Vol 1 Prologue (1/2)

Queen Amelia’s Troubles

Queen Amelia Grecia sat in the large throne, with an armrest that was fully half as tall as she was, with a troubled mind. Her father – the late King Allen Grecia’s crown was too large on her small stature, if she moved even the slightest, it would slide down. It had been a month since the coronation, but they still could not free anyone to adjust the size. As all the blacksmiths in the city were busy forging new weapons.

The patrols around the city had been doubled in size, but that still was not enough to give the n.o.bles in the city any sense of safety. If it was not for some sort of G.o.dly protection – or some miraculous luck –a month ago, the Golden Capital would have been captured by the rebel army ten times the size.

Now she was paying for that luck.

The most important issue was the reshuffling of political power. After that battle, a full third of the offices and land were left empty.

The land owned by the rebel faction’s leader, Archduke Crane* was distributed among the n.o.bles with some sort of achievement during the war or those that at least joined the right camp. It was a good thing that the b.a.s.t.a.r.d climbed high enough, was just greedy enough when he was alive, that there was just enough to satisfy everyone.

As for government offices, that was a little tighter, the misters were all hinting that they or their sons would not mind helping with the burden of the state, but who knows if another Archduke Crane would emerge among them?

Following that were the knighthoods, normally just a t.i.tles that comes along with one or two remote villages, given to the common born commanders and to those who have some accomplishment. From now on they would be elevated from their original cla.s.s, becoming respected gentleman – most of these gentleman probably couldn’t read a single word.

Finally, the treasury gold, given to the others, ones that didn’t stand out nor achieved anything of great mention, but still lived to tell the tale. But even if this was the Golden Capital, there wasn’t much leftover after such a great civil war.

— Duke Lesting**, the financial minister in charge of rebuilding costs after the war, was about to go insane. These last few days, during meetings, Grecia felt that he was staring at her crown and necklace with wolf like eyes.

The award ceremonies have been going on for a month, and anything with even a speck of value had already been given out.

Other than the traditional reward, those with exemplary performances could also ask one extra favor from the crown. Naturally, she could veto them, but refusing too many would affect her image and make the Queen seem too stingy.

Within this month, she had refused fifteen marriage proposals, five of which were from t.i.tleless peasants. – Does the word “overstepping” not exist in their dictionary?

Another eight wanted to send their heirs into the palace as Prince Consort candidates (being lovers was fine too), four that wanted the rights to adjust taxation in their own lands, three that wants the position of the Captain of the Royal Guards… etcetera etcetera. After negotiating with them they accepted alternative proposals, and happily went back to their drinking and merry making, leaving the Queen alone with a headache.

Now, there was only one person left. Thinking about that made Grecia very happy, but also a little uneasy.

There really was nothing more left to give. If they wanted a thousand gold coins, she could only write an IOU.

This man – the records say his name was Ellen, no last name. The name left Grecia with a strong impression.

One month ago, this was the man that led a small group of mercenaries and after spending half the night leading them around on the leash like dogs on a walk, eliminated the group of elite scouts sent by the rebel faction; they also gained a lot of information from the ones that lived. This made the Archduke Crane hesitate, the attack was delayed for a full two days, giving the Capital some breathing room, enough to hold on until reinforcements came. If he were a n.o.ble, this would guarantee a promotion of at least two ranks, even if not, it was worth the t.i.tle of Viscount.

This man whose face was covered by a hood, the newly appointed Viscount of Soloris Valley (it was a remote ravine, the name means “Carefree Valley”, but it was probably more appropriate to call it Nothing Valley, there was even some rebel stragglers camping around there), knelt before her,  head down. The hood hid part of his face in shadows, only his straight nose and thin mouth could be seen clearly. His chin was smooth, with no beard, perhaps he was young.

Upon hearing that he could make a request, the Viscount spoke, pure Sistare*** Common tongue without a hint of accent.

“Your Majesty, I do have a request. It might be a little abrupt, but I hope you can grant it. After all, historically –“

The Queen’s eyebrows twitched, her mouth pulled downward almost unnoticeably.

–Here it is, the sixteenth marriage proposal. The marriage of the first Queen of Sistare to a commoner was an undying legend that had been pa.s.sed down in history, but the idiots who happily continue to recount that story will never know, that the commoner was actually a b.a.s.t.a.r.d prince, and the first Queen was the child from an adulterous affair between the Queen and a guard, not the King’s own daughter. It was an under the tables agreement in order to maintain the bloodline and power, that’s all.

Her mind wandered for a while, so by the time she returned to her senses, she had already missed the first part of his narration. So the Queen nodded her head as if she had been listening and cut off his speech.