The Royal Decree.
A formidable tool, one that caused even the most stalwart noblemen to tremble in apprehension.
Unlike a command from Her Majesty, which even a Duke might find difficult to defy, a Royal Decree was absolute. It carried the full weight of the Crown, leaving no room for negotiation—only war or compliance. Her Majesty's use of this power was a clear signal of her bottom line, a boundary that, if crossed, would mark one as a traitor to the realm.
The immense power held by the Queen in issuing a Royal Decree was both a boon and a burden. It was a rare event, reserved only for the most critical of circumstances—like the mobilization of troops for war.
Even the Queen, with all her authority, used this power sparingly, aware that the very fabric of the kingdom could be torn asunder by its misuse.
However, today was different.
The danger presented by a single man had forced her hand, leading her to wield this power in a way that had not been seen since the days of the Emperor, when he declared the start of the Great War—a time that still haunted the memories of the older nobility.
Yet, this Decree did not stir the same kind of uproar as the Emperor's. The order for Princess Serena to return from her studies abroad carried with it a heavy significance, understood by even the dimmest of nobles.
The return of the kingdom's most prestigious princess, the only one who could realistically challenge the Queen's rule, was a matter of great consequence.
Though Princess Serena had shown no interest in the throne, her popularity among the nobility—particularly the lesser noblemen and bureaucrats—fueled hopes of rebellion. They saw in her a chance to gain power, should she ever decide to claim the crown.
Thankfully, the Decree remained hidden from the masses, and the kingdom continued to bask in a fragile peace.
But while the kingdom remained oblivious, there were those who felt the full force of the Queen's command.
[Unknown POV]
In front of a grand mansion in the heart of the capital, an aged knight stood, sword at his hip and horse by his side. This man, rarely seen outside the castle walls, was now a living symbol of the Queen's will, standing before the gates without any prior announcement.
The guards at the gate were stunned. One moment, they were going about their duties, and the next, the most respected warrior in the kingdom was at their doorstep. How could they not be shocked?
"CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD, SIR LASTRANGE, IS WELCOMED TO THE—"
A seasoned soldier began the formal greeting, his voice shaky with surprise. He had manned these gates for years, and though there was no protocol for such an event, he knew better than to keep the Captain of the Royal Guard waiting.
Without hesitation, the gates were opened, and the Captain marched through, ignoring the beautiful courtyard and the stunned stares of the staff. Before the Duke could even rise from his chair, the Captain was at his door.
"Captain Lastrange," the Duke greeted him, bowing in respect. Despite his rank, the Duke understood that a man like Lastrange, who had proven his worth on the battlefield, deserved more than mere formalities. The Captain returned the bow, and without further ceremony, spoke in a hushed tone, disregarding titles.
"Windslow," he said, his voice low and urgent. The Duke's eyes widened in response, understanding immediately that this was no ordinary visit. The Captain only broke protocol when time was of the essence.
"Come in, my friend," the Duke replied, leading him to a private room reserved for only the most serious discussions. The urgency in Lastrange's voice made it clear that this was not a visit to be taken lightly.
As they entered the room, the Duke noticed the Captain reach into his coat and pull out an ornate scroll. The sight of it made the Duke's heart skip a beat. He recognized it immediately—a Royal Decree.
"It is by Her Majesty's imperial command that Lady Fiana present herself at the castle within the hour," Lastrange said, summarizing the contents of the scroll before handing it to the Duke. The Captain's breath was labored, a sign of the haste with which he had ridden to deliver the message. The urgency of the situation left the Duke little time to respond, and before he could issue any orders, there was a knock at the door.
[Lady Fiana POV]
"Knock, knock," my fist lightly tapped against the door of my father's study. The very study where I had spent my youth, learning the ways of the world, and where I had secretly plotted my ascension to the head of our house.
'Now's not the time for reminiscing, Fiana,' I chided myself. My mind was in turmoil, but I forced myself to remain composed.
'Heir…' The word echoed in my mind, a title I had started claiming for myself ever since I devised my plan to lead the house to greater heights.
'And just when I'm ready to set everything in motion, what happens? That mad Queen sends her even crazier uncle to our estate without warning!'
Had anyone overheard my thoughts, they would have been shocked by the bluntness of my words. But this was House Windslow, where we valued sharp minds and strategic thinking over flowery speech. Even so, my crudeness would have been a surprise to most.
There was no doubt in my mind that the Captain's presence meant trouble. He would never leave the Royal Palace unless it concerned the security of the kingdom or by the Queen's direct order.
This was a known fact among the nobility—even eventually turning into a joke, as some of the lesser nobels were said to pray every morning that the Royal Captain stayed in the castle, for his every departure herald disaster.
Realizing that I needed to act quickly, I knocked on my father's study door, knowing that interrupting him was a grave breach of etiquette. But these were desperate times.
"Come in, Fiana."
My father's voice was calm, as if he had already surmised who was at the door. No one else would dare to interrupt him.
As I entered, my eyes were drawn immediately to the scroll in his hands. My heart stopped. The implications of what I was seeing were too much to process.
'For the love of God!' I thought, knowing that whatever was in that Royal Decree, it would likely ruin all my carefully laid plans. But I remained composed, at least outwardly, though my father could see right through me.
"It is my great honor to be in the presence of the Mountain of M—"
"Cut it," the Captain interrupted, his gruff voice leaving no room for formalities. His sharp eyes bore into mine. "You're coming with me," he declared, his words final.
"Wha—?!" Before I could even comprehend the situation, he scooped me up like a sack of grain, and with a quick glance to my father, who only gave a silent nod, he carried me out of the study, through the manor, and onto his horse. Without a moment's delay, we were off, riding toward the Palace of Peace as the sun began to set.
[Unknown POV]
The Duke, left alone in his study, finally finished reading the full Decree. His thoughts were calm, despite the chaos that had just unfolded.
'It's utter nonsense,' he mused. The Queen's reasoning for summoning his daughter was filled with varying explanations, none of which seemed to justify the Captain's behavior. The urgency, the haste—it all pointed to something far more significant.
'Has she finally begun her preparations?' His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. War was on the horizon.
'But it's too soon,' he thought. He had expected the Queen's plans to take at least another year to come to fruition. This sudden move was unlike her.
'I suppose I'll have to interrogate Fiana when she returns,' he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't make any sense of the situation without more information.
"LADY FIANA HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!"
The cry from outside his study jolted him from his thoughts. He opened the door to find the household in a state of panic.
"TELL THE DUKE!"
He quickly took charge, calming the servants and ensuring that rumors didn't spread further. But he knew it would be impossible to completely contain the story.
'The stone has been cast,' he thought grimly, 'and the ripples will soon spread throughout the kingdom.'
There was not a moment to waste.