In a room filled with towering shelves of legal tomes and the scent of old parchment. Lord Zorven was already there, pouring two glasses of dark red wine. He held out a glass to Varion, his face calm, almost serene.
"I trust the theatrics of the Hand have not eaten you up so deep, Lord Varion?" Zorven's voice was a smooth, cool balm, utterly at odds with the fury in Varion's eyes.
Varion snatched the glass, his hand trembling slightly as he took a long, furious sip. "The man is a brute. He called my honorable proposal an act of treason!"
"The Hand is a warrior, not a politician," Zorven replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "He did serve the late king, I guess he did it so well. I know what he is up to."
Varion set the glass down with a sharp click. "And what do you think that is?
Zorven beamed a repulsive smile and placed his glass of wine on the table "He is trying to mend what he couldn't. He couldn't stop the king from bending to our wills, now he wants to turn the Princess against us, he wants to make sure she rules in her own will, without interference from the Houses, and he seems to have forgot one thing; the Princess cannot rule Fenroth alone. The same truth her father believed and obeyed"
Lord Varion getting more interested, with a tone mixed with cruelty and command "I want that girl off the throne. I have endured for a long time, a very long time. The kings death was supposed to be my first starting point of victory, but House Sylvon wants to tarnish all that I have hoped for. Fenroth was founded by my forebears, House of Valmorin. I want to reclaim what is ours, for my son and for his son and sons to come."
"The King is dead. Her authority is a promise written on the wind. It has no teeth." Zorven corrected, his eyes cold and steady.
"And how do you propose we give it teeth?" Varion asked, a hint of his old, calculating calm returning.
Zorven gestured to a map of the empire on the wall, his finger tracing a line from the capital to the outer provinces. "All this, the entire kingdom of Fenroth will be yours. We will use the princess as a bait to get the people's support."
"And can we use the princess as a bait" Varion said, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"Charge her for treason. Treason against the Fenroth. And then, you, my lord, as the leader of the Tovertis Union, will use the Tovertis Union to ensure she won't escape the cold grip of the law. She will have no choice but to give in."
Varion looked at the map, and a smile of cold satisfaction touched his lips. Even though the Tovertis Union, being the highest judicial body in Fenroth is subject to the Crown, the Crown also answers to it.
The two lords clinked their glasses. It was an alliance forged not in trust, but in a shared, ruthless ambition.
***
The temple, nestled high in the mountains, was a place of quiet solitude. The air smelled of incense and ancient wood, and the ground was covered in soft, green moss.
In a small, sun-drenched courtyard, Kaldros knelt on a low mat, carefully grinding herbs in a mortar. His movements were precise and practiced, the gentle scrape of the pestle a familiar rhythm. The woman he cared for, his mother, sat on a simple wooden bench, her hands folded over a gnarled walking stick. Her face was a beautiful map of a long life, and her eyes, though clouded with age, held a deep, knowing light.
She watched him for a moment before speaking. "You have such good hands, my son," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "The way you work the herbs... it's as if you feel their pain and know just how to soothe them."
Kaldros did not look up, a soft smile on his face. "Only trying to make the bitter medicine a little easier for you to bear, Mother."
"And you always do," she replied, her own smile a small, loving curve of her lips. "I don't know what I would have done without you. All these years, you've been my strength."
He placed the pestle gently in the mortar and finally met her gaze, his expression full of profound love. "There is no place I would rather be than by your side. You gave me life, and looking after you is all the purpose I need."
***
The royal library was an endless labyrinth of knowledge, a sanctuary of a thousand stories. For Calyss, it was a place of quiet strength. But today, the silence was broken. Lord Mylis, the son of Lord Varion, waited for her, standing by a table covered in old, leather-bound books. He was a handsome man, his features a polished mirror of his father's severe face.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice a smooth, confident baritone. He bowed with a precise, perfect deference that held no warmth. "My father and I have been thinking of you. The kingdom mourns, of course, but it must also look to the future."
Calyss walked to a nearby bookshelf, her hand lingering on the worn spines. "I am aware of my duties, Lord Mylis."
"Of course you are," he replied, a condescending smile touching his lips. "But a queen's duty is not just to rule, but to secure her line. A queen without a king is a tree without roots. It will not stand against a storm." He walked closer, and the air around him grew colder. "My offer of marriage is not a demand, Your Majesty. It is a lifeline. We could unite the Houses, bring an end to the whispers of chaos."
His words were a poisoned apple, sweet on the surface, but filled with a deadly purpose. Calyss turned to face him, her expression calm, though her heart was a drum of fury in her chest.
"I have no need of a lifeline, Lord Mylis," she said, her voice a low and steady echo in the vast library.
Mylis's polite smile vanished. His eyes, the same cold gray as his father's, hardened to stone. "Your father had a kingdom at peace. The provinces are restless now. Your inexperience... it shows. My father could save you, but his patience is not endless. The Tovertis Union will not stand idly by and watch as the kingdom falls to ruin under an untested ruler."
The threat was clear. He was not offering a marriage; he was offering a choice between a cage of his own making or a kingdom torn apart by his father's hand.
Calyss did not flinch. "I am the Crown. The Tovertis Union answers to me," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I can just as easily strip your House of its titles and its power. I am the final law here, Lord Mylis. Do not forget that."
A flicker of raw fury passed across Mylis's face. His jaw tightened, and for a brief, tense moment, his hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. The casual arrogance was gone, replaced by a cold, controlled rage. He had not expected her to fight back, let alone with such a devastating counter-threat.
He forced a polite, chilling smile back onto his face. "Threatening? No, Your Majesty. I am offering a choice. A choice between peace and chaos." He took a slow, deliberate step back. "A crown on the head of a girl does not make her a queen of the people, it could make her a queen against the people. Just a warm piece of advice Your Majesty"
He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He had lost this round, but as the door closed behind him, Calyss knew that the serpent had not been killed. It had only been angered.
She reached out a frail hand and touched his shoulder. "You've given me a peace I never thought I would know again, my dear boy."
With that, she leaned on him as he stood and moved to her side, helping her to her feet with a strength that belied his gentle movements. Kaldros led her back into the temple, the afternoon sun warm on their backs, his hand a steady presence supporting her.
***
Calyss stood before a large map of the empire, her finger tracing the northern province of Riverwood.
The doors opened, and a servant announced, "Governor Alaric of Riverwood."
Calyss turned to face him. He was a man of sixty years, his face a web of fine lines etched by sun and wind, his hands calloused from a lifetime of labor. Unlike the other lords, he did not bow with a flourish. His respect was a simple, deep inclination of his head, his eyes meeting hers with a look of genuine sympathy.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice a low, steady rumble. "I grieve for your father. He was a good man, a true king."
"Thank you, Governor," Calyss said, her guard instinctively lowering. "My condolences also your wife's death. I take it the Houses have not yet had a chance to visit you?"
Alaric smiled, a weary, knowing expression. "They have not. But their cold grips have. I received a couriers from House Halvek, and the Tovertis Union has already sent missives challenging our recent land reforms. They move quickly. A time I am mourning wife's demise. Should the Tovertis Union make such move prior the who nation is still mourning your father and you are yet to be crowned?"
"How selfish of them" Calyss said, her voice dropping.
"Your Majesty. I have seen it for thirty years. They are wolves. They prey on a weakened flock. They have grown fat and complacent under your father's long reign. Now they see a chance to take what they believe is theirs." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "My loyalty is to you, Your Majesty. And more importantly, to the people of my province. We are with you. You have my armies, my resources, and my life, if you so require it."
Calyss felt a wave of relief wash over her. She was not alone. She had a true ally. "Why?" she asked, the question escaping her lips before she could stop it.
"Because they will build their empires on the backs of my people," he said simply. "And I would rather die fighting for a true queen than kneel to a house of vultures."
His words were a fire that lit a new resolve in her heart. She no longer felt like a scared girl facing a council of powerful men.