Amelia bore a crown that wasn’t quite hers. Of course it was by right; she was the daughter of the late King Theodric Aurelia and with that his heir. The coronation, that took place only a few hours after her fathers death, had seen and made it official, Amelia was now queen. And still she didn’t feel like it. The crown was too heavy with burdens she was too young to carry, and the throne beneath her seemed to still remember the King that came before here.

  She sat with her spine straight and her head high, a posture her mother had pushed into her mind and thanks to that now came natural to her. ‘I wonder where she went’

  Amelia's hands were folded into her lap. She tried to project an image of calm and common, but inside she was restless.

  The High Court of Aurelia stretched before her. It was a grand and imposing hall, one Amelia feared as a child. And now she sat on top of it all. She felt sick in her stomach, wanted to run. But she didn’t.

  The vaulted ceilings arched like the ribs of some ancient beast. Stained glass windows lined the walls, casting ever shifting colors across the marble floor—crimson, sapphire, emerald—like spilled jewels. The banners of noble houses hung above the gathered lords and ladies, each a reminder of the alliances and enmities that shaped the kingdom’s fate.

  At the base of the Throne, to the right and close as possible, stood Vidrah, Amelia's right hand and leader of her personal guards. Ever-watchful, ever-composed. Her armor was custom made, just for her because she thought the usual soldiers Armor was too bulky and heavy. So Amelia had her father make this custom armor. It was black and blue, the colors of the Royal House of Aurelia, with a hint of Violet, the colors Vidrah’s family, the house Veyne, used, and slim and light but still surprisingly sturdy.

  To Amelia’s left was Lord Rodric of the House Vaelmont, newly appointed to her personal council, and waited with his arms folded, his eyes assessing the room.

  The court room was full, as it Always was during times of uncertainty. Whispers rippled through court, like Wind over dry Grass; hushed and urgent, tongues darting behind silk fans and gloved hands. Even now, weeks after her coronation, they watched her with veiled scrutiny.

  Their queen was young.

  Their queen was untested.

  And their queen had inherited a kingdom on the brink of war.

  Amelia knew of their whispers and doubt. She knew that they were thinking; that she was only a child playing royalty, that the Crown was too heavy for her head and that she would crumble under the weight of it.

  She wanted to prove them wrong.

  ?Your Majesty.? The first of many voices rose over the murmurs that filled the silence between. It belonged to Duke Lorian of the House Belvedere. He was an older man with deep lines like canyons in the mountains, carved on his skin. His black doublet was embroidered with gold filigree. He carried himself with the confidence of a man that survived many rulers.

  ?The Empires movements along our borders grow more alarming each day. Their encampments grow, they patrol more frequently. We have reason to believe that they are amassing their forces to take over the northern border. Maybe even attack through it.?

  ?Do we have proof of their intent,? Amelia asked, trying to keep her tone measured. She knew that the opposition in the room would pounce on any sign of weakness. Like a Dreadwing on a Battlefield, they would tear Amelia's composure, or whatever of it would be left at that Point, to shreds.

  A scoff made Amelia's head Turn towards Lord Valcairn of the House Vaelmont. He was Rodric’s older brother. Valcairn was known to be a warmonger in waiting. With his chin high and a smirk on his face He stared at Amelia.

  ?What intent are we looking for, your Majesty,? He asked. Valcairn was the loudest and most powerful voice in the Opposition, and so he riled everyone up against Amelia if he only got the glimpse of a chance.

  ?They’re waiting for us to falter. A kingdom in mourning is a kingdom vulnerable. They will not wait much longer before they test us in earnest.?

  A ripple of uneasy agreement swept through the chamber.

  ?He is right!? Lady Evadne of House Nyros stepped forward, her banner being held high behind her. Her black hair was styled in a braided Crown, a sign that she didn't accept the Crown on Amelia's head. And still she was respectful.

  She cleared her throat.

  ?Your Majesty,? she began. ?I don't agree with Lord Valcairn.? She grimaced at the following words. ?But in this regard he is right. We don't have the time to be soft. We have to strike and hit the Empire unprepared. That is our only Chance, in light of the new rumors.”

  Amelia shifted in her seat, meeting the woman's sharp and cold gaze. “What rumors?” She finally managed to ask after a hurtful amount of time. And the short break in response was all that Lady Evadne and Lord Valcairn needed. Their two houses hated each other, but when it came to make Amelia look like a fool, they worked together like rarely any noble before.

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  “Magic, your Majesty,” Evadne said with an unusual smirk on her face. Like she was the one to spin those rumors. Like a crazed Woman, Evadne held Amelias gaze before continuing; “It is rumored that the Empire started to use Magic. That they have Sorcerers and the Forbidden in their ranks.”

  ?Magic?? Amelia stayed quiet. Magic has been outlawed long before Amelia, no, long before anyone in this room was born. In her twenty years of life, Amelia has only seen one Forbidden in her life, That was when she was fourteen. He was a nice man, used his water powers to cool down the children on hot days.

  He was hanged the same day she met him.

  “Rumors,? Rodric said dismissively, though there was a tension in his jaw. ?Superstitions from frightened peasants and drunkards. The Empire would not risk exposing themselves in such a way.?

  ?Would they Not?? Lady Evadnes voice was quiet but firm. She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable—amusement, perhaps, or something sharper. ?You speak as if the Empire fears the same things we do. As if they are bound by the same laws, the same rules, the same fear of consequence.?

  Her cold gaze swept across the room. ?But that is where you are mistaken. The Empire does not follow laws. They are the ones who write them. And when those laws cease to serve their purpose, they do not hesitate to cast them aside. You call these rumors, dismiss them as the whispers of frightened peasants—but have you considered that the Empire wants you to hear them??

  She took another step forward, her braided crown gleaming under the candlelight. ?They do not fear exposure, because what force exists to hold them accountable? Who would dare to challenge them, to demand answers? We clutch our treaties, our old codes of honor, as if they hold weight. As if the Empire will be bound by them. But power does not answer to ink on parchment.?

  Her lips curled in a knowing smirk. ?Power rewrites the rules. And if we do not strike first, Your Majesty, we will live under the rules they choose to make for us.?

  A ripple of murmurs and quiet whispers spread through the room again and Evadne and Amelia hold eye Contact for Just a Second. And then the older Woman shrugged and took a few steps back.

  ?But of course those are just my thoughts on this matter, and I wanted to do no less than give you another perspective, Your Majesty.? She said it with a type of venom in her voice, that Amelia only ever Heard from her mother.

  Amelia breathed out slowly when Rodric spoke up next to her; ?We should wait. The Empire could very well just be instructing new recruits.?

  “Right at our borders, Brother?” Valcairn met his brother's gaze with something that could only be called smugness. ?Surely even you can't be stupid enough to believe that right??

  Rodric opened his mouth, but his brother wouldn’t let him. ?No Kingdom would put Patrols at the borders of kingdoms to ‘instruct new recruits’. What the Empire is doing is an act of aggression. They play with borders and rules to see how much they can do without facing consequences! And we let them. For years now the Empire did what it wanted, and both we and all other Kingdoms looked away because we feared war.? He took another step forward, His already high confidence rising with each passing second. Amelia should Stop him, she knew that. But she also was caught in His way of speaking.

  ?All other Kingdoms except for the North. The people of Varyndor have been resisting the Empire for ten years now. We should do as they do and kill every imperial Soldier at our Border, and if they keep coming we Bring them war.?

  ?But we are not Northmen are we, Lord,? now finally Vidrah spoke Up, almost spitting out her words.

  Valcairn turned his gaze towards Vidrah. Ice cold and calculating he stared at her for a Second before slowly speaking; ?No, we are not,? he admitted. ?In that you are right. But tell me, Lady Vidrah, what will patience win us? Has our restraint stopped the Empire from creeping closer and brought us peace?? He gestured broadly, His voice filled with conviction. ?The Warriors of Varyndor held them back for a decade, while we sat in our halls, debating and waiting for them to push further.?

  Vidrah narrowed her eyes. ?And what has it cost them? How many of their clans have burned for their defiance? How many of their warriors lie dead, while their lands grow colder and emptier?? She stepped forward now, voice cutting through the heated air like a blade. ?Do not mistake suffering for strength, Lord Valcairn. If we take your path, Aurelia will not resist for ten years—it will die in one.?

  Valcairn exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ?Patience got us here. Patience got King Theodric killed.? His gaze snapped back to Amelia, hard and unwavering. ?You think diplomacy will save us? Your father thought the same. He waited. He trusted the Empire’s word. And when they came for him, all that patience, all that restraint, bought him was a sword through the heart.?

  ?Amelia clenched her fists in her lap. ?That’s not—?

  ?Not fair?? Valcairn cut her off, stepping forward. ?Not what you want to hear? Then tell me, Your Majesty, what will you do when the Empire moves again? When their ‘patrols’ grow bolder, when their demands become commands? What will your pretty words do when they march into our cities and call them their own??

  She had no answer.

  The room seemed to grow smaller, the candlelight flickering as if it, too, wavered under the weight of expectation.

  ?And what, brother, do you think will happen when we declare war? When we stand alone against the greatest force this world has ever seen? You speak of the North, but even their strength has limits. We are not them, nor can we afford to be.? Rodric turned slightly, addressing the room now, not just Valcairn. ?The Empire will not be moved by a single kingdom’s defiance. And you know this, all of you do.?

  His fingers tapped lightly against his side, thoughtful. ?The Empire does what it must, as it always has. And we must do the same.? A pause, calculated. Then, a knowing smile. ?The river does not break the mountain by striking it. It wears it down, patiently, until the stone gives way.?

  Valcairn scowled. ?And how long should we wear them down? Until we have nothing left? Until we are just dust beneath their boots??

  Rodric exhaled, slow, deliberate, as if speaking to a child. ?Until we have what we need to survive. Until we have guarantees that Aurelia will endure.? He looked to Amelia now, his expression softening. Supportive. Reassuring. Familiar.

  ?You want peace, Your Majesty.? It was not a question. ?And peace is won not by reckless defiance, but by understanding when to stand and when to kneel.?

  Amelia swallowed hard, her pulse drumming in her ears. The weight of words pressed down on her like a great iron hand, tightening around her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

  She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that war would only bring ruin. That there was another way. That there had to be. But the words wouldn’t come.

  Because part of her feared Valcairn was right.

  She forced herself to sit taller, lifting her chin just slightly, as if that might hide the way her fingers trembled against herself.

  ?This court is adjourned for the day,? she said, her voice quieter than she wanted.

  Silence.

  Then, a rustle of fabric as Vidrah inclined her head, sharp and deliberate. Others followed—lords and knights, their expressions unreadable, some nodding, some exchanging glances that made Amelia’s stomach twist.

  Valcairn and Rodric didn’t bow.

  He lingered just a moment longer, watching her, as if searching for something. And when he turned away, there was no anger in his face—only quiet disappointment.

  The doors opened, and one by one, the court filtered out.

  Amelia remained seated, staring at the space where they had stood, the weight in her chest growing heavier with every passing second.

  Patience had gotten her father killed.

  And she was still holding on to it.