Geras chuckled to himself. “You fool, Roy,” he said. “Did you not have the courage to indict me, the rightful king of Divine Luciana, for my crimes? Or did you simply not have any proof?” He chuckled again. “It makes no difference either way. The throne is still mine.”
He smirked victoriously as his carriage rattled along, bearing him towards home. In fact, Geras had been unable to achieve his goal of murdering Fielle, and Roy had smashed every one of his other plans. Yet it was less that he did not care about those foiled plots any longer and more that he had completely forgotten. He had conspired against Fielle and Tomas out of rage at having been jilted by a girl who would have raised his prestige even further. But that rage had long since subsided, and the moment he thought he had escaped the clutches of those investigating the crime, he was nothing but pleased. The mere thought of having made a successful escape put him in a fine mind. (He was a very foolish and thus a very happy man.)
Yet even for all his foolishness, he still noticed when the carriage suddenly turned off from the road leading up the castle.
“Hmm?” he said. “What’s all this about? This isn’t the right road. Hey, driver, what’re you doing up there? If you can’t drive this darn thing properly, I’ll have you sent to jail!”
The carriage trundled into a thick forest, swaying from side to side so vigorously that Geras had to cling to the window for support. The carriage then stopped in the middle of the woods, only trees as far as the eye could see. An entourage of guards was supposed to accompany the carriage, but this sudden maneuver had left them all behind in the dust.
Geras rounded on and barked at the adjutant riding along with him. “Hey! What’s going on here?”
Just then, he felt a cold object stab into his neck. He spluttered in shock and pain. It was a knife, a knife in the hands of his trusted (to the extent that Geras could never, not in his wildest dreams, have imagined she would do this) adjutant.
The adjutant stared down at the king through her glasses with cold, emotionless eyes.
“During the conference, the king of Orstoll gave me a set of documents which detailed all of your evil deeds throughout this past year. The king informed me that he did not wish for our respective kingdoms to have a hostile relationship with one another. This, you must understand, was a request to depose you. A messenger on a fast horse has already informed our people, and your younger brother has now staged a coup. The armies surrendered peacefully, and the throne is now his. Now you will die in an accident and preserve our kingdom’s honor.”
“H-How could...you...Zaruhi?” the king managed to ask.
“Farewell, Your Majesty. You were always a foolish king, but had you not lowered yourself to the level of such folly... I would have followed you to the farthest ends of the world.” The adjutant’s voice was choked with sorrow, and it finally trailed away into silence. The coach’s door never opened again.
✦ ✦ ✦
Fie yawned widely the moment the latest petitioner stepped out.
“Your Highness, that is most improper.” A lady-in-waiting tutted.
Fie grinned at her. “Sorry, sorry.”
The conference was over, and Fie was back home once again serving as the queen. Roy handled all of the most important tasks and administrative matters himself, but he delegated to her all of the lesser audiences and public relations duties. This had once been Fielle’s job, but in conjunction with the level of freedom given to her, Fie found herself surprisingly adept at this sort of work. Her reputation within the palace had likewise soared to the extent that she now had people begging her to stay around as the queen forever. In spite of that, everyone still supported her upcoming wedding. Considering how grave her crime was, everyone thought that the fact she had risked grave punishment to appeal to the king directly to marry Queen showed just how much she loved him. Many threw themselves enthusiastically into granting her wish in order to make up for the terrible rumors they had once spread about her.
The people of Orstoll had such a lovely, heroic image of Fie, but Fie herself was presently daydreaming about going to the 18th knights’ guardroom to goof off. There wasn’t anything explicitly prohibiting her from doing so, but being the queen meant that no matter where she went, she was sure to be hounded by people who wanted to talk to her. So much for her freedom of movement.
“Your next task, Your Highness,” said the lady-in-waiting, “will be to take tea in the courtyard with Her Majesty Meloty, the Queen Mother of Thales.”
“If you say so,” Fie grumbled.
Having a tea party with Queen Meloty was the second most boring task in the whole job, as a good ninety percent of the conversation was made up of gossip about people Fie had never met. It was not so much a party (thankfully, as Fie was a bit of a wallflower at parties), but it kept her in the spotlight of attention and that, she thought, was bad enough. However, she eventually picked up on the fact that these tea “parties” (tea reluctant conversations with the queen of Thales, perhaps?) were a gradual effort to repair the relationship between Orstoll and Thales, as they were once close neighbors with blood ties before the old king drove them apart.
“This is a present for Her Majesty,” the lady-in-waiting told her. “Also, please wear the hairpin Her Majesty gifted you. It will make her ever so happy.”
At first, the ladies-in-waiting and the maids had been baffled by the attitudes Fie had picked up from her squire days, but now they were prepared to take her sulking in stride. Though she complained, she’d still do the job right even when put on the spot. She was simply being honest about her feelings. Even though Fie sometimes acted in some very unladylike ways, the stuffy old queen still rather liked her.
I wish I had noticed sooner who Her Majesty really is, thought the maid doing up Fie’s hair. Will I still be able to stay on with her after she’s gone and married? As lonely as this thought was, she quietly vowed to support Fie’s romantic affair with all of her heart.
Once Fie was appropriately dolled up, she set off for the courtyard where Queen Meloty was waiting for her, happening to pass by the north dorm along the way.
“Hey!” one of the squires called. “We’re going into town for the red string festival! Anyone who wants to go had better get over here!”
Fie stopped in her tracks as the fond memory of those bygone days rolled over her. Her feet instinctively began to carry her towards the dorm. She knew she couldn’t go back to them, she knew she had to give up, but she still wondered if someday she couldn’t return to them.
As Fie watched, the boys gathered in a joyous crowd. “Queen!” one of them called. “Come with us!”
Queen was there too, and he protested, “N-No, I can’t...”
“We can’t beat the thirty year reigning champ without you! C’mon, man, please!”
“Yeah! You’re the only one who can pull it off!” said another squire. “You’re our only hope!”
“F-Fine...” Queen muttered.
With Queen in tow, the squires moved off in one enormous flock to go have fun.
Fie’s maids spied their mistress unable to take her eyes off of Queen. They smiled fondly. Ah, there was nothing like watching one’s loved one! But then Fie puffed her cheeks in indignation. “Y-Your Majesty?” cried the maids. Wasn’t she looking at Queen?
Of all the unfair things! Fie thought. Here she was, slaving her butt off as a queen just so she could marry Queen, because she cared about Queen so much (mind you, it wasn’t just for him—but that was beside the point!), and that was all very well and good. But when she stepped back and thought about it, it wasn’t fair! What did she get from this? Nothing!
“Hmmph!” She snarled.
The maids, having only known her for a month, did not have the faintest idea what was happening and couldn’t say so much as a word in response.