The majestic hall of the royal palace was filled with the hum of voices. The aristocrats, sitting in gilded chairs around a long ebony table, discussed the rumors that had been circulating for the past few days. They talked about the upcoming changes that the queen had planned, but no one knew the details.
The doors to the hall swung open and Victoria entered, dressed in a strict dark red outfit with gold inserts, emphasizing her status. She walked confidently, holding a parchment with decrees in her hands, her gaze was focused, and her posture was perfect. Having ascended the dais, she turned to the aristocrats and opened the scroll.
"The decree of the Demonia Queen," her voice, firm and commanding, echoed throughout the hall. "From this day on, the following reforms are introduced. First, a luxury tax is introduced. Every person who owns an estate, valuable property or produces luxury goods is required to pay an additional tax of 15% of the total value to the state treasury. Secondly, every organization engaged in mining, manufacturing or trading is required to share 25% of the profit with the state. This decision is final.
The hall exploded. The aristocrats jumped up from their seats, shouting indignantly.
"This is absurd!" one of them shouted.
"You are ruining our business!" another was indignant.
"Madness!" someone slammed the table.
Amidst all this noise, Dreydus stood out, rising from his seat and stepping forward. His face was twisted with rage.
"Queen Victoria," his voice was full of contempt, "did you really think that you can just take away everything we have worked so hard to build?" My ancestors, who worked for decades to develop the mines, must now give part of their income to this... useless treasury? You call this governance? This is like robbery, and you are no better than the bandits who ravage our lands!
The nobles applauded, supporting his words.
Victoria listened to this without a hint of emotion. She slowly lowered the scroll, her gaze coldly fixed on Dreydus.
"Mr. Dreydus," her voice was calm, but there was an icy hardness in it, "do you think that the crown robs its subjects? Let me remind you that without this "useless treasury" your army will not be funded, the roads will not be built, and your mines will not be protected. I will not allow your pride and greed to jeopardize the safety of Demonia.
Dreydus was furious. He came closer to Victoria and threw his glove at her feet.
- Then prove your case! In a duel!
The hall froze. The aristocrats began to exchange glances, someone screamed, and someone began to whisper. Victoria, without moving from her place, looked at the glove and then slowly raised her eyes to Dreydus.
At that moment, the doors of the hall swung open again. Astaron entered, his calm posture immediately attracted attention. He was dressed in simple but elegant clothes, emphasizing his status. His gaze fell on Victoria, and he, slightly nodding, addressed everyone present.
- Gentlemen, - his voice sounded even and confident, - allow me to remind you that this reform serves exclusively for the benefit of our state. Demonia has long needed funds to support the army, protect borders and economic stability. What Queen Victoria proposed is a step towards prosperity, not decline. Those who are unable to accept this seem to have forgotten that we live in an era of change.
He turned to Dreydus and added:
"If you consider your ambitions more important than the future of the country, that is your right. But challenging the queen is not an act of courage. It is an act of weakness."
Dreydus clenched his fists, his face red with anger.
"I do not have to listen to morals from an advisor!"
He approached Astaron and threw the gauntlet again, this time right at his feet.
"If you are so sure of its rightness, prove it!"
Silence fell over the hall. Astaron, without losing his composure, bent down to pick up the gauntlet, but at that moment a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Morgana Scarlett, a knight of the Order of the Demon Blade. Her crimson cloak dragged lightly on the floor, and her gaze was cold and sharp. She stopped between Dreydus and Astaron and, without raising her voice, said:
"Enough, Master Dreydus. You are disgracing not only yourself, but the entire upper circle of Demonia. Her Majesty Victoria is your queen. If you are unable to respect her decisions, then you have no honor to call yourself her subject."
She picked up the glove and tore it into two pieces, demonstratively throwing them at Dreydus's feet.
"Stop putting on this show."
Dreydus, looking angrily at Morgana, turned and left the hall. The aristocrats in the hall began to whisper, and Morgana turned to Victoria:
- Your Majesty, if I may, I remain at your service.
Victoria nodded silently, her gaze cold and focused. She turned to Astaron, who smiled softly and said,
- You did well, Victoria.
She left the room without answering.
Victoria watched as Morgana Scarlett stood straight and calm, like a statue carved from marble. The girl looked young, but her eyes, the color of a deep scarlet, burned with unwavering determination. Her black, flowing hair seemed to absorb the light, and her silver armor, decorated with carved patterns, shimmered faintly in the torchlight.
Rumors about Morgana preceded her appearance. She was one of the youngest knights of the Order of the Demon Blade, but her strength and skill were already legendary. Known for their ruthless approach and absolute devotion to the Demonia, the Order rarely accepted new recruits, but Morgana had endured trials that would break even the strongest. And, as was the tradition of the Order, she was chosen to be Victoria's own bodyguard.
Astaron, standing nearby, interrupted her thoughts.
"Your Majesty," he said softly, gesturing toward Morgana. "Allow me to introduce you to your new protector. In the tradition of the Order of the Demon Blade, the Ephernite who has shown the greatest strength and loyalty becomes the Queen's bodyguard. Morgana is one of the most accomplished knights of our time. Her skill and dedication to your safety are unmatched.
Morgana stepped forward and knelt, bowing her head.
"Your Majesty, my life is yours. Your enemies will become my enemies. I will do anything to protect you, even if it costs me my life," she said with cold confidence.
Victoria thought for a moment, looking at the young face before her. This girl was the embodiment of discipline and strength. But behind her words, there was no blind faith, but a conscious devotion.
"Stand up, Morgana," Victoria said, her voice soft but commanding. "I am grateful for your loyalty. However, tell me, what drives you? Why do you serve the crown with such selflessness?"
Morgana stood up, her scarlet eyes meeting Victoria's.
"Your Majesty, I believe in Demonia. I believe in your path. You are the light that must guide this world. As long as you live, as long as you rule, I will be by your side. That is enough for me to continue fighting."
Victoria smiled. Her reforms seemed to be bearing fruit. People believed in her, even if they were people like Morgana, raised in the harsh school of the Order of the Demon Blade.
"Then stay close, Morgana," she said, rising from her seat. "I need not only a protector, but a reminder that this world is not yet lost."
Astaron, standing a little distance away, nodded approvingly. Victoria slowly returned to her thoughts, preparing herself for what lay ahead. But now her spirits were high: the reform had been approved, and her side now had such a strong ally as Morgana.
The silence on the terrace was broken only by the soft clink of porcelain cups as Victoria cautiously raised her gaze to Astaron. Morgana sat nearby, tense and alert, but did not interfere with the conversation. Victoria enjoyed this brief moment of calm, when the weight of the crown briefly faded into the background.
"Astaron," she began, taking a sip of hot tea, "will you make your pilgrimage again this year?"
Astaron smiled slightly, looking down slightly.
"Of course, Your Majesty. It is a tradition I have followed for many years. Being among the people, talking to them, telling them about our history and the spirits that have become part of this world - this is more than a duty. It is a reminder to me of what we are fighting for."
Victoria nodded, understanding how important this was to him.
"You talk about demons, about religion..." she said thoughtfully, twirling the cup in her hands. "And what are you telling people when you talk about us? About our power?"
Astaron smiled slightly, answering warmly:
"I tell them about our right to exist. About our people, who stood firm in the face of darkness and chaos. About our determination. And that we have a queen who does everything she can to make our world a better place.
Astaron's words brought Victoria a slight sense of pride, but also a weight of expectation. She smiled, but her gaze was focused and serious.
"You know that I have a training session with the First Demon Army today?" she asked, changing the subject.
Astaron nodded, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"I know. The army's base is here, in Shadaria Veil. This is not only a test of your strength, Victoria, but also an opportunity to show that you are truly capable of being a leader. Sometimes, parting words require force. Are you ready for this?"
Victoria gripped the cup tighter than she intended, but immediately loosened her grip so that her gesture would not betray the tension.
"I am ready." Her voice was confident. "If this is what it takes to prove my resolve to my warriors, I will do it."
Astaron smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"I do not doubt it. But let me tell you a story to remind you that being a leader is not only difficult, but also honorable."
He set his cup down and looked into the distance, as if immersed in memories.
"Once upon a time, before the Flame Empire became what it is today, there was an emperor named Zephyr the Burning. He was not only a great general, but also a visionary. Zephyr wanted to unite his people under one goal, one banner. To prove his strength and connection to the higher beings, he decided to summon the primordial spirit of flame into the world – Ifrit.
"And he did it?" Victoria asked, her eyes flashing with interest.
Astaron nodded.
"Yes, he did. The summoning cost him dearly. Many thought he would die, but he endured. When Ifrit appeared, all the people of the Flame Empire saw her fiery greatness. She became not only a symbol of their religion, but also of their invincibility. And this act united the people, even those who had previously doubted his rule."
Victoria listened silently, trying to comprehend the story.
"I am not telling you this because I want you to follow his example," Astaron continued. "But so that you understand: every great leader must have his own goal. It does not matter whether it is peace, prosperity, or protection. The main thing is that you must go towards it with the same determination as Zephyr went towards his."
Victoria quietly placed her cup on the saucer, her gaze becoming even firmer.
"I want to make Demonia safe. For everyone who lives in it. And if that means becoming someone to be feared, I will do it.
Astaron nodded, approving of her words.
"Then make it your banner. Let your warriors, your people see you as the one who will lead them to the light even through the crimson darkness."
Morgana, who had been silent all this time, finally allowed herself to break the silence:
"Your Majesty, we believe in you. You are our light. And we will fight for you until the last drop of blood."
Victoria turned to her, her lips slightly curved into a smile.
"Thank you, Morgana. You are a reminder to me that not all words have to be empty. Sometimes, just believing is enough."
With that, Victoria rose from the table, ready for the day ahead. Training with the First Demon Army was her next goal, but plans much grander were already forming in her head.
Victoria sat in the carriage, looking thoughtfully out the window. The city that her father loved with all his heart floated before her eyes. Accompanied by Morgana, she was heading to the base of the First Demon Army. This was her chance to show herself, to prove her strength and earn the respect of those who doubted her.
The carriage drove up to the central square, and Victoria noticed the tall, almost grim silhouette of the guillotine. The rusty blades, long since lost their shiny fury, were still pointed downwards menacingly. This instrument of the past, when Demonia was drowning in blood, served as a reminder of times of cruelty and chaos. Victoria felt a chill run down her skin. She turned away, not wanting to look at the symbol of the old regime.
"The guillotine..." she said quietly. "It was a time when justice was replaced by fear."
Morgana looked at the queen and answered:
"It was an instrument of tyranny. But you, Your Majesty, will change that.
Victoria nodded, her thoughts drowning in the memories of what her father had told her. But as she rode a little further, she noticed a crowd. On a small hill, under the shade of a spreading tree, stood Astaron. His voice, even and deep, carried over the square, gathering a crowd.
"We are the heirs of struggle," he said, pointing his hand at those around him. "Every stone in this city is soaked in the blood of those who defended it from chaos. But we survived. And now we must remember: our strength is in unity."
The people listened, holding their breath. Victoria felt her heart warm. Astaron always knew how to inspire the people.
"He gives them faith," Victoria said quietly, smiling slightly.
"He gives it to all of us," Morgana added.
The carriage moved on, leaving behind the noise of the crowd. When they arrived at the First Demon Army base, they were met with silence. No honors, no greetings, just soldiers going about their business. Victoria noticed looks of disdain and distrust. One of the soldiers even chuckled softly as he passed by, looking at her.
"Queen..." he muttered, as if the word were a mockery.
"It seems we were not expected here," Morgana noted, her voice cold and tense.
But Victoria was not taken aback. Her face remained inscrutable.
"It does not matter," she replied. "I am not a queen now. I am a soldier."
They headed to the women's locker room, where Victoria took off her royal dress and put on her training uniform. Morgana followed her example. In that moment, Victoria tried to forget who she was. She took a deep breath and left the locker room, ready for what was ahead.
At the formation, she squeezed into the line, standing in line with the soldiers. The commander briefly looked at the assembled, but said nothing. The training began.
Running. Push-ups. Overcoming obstacles. Victoria tried to keep up, each movement came easily to her. The soldiers watched her furtively, but no one said a word. Her tenacity was surprising.
When archery training began, she hit the target with ease. Practicing sword strikes was also easy. Victoria felt the excitement inside her gradually fading, leaving room for confidence.
But the main part of the training was just beginning. The arena, surrounded by soldiers, was filled with shouts. This was the place where everyone proved their strength. The soldiers knew that Victoria would go out to fight, and were already making plans to make her task more difficult.
She was given a cracked wooden sword. The soldiers looked at each other, their faces full of malicious anticipation. But Victoria did not show it. She entered the arena, holding the sword as if it were the most formidable weapon.
Her opponent was a large soldier with a heavy training shield and a club. He grinned, looking at her weapon.
"Did the queen really get this?" — he asked, holding back his laughter.
— The weapon is not important, — Victoria answered calmly. — It is who wields it that matters.
The soldiers around her laughed, but Victoria had already concentrated. The enemy rushed at her, intending to crush her with one blow. But she parried his attack with precision, turned and knocked the club out of his hands with one movement. Her cracked sword sank into his side, and the enemy fell.
The crowd fell silent. The soldiers looked at her in surprise. Victoria raised her head, looking at the crowd.
— Who is next? — she asked, her voice firm and determined.
The training had only just begun, but Victoria had already shown that she was more than just a queen. She was ready to fight.
On the hill, surrounded by the crowd, Astaron continued his speech. His voice sounded deep and calm, like a river that knew no barriers.
— Luminaria, the land of light, the embodiment of ancient wonders, — he said, looking around at those gathered. — This is a place where relics of the past come to life, where ancient artifacts are intertwined with the faith that binds them to the Solaris clan. A lightsaber that cuts down enemies with one blow... A small sun that burns entire fleets... And light gates that open spatial anomalies, destroying everything around.
The crowd that gathered to listen to him was as if enchanted. The youth, not hiding their delight, hungrily caught every word.
— Luminaria is not only strong, but also beautiful, — Astaron continued. — Its trade routes are the main arteries of the continent, connecting peoples. Its culture is exquisite, its nobility is indisputable. We live in a world where each country has its own wonders. Our neighbors are not enemies, but part of this great world. Don't you want to see it with your own eyes? To be the ones who discover new horizons? The adventurers, the explorers who are inspired by the extraordinary diversity of life?
The crowd roared with delight. The young people seemed ready to rush off on a journey right then and there. But suddenly someone shouted from the crowd:
- Astaron! Are you praising the enemies of Demonia? - The voice belonged to one of the nobles, surrounded by several allies.
Astaron looked up at the accuser.
- I am not talking about the enemies, but about our world, - he answered, not losing his calm. - You call them enemies, but what do we know about them? Should we close our eyes to the wonders they share with the world just because of prejudice? I want the people of Demonia to know about their continent. So that they do not remain closed in their corner, unaware of what is happening around them.
The crowd began to roar again. Someone nodded approvingly, but the shouts of the nobles drowned everything out.
- Populism! - one of them shouted. - You are a traitor, spreading enemy propaganda!
Suddenly, Dreydus appeared from the crowd. His steps were heavy, his voice menacing.
— Astaron, you speak of Luminaria, a nation that dreams of our destruction. You call yourself the Queen's mentor, but instead you undermine her power with your words. These are not the words of a patriot. They are heresy.
The crowd fell silent. Astaron looked directly at Dreydus, his eyes calm.
"Heresy?" he asked. "I speak only of what I see. I inspire men to strive for more, to learn about the world."
"You inspire them to betray," Dreydus growled. "And for that you will be punished. Guards! Arrest him."
Dreydus's troops, who had been waiting for the command, immediately ran up to Astaron and seized him. The crowd gasped. Someone tried to object, but the guards growled sternly:
"Get back!"
Astaron did not resist. He took one last look at the crowd.
"You fear knowledge because you fear the truth," he said calmly. "But one day the truth will catch up with you anyway."
He was led away towards the palace. Victoria, who had learned of what had happened, tried to intervene, but was stopped. Dreydus, smiling ominously, whispered:
"Your Majesty, this is a matter for the court. You do not wish to interfere with justice, do you?"
Later in the evening, in a dark and damp dungeon, Astaron was put in solitary confinement. He sat, thoughtfully staring at one point, when he was led out into the courtroom. The judges, all loyal to Dreydus, were already waiting for him.
"Astaron," the chief judge began, looking at him with disdain. "You are accused of spreading heresy and betraying Demonia. Your words inspire praise for enemies, which means you threaten the security of our state. What can you say in your defense?"
Astaron raised his head. His voice was firm:
"I have spoken the truth. And I will speak it, even if it costs me my life. Demonia deserves more than fear and hatred. It deserves wisdom."
But the judges were adamant. After a short deliberation, they announced their verdict.
"Astaron is found guilty. He will be executed by beheading at dawn."
The words echoed throughout the hall. Astaron nodded silently, showing no fear. His gaze was calm, as if he had accepted his fate.
Victoria sat by the fire, lost in her thoughts. The light crackle of the flames and the aroma of mushroom soup accompanied her and Morgana, who was quietly finishing her portion. It had been a hard day, but Victoria tried to maintain her dignity, despite her fatigue. Questions about Astaron's fate were still spinning in her head. She only knew one thing: he was imprisoned. The idea that someone could harm her mentor was absurd to her.
"They wouldn't dare," she whispered to herself, as if convincing not only herself, but the entire world.
The night air was cool. Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of training could be heard - soldiers continued to practice their blows even at night. Victoria watched with interest as the firelight reflected in Morgana's eyes.
"You look tired, Your Majesty," Morgana said quietly, choosing her words carefully. "Perhaps you should rest?"
"It's too early," Victoria replied, standing up. "I want to walk."
Morgana did not object, but stood up after her, ready to accompany the queen. Victoria headed toward a group of soldiers gathered at the side of the camp. They were discussing something loudly, occasionally breaking into laughter. Victoria caught snippets of their conversation as she passed.
"These pathetic royal guards!" she heard. "And to think that they seriously considered themselves elite. Now they have nothing but pride... pathetic, useless pride.
The words cut Victoria to the heart. She slowed down, hoping that the conversation would stop, but the soldiers continued.
"Have you heard that we are now free to do whatever we want in the border regions?" one of them laughed loudly. "Rob, beat, take whatever you want! No one will dare stop us."
Victoria stopped. Her heart began to beat faster. She turned to the group of soldiers, gritting her teeth.
"Are you serious?" she asked quietly but firmly, approaching them.
The soldiers turned around. At first, their looks were confused, but then they recognized her. Their faces distorted with contempt.
"What's wrong, Your Majesty?" one of them drawled mockingly. "We are now free. Or are you against it?"
"You call yourself soldiers of Demonia," Victoria said, her voice ringing with anger. - But you are a disgrace to our flag, our state, and yourselves. I order you to stop this farce immediately and go to rest.
The soldiers began to laugh. One of them, a large man with a scar across his face, stepped closer to her.
- And if we refuse? What will you do, Queen? - he said defiantly.
- I will force you, - Victoria answered, her voice ringing with steel.
The soldiers surrounded her. A ring of rough, disgruntled faces closed. Victoria did not retreat.
The first blow fell on her unexpectedly. Scarface tried to grab her arm, but Victoria deftly dodged and delivered a sharp blow with her elbow to his face. The man recoiled, his nose covered in blood.
- You will regret this! - he shouted.
The battle began. Victoria moved swiftly, like a shadow. Her blows were precise, each one knocking the breath out of her opponents. However, the noise of the fight had drawn other soldiers. Now there was a whole crowd against her and Morgana.
Morgana, like a living blade, rushed into the fight. Her movements were perfect: every blow was deadly, every move was precise. She moved as if she knew where the enemies would strike before they began their attack. The soldiers began to fall one after another.
But there were too many of them. Victoria felt her breathing getting heavier. Each blow was a pain in her body, but she continued to fight.
One of the soldiers tried to punch her in the face. Victoria dodged, grabbing his arm and twisting it until he screamed in pain. She kneed him in the stomach and pushed him away. There were already several bodies lying around her, but every time one soldier fell, two took his place.
The firelight cast shadows on the ground, mixing with blood and sweat. Screams, blows, the clanging of weapons - all of this merged into a single chaos.
Finally, Victoria, breathing heavily, pushed the last soldier away. Her face was covered in blood, both her own and others. Her body ached, every movement was a sharp pain.
Suddenly, one of the fallen soldiers raised his head and, gasping for breath, said:
"You... shouldn't be here... Astaron... he's being executed... today... at noon... in the central square..."
The world around Victoria froze. She felt a chill run down her spine. Anger, pain, and fatigue mixed in her heart, but one thought pushed everything else out.
"Execution..." she repeated quietly. Her voice trembled. "Astaron..."