Grace stood before the council chamber, sleeves rolled up, hands ink-stained.
“The first edict," she said, laying a parchment on the table, “bans the use of thrall collars across all Ironclaw lands. From now on, justice is not humiliation."
Elder Merton nodded. “Agreed."
“The second—" she paused, lifting another scroll, “—converts the west armory into a free school for pups orphaned by war. We'll name it Haven House. In Johnson's honor."
A murmur rippled through the room. Aldric's voice was quiet. “He would've liked that."
Grace didn't look up. “He deserved it."
She moved to the third scroll. “Restorative justice councils will replace the old punishment tribunal. No more public lashings. No more exile without mediation."
A younger councilor frowned. “Some offenses—"
“Still merit co
