As the last glimmering image of the starlight bird faded from the high dome, the abrupt and splendid display in the White Rose Hall came to a complete end.

But the shadow of Alonso’s departure loomed far heavier over everyone’s hearts than the light show itself.

The silver halo around Archbishop Fernandez quickly receded, but the veins still stood out on the back of the hand gripping his Oak Staff.

His aged face was pulled taut, every wrinkle seemingly etched with impending fury.

He spun around abruptly to face Margaret:

"Your Grace, this situation is too urgent for a celebration. Such an outrageous declaration from the Tower of Secret Silver is tantamount to a declaration of war against the Church Court and the established order of the kingdoms! The Plane Waymark in the Iron Ridge Mountain Range concerns the safety of the entire Continent. I must return to the Holy City at once and report this in person before the Pope’s Throne! Forgive me, but I can no longer participate in these festivities!"

Margaret let go of Eleanor but kept her daughter shielded behind her.

Facing Fernandez’s urgent and grave gaze, she gave a slight nod:

"You are absolutely right, Your Eminence. A provocation of this magnitude is no mere diplomatic dispute; it strikes at the very foundation of our faith and the security of the Kingdom. Please, depart at once. The Temeris Territory will immediately enter a state of high alert, and we will report the details to the Royal Capital as soon as possible."

She paused for a moment, her tone growing firmer:

"Please inform His Holiness the Pope that the Temeris Clan and the Vilt Kingdom have always stood with the Church Court, united against all external threats."

Upon hearing this, the tension in Fernandez’s expression eased slightly. He gave Margaret a deep, meaningful look.

He said no more, only striking his Scepter sharply on the floor once. Then, surrounded by Assistant Priests, he turned and strode toward a side door. The hem of his white Sacrificial Robe kicked up a swift gust of wind as he quickly vanished from sight.

The Archbishop’s hasty departure made the atmosphere in the hall even more fraught and complex.

The nobles exchanged glances, each seeing the shock and unease in the others’ eyes.

Alonso’s declaration—to fully activate the Plane Waymark and channel the power of the New Realm—had dropped a heavy stone into the hearts of all present.

This meant that the existing power structures, the system of faith, and even the relationships between kingdoms could all face a disruptive shock.

War, resources, choosing sides, the survival of their families... These questions, infinitely heavier than birthday wishes and social pleasantries, instantly became the overwhelming concern on everyone’s mind.

Just then, a clear, childlike voice shattered the suffocating silence in the hall.

"Mother," Eleanor said, looking up with her small face and tugging on Margaret’s sleeve, "the glowing uncle left... Are we... are we still going to celebrate my birthday?"

Margaret looked down at the sound of her voice.

As she looked at her daughter, the expression on her face visibly softened.

She knelt down to meet Eleanor’s eyes, reaching out to gently brush her daughter’s soft cheek. Her fingertips paused for a moment on the spot between her brows, where there was no longer any mark.

"Of course we are, my treasure." Margaret’s voice regained its motherly warmth. "Today is the fifth anniversary of the day you came into this world, and nothing will get in the way of your celebration."

She stood up and turned to face the hall once more.

In that instant, her entire bearing changed. She was no longer simply a mother, but the Duke who truly held command, the ruler of the Vilt Kingdom’s Southern Territory.

Her gaze slowly swept over the guests below, their expressions varied and their minds clearly unsettled:

"My apologies for the alarm. The recent incident was merely an interlude in our celebration. Today, we have all gathered here for one primary purpose: to celebrate the fifth birthday of the Temeris Clan’s Little Princess, Eleanor Leonice Temeris."

She raised her voice slightly, her tone composed and powerful:

"Thank you for your blessings and for bearing witness. The luncheon, the garden tour, and the special arrangement at the Observatory this evening will all proceed as planned. Taymer Palace will always welcome its true friends and will always safeguard the joy and order it is meant to hold."

Her words were calm, as if the declaration that had been enough to shake the Continent was nothing more than an insignificant breeze.

This extraordinary composure helped many of the anxious nobles to steady their nerves slightly.

As Margaret finished speaking, her chief lady-in-waiting, Annabelle, who had been standing by, stepped forward at the perfect moment and announced in a steady voice, "The gift presentation will now continue. We invite the next honored guest to come forward..."

Under her guidance, and despite the still-strained atmosphere, the ceremony’s proceedings were forcibly pulled back on track.

The nobles collected their thoughts, composed their expressions, and came forward one by one to present their valuable, long-prepared gifts to the little birthday girl on the high platform, offering standardized words of blessing.

It was just that behind every smile, there was an added layer of distracted thought.

At her mother’s prompting, Eleanor obediently accepted the blessings, curtsied, and did her best to maintain a proper smile on her small face.

After the final guest in the conventional sequence, a Viscountess from the Western Territory, presented an exquisitely embroidered tapestry and stepped back, the gazes of many nobles turned in unison toward the silent figure in the front row. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

According to the protocol of the Temeris Duke Domain, as "Count O’Connor," a title personally bestowed upon him by Duchess Margaret, his gift was to be presented last. This was both an acknowledgment of his status and a reflection of the Duke’s authority.

Under the crowd’s watchful gaze, Murphy slowly rose from his seat. He walked with a steady gait toward the high platform, moving through the path that the crowd automatically cleared for him.