merely to worship… they demand to be governed by his chosen: the third prince, Leonardo."
Felipe frowned and placed both hands on the arms of the throne. He closed his eyes for a moment. He did not know whether he feared the divine more… or the ambition it could awaken in his own son's heart.
"Explain the scale of this 'movement,' Edran," he said at last, his voice firm but edged with alarm. "How many citizens are we speaking of?"
"Roughly twenty percent of the population has actively aligned itself with the temples," the chancellor replied. "Of those, more than half recognize Leonardo as a divine hero and have begun to question the authority of the throne. His followers demand that he rule under the guidance of the temples. Formal petitions have already been submitted… and some have escalated into riots."
"We do not know whether the prince himself encourages this fervor," added the military advisor, "or if he merely allows it. But if it continues, containing it will become increasingly difficult."
Felipe rose and began walking slowly before the dais.
"This is not merely faith… it is a threat to the crown." His fingers tightened around the carved wood of the throne's backrest. "My son is being used as a symbol of power. And Andrew… Andrew feels the pressure. His brother's shadow grows over the rightful heir."
"Your Majesty, the fanatics have begun organizing," the military advisor warned. "They form cells, patrol the streets, and each sermon intensifies their zeal. Some have already clashed with the royal guard. If this escalates… we may face an insurrection."
The king stopped, closing his eyes in quiet sorrow.
"This is no longer politics… it is faith. And the gods have begun to play with the hearts of my citizens. The city stands on the brink of division—between loyalty to the throne… and devotion to a son who is not the heir."
"What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Edran asked, holding his breath.
Felipe lifted his gaze toward the stained glass, now glowing with the colors of the setting sun.
"We will control the narrative. The temples and the faith will be respected—but we will not allow a son of mine to be exalted above the crown. Leonardo must understand his duty as a hero, not as a ruler. And Andrew will receive our support. We will not allow his position to weaken while the fanatics grow."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Edran said with a nod. "I will draft a decree and reinforce the guard around the temples. We will inform the court scholars: they must counter the excessive glorification of the hero."
"The Prince Andrew has requested an audience," he added carefully. "He did not mention his brother. But everyone noticed—he arrived before dawn."
Felipe sat again upon the throne and released a restrained sigh.
If a god chooses a man… how long before the faithful try to dethrone their king?
"Let no one forget," he said aloud, "a god may bless… but a king maintains control. This throne is still mine, even if I must face sons, devotees… and gods."
His voice lowered into a whisper heavier than any decree.
"Let the gods bless, if they wish. But remember this well: this kingdom is not ruled from the altars… it is ruled from this throne."
As silence settled over the hall, Felipe thought:
I do not fear divinity… but the men who claim to speak in its name.
The crimson light crossed the stained glass, tearing across the tapestries like an open wound.