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DEATH OF THE MONARCH

The queen's voice was low, her words carefully measured as she addressed her strongest warrior in the shadowed corridor. "You understand the gravity of our situation, don't you?"

Her soldier nodded, her face a mask of conflict. "I do, Your Majesty, but surely there's another way..."

"He knows more than he's saying," the queen insisted, her eyes hard. "About Sutaro. About everything. He's become... a complication."

"But he's..." the soldier began, her voice faltering.

The queen’s tone softened, though her words remained firm. "I know, dear. But sometimes, for the good of the kingdom, we must make difficult choices. He's left us no alternative."

The soldier closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, resolve had replaced the doubt. "I understand, Mother. It will be done."

The courtyard was quiet, the festival's excitement a distant memory. King Jeram stood near the fountain, his posture relaxed as he gazed at the stars. He turned as Elise approached, a warm smile lighting his features.

"Ah, Elise. What brings you out so late?"

Elise struggled to keep her voice steady. "I... wanted to discuss some final security measures, Your Majesty."

Jeram nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Always so dedicated. But tell me, did you finally ask Jenn to dinner? Just the two of you?"

Elise felt her cheeks warm, momentarily forgetting her grim purpose. "I... no, not yet. There hasn't been time."

"There's always time for matters of the heart, my dear," Jeram said softly. "Life is too short for regrets.”

The irony of his words hit Elise like a physical blow. She stepped closer, her mechanical arm shifting behind her back. "Father... I..."

Jeram's expression grew serious, though his voice remained gentle. "You seem troubled, Elise. What's weighing on your mind?"

In a fraction of a second, her silver fingers parted to reveal a hidden blade. The weapon sprang from her hollow hand, piercing his spine. As steel met flesh, Jeram let out a guttural cry. His scarlet essence poured over her appendage, warm and viscous

Elise felt tears pricking at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Understanding dawned in Jeram's eyes, yet compassion replaced any wrath or terror there was only compassion. He opened his arms, offering an embrace. "Oh, my child. I know. It's—"

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The life in his eyes diminished, As Elise stepped into his arms, she made her choice. The courtyard remained still, the stars above bearing silent witness to the moment that would change everything.

The following morning the kingdom of Fawful was draped in sorrow, black banners fluttering solemnly from the castle ramparts. In the royal graveyard, citizens gathered, their faces etched with disbelief and grief. Hushed conversations floated on the air as they awaited Queen Dranir's address.

"Such tragedy befalling our beloved kingdom," lamented a noblewoman, her voice quavering. "First our princess vanishes, and now this..."

A respected merchant nodded gravely. "King Jeram was the very embodiment of kindness. How could fate be so cruel?"

Queen Dranir approached the podium, her regal bearing unwavering despite the circumstances. The crowd fell silent, hanging on her every word.

"Esteemed citizens of Fawful," she began, her voice carrying a calculated mix of strength and sorrow. "We stand united, mourning not only our benevolent King Jeram but also the shattering of our long-held peace. Vicious outlanders from the desert have committed an act most foul, their motives as inscrutable as they are nefarious."

A ripple of outrage passed through the assembled masses.

"Be assured," the Queen continued, her tone hardening, "that no resource shall be spared in our pursuit of justice. The royal guard has been mobilized to their fullest extent, both to apprehend these criminals and to locate our beloved Princess, whose safe return remains our paramount concern."

A voice rose from the crowd, tinged with fear and anger. "Your Majesty, how could our vaunted defenses have failed so utterly?"

Queen Dranir's gaze sharpened, though her voice remained measured. "A most thorough inquest is already underway. We shall uncover the truth, whatever the cost."

As the somber ceremony proceeded, the people of Fawful shared memories of their fallen king - his compassion, his gentle rule, his unwavering devotion to Sutaro.

"His love for the princess was a thing of beauty," a palace handmaiden murmured. "To think she's out there somewhere, unaware..."

"The Queen bears her grief with remarkable composure," observed a courtier, his tone carefully neutral.

As night fell and the mourners dispersed, Queen Dranir retired to her private chambers. Away from prying eyes, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile and a sip of wine. Everything was proceeding as planned, save for the unforeseen complication of Sutaro's disappearance. But that, too, would be resolved in time.

Meanwhile, in her quarters, Elise sat rigidly on the edge of her bed, her face a mask of anguish. With trembling fingers, she reached for her prosthetic arm, disengaging it with a soft click. She placed it gently on her dresser, the gleaming metal a stark contrast to the dark wood.

Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks as she stared at the detached limb. "Father," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Father, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Her words dissolved into quiet sobs as she rocked back and forth, the weight of her actions crushing down upon her. In the silence of her room, she mourned not just for her father, but for her own lost innocence.

The cold emptiness of space seemed to seep through the walls, chilling her to her core. Elise's remaining hand clutched at the fabric of her uniform, bunching it tightly as if it could somehow anchor her to reality. The very thought of sound of his voice, once a comfort, now felt like a mocking reminder of her isolation.

Memories flooded her mind – his proud smile at her academy graduation, his gentle hands guiding hers as she learned to use her metallic appendage, the warmth in his eyes even as he lay dying. Each recollection was a dagger to her heart, twisting deeper with every breath.

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