One truth stands firm. All that happens in world history rests on something spiritual. If the spiritual is strong, it creates world history. If it is weak, it suffers world ~ Albert Schweitzer
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"I obeyed his words, I followed his command. My queen, you have to leave the castle now; the palace is no longer safe," the loyal guard urged, concern etched across his face.
"I'm not going anywhere!!!" Queen Liora asserted, her determination unwavering in the face of looming danger.
The morning sun began to rise, still casting its gentle glow upon the queen as she clung to her husband's lifeless body. "Your Majesty, let the king rest. Let us prepare a proper funeral for him," the compassionate head of the maidservants suggested.
"Will my husband finally rest after this?" she asked, her voice quivering with grief.
At that moment, the interrogation minister entered with a group of soldiers, their footsteps echoing through the sorrow-laden halls. "Apprehend all the servants and guards in the palace," he commanded, his eyes steely with determination.
"My queen, I will take the king's body for investigation. He deserves justice," the minister solemnly stated.
"Justice... you already know the culprit," the queen responded, her voice laced with a combination of frustration and sorrow.
"But we need evidence," he replied, urging her to understand the legal process.
"Evidence... how long will you keep my husband from finding peace?" Queen Liora said, her eyes welling up with tears as she discreetly passed a locket to the minister—a key to unravel the truth.
The interrogation began, and the palace buzzed with whispers and condolences as the king's subjects paid their respects to their fallen ruler. Yet, beneath the facade of grief, the queen sensed the flicker of betrayal and a growing complexity that threatened to shroud the truth in shadows.
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