Tamara stormed through the imposing Cors’Viridetauros Palace, a place she once called home and would like to be again. Her presence sent the guards into disarray as she marched toward the Imperial Throne Room. The councilors who sided with her closely followed her, as her personal guards formed a protective circle around them, with Aragrad and his men trailed closely behind.

The hallowed halls, adorned with the regalia of the Empire as a symbol of strength and prosperity, now echoed the soulless state of the nation and the inhumane treatment of its citizens. She felt a surge of rage within her, a potent force that eclipsed the grandeur of the palace’s decorations.

Her emerald green eyes, once calm and composed, blazed with intense fire that mirrored the turmoil within. The usual warmth of her smile had vanished, replaced by a stern frown that mirrored the anger pulsating through her veins. The weight of her emotions became too much to contain; it was only natural that her demeanor reflected the raging storm inside her.

The colossal doors, adorned with the golden insignia of the empire, creaked open slowly, allowing a sliver of light to escape from the room within. She burst into the chamber, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“This has gone too far, Menoich!” she thundered, silencing everyone in the room. The shock registered on the faces of the council members — those who were left, yet Menoich maintained his posture, a pillar of defiance and arrogance against her approaching tempest.

“You have violated every law in the Empire. I demand an explanation. What kind of idiocracy are you playing here that is running the Trasidar Empire to the ground?” Her words echoed in the cavernous room, each syllable carrying the weight of her frustration and the collective suffering of the vassal imperial kingdoms.

“The other provinces are starving! And all of you sit here bickering! This has gone too far.” Her voice, once a serene melody, now reverberated with a resolute conviction that demanded accountability and justice.

“Princess, if you’d allow me to explain and not rush to judgment based on mere accusations —”

“I have personally witnessed the impact of your rule on my way here and I must say, it’s much worse than my brother’s taranos taking a shit in the stables,” she said with a commanding, yet mocking tone. Her voice, usually composed, now carried an edge of frustration.

“Black flakes fell from the once pristine heavens of Tamara, the most revered city not only in our beloved Empire but of the entire Arumar continent — of all of Unibeltrasia. You’ve transformed it into a city that would even make the city of Mathron tremble in its inferiority!” She halted in the center of the room, and a hush fell over the assembly as all eyes fixated on her.

“Arch Chancellor Menoich Anarchu,” she continued, her voice cutting through the uneasy silence “I, Crown Princess Tamara Lluch of the Trasidar, I command you to cease and step down from your position. Now,” she ordered, her authority reverberating through the room.

An uneasy pause lingered, and not a single soul dared to challenge her. She held her ground, observing Menoich’s speechless reaction, her men quickly surrounded the remaining councilors and Kelov, her trusted captain of the guard, approached Menoich.

“Vacate the Imperial Throne as the Crown Princess commanded!” Kelov echoed her orders.

Stoic, Menoich only looked at him for a moment, before he reluctantly descended from the throne.

“Welcome back, Princess—”

“You shall address me as your Crown Princess,” she interjected, the firmness in her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

Menoich chuckled as she approached, attempting a casual approach with open arms, but Kelov promptly pushed him away, creating a human barrier. Unfazed, she gracefully walked past him, heading straight for the throne.

As Menoich retreated to his chair, Kelov once more, blocked his path.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear Menoich. You are only here now to make sure that we can reverse the damage you have done. After that, you will go straight back to Malatur’Aren,” she asserted sternly, her gaze unwavering. Menoich met her gaze briefly, forcing him to acknowledge the shifting dynamics, before retreating to the room. Aragrad joined him, exchanging whispered words before returning to his post beside her.

A sense of unease settled upon her. Something felt amiss, a subtle feeling of doubt tugged at her instincts.

She then shifted her focus to the council. She took a deep breath, gathering her composure as some of the councilors with her took their respective posts. She looked at the councilors who stayed by Menoich’s side, as she saw them avoid her gaze.

Recognizing the need for a change in approach, she understood the importance of maintaining her composure, especially in Menoich’s presence. She had harbored a dislike for him from the beginning, and now, with the unfolding crisis, she couldn’t afford to let her personal sentiments hinder her new role.

“My Council, I am very disappointed that things have turned out this way. My father has fallen ill and my brother is now a fugitive, causing mass panic and hysteria throughout the empire. On behalf of them, I am deeply sorry. As most of you may have already known, I have declared myself as the new Crown Princess until my brother is put to trial and my Father is well enough to assume rule once more,” she announced with a composed smile. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to restore everything back.”

The council murmured in acknowledgment of her initial plan. Just as she was about to address them further, the grand doors creaked open, revealing the entrance of guards and two scouts. The room fell silent as they swiftly kneeled in a show of respect to everyone present.

Menoich, quick to assert authority, snapped. “What is the meaning of this? Can’t you see we are having a meeting here? Escort them out immediately!” the guards, however, did not even flinch. Their gaze was fixated on front.

“It seems old age is taking its toll, Menoich. Are you forgetting your new post?” she as she mocked him.

“But Your Highness, we cannot simply let this happen. They know that we are in a meeting and they just barge in like they own the castle!” he protested.

“But Menoich, this is not your castle either to command the guards. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for this,” she responded once again putting Menoich in an uncomfortable position as he reluctantly stood in his corner.

Addressing the newcomers, she motioned for them to stand and introduce themselves, “My Princess —”

“She is the Crown Princess now,” Menoich clarified.

The man quickly corrected himself. “My Crown Princess, dear Council, I bring dreadful news that has been delivered to me by this resilient troop member from the far east territory of Huertian, the region of which the gate city of Melgrace settles.”

An observer owl gracefully entered, latching onto the scout’s arm. Inquisitive, she questioned, “What is this?”

“I need him to show you something, Your Majesty. It is of grave importance,” the elder scout explained.

Turning her attention to the Scout, “What is your name, young man?” she asked.

“Alyas No’yoran, Your Grace,” he answered, his owl flapping its wings frantically.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Go ahead. Show us what you came to show.” She waited eagerly as the scouts and the rest of the council anticipated what the owl held. Alyas released his owl into the air, revealing images of the burning city of Melgrace.

The room fell into petrified silence as they witnessed Xerxecian soldiers ruthlessly hunt down civilians. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her heart seemed to halt as the owl’s view captured her brother, Tamiron, orchestrating the fall of the magnificent city. The chilling moment occurred when the prince, with a devious smile, looked directly through the owl towards them.

Appalled and shocked by the unfolding devastation, the council bore uneasy expressions. The room was filled with a sense of horror as they grappled with the unimaginable sequence of events. Crestfallen, she couldn’t comprehend the transformation of her once patient, respectful, and patriotic brother, Prince Tamiron Lluch, into a merciless, barbaric warrior. The revelation that he had unleashed this brutality upon Huertian, causing the downfall of the towns and cities, left her in disbelief, and yet her eyes welled with tears for the suffering inflicted upon the empire by his actions.

The owl completed its transmission and latched back onto Alyas’ arms. The room fell into an eerie silence, with everyone gazing ahead, visibly affected by the haunting images. Emotions overwhelmed her, and the scenes etched into her mind were bound to leave lasting scars on everyone present. As the room descended into a hushed murmur, a collective realization of the gravity of the situation settled in.

A voice broke through the quietude, announcing, “The gate city of the east has fallen!” Panic ensued as urgent exclamations echoed through the room.

“What are we going to do?! We have no time left!”

“We need to act now!”

“This is your fault Menoich!” Bellowed Councilor Gaurad, seizing his attention.

“Me? Why me?!” Menoich retorted, met with a near-unanimous agreement from the council.

“If you had not pulled out the troops there, they would have had a fighting chance!” Gaurad pressed.

“Are you serious? They would not stand a chance, Councilor!” Menoich argued.

“But the image showed that no one got out of the city! They could have evacuated at least half of the population to safety!” Gaurad insisted.

Interrupting the heated exchange, the scout spoke up, capturing everyone’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt, but there is one survivor from the city, a child.”

“A child?” she stood up, demanding, “Where is the child?”

Collecting herself amidst the turmoil, she awaited Alyas’ response. At that moment, the doors opened once again. Aragrad approached the guards coming in, who handed him something.

“What is it? What is going on?” she urgently questioned Aragrad. Without hesitation, Aragrad tossed an object wrapped in green fabric onto the floor, prompting an immediate inquiry. The guards swiftly brought in what appeared to be a battered fellow guardsman, dressed in the uniform of her personal guard. She exchanged a quick, concerned glance with Kelov, mirroring the worry etched on his face.

“My men reported that they found one of the Crown Princess’ men in the chambers of the Imperial King,” Aragrad reported, his tone causing an unease that she couldn’t ignore.

Maintaining her composure, Tamara approached the cloth with a sense of bewilderment. Her heart raced as she unwrapped it, a nagging feeling suggesting that something was amiss. She glanced again at Menoich, whose surprise mirrored her own.

Something is definitely wrong here, she thought. His look at her with uneasy eyes bothered her. She unwrapped the cloth and gasped at the sight of her dagger, its blade stained with fresh blood. The shock prompted her to release the weapon instinctively.

The gravity of the situation sank in as she stared at her insignia on the bloodstained blade. Kelov already sensed the dire implications, approached her, and drew his sword.

“Men to me!” he called out, summoning the Crown Princess’ guards who swiftly surrounded her. The ominous revelation hung in the air, setting the stage for a tense and critical moment.

“They found this dagger in His Majesty’s chest, the king. Buried deep in his heart. The King is dead,” Aragrad declared. The room quickly erupted, and guards rushed out to the Imperial King’s chambers.

She stood still as a rock upon hearing the news. Her father, the king, now lay cold in his bed chamber. Clenching her fists, she held back her emotions. As Menoich approached her slowly, she locked eyes with Aragrad.

“His personal guards were all dead with their throats slit, Your Grace,” Aragrad continued.

“You scheming bitch!” Menoich shouted as he ran towards her, However, her guards quickly blocked his way, but the guards loyal to Menoich quickly approached them.

“How dare you walk back in here only to kill your own father? Despicable! Just like your brother!” Menoich shouted.

She struggled to hold back her tears. The weight of losing both her brother and now her father in her own home was too much to bear. Maintaining her poise, she was already falling apart within. It felt like one more push could break her. Yet, she understood the necessity to show strength. Even with tears threatening to fall, she needed to prove her innocence.

“I want to see my Father. Let me through,” she said calmly, attempting to pass. However, Menoich’s guards blocked her way.

“No, you will not! Enough of these games! And you even used the Dagger of Sacred Blood on your own father! How could you?” Menoich accused. “Arrest her! Arrest them all! Along with her conspirator councilors!” he commanded. Guards quickly surrounded them, spears pointed accusingly.

“Arrest them all for treason and murder!”

“I did no such thing!” she shouted, her guards crouching, ready to strike. “As your Crown Princess, I order all of you to stand down now!”

“Crown Princess only after murdering your own father! Just to get the throne! We will not recognize you as our Crown Princess! Guards, arrest her at all costs! Kill the others!” Menoich commanded.

The guards were divided. Some followed his orders, while some came to her defense.

“You could’ve ordered one of your personal guards to do this! A skilled one at best for the King’s personal guards were murdered without even knowing an enemy was in their midst. It was your dagger that was found in King Madarick’s heart! No one could’ve had it but only you! Arrest this murderer and these traitors now!” Menoich commanded and one by one, and her personal guards began to fall as a skirmish ensued.

She looked at Menoich, and there she saw, behind the mask of tears for her father, was a grin. A maniacal grin she would not forget.

“You traitor! You set me up! You’re going to pay! I will not stand for such treachery!”

The loyalists charged for the Imperial guards despite being outnumbered. The Council was pushed back as swords and arrows flung through the room. They were easily subdued by the imperial guards and were sentenced to suffer the same fate as her.

“It was Menoich!” She bellowed as they backed down with a few of her own guards and Kelov.

Menoich’s guards stepped closer when several masked men descended from the ceiling. They attacked Menoich’s guards, quickly grabbing her. Kelov closely followed them, while the rest of her guards held them off until they were overwhelmed and captured along with the rest of her guards and councilors.

“Do not let her escape!” Menoich shouted.

His guards chased them down, but more masked men appeared out of nowhere, covering their escape.

As the carriage sped through the shadowed streets, the rhythmic clatter of hooves accompanied the haunting wails of the city. The masked figures surrounding her maintained a vigilant watch, their identity concealed in the darkness.

The night air was thick with tension as the carriage veiled itself in obscurity, navigating the labyrinthine alleys that twisted through the city. The masked men exchanged whispered assurances, their voices barely audible over the subdued sounds of the urban night.

Unable to shake off the shock, she clutched the edges of the carriage seat. The events in the throne room played in her mind like a gruesome tapestry — the accusations, the betrayal, and her guards being torn away from her. But amid the chaos, the masked men had emerged as unexpected allies.

As they crossed into the outskirts of the city, the flickering lanterns cast fleeting shadows on the masked faces. One of them, the leader perhaps, turned to her. She felt the man looked at her through his iron mask.

“Do not worry, Crown Princess. We are here to help,” he spoke with a calm certainty that momentarily eased the storm within her. The carriage continued its swift journey, flanked by shadows that concealed both friend and foe.

The man produced another piece of cloth, unfolding it with a deliberate motion to reveal the coveted artifact — The Tamiron Stone.

“Menoich has been relentless in his pursuit of this. It’ll be some time before he lays eyes on it again,” the man remarked, his tone carrying the weight of the stone’s significance.

Caught in the moment of curiosity amid the chaos, she questioned, “Why do you have that?”

“So that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” the man explained, offering her a glimpse of the complex web of intrigue surrounding the ancient relic. Without further ado, he handed the Tamiron Stone to her.

“I can’t use this,” she hesitated, uncertain about the stone’s purpose in the tumultuous events unfolding around her.

“For now, keep it for safety.” The man urged the urgency in his voice underscoring the importance of safeguarding the artifact from those who sought to exploit its power.

Then she quickly realized, “Wait — if this is the Tamiron Stone. What is my brother using right now? Without this, his Iron Gauntlets would be nothing.”

“And there lies the mystery as to why this is with us, and not with him. Something is afoot, Crown Princess. Right now, only Menoich has the answer.”

Her confusion only grew as her carriage vanished into the night, carried by the shadows towards her encampment.

She became a pawn in a larger game, clung to the shards of her shattered reality. The masked men offered a glimmer of hope in a landscape darkened by betrayal.

She now trod a path where a precipice between salvation and an abyss of treachery lay. The shadows embraced her, and as the carriage melted into the nocturnal tapestry, the city held its breath, waiting for the storm to unfold.

End of Chapter XXV