The world went cold.
The grey sky hung over the funeral procession, as if time itself stood still, hesitating whether to move on or stop to honor the great king of Demonia. Victoria stood at the edge of the grave, her hands frozen, clutching the edges of her cloak tightly. The cold was in her bones, but not because of the wind. It was the cold of loss. The cold she felt in her soul.
Before her stood her father's coffin, covered in velvet embroidered with symbols of demonic power. The coffin was massive, as if it wanted to remind everyone gathered of the weight of royalty. Victoria looked at it, her thoughts wandering, going deep into her memory. This was a man she both respected and feared, a father who taught her that strength and determination were all that was needed to survive. And now he was gone.
The priest raised his hands to the sky. His voice was deep and calm, like the sound of a distant sea.
"Athariel, guardian of reality, cover the soul of the deceased with your light," his words echoed across the empty cemetery. "Morinfael, mistress of chaos, accept his mistakes and shield this 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 be the guardians of his eternal sleep."
Victoria listened to the prayer, but it sounded distant and empty to her. The trinity of archangels, the balance of reality, chaos, and the end... It all seemed like an ancient tale to her, told to calm the people. Wasn't her father the one who created order? Wasn't he the one who held Demonia in his hands, despite all the dark winds that tried to destroy it? And yet he died, like everyone else.
She looked at the assembled company. High-ranking officials, nobles, and generals. Their faces were cold, impenetrable. Some of them seemed too calm, too indifferent. Her gaze lingered on Lucian Dreidus, the adviser who always stood by her father's side. His face was serious, but there was a shadow of a smug smile at the corners of his lips. Victoria felt something warm flare in her chest, but it was quickly extinguished by the cold of her mind.
"They are all watching me," she thought. "They are waiting to see who I am. A weak girl or their queen."
When the funeral procession ended, Victoria stood still even as the others began to disperse. Her servant touched her shoulder gently.
"Your Majesty," he said, "it is time to leave for the coronation."
Her heart sank. The word "queen" did not yet fit into her mind. But she knew it was inevitable. She had to be strong.
The throne room was huge and majestic.
Massive torches cast long shadows on the walls, where portraits of all the former rulers of Demonia hung. Their faces were stern, cold, full of strength and determination. Victoria felt their gaze on her, as if each of them was assessing her, waiting to see if she could live up to their legacy.
Her heart beat faster as she walked along the red carpet to the throne. The throne was made of black stone, decorated with engravings of demons and shining blood-red rubies. Her steps echoed, seeming louder than her own breath.
The archmage rose from his seat. In his hands he held a crown - a massive, black metal crowned with red crystals that shimmered in the light of the torches. He walked up to Victoria and motioned for her to kneel. She felt every eye focused on her.
"Victoria de Luna," the archmage said, "you are now and forever the Queen of Demonia. Do you swear to protect her laws and her people, even if it costs you your very life?"
"I swear," her voice was even, but inside she was shaking.
When the crown touched her head, she felt its weight. It seemed like it was not just metal and jewelry, but the weight of history and responsibility. She rose to her feet, looking at the faces of the portraits on the walls.
"I will be strong," she thought. "I will make Demonia safe. Even if it costs me blood."
The coronation ball was magnificent, but cold.
Great chandeliers, sumptuous food and wine, the dancing of the aristocrats. Everything looked perfect, but for Victoria it was just a theater, where everyone played their part.
She stood in the corner of the room, watching the assembled people. Their false smiles and empty congratulations irritated her. She knew that many of them doubted her ability to rule the country.
"Too young," she heard a whisper behind her. "She will never compare to her father."
Victoria turned, but the whisperers had already disappeared into the crowd. Her gaze fell on Lucian Dreidus. He stood surrounded by other advisers, his posture confident, almost defiant. When their eyes met, he smiled slightly, but it was not a friendly smile.
She felt something boiling inside her. This man was too calm, too sure of his inviolability.
"I will show them all," she thought, clenching her fists. "I will prove myself worthy of being their queen."
She turned away from Lucian and stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cool, but it calmed her a little. Victoria looked at the city of Demonia spread out before her and made a promise to herself: no one would dare look down on her again.
"This was the last night I allowed myself to be weak."
Victoria stood on the balcony, enjoying the brief moment of silence. The night air was cool, the stars lit up the dark sky, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sounds of celebration could be heard. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly ease, but not for long.
There were cautious footsteps. Victoria turned her head and saw one of the servants bowing respectfully.
"Your Majesty," his voice was soft but insistent. "It is time for you to speak. Everyone has gathered in the throne room and awaits your word."
She nodded briefly, casting one last glance at the night city. The words she was about to say were already spinning in her head, but that did not make it any easier. Victoria slowly followed the servant.
The throne room came alive again, full of guests and whispers.
When Victoria entered, the conversations died down and all eyes focused on her again. She walked up to the dais and stood before the assembled group. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual, but she did not allow it to show. She sighed and spoke.
"Friends, advisors, nobles of Demonia," her voice was firm, although she still felt a tremor inside. "Today, a new era begins for our nation."
She paused, looking around at the assembled group.
"We have lost much in recent years," she continued. "Wars, intrigues, and discord have torn our country apart. But I believe that Demonia can be strong. Not through conquest, not through blood, but through unity. My rule will focus on our people, on strengthening our borders and improving the lives of each of you. Demonia must become a safe haven, not a machine for destruction."
Some listened attentively, some exchanged glances, but when she spoke of peace and internal development, a movement arose in the crowd. Dreydus, who had been standing in the far corner, began to walk toward the center of the room. His steps were slow but confident, and his face expressed a mixture of displeasure and defiance.
When he stopped closer to Victoria, she already sensed that something was wrong. He bowed low, but it was more of a formality than a sincere respect.
"A fine speech, Your Majesty," he said in a loud, resonant voice, causing the entire hall to turn to him. "However, I will allow myself to note that words about peace and unity sound… how can I put it… too naive for today's Demonia."
Victoria pressed her lips together, but did not answer. She knew that Dreydus was waiting for her reaction, and decided to let him speak.
"Our enemies," he continued, turning slowly to the crowd, "the Shadow Empire, Luminaria, even the Flame Empire, are just waiting to take advantage of our weakness. And instead of strengthening the army, we talk about peace? Instead of fighting for our place in this world, we talk about… internal politics?"
A low hum was heard in the hall. Some were whispering, others were just watching silently.
"Dreydus," Victoria interrupted him, her voice firm. "Demonia deserves more than to be constantly embroiled in wars. We can be strong without tearing our lands and people apart. Our place is not in blood, but in prosperity."
"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?"
His words caused a weak laugh among some of the nobles, but Victoria remained unperturbed. She took a step forward.
— If for you the defense of Demonia is blood on our streets and an impoverished people, then I am proud that we see defense differently. Strength is not in rushing into war, Dreydus. Strength is knowing when to fight and when to build.
Her words sounded confident, and the hall fell silent. But Dreydus was not going to give up.
"Then show that strength," he hissed. "Show that you are worthy of being a queen, and not just another doll that breaks at the first test."
His words cut her, but she did not let her emotions get the better of her. Victoria raised her head, her gaze cold and determined.
"I will show you," she said, her voice ringing like steel. "Not to you, Dreydus, and not to these walls. I will prove it to my people. And when you see how Demonia flourishes, you will understand that cruelty is weakness, and mercy is strength.
The hall whispered again, but Victoria turned and walked away, leaving Dreydus standing alone. She knew he would be trouble, but she had a purpose now. Her words were not just promises. They were an oath.
The corridors of the castle, swallowed by the half-light, were silent and deserted.
Victoria walked quickly, her heart still beating faster than usual. Dreydus's words echoed in her head like a mockery. She clenched her fists, feeling anger and doubt coiling inside her like a snake.
She stopped around the corner. Astaron stood before her. His figure in the shadows of the corridor looked calm, almost indestructible, and his warm brown eyes met hers, filled with worry.
"Your Majesty," he began with a soft smile, dropping to one knee. "Forgive my impertinence, but I think you need a little rest. It's too much to bear all at once."
Victoria looked away, trying to contain her emotions, but he stood up and came closer.
"Victoria," his voice became quieter, almost a whisper. "I know what he said, but that doesn't mean he's right. You are stronger than you think. And I saw that strength in your father."
She turned to him, slightly surprised.
"Father?" Her voice was weak, but attentive.
Astaron nodded, smiling, but a shadow of memory flickered in his gaze.
"Irfan and I often talked when he was in his prime. Once, many years ago, we spoke of the world being but a dream. He told me how he wanted to see our world not torn apart by war, how he dreamed of Demonia one day becoming a symbol not only of strength, but also of peace.
He fell silent, watching Victoria's reaction. Her eyes reflected emotions: sadness, surprise, a little nostalgia.
"He wanted you to be able to live in this world," Astaron continued, his voice becoming a little quieter. "But then he admitted to me that he did not believe that peace was possible. "We were all born in war and we will die in it," he once told me. But I see hope in you, Victoria. You are his chance to make the world a little better.
Victoria sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She looked up at Astaron again, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Thank you, Astaron. Your words... they are important to me," she said quietly, but sincerely. "I... I will try to live up to my father's expectations."
Astaron nodded, his gaze remaining warm.
"And I will always be there to remind you of that. Now go and rest. Tomorrow will be a new day, and I am sure you will find the strength to start it right."
She looked at him gratefully and turned around, heading toward her bedroom. Her steps became slower, her breathing more even. When she was out of sight, Astaron was alone in the empty hallway.
He stood motionless, looking in the direction Victoria had gone.
His thoughts returned to that very conversation with Irfan.
— "We were all born in war and we will all die in it," his warm but heavy voice came to mind.
Astaron remembered how he had objected then: "But there is always a chance. If someone believes, there will be a chance."
Irfan chuckled, but his eyes remained sad.
— "A chance? Do you really believe in that, old friend? Look around. All roads lead to crimson — to death. We will not be able to break out of this circle. Everything will end in blood, and we know it."
These words still sounded in Astaron's head. But then he answered:
— "If that were true, why do we live at all?"
Irfan did not answer. He simply looked at him with his piercing gaze, and then left, leaving the question hanging in the air.
Astaron sighed, his gaze became serious.
— "Irfan..." he whispered under his breath. — You are right, death always comes, but perhaps it will not come today. And perhaps Victoria will find what we did not find.
He turned away from the corridor and, stepping into the shadows, disappeared, leaving behind only the cold emptiness of the night.
The sun's rays penetrated through the light fabric of the curtains, filling the terrace with soft light.
Victoria sat at a small table covered with a snow-white tablecloth, on which stood neatly arranged dishes. Her breakfast consisted of modest but exquisite treats: fresh fruit, bread, cheese, aromatic tea. She barely touched the food, immersed in her thoughts.
Her gaze wandered over the landscape in front of the terrace. In the distance, the black towers of Demonia were visible, personifying the power and dark grandeur of her kingdom. But for Victoria, this was not just a view - it was a responsibility hanging over her like a shadow.
She remembered her father's words, those rare moments when he spoke to her about ruling. He always emphasized that the king was not only a ruler, but also a symbol. "If you do not believe in your kingdom, Victoria, then why should anyone else?" - his voice sounded in her head, as if he were right there.
But yesterday's skirmish with Dreydus undermined her confidence. His words were harsh, but believable. He knew how to play on weaknesses, how to make her doubt her decisions. She could not allow this to continue.
"I cannot let him win. Demonia cannot fall because of internal rot," she whispered, raising the cup to her lips. Her hands trembled slightly, but she forced herself to calm down.
A servant entered the terrace quietly. His modest bow was barely noticeable, but respectful enough.
"Your Majesty," he said. "Today, the meeting of the high military command will be held in the main hall. Everything is ready and they are waiting for you.
She nodded, taking a deep breath. This was important. At this meeting, she had to show that she would not break despite the pressure. She had to prove that she was worthy of her place.
Victoria stood up from the table, her movements graceful but purposeful. She walked deeper into the castle, heading towards the main hall. In the corridor, anxiety again overwhelmed her, but she quickly suppressed it, focusing on the goal.
The main hall of the castle was majestic and gloomy at the same time.
In the center there was a long table, surrounded by high chairs on which representatives of the high military command sat. Among them, Dreydus stood out, his figure was relaxed, but his gaze was tenacious, assessing. His dark armor gleamed in the light of the torches, and his expression was, as always, confident and cold.
Victoria entered the room, trying to look calm and dignified. Her presence silenced everyone. She walked to her place at the end of the table and sat down. The silence that fell was almost deafening.
"Let us begin," she said in a firm voice, glancing at everyone present.
One of the generals spoke first, beginning with reports on the state of the army. They discussed supplies, strategic plans for the next year, the distribution of resources. Victoria listened attentively, occasionally asking questions to show her involvement. But she felt the tension growing in the room. Everyone knew Dreydus was up to something.
And then, finally, he spoke.
"Your Majesty," his voice was loud and clear. "I would like to propose an important change that I believe is necessary for the continued prosperity of our kingdom."
All eyes turned to him. Victoria met his gaze without flinching.
"The Royal Guard," he continued, pausing to emphasize his words, "is no longer fulfilling its purpose. Its upkeep requires significant resources that could be used to develop the army and strengthen the borders. I propose that it be disbanded."
There was a murmur in the hall. The proposal was shocking. The Royal Guard is a symbol of power and protection of the crown. Victoria felt her hands tremble under the table, but she quickly pulled herself together.
"General Dreydus," she began, her voice cold but even. "You are proposing to destroy the symbol of our independence and strength. The Royal Guard is not just a force, it is a tradition that connects us to our ancestors."
"Your Majesty," he interrupted, not letting her finish. "Traditions do not feed the army or protect the borders. Your father..." He paused, as if choosing his words. "Your father would surely agree that practical power is more important than symbols."
Victoria felt anger flare in her chest.
"My father was a man who understood that power without honor is the path to ruin," she said sharply. "The Royal Guard will remain. That matter is closed."
Dreydus looked at her, tilting his head slightly, as if studying her. A shadow of mockery flickered in his eyes.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But do not be surprised if your 'symbols' become a burden to you."
Victoria resisted the urge to answer, instead nodding to a servant standing to the side.
"The meeting is adjourned," she said firmly. "Thank you for your contribution."
She stood and walked out of the hall, trying to maintain her dignity. But inside, a storm raged.
The corridors of the castle became her refuge once more.
She walked quickly, leaving behind Dreydus's tense looks and caustic words. Echoes of his phrase rang in her head: "Don't be surprised if your "symbols" become a burden for you." She clenched her fists tightly, feeling anger mix with doubt.
Astaron stood around the corner, as if he had guessed her thoughts. His face expressed quiet concern, but he did not allow himself anything unnecessary, only a slight tilt of his head and a soft question:
"Your Majesty, is everything alright?"
Victoria stopped, looked at him, and her anger faded a little, leaving behind fatigue.
"He's trying to play with me again, Astaron. I can't let him manipulate me, but every time I think I'm ready, he finds a new weakness."
Astaron smiled slightly and took a step closer.
"Dreydus is smart, that's true," he said, "but is he smarter than you?" Victoria, you have just begun your journey. You may make mistakes, that is normal. But what sets you apart is your ability to learn and grow. That is your strength.
She looked at him, his words finding a response in her soul. She straightened up and nodded.
"Thank you, Astaron. You always find something to say."
He smiled wider.
— I just do what I can. By the way, do you remember what your father used to say? He believed that great leaders are not made by their victories, but by how they deal with defeats.
Victoria looked down, thinking for a moment. She remembered Irfan's words, but at the time they had seemed like mere rhetoric. Now she was beginning to understand their true meaning.
"He was right," she said quietly. "But I will not let Dreydus win. I will prove myself worthy of being queen."
She took a step forward, but stopped and looked back.
"Astaron, you know he has something bigger planned, don't you?"
Astaron raised an eyebrow slightly, his expression becoming serious.
"I know. And that's why I will always be there to make sure you are ready."
Victoria nodded and, pulling herself together, went to her chambers. She knew that tomorrow would be a new day, full of challenges, and she must be ready for them. Her anger turned to determination.
Astaron remained in the hallway, watching her go. His gaze grew heavy as he sank back into his thoughts.
"Irfan…" he whispered softly, looking at the empty space. "I hope your daughter can endure what you and I could not."
He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving only silence behind him.
Late at night, in the throne room, lit by the flickering light of torches, Victoria held an audience with the ministers.
The conversations focused on current affairs: the restoration of the eastern borders, the distribution of resources between military and civilian needs, and the upcoming annual convention of nobles. Victoria listened, occasionally nodding or making brief comments. However, the fatigue from the busy day made itself felt.
"Your Majesty," the Minister of Finance began, raising his head from the scroll, "we have considered your decree on the redistribution of taxes to support the poorest strata of the population. However, I must warn you that the aristocracy may perceive this as...
His voice broke off suddenly. The doors of the hall swung open, slamming against the walls with a crash that echoed throughout the hall.
Several people in dark cloaks stood on the threshold. Their faces were hidden by hoods, and weapons gleamed in their hands. Before anyone could react, one of the unknown people threw a dagger, which plunged straight into the chest of the Minister of Defense. He screamed and fell to the floor.
"Attack!" one of the ministers shouted, raising a panic.
The unknown people quickly moved forward, starting to mercilessly kill those gathered. Their movements were swift and precise, as if they were following a pre-planned plan. Victoria stood up, holding out her hand, ready to call for the royal guard.
"Guards, to me!" Her voice was loud and commanding.
The royal guards burst into the hall. Their actions were swift and organized, and a fierce fight ensued. The assassins, realizing that their numerical superiority had dwindled, began to retreat. Several guards pursued them, but they disappeared into the dark streets of the city.
When the battle was over, the throne room was covered in blood. Several ministers lay dead, and those who survived trembled in fear.
"This is not just a random attack," Victoria said quietly, looking at the bodies. "This is a demonstration. They wanted to show their strength.
One of the captains of the guard approached her, bowing his head.
"Your Majesty, they have disappeared into the city. We have sent troops to search for them."
"Bring them back, dead or alive." Her voice was cold and firm. "I want them to answer for this."
The guards went into the city, but the search was useless. The assassins, like shadows, disappeared into the night.
The next morning, the capital was tense.
The city was in turmoil. People discussed the night attack, were outraged that the royal guards could not catch the criminals. Some claimed that the guards were useless, others accused the queen of weakness.
At that moment, Dreydus entered the palace.
He looked gloomy, his footsteps echoed in the corridors. When he entered the throne room, Victoria was already sitting on the throne, listening to the reports of her advisers. She looked tired, but collected.
"Your Majesty," he began, not hiding his displeasure. "Last night there was a terrible attack. And what did the royal guard do? They ran around the city like a pack of lost dogs, but they could not find the criminals.
"The royal guard did everything they could," Victoria answered, without looking up. "They acted according to the law."
"The law?" his voice grew louder. "The law on the army's non-interference in the affairs of the guard has become a disgrace to our entire kingdom! While the guard rushed helplessly through the streets, the army stood in the barracks and did nothing! Do you really think such a law makes sense?
"It is a law passed by my ancestors," she answered coldly. "It exists to maintain balance.
— Balance? — Dreydus sneered. — This "balance" costs us our safety! Look at what the people say about us. The Royal Guard is no longer a symbol of strength, Your Majesty. It has become a symbol of failure.
His words cut like a knife. Victoria looked up, furious. But she knew that she was fighting not only Dreydus, but also the people's opinion.
"What do you propose?" she asked, barely containing her anger.
"Disband it," he answered, crossing his arms. "Disband the Guard and transfer its functions to the army. It will be the best decision for the kingdom. The people will support it."
Victoria felt a contradiction flare up inside her. She did not want to obey Dreydus, but she knew that her authority and the safety of the kingdom were at stake. Her gaze slid across the hall where the surviving ministers were gathered. Fear and doubt were written on their faces.
"I will think about it," she replied, her voice firm but not confident.
"I hope you will make a wise decision, Your Majesty," Dreydus said with a mocking bow, turning to leave.
When the doors closed behind him, Victoria was alone. Her hands clenched into fists, and she felt the tension grow into anger.
"If I disband the guard, it will not be the end. This is only the beginning of his game," she whispered to herself. "But if I do not disband it, he can force me."
Her thoughts were chaotic, but one thing was clear: she was about to make one of the most difficult decisions of her life.
The next day, in the high command assembly hall, Victoria felt the weight of indecision. She sat on the dais, surrounded by the most influential figures in the Demonia military structure. The atmosphere in the hall was tense: the commanders whispered, exchanging glances, waiting for the beginning.
Dreydus stood before them, confident and collected as always. His icy gaze ran over the faces of those present as he spoke:
"Last night was a disgrace to our army and guard. An attack occurred in the heart of the kingdom, and the criminals went unpunished. Who is responsible for this?"
The hall fell silent. Victoria, who had been silent until then, looked up and said:
"The Royal Guard did everything possible to detain the attackers. They acted within the law."
"A law that is outdated," Dreydus interrupted her. "The law on non-intervention by the army is a relic of the past. It prevents us from acting promptly and effectively. If the army had the right to intervene, the criminals would have been caught."
"Are you suggesting that we destroy tradition?" — Victoria rose from her seat, her voice firm. — The Royal Guard has existed for centuries, as a symbol of protection for the throne and the people.
— A symbol that has become useless, — his voice was harsh but calm. — The people no longer see the Guard as strength. They see weakness. Did you see what happened in the city? How the Guard ran like blind men, not knowing where to go?
Some of those present glanced at each other, and Victoria noticed doubt in their eyes. Dreydus continued:
— I propose that we replace the Guard with an army. Remove these restrictions and allow our forces to work as a single unit. Only then can we ensure the safety of the kingdom.
— Do you want to subordinate the army to the royal power? Or perhaps you want to subordinate the royal power to the army? — Victoria asked sharply, her voice loud and clear.
A low murmur could be heard in the hall. Dreydus did not answer immediately. He took a step forward, his figure looming over them all.
"I wish to protect Demonia, Your Majesty. If that means destroying the useless symbols of the past, so be it."
The words struck Victoria like a sword. She knew he was speaking for many who shared his views. And though her heart resisted, her mind knew that it would be impossible to hold the guard together without losing the people's trust.
She raised her hand, silencing everyone.
"If this is the price to pay for my people's trust, I will accept it," she said, her voice firm but pained. "The Royal Guard will be disbanded."
The room was silent for a moment, then filled with noise: some expressed approval, others expressed surprise. Dreydus smiled slightly, but said nothing, his face impassive.
Victoria felt her hands clench into fists. She knew she had made this decision not because he was pressuring her, but for the sake of her country. However, she also knew that this was only the beginning of his game. A game in which she would have to emerge victorious.
Later, in the privacy of her chambers, Victoria stood by the window, watching the dark streets of the capital. The moonlight softly illuminated her face, but her eyes reflected anger and pain.
Her thoughts were racing over what had happened. The decision to disband the royal guard, made in the war council chamber, felt like a betrayal of her own ideals. But she knew she had no other choice. Dreydus wasn't just threatening her power, he was threatening her people.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," Victoria said quietly, not taking her eyes off the night city.
The door opened slightly, and Astaron entered. His face expressed restrained anxiety.
"Your Majesty," he began, bowing slightly. "I heard about today's council."
"Are you here to reproach me?" Victoria asked sharply, turning to him.
"No way," he came closer, his gaze soft but firm. "I know you did this for Demonia. But... you must not lose yourself. You are still a queen, not a pawn on his chessboard.
Victoria frowned, but said nothing. She knew Astaron was right, but the weight of the decision still weighed on her.
"I remembered a conversation with your father," he continued, coming closer. "Irfan told me that he dreamed of peace. Of seeing Demonia one day become a symbol of hope, not war. He believed that you could achieve that."
The words stirred painful memories in Victoria. She turned to Astaron, her gaze softening.
"What else did he say?" she asked.
Astaron looked away, falling silent for a moment.
"He knew it was impossible. We both knew it. Peace... is an illusion. Conflict and betrayal are our nature. But he still wanted you to try." Even if it ended as he predicted: in a crimson void.
The words hung in the air, like a shadow over their souls. Victoria turned to the window, and Astaron gently touched her shoulder before leaving the room.
She could not sleep for a long time that night. Her mind was filled with plans, doubts, and anger. She knew that Dreydus was celebrating his temporary victory, but she swore that it would not last long.
A new day was dawning. The day when Victoria would begin to reclaim control of her kingdom.
The next morning, Victoria awoke with a determination she had not felt since the day of her coronation. Over breakfast on the terrace, surrounded by a magnificent view of the city, she tried to collect her thoughts and think of her next move.
In front of her on the table were fresh reports on the mood in the capital. The Guard had failed to catch the criminals, and the people were beginning to express discontent. This was dangerous - any sign of weakness could turn against her.
Her thoughts returned to Astaron's words about her father. Irfan had always instilled in her faith in the power of Demonia, but he had also warned her of the treachery of her enemies. She felt she had to live up to his expectations, even if it meant doing something he himself would never approve of.
At the meeting of the military high command that same day, the atmosphere was tense.
The generals, advisers and ministers sat in the hall, discussing the annual plan. Dreydus, as always, occupied the central place. He conducted the conversation with a certain condescension that irritated Victoria.
"So," he began, standing up, "in light of recent events, I propose that we consider the question of abolishing the royal guard.
A tense silence fell over the room. Some of the people present exchanged glances, others frowned. Victoria, sitting on the throne, looked directly at Dreydus.
"We have discussed this before," she said coldly. "I will not make such a decision based on one failure."
"Failure?" Dreydus stepped closer, his voice growing louder. "You call this 'failure'? The city is in turmoil. The people doubt your authority. And the guard has proven itself utterly incapable of protecting you and your kingdom."
He paused, looking around the room to make sure everyone was listening.
"The Royal Guard is a relic of the past. We must move forward. The army is the true future. A unified force under one command."
"The command you seek to lead?" Victoria interrupted sharply.
Dreydus's gaze turned icy, but he kept his expression neutral.
"I propose what is best for Demonia," he said. "The decision is yours, Your Majesty."
Victoria felt anger boiling inside her. She knew she could not win this argument at the moment. However, the decision she made now would be the first step in her plan.
"I accept your proposal," she said, her voice firm but cold. "The Royal Guard will be disbanded."
There were cheers and murmurs in the hall. Dreydus smiled, thinly, almost imperceptibly. Victoria knew he considered himself a winner, but she also knew this was only the beginning.
She rose from her seat, folding her arms.
"But let everyone know that this is a temporary solution. The army must prove its effectiveness. And if I see even the slightest hint of abuse of power, the consequences will be severe.
Her words struck like lightning, and the hall fell silent again. Even Dreydus tensed slightly at her tone.
Later, in her office, Victoria called Astaron.
"You know it wasn't the end," she said, looking at him.
"I know," he replied. "But it was a step. Sometimes you have to give in to win more."
Victoria nodded, her gaze turning cold.
"We will begin the game by his rules, but I will soon turn the board over, Astaron. I will not let him think that he controls me or my kingdom."
Her voice was so confident that Astaron smiled. He saw in her the same determination he had once seen in Irfan.
Demonia was preparing for a new era, but Victoria was already making plans to make it her own.