The world froze.
The grey, heavy sky hung over the funeral procession, as if time itself had frozen, not knowing how to move on - whether to mourn the great king of Demonia, or simply retreat, disappear, dissolve into the endless grey. Victoria stood motionless at the edge of the deep grave, clutching the edges of her mourning cloak in her fists. The icy wind whipped her face, but she did not feel it - the cold that gripped her was much deeper, much more painful. It pierced her through, penetrating her heart like thin ice needles. The cold of loss, the cold of loneliness.
Before her stood the coffin of her father - King Irfan de Luna. Massive, black, covered in dark burgundy velvet, with ancient symbols of demonic power skillfully embroidered on it. Majestic and menacing, as if even after death he wanted to remind us of the strength and power he had in life. Victoria looked at him, immersed in a fog of memories. Irfan was a man she respected, feared, and at the same time sincerely loved. He taught her that there was nothing more important in the world than strength and determination, and now he was no longer there.
The priest, a tall old man with a long gray beard, dressed in black and silver robes, raised his hands to the gray sky, addressing the Trinity of Archangels. His voice was deep and measured, like the whisper of the sea on a quiet night.
"Athariel, Guardian of Reality, cover the soul of the deceased with your light," the priest's words echoed loudly across the cemetery. "Morinfael, Lady of Chaos, accept his mistakes and protect our world from their consequences. Entropiel, Fallen Archangel, be a witness to his path and guide him to his final rest. Let the trinity of archangels guard his eternal sleep.
Victoria heard every word, but they were empty, distant, devoid of true meaning. Archangels, balance of power, prayers - all of this now seemed like beautiful lies, invented to calm the common people. "Wasn't my father the one who truly created order?" flashed through her mind. "Wasn't he the one who held this world in his hands, resisting chaos and war? And now he too has died, like a mere mortal."
Victoria slowly glanced at the assembled group. Everyone was there: generals in ceremonial uniforms, aristocrats with cold faces and high-ranking officials who looked on with almost indifference. Among them, there were several people who stood out, people she knew well, but rarely interacted with directly.
Her attention was drawn to Count Emil von Harden, an elderly aristocrat with a piercing, stern gaze. Emil was known for his restraint and loyalty to the throne, but his eternal thoughtfulness always seemed strange and even suspicious to Victoria. Now he stood motionless, his eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, but there was no sympathy in them - only cold curiosity.
A little further away stood Lady Selina Lorval, a young but already influential noblewoman, known for her sharp tongue and no less sharp mind. Victoria noticed a slight smile flashing across her face, as if she knew some secret inaccessible to others. This smile made Victoria shudder and for a moment feel inner anger.
But most of all, her attention was drawn to Lucian Dreidus. Her father's adviser stood straight, confident, his eyes fixed directly on her. A small, smug smile froze on his lips, as if he already considered her his next prey.
"They are watching me," Victoria thought, feeling the fire of rage flare up in her chest, immediately extinguished by her cold mind. "They are waiting, testing who I really am. Will I be a weak girl, or am I worthy of becoming their queen?"
The funeral ceremony came to an end, people began to slowly disperse, and Victoria remained standing by the grave, as if chained by memories. She shuddered, feeling the light touch of her faithful servant Raoul's hand on her shoulder.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly and respectfully, "it is time for you to go to the coronation."
Her heart sank painfully. The word "queen" sounded unnatural and alien. But there was no other choice. She had to go forward, to carry the crown her father had left her as an inheritance.
"I am ready," she whispered, straightening up. Her voice was quiet but firm, as if she were reassuring herself.
Raoul bowed respectfully, stepping back and allowing Victoria to go first. She took one last look at her father's grave, promising herself that she would never allow herself to be weak again.
This death was to be her birth—the birth of a new, strong queen.
The throne room of the Demonia castle was enormous and struck the imagination with its grandeur and severity. The high ceilings were lost in the semi-darkness, barely illuminated by massive torches that cast long, bizarre shadows on the walls covered with portraits of the previous rulers of the kingdom. Victoria walked slowly along the long red carpet, feeling dozens of stern eyes looking at her from the paintings, assessing and demanding to prove the right to occupy this throne.
Her heart pounded in her chest so hard that it seemed even the aristocrats gathered in the hall could hear its booming beat. She felt the intent gaze of the guests on her: many familiar and unfamiliar faces, aristocrats and generals, advisers and diplomats, people who had known her since birth, and those who saw her for the first time. They studied her, looking for weakness, but Victoria forced herself to walk with her head held high, holding herself confidently, as if not noticing their penetrating glances.
Before her stood a throne carved from a single block of black stone, adorned with engravings of demonic symbols and glowing blood-red rubies that glittered in the torchlight. Next to the throne stood Archmage Galenor, dressed in ceremonial black robes embroidered with gold. In his hands he held a crown made of black metal with red crystals that burned with a cold, mystical fire.
Galenor stepped forward and gestured for Victoria to kneel. She complied, feeling all eyes in the hall now focused solely on her.
"Victoria de Luna," the Archmage said solemnly, his voice echoing deeply, filling the entire hall. "Henceforth and forevermore, you shall be the Queen of Demonia." Do you swear to protect the laws and people of your kingdom, even if it costs you your life?
Victoria felt her insides tighten with tension and anxiety, but her answer was clear and confident, as if she had been preparing for it her entire life:
"I swear."
The Archmage carefully placed the crown on her head. Victoria felt the weight of this symbol not only physically, but also mentally. It seemed as if the weight of centuries of responsibility and struggle had fallen upon her along with the crown. She slowly rose to her feet, meeting the faces in the portraits of the previous rulers with her gaze.
"I will not fail you. I will be worthy of your legacy," she said mentally.
At that moment, the hall burst into applause, loud and restrained, as etiquette demanded. Victoria looked at the assembled people, feeling relieved and at the same time realizing that the coronation was only the beginning of the real test.
The celebration gradually turned into a ball in honor of the new queen. Guests began to gather in the neighboring hall, luxuriously decorated with golden chandeliers and expensive fabrics. Victoria stopped at the door, feeling like a stranger in this magnificent, but false celebration. She was sure that most of the guests did not believe in her strength and ability to rule.
Unexpectedly, Count Emil von Harden, whom she had noticed at the funeral, approached her. His face was stern, but his eyes looked softer than usual.
"Your Majesty," he bowed respectfully, "allow me to express my sincere congratulations on your coronation."
"Thank you, Count Harden," Victoria answered carefully, trying to understand the Count's intentions.
"Let me give you a little advice, Your Majesty," he said a little quieter, almost in a whisper. "Be careful of those who applaud the loudest today. True loyalty is usually quiet."
These words made Victoria think, but she only nodded briefly, hiding her excitement behind an even gaze.
"I will take your words into account, Count," she answered reservedly. "I am glad to know that among my advisers there are people who care not only about the crown, but also about the kingdom."
Count Harden smiled slightly, and approval flashed in his eyes for a moment before he disappeared into the crowd of guests.
Victoria barely had time to take a few steps when she was intercepted by Lady Celina Lorval, elegant and confident as always. A barely noticeable, coquettish smile played on her lips.
"My congratulations, Your Majesty," she said, bowing her head low. — I believe that Demonia now has a bright and undoubtedly interesting future.
Victoria looked at her carefully, trying to decipher the meaning of what was said.
— I hope this future will be favorable for all of us, — she said coldly.
— Time will tell, — Selina smiled mysteriously, stepping aside, leaving Victoria with an unpleasant feeling of anxiety.
Finally, her gaze met Lucian Dreydus, standing surrounded by several advisers. He smiled confidently, as if waiting for her reaction. Victoria felt a flame flaring up inside her, ready to flare up at any moment.
— I am ready to accept this challenge, Dreydus, — she mentally threw him, although her face remained impassive and impenetrable.
She slowly entered the hall, trying to hide her inner anxiety and show everyone that the new queen was not afraid of intrigue or trials.
The coronation ball was magnificent, but Victoria found the atmosphere of the room cold and repulsive, as if the splendor of the celebration were only a screen hiding the guests' true feelings. The enormous crystal chandeliers that brightly illuminated the spacious hall seemed unable to dispel the shadow that hung over the young queen's heart. The aristocrats, officials, and generals, beautifully dressed and outwardly impeccable, looked like actors in a theater playing roles that had long since lost their meaning for them.
Victoria stepped aside, taking a position in a distant corner of the room, from where she could calmly observe what was happening. The guests passing by her politely smiled and bowed their heads in respect, but she felt only emptiness and pretense in these gestures.
Suddenly, a muffled whisper reached her ears, sounding behind her:
"Too young… Never comparable to Irfan…"
Victoria's heart sank painfully. She turned sharply, trying to notice the speakers, but they had already disappeared into the crowd. The feeling of helplessness instantly gave way to cold irritation.
"Your Majesty, do not pay attention to these trifles," a deep male voice sounded nearby, calm and slightly ironic.
Victoria turned her head and met the gaze of Marquis Alric Ravenholt. Tall and stately, with silver temples and piercing gray eyes, Alric always kept somewhat aloof from palace intrigues, but was highly respected among the aristocracy for his wisdom and experience.
"This is not a trifle, Marquis," she answered quietly, keeping her voice calm. "These people doubt me even before I have had time to prove anything."
"And they will always doubt," Alric calmly noted, taking a small sip of wine from a crystal goblet. "Until you prove otherwise, they will wait for you to make a mistake. But I am sure that you will not allow this. You are Irfan's daughter, and his blood flows in your veins. People know it, they are just afraid to admit it."
"Thank you for believing in me, Marquis," Victoria answered reservedly, feeling a little relieved by his words. "But people's recognition does not come only through blood. It comes through actions.
- Well said, Your Majesty, - the Marquis's voice became a little quieter, almost a whisper. - However, be careful: sometimes even the right actions have unpleasant consequences. The people do not always understand what is best for themselves.
Having said this, the Marquis bowed and quietly walked away to a group of other aristocrats, leaving Victoria to ponder his words.
At that moment, her gaze fell again on Lucian Dreidus. He stood surrounded by several influential people, including Count Harlen Valdemar and General Walter Kress, and was actively talking about something. When he noticed her intent gaze, a barely noticeable, defiant smile appeared on his face.
- Your Majesty, - a soft female voice sounded next to Victoria.
She turned and saw in front of her a young girl about her age, with long black hair and bright green eyes. It was Lady Ariana Avery, the daughter of one of the most influential aristocrats of the capital. Ariana was always friendly and open, but her paths with Victoria rarely crossed.
"Lady Ariana," Victoria smiled slightly, greeting her, "I am glad to see you at this celebration."
"Oh, I would not miss your coronation for anything in the world," Ariana said with a smile. "And do not pay attention to these arrogant old men. They are accustomed to the old order and are afraid of change. But I am sure that your reign will bring something new and bright to Demonia."
"You speak as if you already know what my reign will be like," Victoria noted with a slight smile, feeling sympathy for the lively and spontaneous Ariana.
"I don't know," Ariana shrugged, "but I believe in it. After all, you are not like your father, and this can be your advantage. Irfan was a great king, but he never tried to change the world, only to hold on to it. Perhaps it is time for Demonia to try something different?"
Victoria looked at Ariana thoughtfully, feeling an unexpected depth in her words. She nodded, lightly touching the girl's hand.
"Thank you, Ariana. Your words give me hope."
Ariana blushed slightly from the praise and bowed, disappearing into the crowd of guests. Victoria felt her confidence returning, and her anger and irritation gradually receding.
She took a deep breath and slowly walked towards the balcony, deciding to get away from the noise and other people's eyes for a moment to put her thoughts and feelings in order. The wind was cool but refreshing, and Victoria looked at the lights of the night capital spread out before her.
"Today was only the beginning," she thought, clenching her fists. "I will not allow either the opposition or others to doubt me. I will show them all what I am capable of."
The balcony became a small island of calm for Victoria in the raging sea of hypocrisy. She breathed in the cool night air deeply, feeling the tension in her chest slowly recede. The sky was almost black, only a few stars barely twinkled, as if they themselves were afraid to attract too much attention to this day. The capital of Demonia spread out before her, faintly flickering with thousands of lights.
She thought about how many people at this very moment were raising their glasses to her health, but in their hearts they believed that she was unworthy of her crown. The words of the Marquis of Ravenholt and Lady Ariana still sounded in her thoughts, but the feeling of loneliness did not leave her.
Suddenly, cautious footsteps were heard. Victoria turned and saw her faithful servant Raoul. He bowed with his usual restraint:
"Your Majesty, the guests are awaiting your speech. They have gathered in the throne room.
She nodded and calmly replied:
"Thank you, Raoul. I'm on my way."
Walking down the hallway to the throne room, Victoria couldn't help but stop at a large stained glass window depicting a trinity of archangels. Atariel was depicted surrounded by blinding light, Morinfael was surrounded by flames and chaos, and Entropiel was in shadow, symbolizing the end of all things. Victoria paused, looking thoughtfully at the images of the gods who had always seemed so distant and indifferent to her.
"Why do people continue to believe in them so blindly?" she thought, feeling a slight chill of irritation. "They do nothing when we need them most."
Victoria pushed these thoughts away and entered the throne room. Instantly, all conversations died down. The assembled nobles and advisers froze, their gazes fixed on her. She walked across the hall with her head held high, climbed onto the dais, and stood before everyone.
"Friends, advisors, aristocrats of Demonia," she began confidently, her voice firm and clear despite the inner trembling. "Today we enter a new era. My father, King Irfan, was a great ruler who held our kingdom in his hands for many years, despite endless wars and conflicts. But we must admit that this era has passed. Demonia now needs a different path. A path of unity and internal prosperity, and not endless bloodshed and destruction."
She paused briefly, letting the words sink in. Approving murmurs mixed with cautious, skeptical negotiations could be heard in the hall.
"My reign will be aimed at strengthening our state from within," Victoria continued, raising her voice. — I want Demonia to be a symbol not of fear, but of stability and well-being.
There was a sudden movement among the guests, and Lucian Dreidus stepped forward. He walked slowly and with dignity closer to the dais, stopping at a sufficient distance for his voice to be heard by all.
— Fine words, Your Majesty, — he spoke loudly, his voice sounded velvety, but there was a clear sense of hidden threat in it. — But don't you think that they are too naive for our reality? Our enemies are only waiting for a sign of weakness. What will internal prosperity give us if external forces decide to take advantage of it?
The hall became animated, many began to whisper, supporting Dreidus's words or expressing disagreement. Victoria pressed her lips together and answered firmly and coldly:
— Demonia has been torn apart by wars and conflicts for too long. True strength is not senseless sacrifices, but wise management and stability. If we continue to live only for war, soon there will be nothing left to fight for.
Dreydus chuckled coldly and spoke louder, as if addressing not only her but the entire hall:
"Your father understood that the safety of Demonia can only be ensured by force. The common people suffer because they fear our enemies. Your kindness can be mistaken for weakness, and weakness always attracts predators.
These words caused a quiet hum among the aristocrats. Victoria felt the irritation and rage inside her growing, but her voice remained calm and confident:
"If the power of Demonia lies only in war and destruction, then this is not strength, but weakness. I do not intend to continue the path that will lead us to self-destruction. My task is to protect this people and give them hope, not fear."
Dreydus took a step back, demonstratively spreading his arms:
"Well, Your Majesty, show us that you are capable of not just speaking beautifully, but also acting. Prove to everyone that your naivety will not destroy Demonia."
"I will prove it," Victoria answered firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. "But not to you, Dreydus. I will prove it to my people. And you will be the first to see that true strength lies in peace and prosperity.
Her words were confident, and the hall fell silent. But Dreydus was not going to give up.
"Prosperity?" Dreydus turned sharply to her, his voice growing louder. "Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but what does one who sits in a castle surrounded by luxury know about prosperity? The common people of Demonia live in fear because we are considered weak! Your father knew this, he knew that an iron fist was needed to protect Demonia. And you want to replace it with a soft pillow?"
"How desperately you try to hold back the militarization of the kingdom," she said, her voice ringing like steel. "It is not for you, Dreydus, or for these walls to decide the path of Demonia. I will do it. And when you see how Demonia prospers, you will understand that cruelty is weakness, and mercy is strength.
Without waiting for a reaction, Victoria confidently left the dais, heading for the exit of the hall. She felt dozens of eyes watching her every step, but she did not allow herself to look back.
The corridors of the castle plunged into darkness. Victoria's heavy steps echoed along the empty stone walls, as if reminding her that she was now completely alone in her struggle. Dreydus's caustic words still sounded in her head, increasing anxiety and tension.
Around the next turn, in the semi-darkness of the candles, the figure of the man she wanted to see the least now - and at the same time the most needed his presence - was waiting for her. It was Astaron. His figure, slender and calm, seemed like an unbreakable wall behind which Victoria could hide from any troubles.
"Your Majesty," he began quietly, carefully approaching and bowing his head, "how are you feeling?"
Victoria sighed tiredly and tried to smile, but it was weak and uncertain.
"It's hard, Astaron. I thought I was ready for anything. But now... now I'm not even sure I fully understand what I want."
Astaron smiled slightly, his gaze remaining attentive and warm.
"Your uncertainty is normal, Victoria. No king or queen has ever been completely sure of their decisions from day one. Even your father, Irfan, was not always sure of his path."
Victoria looked up sharply, caught by the mention of her father.
"He seemed so unwavering... I never saw him weak or doubting."
Astaron shook his head slightly and smiled sadly:
"That's because he never allowed you to see that side of him. Irfan was a strong, unbending man, but that doesn't mean he didn't have doubts. Especially after he made an alliance with Veriantis and Celestaria.
Victoria frowned and took a little closer:
"You mean his last journey… When he was returning from Veriantis and died?"
Astaron nodded grimly, his gaze darkening:
"Exactly." Back then, many wondered why he took such a risk, going to such a distant kingdom in the east of the continent. Veriantis had always been isolated, with almost no contact with other countries of Askerion. However, Irfan was convinced that an alliance with them and Celestaria was necessary for our stability. He believed that he could create a powerful coalition capable of keeping the world, if not in complete harmony, then at least in relative peace.
Victoria sighed, her voice low and bitter:
— But the world turned away from him.
Astaron continued thoughtfully, lowering his voice slightly:
— You are right, Victoria. He died in the lands of Elgarion, a magocratic republic where the power of the mages has long since degenerated into chaos. There, it is not laws that rule, but force and ambition. Bandits and rebels control entire provinces. They say that your father fell victim to one of these numerous gangs. He simply stumbled upon them on the road... an absurd accident.
Victoria felt her heart squeeze with pain and indignation:
— An accident? Father died because of a simple accident? It seems so unfair... Where were our archangels then? Why didn't they do anything to protect him, when he was only trying to keep the peace?
Astaron looked at her sadly and answered calmly:
"The people's faith in the Trinity is strong, but the archangels rarely interfere with the fates of mere mortals, even if they are kings. Perhaps they don't care, or they simply don't want to interfere in the affairs of our world directly. Many of us ask ourselves these questions, Victoria. And the answers to them are not easy to come by."
Victoria shook her head slowly, feeling a dull irritation growing inside her. Astaron's words began to awaken doubts in her that she had not previously allowed herself to voice.
"Perhaps I expected too much from the gods," she said quietly, looking somewhere into the darkness. "But my father believed in them. He always said that faith strengthens us. Why do I now feel only weakness?"
Astaron came even closer and put his hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but confident:
"You are not weak, Victoria. It's just that now, for the first time, you feel what it's like to be truly alone. But remember that even your father faced the same doubts. He told me that sometimes faith is the only thing left when the world around you is collapsing. But to believe or not is always a choice for each of us. Your father made his choice. Now you must make yours.
Victoria fell silent, thinking deeply about his words. She realized that now she faced not just a choice between war and peace, but something more - a choice between the old and the new, between blind faith and personal responsibility.
"Thank you, Astaron," she said quietly, smiling slightly. "You always know how to bring me back to earth."
He smiled back, warmly and sincerely:
"It is my duty and honor, Your Majesty. Now go and rest, tomorrow will be a new day and new trials."
Victoria nodded and slowly walked down the corridor to her chambers. She knew that the doubts and worries would not disappear overnight, but now she had hope that she could overcome them. And that she would find the answers that had been hidden in the shadows of her family's past for so long.
The next morning was unexpectedly sunny, as if nature had decided to forget the gloom of the past for a while. Victoria sat at a table on a small terrace overlooking the city. The sun's rays fell softly on her face through the light curtains, but she was too lost in her thoughts to really enjoy the warmth of the morning. In front of her stood an almost untouched plate with breakfast, and the aromatic tea, slowly cooling, had long since lost its aroma.
"Your Majesty," Raoul said quietly, entering the terrace. "You are expected in the main hall. The military command has already gathered."
Victoria sighed and nodded briefly:
"I'm on my way, Raoul.
She stood up, adjusted her dress and, raising her head, slowly walked to the main hall, mentally preparing for a new fight with Dreydus and his supporters.
When Victoria entered the hall, the conversations immediately died down. Generals and advisers of Demonia had gathered here - stern people, accustomed to wars and intrigues. Dreydus stood out among them, his tall figure looked confident and defiant. His face retained a cold detachment, but his eyes burned with that dangerous fire that always made Victoria wary.
She took a place at the head of the table and decisively nodded to those present:
- Let's begin the meeting.
The first to speak was General Walter Kress - a man of some age, seasoned by dozens of battles and known for his frankness and rudeness of speech.
— Your Majesty, the army is currently in a stable position. The borders are fairly well guarded, but resources are still limited. It will be difficult for us to cope in the coming months if pressure from neighboring states increases.
— Thank you, General, — Victoria answered calmly, — we will look into this matter in more detail.
Dreydus took the floor next. He rose slowly, carefully pausing to attract the attention of everyone present:
— Your Majesty, I would like to raise a matter that I believe is critical to the security of the state. I am speaking of the Royal Guard.
A low hum of surprise passed through the hall. The Royal Guard was the most important symbol of the Queen's power and security.
— The Royal Guard? — Victoria raised an eyebrow, feeling a slow sense of foreboding building in her chest. — What is wrong with her, Dreydus?
He continued calmly:
"The guard requires a lot of maintenance, but its effectiveness and benefit to the security of the kingdom, in my opinion, are minimal. Especially considering the events of the last few days."
"What exactly do you want to say?" Victoria felt anger slowly begin to boil in her soul.
"I believe that the guard should be disbanded and its functions transferred to the army," Dreydus spoke firmly and clearly. "Your father, King Irfan, understood that the real strength and security of the state lies in the army, and not in beautiful symbols."
Whispers and cautious glances were heard in the hall. Victoria looked closely at the advisor, trying to keep her voice cold and confident:
"My father was a great king, but he also valued symbols and traditions. The Royal Guard is not just a detachment of soldiers, it is a symbol of our independence and strength.
Dreydus allowed himself a slight mocking smile and answered calmly:
"Symbols that do not protect are meaningless, Your Majesty. The people and the army expect decisive action from you, not empty traditions."
"General Dreydus," Victoria's voice was cold and hard, "The Royal Guard will remain. This matter is closed."
Dreydus nodded slowly, although his eyes glowed with hidden menace:
"As you wish, Your Majesty. But remember, I only offered the most reasonable solution. I hope that when these 'symbols' become your burden, you will remember my words."
Victoria rose abruptly from her seat, marking the end of the meeting:
"If there are no other important matters, the meeting is adjourned."
She headed for the exit, feeling heavy gazes on her back. In the corridor, Astaron caught up with her again, clearly concerned about what was happening.
"Victoria, what did Dreydus say?"
She stopped and looked at him wearily:
"He wants to destroy the Royal Guard. He wants the army to be completely subservient to him, not the crown."
Astaron frowned, shaking his head grimly:
"He's starting a game. Be careful with him. This is only the beginning."
"I know, Astaron," she sighed quietly, "but I can't back down now. If I let him do this, I'll lose not only the guard, but all respect in the eyes of the people."
"I'm here, Victoria," Astaron put his hand on her shoulder, calming her down slightly. "Your father believed in you, and I believe in you too. You can handle this challenge."
She nodded silently, gathering her courage:
"I can handle it. I won't let him destroy what my father gave his life for. If I have to play by his rules, I will, but I will win by my own."
Victoria headed to her chambers, feeling a renewed determination within her. Dreydus had challenged her, and now she was ready to give him an answer.
With each passing day, the tension in the capital grew. Alarming reports came from all over the kingdom, making Victoria feel as if she was at the center of some sinister web that was slowly tightening around her.
One by one, news reached her that since her coronation, there had been a sharp increase in spy activity in Demonia. Intelligence was constantly reporting intercepted messages, suspicious characters, and conspiracies that were hatched in the dark alleys of the capital and in the distant provinces. No one could say for sure who was behind it, but everyone knew that it was not accidental.
Victoria was especially worried by the reports of constant skirmishes between the army and the Royal Guard. During the joint exercises, conflicts would arise every now and then, ending in small fights and mutual accusations. Something, as if by an invisible hand, deliberately provoked tension between the two most important forces of the kingdom.
Victoria was sitting at a massive desk in her chambers, thoughtfully leafing through reports, when there was a quiet knock on the door.
"Come in," she said tiredly, without taking her eyes off the papers.
The door opened slightly, and Raoul entered the room, holding a scroll in his hands.
"Your Majesty, more disturbing news has arrived," he began carefully.
"What is it this time, Raoul?" Victoria looked up, feeling how the internal tension began to grow again.
"Another conflict between the guard and the army. The captain of the guard, Raymond Krell, claims that his men were provoked by the army soldiers during training. It almost came to bloodshed. Now the army command insists on the complete disbandment of the guard, accusing it of complete incompetence and lack of discipline.
Victoria sighed irritably, massaging her temples:
"This is the third such incident in a week. It feels like someone is deliberately stirring up conflict between them."
Raoul paused for a moment, but then cautiously continued:
"There is one more detail, Your Majesty. Rumors have begun to spread among the people. Someone is deliberately discrediting the guard, accusing it of cowardice and inability to defend the crown. At the same time, the army, on the contrary, is being presented in a heroic light. Especially after the cleansing of the northeastern mountain ranges…"
"Clearing the mountain ranges?" Victoria raised her head sharply, looking at the servant in surprise.
- Yes, Your Majesty. General Dreydus personally commanded a detachment that allegedly destroyed the remnants of the dragon race that had settled in the northeastern mountains. This news delighted the people. Now everyone talks only about the army and personally about General Dreydus, calling him a true defender of the kingdom.
Victoria felt anger, mixed with worry and irritation, flare up inside her:
- The remnants of the dragon race... Dreydus is clearly playing to the crowd. An ideal opportunity to show himself as a hero and at the same time denigrate my guard.
- It looks like it, Your Majesty, - Raoul quietly agreed.
Victoria rose from the table and went to the window, thoughtfully looking at the city. People in the capital now only talked about the exploits of the army, and the guard, which was a symbol of her power, now became the subject of ridicule and suspicion.
She mentally replayed the events of the last few days, realizing that she was in an extremely difficult situation. She needed to make a decision quickly, otherwise she risked losing control of the situation.
"Raoul," she said sharply, without turning around, "call Captain of the Guard Raymond Krell to me immediately. I need to hear from him personally what is happening at these training sessions."
"It will be done, Your Majesty," Raoul bowed and quickly left the room.
Left alone, Victoria felt how fatigue overwhelmed her with renewed vigor. Images of the Trinity of Archangels, indifferently looking down on what was happening from above, flashed through her thoughts again. The more she tried to find support in religion, the more the feeling of disappointment grew within her. It seemed that the Archangels were silently watching her struggle, not helping in any way and not interfering in any way, despite the prayers and appeals of the people.
"How much longer must I endure alone?" — she whispered softly, looking up at the sky, as if expecting an answer. But the sky was silent, leaving her with a feeling of deep, painful emptiness.
Victoria took a deep breath, gathering the remnants of her will into a fist. She knew that she could not allow herself to break now. If she had to fight alone against everyone, then so be it. She was ready to face any trials that fate had in store for her.
And the first step was to find out who was really behind all these conflicts and the secret war against her power. She needed to act quickly, before the situation got completely out of control.
Half an hour later, Captain of the Royal Guard Raymond Krell entered Victoria's chambers. Tall and fit, he had always been straightforward and honest, for which the late King Irfan respected him. But now even the captain's usually calm face looked tense and stern.
"Your Majesty," he said clearly and formally, dropping to one knee in front of Victoria. "Your summons?"
"Rise, Captain," Victoria said softly, gesturing to the chair opposite. "Sit down. We have a serious conversation ahead of us."
Krell nodded stiffly and sat up straight, waiting for the Queen's questions. Victoria looked at him for a few seconds, as if trying to get into his thoughts, then began quietly:
— I have received several alarming reports of recent clashes between the Royal Guard and the Army during joint training. Can you explain to me what is going on, Captain? Why are the two most important forces in the Kingdom suddenly at odds with each other?
Krell took a deep breath, a look of weariness flashing across his face, but he quickly regained his old resolve.
— Your Majesty, these clashes are not without reason. The Army has been deliberately provoking us lately. Dreidus's soldiers have been acting very defiantly, as if trying to prove that the Guard is useless and weak.
— Give me specific examples, Captain, — Victoria asked calmly, feeling her anxiety rising again.
— During our recent joint training, the Army began publicly mocking our training, — Krell reported clearly. — They claim that the Guard is outdated and fit only for an honor guard, nothing more. And yesterday, one of the army officers openly stated that we could not even protect our own queen if it were necessary.
Victoria's face froze with indignation and anger, but she forced herself to contain her emotions:
"And how did you react?"
"I did not allow my people to get involved in an open fight, although it was close to it," the captain continued, restraining his indignation. "However, this is clearly a planned campaign, Your Majesty. Someone is deliberately trying to present us as incompetent, to make the guard a laughing stock and to ignite a conflict."
"Do you have any suspicions about who exactly is behind this?" Victoria asked cautiously, although she already knew the answer.
The captain paused for a moment, as if considering whether to express his thoughts, but in the end he said decisively:
"General Dreydus, Your Majesty. I cannot accuse him openly, I have no direct evidence, but everything points to him. His influence in the army is enormous, the soldiers trust him blindly. Moreover, he emphasizes his successes in every possible way, such as clearing the northeastern mountains of dragons, in order to discredit us even more.
Victoria shook her head gloomily:
"Dreydus is becoming too confident in himself. Now he almost openly challenges my authority, and people are beginning to trust him more than me."
Krell looked her firmly in the eyes, raising his voice slightly:
"Your Majesty, we do not doubt you. The guard remains loyal to the crown. However, the soldiers of the army and many ordinary people think differently. Someone is actively spreading rumors that discredit the guard and you personally. People are increasingly saying that you are too young and not ready to rule. Many in the army openly declare that only Dreydus can save the kingdom from chaos.
Victoria sighed heavily, feeling how these words hurt her pride and honor:
"Do you think that the situation can escalate into open confrontation?"
The captain darkened, then answered clearly and seriously:
"I do not want this, Your Majesty, but if the pressure from the army continues, it is inevitable. I must warn you - the people are tired of uncertainty. You need to do something urgently, otherwise rumors and provocations will completely destroy trust in you and the guard."
Victoria slowly rose from her seat and went to the window, trying to collect her thoughts. It was hard for her to admit that Dreydus had managed to undermine her authority so quickly, but now there was no choice left.
"I will not allow Dreydus to dictate his terms, Captain," she said with cold determination. "Increase the vigilance of the guard. Do not enter into open conflict yet, but be prepared for any surprises. And report any suspicious actions by the army to me personally. I will not leave my country to be torn apart by one ambitious general.
Captain Krell stood up abruptly and saluted:
"It will be done, Your Majesty. The Guard is loyal to you until its last breath."
As the captain left the room, Victoria felt her heart begin to beat faster. She knew that this secret war against Dreydus would test not only her strength and authority, but also her faith in everything she had been accustomed to believing in since childhood. The words about the inaction of the archangels surfaced in her memory again, and she felt a sharp disappointment mixed with a growing inner rage.
"If even the archangels do not care about me, I will create my own destiny," she thought, looking at the silent and indifferent sky outside the window.
Now she had to act quickly and decisively before the conflict with Dreydus escalated into something much more terrible.
Night fell on Demonia like a heavy shadow, as if warning of an impending disaster. Victoria, despite her fatigue, continued to work, sorting through documents coming from different parts of the kingdom. Each report, each dispatch spoke of the growing tension and hidden threats lurking behind the usual life of the capital.
When she was finally about to finish her business, a loud, almost desperate knock was heard at the door.
- Your Majesty! - Raoul's voice sounded unusually alarmed. - Urgent message!
- Come in! - Victoria ordered sharply, rising from the table.
Raoul quickly entered the room, his face pale and tense.
- What happened? - Victoria asked sternly, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.
- Your Majesty, a few minutes ago there was an attack on the streets of the city. A group of unknown people entered the castle and are heading here!
Victoria felt her blood run cold, but immediately pulled herself together.
- Raise the alarm immediately and call the guards! - she ordered, grabbing a dagger from the table. - Where are these people now?
- They were spotted in the east wing, they are approaching the throne room, - Raoul quickly answered.
"Go to a safe place," she ordered shortly, heading for the doors. "I'll handle this myself."
Raoul wanted to object, but seeing the expression on her face, he meekly retreated.
When Victoria entered the throne room, she froze in place, stunned by the horror of what she saw. Several of her ministers' bodies were already lying on the floor, covered in blood, and the survivors were rushing about in panic. The attackers - several people in dark cloaks with their faces covered - quickly and mercilessly dealt with anyone who stood in their way.
"Guards, to me!" Victoria shouted imperiously, drawing her dagger and preparing to defend herself.
A moment later, the guardsmen, led by Captain Krell, burst into the hall. A fierce battle ensued. The guardsmen acted in an organized and cold-blooded manner, but the attackers were also clearly prepared.
Captain Krell, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the guards, shouted:
"Your Majesty, take cover behind the throne! We will protect you!"
"I will not hide," Victoria snapped, grabbing the sword of one of the fallen ministers. "We will finish this together!"
The fight did not last long, but Victoria felt as if time had slowed down. The screams, the clash of weapons, the blood - all of it merged into a terrible picture that was forever imprinted in her mind. The attackers, having suffered losses, began to retreat, but several still managed to hide in the night.
When it was all over, Victoria looked around the throne room, now more like a battlefield. Several of her ministers were dead, the guards looked shocked and exhausted.
"What was that, Captain?" Victoria asked quietly, approaching Krell, who, breathing heavily, wiped the blood from his face.
"I do not know, Your Majesty," he replied grimly. "But this was clearly a show of force. Someone has decided to openly challenge your authority."
"Dreydus?" Victoria asked, looking the captain straight in the eye.
"I cannot say for sure," Krell replied carefully. "But this is clearly to his advantage."
"Search the city and find the attackers," she ordered, her voice cold and decisive. "I want to know who is behind this."
The guards hurried out of the hall, leaving Victoria amid the dark shadows and bloody stains on the floor. She sat down slowly on the throne, feeling rage and disappointment growing inside her.
"Where are you now, great archangels?" she thought bitterly, looking around at the destruction around her. "Why are you silent while my people die and my home becomes a battlefield?"
These questions remained unanswered, only increasing her growing sense of loneliness. Victoria understood that now she could no longer rely on the gods or the blind faith of the people. From now on, her only support would have to be her own decisions and will.
She rose slowly from the throne, straightened up and said quietly but decisively:
"If war is inevitable, then let it be on my terms."
Victoria left the throne room, her gaze full of cold determination. Now her reign was to become not just a struggle for power, but a battle for the very existence of Demonia.
Before dawn, Victoria stood at the large window in her chambers, looking at the awakening city. Her thoughts were heavy and anxious, like gray clouds hanging over the horizon. With each passing minute, the tension grew - a meeting awaited her that could determine the fate of her entire reign.
In the shadows of the far corner of the room, a barely perceptible rustling was suddenly heard, from which Victoria immediately tensed.
"Your Majesty," a quiet, calm voice sounded from the darkness. A man in a long dark cloak, hiding his face, slowly emerged from the shadows. It was Cantor Mortis, the Supreme Commander of the Royal Guard, a man whose name few knew, but whose loyalty was never in doubt.
"Cantor," Victoria answered shortly, turning to him. "You know why I called you."
"The situation is becoming increasingly dangerous," the commander said quietly, his voice even and confident, as if he were fully prepared for any outcome. "The Guard awaits your orders."
Victoria sighed and answered quietly:
"The country is on the brink. The people, influenced by propaganda, have begun to believe that the Guard is a symbol of my weakness and incompetence. Dreidus and the army are using this to weaken my power. Soon they will demand that the Guard be disbanded."
Cantor bowed his head slightly, asking directly and clearly:
"Are you going to disband the Guard, Your Majesty?"
Victoria paused for a moment, looking straight into the eyes of the man she trusted as herself.
"Yes," she said after a pause, "but only in words. Let Dreydus and his followers think they have won. In reality, the Guard must be ready to move at any moment. Since they leave us no other choice, we will be ready to meet their blow first."
Kantor nodded silently, and there was determination in his voice when he spoke.
"The Guard will not fail you, Your Majesty. We will be ready."
"Do it in secret," Victoria said, her voice hard and firm. "Let the army think we are defeated. Then our performance will be a surprise to them."
Kantor bowed briefly and disappeared silently into the shadows of the room, leaving Victoria alone with her heavy thoughts.
The time for the meeting had come. Victoria entered the hall, where generals, advisers, and high-ranking officials were already waiting. The atmosphere was tense, and all eyes turned to the queen as she took her seat.
"Let us begin," Victoria said evenly, looking straight at Dreydus, who was clearly waiting for the moment to speak.
The general stood up almost immediately, pausing briefly for dramatic effect:
"Recent events have clearly shown that the security of Demonia is under threat. The Royal Guard has proven itself to be completely helpless in the face of real danger. Yesterday's tragedy in the throne room is clear evidence of how outdated and useless this structure is."
"The Guard did everything possible," Victoria answered coldly. "The attackers were professionals."
"Professionals?" Dreydus asked mockingly, looking around the assembled group. "Your guards ran around the capital like mongrels, but they never found anyone." Meanwhile, the enemies of Demonia quietly disappeared into the night.
A quiet hum of discussions and whispers rose in the hall.
— Moreover, — Dreydus continued, raising his voice, — the ministers of economy, trade and internal affairs were forced to stay in the castle until late at night, discussing your initiatives. Their lives were at risk because of your, forgive me, inexperience and incompetence.
Victoria felt the anger inside her boiling up with renewed vigor:
— These ministers worked for the good of the state, discussing the necessary laws…
— And now three of them are dead, — Dreydus interrupted her sharply. — Who will answer for this, Your Majesty?
A tense whisper swept through the hall. Victoria took a deep breath, trying to look cool and confident, although a storm raged inside her:
— What do you propose, General?
Dreydus raised his chin and said firmly:
— Disband the Royal Guard. Let the army take full responsibility for the security of the kingdom. Only then can we ensure stability and order.
Victoria fell silent, feigning an internal struggle, but in reality this moment had been planned in advance by her:
"The Guard is a symbol of my power and the traditions of Demonia. How can I do this?"
"Symbols will no longer protect us," Dreydus replied. "Only decisive action can change the situation."
"If I disband the Guard, it will raise even more doubts about my power," Victoria paused, demonstratively thinking.
"This is the only way out, Your Majesty," Dreydus insisted. "Be reasonable."
Finally, Victoria nodded, pretending to have made a difficult decision:
"Okay. The Guard will be disbanded."
A murmur of voices rose in the hall. Dreydus smiled with satisfaction, clearly confident of his victory.
But Victoria knew that the game was just beginning. Her real plan was hidden behind the outward concession, and now all that remained was to wait for the moment when the guard prepared by Cantor Mortis would march to protect her power and the kingdom from the ambitions of those who would challenge her.
The meeting ended with a triumphant roar from Dreydus's supporters. His smile, reserved and cold, cast a shadow of victory over Victoria. He rose from the table, slightly bowing his head in her direction, as if bidding farewell to a failed figure. Several generals and advisers quickly moved toward him, like new planets toward a formed gravity.
Victoria remained seated, at first glance - motionless, tired, broken. But inside, everything was seething. This was not a surrender. This was a lull. Her fingers slowly, almost imperceptibly, clenched into a fist on the arm of the throne.
"Puppets," she whispered under her breath. "They dance, thinking the stage is theirs.
When the room was empty, and only Raoul and Astaron remained nearby, she slowly stood up.
"He believes he has won," she said calmly, turning to Astaron, "and this is his first mistake."
"And he did everything to make you believe it too," Astaron answered calmly. "But you are still here, Victoria. And while you are on the throne, he has no victory. Only an attempt."
"He is cold-blooded," she continued. "He used the deaths of the ministers as a chess piece. I knew he would take this path, but I did not expect him to do it so cynically. He did not allow their bodies to cool before using them to pressure me."
Astaron nodded.
"That is why you must be even colder. Without hesitation. Without pity. You are a queen not only for the living, but also for the dead. They died carrying out your order - to create a reform. You have no right to retreat.
Victoria looked up, and that cold fire that always made Dreydus look at her a little more closely lit up her eyes again.
"Kantor has already started," she said. "They think the guard has disappeared. But it has gone deep — into the underground training halls, into the forests, into the mountains. It is preparing. It will learn to breathe the shadow. And when they decide that the throne is empty, it will strike."
Raoul, who was standing by the wall, spoke for the first time:
"Your Majesty, there is one important point. The army will control the posts in the city. The decree on the dissolution of the guard will be published. How do you explain the disappearance of those who were with it? Their absence may raise questions."
Victoria chuckled:
"Let them disappear one by one, under various pretexts. Illness, transfer to the province, resignation. We will write this play carefully. If victims are needed, I will select suitable ones. The Guard must disappear not loudly, but like a breath. So that no one knows where they are - until it is too late.
"It is dangerous," Astaron said quietly. "You are playing a game where losing means death."
"I have been in it since birth," Victoria answered with an icy smile. "It is just that now the rules are mine."
She turned her back to them and went out into the corridor where the Guardsmen stood, already dressed in civilian clothes. Several of them nodded slightly, having received silent orders. The "dissolution" operation had begun.
Victoria headed to the side room, from where messengers were already ready to be sent - with false additions, appointments, directives. Everything had to look like an ordinary administrative movement. No panic. No publicity. Just a thin chill in the air that would be felt too late.
When she was alone again, Victoria approached the altar in a small niche where the images of the archangels stood. She looked at them for a long time, silently, as if checking if there was even a drop of faith left in her.
"Your silence is growing louder," she said almost in a whisper. "You were silent when my father died. You were silent when my ministers were slaughtered before my eyes. Be silent now, when I am preparing for war."
She slowly took off the ring with the de Luna family crest, placed it on the stone edge of the altar and, without taking her eyes off the face of Atariel, added:
"When this is all over, I will decide whether you deserve to be addressed again."
Turning around, Victoria left the chambers. Today she took a step toward the darkness. But it was a conscious step. Now the game was played by her rules.