---
The scritching of a pen against parchment resounded across the room. Nervous eyes darted between one another, waiting eagerly for their turn to contribute to the discussion. This was just how things happened at the court meetings. Everyone came under the guise of governance and bettering the citizens, but it was nothing more than an event for intense power plays.
This morning, the atmosphere was even more charged. It was the first major meeting after Sir Milton's acquittal, though he had not been reinstated to his fief. Those who were once his supporters sat tense and pensive, while the king's loyalists practically bristled, hungry for blood.
"How is the border dispute with Siera?" Awin asked, his voice cutting through the tension.
One of the lords cleared his throat nervously. "Your Majesty, I assure you it's not a matter to be concerned about. It's merely a squabble between some fanatics."
Awin's frown deepened. "You didn't answer my question."
The lord's face paled. "Forgive me, Your Highness. The matter has been resolved. Their government has affirmed that the island is indeed under Eastford territory."
Awin nodded in satisfaction. "Good."
He paused, glancing around the room before fixing his gaze on one of the attendees. "Before I forget—Lord Fuliz—there have been complaints against you. What do you have to say?"
Lord Fuliz met the king's gaze steadily for a long moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure myself."
The audible gasps from the other members broke the silence. Awin's expression briefly flickered with surprise but quickly returned to its usual calm, unreadable demeanor.
"What does that mean?"
Fuliz cocked his head and scratched his temple lazily. "I'm confused. Is there something I'm missing?"
"What nonsense!" one of the other members roared. He belonged to the king's faction. "You're speaking to the king, damn it! Show some respect!"
Fuliz smirked. "Oh, so that's what this is about?"
He leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "What is this 'respect' you're talking about? Why should I respect a king who neglects his duties?"
Awin clenched his jaw, visibly restraining himself from slamming the man's head into the table. "If I may ask, what duties have I neglected?"
Fuliz rolled his eyes. "You must think being king makes you some sort of almighty being. I, Fuliz Veram, move for the dethronement of King Awin."
"Why would you do that?" another lord asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Isn't it obvious?" Fuliz shot back. "Awin became king at a young age—what was it, sixteen? Now, he's a grown man, and yet he has neither a queen nor an heir. Worse, he doesn't even seem like he's actively looking for a bride."
The room fell silent. Regardless of their political affiliations, no one could argue with Fuliz. He had raised a valid point that resonated across both factions. It was the king's duty to provide an heir, and refusing to do so was tantamount to leaving the nation vulnerable.
Fuliz beamed with a mischievous smile, sensing his victory. "I move for the dethronement of the king for failure to secure the succession."
"If you're in favor, raise your hands."
Hands rose hesitantly at first, but soon nearly every lord followed, either eagerly or reluctantly.
Fuliz pursed his lips. "Well, Your Majesty, we can't dethrone you this instant. So, you have a one-week ultimatum to find a bride. What do you say, Your Highness?" His smirk was unreadable.
Awin's expression darkened. After a long silence, he finally bowed his head. "I accept. If I fail to find a bride by the end of this week, I shall abdicate my throne."
---
The Mariale-Heris Mansion
The next day
Swip, fwip. Tick tock, tick tock.
The great hall was eerily silent, broken only by the occasional sound of Dylan flipping through his book and the steady ticking of the clock.
To Dylan Mariale, this was a perfect afternoon. Once he finished reading, he planned to go on an hour-long stroll, and then return to chat with Mahalia over dinner. He smiled to himself, content with his routine.
"Truly a splendid day," he mused aloud.
"Ugh, my day has been ruined," Marie grumbled as she strolled into the room, her irritation palpable. She sat directly across from Dylan, fixing him with a glare.
"Is your room flooded or infested with termites?"
"Marie, I can sit anywhere I deem fit." he answered without looking up from his book.
"Of course you can," she retorted with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Shameless man."
Dylan paused, setting his book down. He considered giving her a sharp retort but ultimately decided against it.
"You know what? I'll leave."
"Thank God."
As he rose to leave, a maid entered. "My lord, my lady, the king's carriage approaches."
"What?" They spoke in unison, exchanging worried looks.
---
Later
Awin took a small bite of the crumpets offered to him. He winced slightly, uncomfortable under the intense stares of Marie and Dylan.
"You are truly hospitable," he said, breaking the silence as he set the pastry down. "The crumpets are delightful."
"Really?" Marie replied with a forced smile. "If we knew you were coming, we would have prepared more."
Awin chuckled, silently observing her for a moment.
Dylan cleared his throat, trying to move the conversation along. "Your Highness, I'm certain you didn't come here for crumpets. Surely the palace has the best pastries."
Marie cut in, her voice sharp. "What are you doing here, Awin?"
Dylan shot her a look of annoyance. "Yes, to what do we owe this visit?"
"Straight to the point, I see." Awin rolled up his sleeves and leaned forward slightly.
"I want to marry your daughter."
Dylan froze, his expression turning incredulous. "Do you want to die?" He quickly caught himself and cleared his throat. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
Marie stood abruptly. "You want to marry the daughter of someone who plotted treason against you?"
"Marie, you were proven innocent, so—"
"Awin," she interrupted, her tone icy, "it's just us here. Let's speak freely. You framed me in the first place to silence my criticism. I hated your reign—what makes you think I'd let you marry my daughter?"
"So, it's a no?" Awin asked, feigning disappointment as he took another bite of his snack.
"Absolutely," Dylan replied firmly.
"I see," Awin said, rising to his feet. "We'll revisit this topic later."
Marie laughed bitterly. "You must be joking."
"No," Awin said, his tone suddenly serious. "This is the most serious I've been in my entire life. I can't afford to leave the daughter of such a powerful family unchecked. You must be on my side, or I'll always see you as a threat."
Marie sneered. "And you think marriage will change that?"
He shrugged. "At the very least, you'll have to be civil to your son-in-law."
As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back with a chilling smile. "You're adamant now, but it won't be too much trouble for you to attend L'oracle de la Reine, will it? Even if it is, I'm ordering you to attend."
His last words sent shivers down their spines.
"Hope to see you there."
To be continued.
---