The bells began at dawn.
Not hurried. Not loud. A single tone... stretched across the sky like thread through silk. Then silence. Then again.
By the third toll, the city had already stopped moving.
Shutters opened. Doors stood ajar. Traders paused with hands on coin. Cloaks were folded. Children were hushed. Even the crows circling the white towers veered off toward the sea.
In the High Quarter, the square before the Steps of Mercy filled without being called.
No horns. No town criers. No posted decree.
Only the bells.
And the knowledge of what they meant.
---
At the ninth toll, the guards came forward in rows of six. They did not speak. Their armor was muted, the steel darkened with ash and velvet. Behind them came the priests... walking barefoot, each holding a single white candle. Even the wind seemed to bow.
A black banner was carried between two of them. It bore no crest. No name. Just a sword pointing downward through a circle of seven stars.
The symbol of a man no longer living.
The banner was raised above the dais.
And the people knelt.
---
When King Bendragon stepped onto the platform, no one cheered.
They only lowered their heads further.
He wore no crown. No furs. No armor. His robe was plain, the color of weathered stone. The only adornment was the ring on his left hand... deep gold, with a single mark carved into the face.
A circle within a circle.
He raised one hand.
The bells stopped.
---
"My people," he said.
The voice was not loud. It didn't need to be. It carried the way snow carried silence... across rooftops, across breath, across doubt.
"Last night, the Marshal of Elarith returned to the sky."
No gasps. No weeping. Just a single breath from thousands. Drawn in... held.
"He died in rest. Without pain. Without fear. As the faithful do."
The priests bowed low.
Bendragon continued.
"There will be no uncertainty. There will be no delay. The Church has given blessing. Until my divine judgment calls forth a worthy replacement, Mira of the Letters will oversee matters of state defense... in loyalty, in silence, in obedience."
No one spoke.
No one stood.
Only the flicker of white candles, and the sound of robes shifting in prayer.
---
The King's voice softened.
"Do not let your hearts tremble. Elarith is eternal."
He looked to the sky. Then back to them.
"And I am with you."
He lowered his hand.
And every person in the square... pressed their foreheads to the stone.
---
The banner was folded.
The priests turned.
The bells rang one last time.
---
Later, in the high chambers of the palace, the King stood alone beside the window.
No music played. No servant moved.
The sun traced a faint line across the marble.
He removed the ring from his finger.
Not quickly. Not slowly.
Set it on the table.
And said nothing.