Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 737: The King’s New Order [Part-2]

The King’s New Order [Part-2]

Black glanced sideways at him with the faintest hint of a grin.

"Try not to make my job harder than it already is," Black muttered quietly.

Johny chuckled under his breath. "No promises."

A ripple of restrained amusement moved through a few of the officers standing nearby, quickly dying down when Leon raised his final finger.

"And finally... Prime Minister — Lady Alina."

The name hung in the hall.

Not loud. Silence made it stronger. A hush moved across the room, heavy as wind before rain.

Footsteps tapped across the stone as some lords adjusted their stance. Quiet voices curled through the chamber, shared between a few. Known for her quick thinking, Alina never bent under pressure - power moved around her like wind near a cliff edge.

Breathing slow, Leon waited for the chaos to fade. Then he moved forward.

"As you all know," Leon continued, "Prime Minister Alina is currently away on an important mission. She has not yet returned, but she will rejoin us very soon."

A hush fell between the elders when one shifted closer, murmuring sideways, "Alina never stirs unless the ground beneath us shifts too."

His companion gave a tight nod. "That woman doesn’t move without a purpose."

Frozen in place, Leon’s eyes returned to the trio that stood in front of him.

Black.

Johny.

Ronan.

Beside him they’d stayed, right from when the crown first rested on his head.

"But today," Leon said, his voice softening slightly, "before anything else... I must thank the three of you."

A hush rolled through the room when the voice changed sharp and fast.

Up above, Black saw the two boys staring his way - Johny beside Ronan, both quiet.

A quiet shift in posture came over Leon as he sat on the throne, elbow pressing into the grooved wood. His gaze landed on them, steady and warm, gold irises dimmed by memory rather than rule. Not crowns or titles mattered here - just shared scars, just steps taken together through smoke and ruin. The silence between them held more weight than any decree ever could.

"For the time since I took the throne," Leon continued, "you have stood beside me."

Floating just above the floorboards, his voice moved without hurry down the hall.

"Commander Black and Vice Commander Johny - you strengthened the army. You recruited new soldiers, organized our defenses, and ensured that our military remained loyal to the crown."

Head down, Black stood quiet. Stillness took hold of him then.

"Only doing my duty, Your Majesty," he said.

A weight settled beneath Johny’s palm as it rested against his ribs.

"The army stands with you," he added firmly. "Always."

A flicker of movement came from Leon as he dipped his head slightly. His eyes then turned, landing on Ronan.

A hush settled, different now. Stillness crept in where noise had been.

"And Lord Ronan..."

The sky dimmed as he raised his eyes. A pause settled between breaths.

Stillness held him at first. Straight-backed, fingers linked behind his spine. Years on duty had shaped that silence into something solid.

He carried himself without pride. A quiet confidence meant he never had to show off.

A quiet strength lived in his eyes - steady, unmoving, like someone who watched empires bloom then vanish. Wars came and slipped away under his watch. Agreements signed neatly often ended in violence he’d witnessed too many times. Rulers climbed high on promises; some stood tall. Others shattered, crushed by the very power they wore.

Many men stood in that throne hall.

Few carried experience like his.

Leon watched him for a brief moment before speaking again.

"But you carried the heaviest burden."

Ronan said nothing.

Not out of hesitation—simply because he didn’t feel the need to interrupt his king.

Leon continued calmly.

"You were not only managing foreign diplomacy. You were overseeing nearly every other ministry as well."

His voice lowered slightly, not with anger, but with quiet acknowledgement.

"Finance, trade, internal governance, supply management, city administration... all of it."

The room fell silent.

A few officials exchanged glances.

Some of them had only recently begun to realize just how much of the kingdom’s machinery had been quietly running through Ronan’s hands.

Even Black glanced sideways at Ronan, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes held a flicker of respect as he studied the older man.

He knew how brutal administrative work could be.

Battles were easier. At least on the battlefield, the enemy stood in front of you.

Politics was different.

"You had assistance," Leon said, nodding toward Black and Johny. "But even with their help... most of the responsibility rested on your shoulders."

Ronan let out a slow breath through his nose.

For the first time, he looked slightly uncomfortable.

Not because the king was wrong.

But because he had never done those things seeking recognition.

"It was my duty, my king," he said quietly.

His voice carried no pride, no complaint.

Just simple truth.

Black shifted his stance and stepped forward slightly, the heavy thud of his boots echoing across the stone floor.

"It was our duty as well," he added firmly.

His tone was steady, protective almost—as if refusing to let Ronan carry that burden alone.

Johny nodded immediately beside him.

"Yes, my king."

Ronan exhaled slowly, the breath leaving his chest like the release of a weight he had carried far too long. For a brief moment, the stern minister allowed the hard lines of his face to soften. A small, tired smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"Yes... the workload was heavy," he admitted after a pause. His voice was steady, but there was honesty in it. "But serving the crown is not a burden I would ever regret."

Black gave a low grunt of approval beside him, arms folded across his chest. Johny nodded again, more firmly this time, as if the words deserved acknowledgment.

Inside Ronan’s heart, however, something deeper stirred.

His gaze drifted toward the throne.

Toward Leon.

For a fleeting moment, the political strategist disappeared, replaced by something simpler—something more human.

I chose the right man.

The thought came quietly, but with absolute certainty.

The man my daughter now stands beside.

A quiet pride warmed his chest, spreading through him like sunlight breaking through winter clouds. It was not the pride of a minister serving a capable king.

It was the pride of a father who knew his daughter had chosen well.

Leon noticed the shift in Ronan’s expression. His golden eyes were sharp enough to catch the smallest flicker of emotion.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he leaned back slightly in the throne, the motion calm and controlled. The hall remained silent around them, the weight of authority resting naturally on his shoulders.

"For your dedication," he said, his voice steady and clear, "I thank you."