Luren nodded and quickly left to call Roan. His heart pounded with anxiety, it was clear now, war had broken out.
"What's happening?" Cassian asked as he entered with Keith, both of them looking tense and alert.
Before Craige could respond, the door burst open. The royal messenger rushed in, followed closely by Cleven.
"I saw the flare," Cleven said breathlessly. "Are we at war now?"
Craige turned sharply to the messenger. "Tell us, what's the message from the King?"
The messenger's voice trembled as he spoke, "Borg send me here, The palace… the palace has been attacked. Queen Lariana is dead… and His Majesty, the King, is missing."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone froze, stunned by the weight of the news.
Craige suddenly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "How the hell did they breach the palace defenses?"
The messenger swallowed hard. "The King had dispatched a large number of soldiers to the eastern border after an unexpected assault. While the defenses were thin, thousands of enemy troops marched on the
capital."
"I need to leave now. I'll gather my men and send reinforcements to the capital," Cassian said, already moving.
"We have to find the King first," Cleven insisted, his fists clenched.
"With the King gone… his brothers could claim the throne," Keith muttered grimly.
Craige's eyes narrowed, his tone commanding. "Cleven, go with Cassian, secure the palace and take control of the situation. I'll head out and search for Carl."
Cassian and Cleven rushed out without a word, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Craige's gaze sharpened. "Keith, send a messenger to the border general, now. Find out exactly what's happening... and whether Velgarith has declared themselves our enemy."
Keith stiffened at the weight of the command. "Yes, Your Grace," he replied, bowing swiftly before disappearing through the door, urgency tightening the air.
---
What Happened at the Palace Before the Attack
"My King, the southern faction has been unusually quiet. It feels like they're planning something," Miller said, bowing slightly as he
delivered his report to King Carl.
"The Noble Council has gone silent as well," he added grimly.
Knock knock knock.
A sharp knock echoed through the room, breaking the tense silence.
"Your Majesty, I bring urgent news from the eastern border," a soldier's voice rang from behind the doors.
"You may enter," Carl responded, his voice firm.
The doors opened and a soldier stepped in hastily, bowing low. "Greetings, Your Majesty," he said, panting slightly. "Thousands of enemy troops are marching toward the eastern border. They bear the flags of Lunathia and Velgarith."
A heavy silence fell across the chamber. The air grew cold.
Carl clenched his jaw. "Lunathia dares to wage war on Seravelle?" he growled, his eyes narrowing with fury. "Even while Prince Karin is within our walls?"
"They clearly don't care," Miller said grimly. "Not even the presence of their own prince stops them."
Carl turned abruptly. "Send word to General Logan, he is to deploy immediately to the eastern border!"
Miller's eyes widened. "But, Your Majesty, General Logan is in charge of defending the Capital and the Palace! If he leaves… who will protect you and the Queen?"
Carl's voice dropped low, but sharp as a blade. "The Royal Guard and the Shadows are still here. They will hold the line."
He stepped forward, his tone now commanding, heavy with urgency. "If the eastern border falls, the enemy will sweep straight into the Capital. They have numbers, we don't. Even if the North and West come to aid, it will take days. We don't have that time."
He locked eyes with Miller. "Go. Follow my command. We must hold the line at all cost. We cannot, we will not, let them step foot in
Seravelle!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Miller replied with a firm
voice, bowing deeply before quickly turning to carry out the king's orders, his heart pounding with urgency.
---
"Greetings, Queen Lariana," Marchioness Atthalia said gracefully, bowing as she stepped into the glass garden where the tea party was being held.
"Welcome, Marchioness Atthalia," Queen Lariana greeted her with a warm smile.
"Hello, Marchioness…" the other ladies chorused politely as she joined them at the table.
"Such a beautiful day to share tea and gossip, isn't it, ladies?" Marchioness Atthalia said cheerfully, settling into her seat.
"Indeed. And the Capital is unusually quiet today. I heard there will be a grand ball in the North tonight," one of the ladies remarked,
lifting her teacup.
"Oh, I would have loved to attend," another lady chimed in, her voice sharp with disapproval. "But they say the Duke intends to take a man as his Duchess. How disgraceful."
"What?" another lady gasped, nearly spilling her tea. "How could the Duke even consider such a thing? That's absurd, unnatural even!" Her face twisted with a mix of shock and revulsion.
"I know it's not common here in Seravelle to marry someone of the same gender," Queen Lariana began, her voice soft yet commanding, "but when I met him, I saw a kind and honorable soul. The Duke loves him and as long as they truly love each other, the King will approve their marriage. So I hope you all stop speaking as if their love were a sin in the first place."
Her words hung in the air, silencing the garden. The four women shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unable to meet the Queen's gaze.
"I agree," Marchioness Atthalia spoke firmly, her voice full of conviction. "In other kingdoms, especially in Velgarith, such unions are natural and respected."
The other ladies nodded slowly, lips tight, but their thoughts betrayed their smiles. Deep inside, they still disagreed, each of them
once dreamed of becoming the Duchess of the North. Now, that dream was slipping
away... replaced by a man they didn't even know.
A maid approached the table with trembling hands, carefully placing trays of food and refreshments. Her nervousness was obvious.
"Why are you the one serving this? Where is the butler?" Queen Lariana asked, raising an elegant brow. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it
carried the weight of royalty.
"I—I was just—" the maid stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before the poor girl could finish, Marchioness Atthalia stood and offered a gentle smile. "The butler must be busy. Let me help you, dear." She moved to the maid's side, her graceful gesture filled with malice
and dark plan.
"This is delicious!" The other lady said as she tasted the sweets and tea delivered by the maid
The Queen tasted it as well and nodded, while Marchioness atthalia smiled as she looks at the Queen with a hidden intention
The tea party lasted for hour before all the guest leave
"Thank you for inviting me your majesty" Atthalia said before she also leaves
"Queen Lariana go there chambers the King isn't here, he must be very. I must write a letter to Claren first she thought as retire to
her chamber.
"Butler please send this to the courier" The Queen commanded after finishing the letter to his son.
"Your majesty i will prepare a warm bath for you" Her personal maid Joy said as she proceed to the bathroom
"Okay thank you Joy" Queen replied
Thud..
Joy was warming the water when he heard a loud sound
"Your Majesty?" She peak on the door and eyes widen
"YOUR MAJESTYYYY!!" she shouted as he hurriedly come for the Queen who was now combulsing at the floor and bloid is flowing from her mouth
"Heelppp... butler.." She shouted louder
The door sprang open and the soldier comes with the butler running
"What happened?" The butler asked "Call the physician and contact the King immediately" The butler commanded the soldier when he saw the Queen lying with blood on her mouth
"Your majesty" The butler lifted her and put her to bed and wipe the blood on her mouth, the Queen feels colder now
"What is happening?" The king comes running with a shocked expression and full of worry after him is the Physician
"Let me check her condition," the physician said softly. But as soon as his fingers touched the Queen's pulse, his face froze in shock. He quickly checked her other wrist, his expression growing pale. Looking at the
King with tearful eyes, he slowly shook his head.
"I… I'm sorry, Your Majesty… the Queen has passed away."
The King stood frozen, his chest tightening as if the world had collapsed around him. His knees buckled, and he stumbled to the side of the bed, clutching Lariana's cold hands with trembling fingers.
"No… no, wake up… my Queen… please…" his voice cracked, breaking into raw desperation.
The maid broke into sobs, her cries filling the chamber, while the butler and soldier lowered their heads, faces clouded with grief and helplessness.
With fury and anguish burning in his eyes, the King looked up at the physician. "What… what caused this?" he demanded, his voice dark and trembling with rage.
The physician, hands shaking, examined the Queen once more, searching for an answer. After a tense silence, he spoke in a grave whisper:
"The Queen… she was poisoned," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "It must have been Deathseed, a tasteless, odorless toxin… one that even a silver spoon cannot detect."
"Arrest those who attended the tea party with the Queen… and the servant who served the food," the King commanded, his voice echoing with fury through the chamber.
"The Deathseed is a rare desert plant… it can only be found deep within the sands," the physician added gravely, his tone heavy with unease.
"I heard it's being secretly traded in the black market of Velgarith," a soldier spoke cautiously, glancing nervously at the King.
"Find out how this poison made its way into Seravelle!" the King snapped, slamming his fist on the bedside table. "Such venomous plants have been banned since my father's reign!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the soldier replied, bowing deeply before hurrying out of the hall.
Moments later, Miller and Borg rushed in, their faces pale with sorrow. They dropped to one knee before the Queen's lifeless body, heads lowered in grief.
"My King…" Miller's voice trembled as he struggled to speak. Borg's jaw was clenched, his eyes glinting with restrained anger.
The King, already shaken, turned sharply toward them. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice cracking under the weight of despair.
Borg finally spoke, his tone laced with bitterness and alarm. "The southern faction… they've been in secret communication with Velgarith."
"Thousands of soldiers are marching toward the Capital right now!" Miller shouted, his voice trembling with urgency.
"What?!" The King's face went pale, shock and dread washing over him. "Cedric… this must all be his doing, even the poisoning of the Queen!" he growled, teeth clenched, his hands balling into fists.
"Has the eastern border been breached?" Carl demanded, his voice tight with fear and anger.
"No, My King," Borg answered grimly. "The soldiers have entered from the south. They regrouped there and are preparing for a full-scale rebellion."
"Have any citizens been harmed?" Carl asked, his voice softening with concern.
"No, Your Majesty," Miller replied, "but they've sent word, they won't hurt the people as long as you surrender and abdicate the
throne."
"You must flee while you can," Borg urged, his tone desperate.
"I will not abandon my people and cower like a coward!" Carl snapped, slamming his fist against the table. "I will face them!"
"You can't, Your Majesty," Borg countered. "Our forces are scattered along the borders. We're outnumbered. You must survive first, only then can we gather our troops and strike back."
"Your Majesty," Miller added, his voice breaking, "we need you alive… to lead a counterattack."
Carl exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. "…Fine. I'll head west. The north is too far. Borg, send a message to Craige at once."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Borg said with a bow.
"Miller," Carl's voice lowered, grief shadowing his eyes, "evacuate everyone in the Palace. And… place Lariana's body in the underground base before we leave. She deserves a proper burial… and Clarens must have a chance to say goodbye to her mother." His voice cracked, heavy with sorrow.
"Yes… Your Majesty," Miller replied softly, bowing his head.
"I'll create a diversion," Borg said firmly before rushing out.
Miller and the King carefully lifted the Queen's body, their movements solemn and heavy with loss.
"Butler," the King commanded, "take all the servants and leave through the escape route."
Butler stepped forward, his voice firm yet trembling. "No, Your Majesty. We'll stay. If the rebels arrive and find no servants here,
they'll know you've fled. Please… prioritize your safety. We will guard the Palace until the end." The servants stood beside him, nodding in silent agreement.
Tears welled in Joy's eyes as she stepped forward, clutching the hem of her dress. "Please, Your Majesty… escape now," she begged, her voice shaking. "Avenge our Queen… bring justice to those who murdered her!" She broke into sobs, her words echoing with grief and desperation.