Queen Reia’s POV

Flashback

14th day of January 136 R.A.

Looking at the numbers on the page, my heart sank. Each district’s poverty level had risen absurdly in just two years. No wonder protests greeted me at every train station. Ashlanders were ignored by the very government which swore to protect them. Some districts had too many people while others were overworked because there weren't enough people to fill the job vacancies. Of course, old laws were keeping people from naturally migrating to find work in other districts. Corrupt ministers and government officials were playing the old laws against the citizens, and it was all my fault.

All of Ashland’s issues were my fault from the citizens to the government to the royal family. My husband had died at the hands of murder who I can still hear in my dreams. I had spent months in therapy to function properly after…everything. My ministers used my grief against me to keep me away from the assembly and from the problems of the districts. Why didn’t the representatives in the House of Service take care of their people? They were called Public Servants for Pete's sake. Where were the governors when protests broke out?

“It feels like I am being slapped awake from a long slumber,” I grumbled.

The train clacked along the tracks as it headed from the District of Golden Meadows to the District of White Sands. I have been on this train for two weeks traveling from district to district to oversee the registration and first tests of the candidates entering my challenge. Or, that was my cover at least. I was on this ‘royal tour’ to get a closer look at the districts. On the surface, I met with candidates while General Brown put a squeeze on district officials for me. I wasn’t going to have the corrupt officials take advantage of their positions any more thanks to the intel I was gathering on them. My Guardian Shadows of the Kingdom of Ashland, a group of guards that no one knew existed and acted as spies when needed, brought me the information to force the corrupt officials into submission when I was ready.

A queen is supposed to be above blackmail, but when your trusted allies utilize your trauma against you, all bets are off.

Suddenly, the doors to my rail car opened and Helen, my maid, stepped in. “We should be arriving in White Sands within the hour.”

“Good,” I muttered, reading the last of the report in front of me. My pseudo work desk was a simple dining cart bolted down to the floor of the rail car. Sunrise was just greeting the horizon when I finally looked out the giant window next to me. Sleep has eluded me since the start of my public tour. I could see the ocean running parallel to the train tracks. Helen closed the distance between the two of us and handed me a sweet coffee.

“Your majesty, have you looked over the district documents yet?” She asked.

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“I was just pouring over them. I think I have a sense of where I stand with the officials of each district now.” I huffed, shuffling the stack of papers. “As it stands, five districts are in favor of my return to power. Four districts are against it, and three remain undecided.”

“Honestly, I thought it would be worse.” Helen sighed as she sat across from me on the other side of my interim desk. “I still can’t believe they used the Suspended Mourning Clause of Article Three of the Ashland Constitution. Why did your great-grandfather even put that in there?”

“The Suspended Mourning Clause of Article Three was designed to give the ruling monarch a reprieve after suffering personal trauma or loss. Normally, another member of my family would have acted as regent for me during the mourning period. Since I had no legitimate candidate, my ministers acted as a council of regents. The House of Service reviews laws proposes laws, and evaluates the quality of life for the citizens of Ashland. They cannot change or enact laws. That power lies with the monarch. I am the only one who can start and end a war. My ministers need permission to do anything more than research and discussion. All real power lies with the crown. The ministers got a taste of power, and now, they don’t want to give it back.” I explained.

“So, they are power-hungry assholes who are willing to create chaos if it buys them a second of power.” Helen summarized.

“That’s a mild way of putting it,” General Brown chuckled. “These are the same group of people who raised taxes in any way possible and restricted immigration to keep tighter control on the population,” I swear that guy is part cat with the way he sneaks about and appears out of nowhere.

It didn’t stop there. There were protests in nearly every district for one reason or another. In every district, I make my appearances until I agree to meet with local leaders of the protesters. I hear them out, and I promise to look into the issues and give them a small peace offering. The hardest one to fulfill so far was sending emergency supplies to Black Bear Cliff. There’s been an increase in mystic animal attacks out there. Thunder Bears, bears with a magical roar that causes sound blasts, and Venomous Northern Lynx, a bigger cat that has a venomous bite to paralyze its victim, have started attacking the humans in the area. Thunder Bears use caves near the mines as dens, and the Venomous Northern Lynx has been attacking humans at night. The prey animal population has been dwindling over the last ten years.

“Look, I can see the skyline of White Sands,” Helen pointed out the window.

All three of us quietly watched the sun rise over the water. Pinks, oranges, and purples painted the clouds in the sky. Reflecting off the water, the sun became a work of art in front of us. I could see why so many people enjoy vacationing here. Unlike Port Saya, White Sands has less boat traffic and a calmer demeanor about the district. The tall grasses crowded the distant beaches, creating a creamy white landscape. I am always left in awe when I travel here. Ashland has so many beautiful places in each district, but this felt peaceful and warm all at once.

“What were the problems here?” Helen asked as we entered the outskirts of the town.

“You can see it if you look close enough,” General Brown answered for me. “Study those houses we are passing.”

Helen nodded and gazed at the worn-down neighborhood. The houses were falling apart, and the lawn was full of junk around the homes. There were no lights that we could see on the streets. We could see a few people exiting their homes in baggy or worn clothing. No one seemed happy or upset. It was quiet around the neighborhood. The further into town we got the cleaner and nicer the streets and houses appeared. The outskirts of White Sands were the slums of the touristy town.

“Those were the slums,” Helen muttered. “Like every other district, the slums are growing. If left unchecked, the slums become a breeding ground for disease and unskilled people.”

“Yep.” I felt the weight of those slums on my shoulders. New job requirements put out by the labor council have forced a divide between the classes. Schools have gotten less funds out there in slums because the citizens can’t pay the higher taxes. It's a vicious circle enacted by those who believe those in poverty deserve to be there. This was only a glimpse of the trauma citizens are facing around Ashland. The better question is how to root out the problem to stop the trauma. The first step is this competition. I pray there’s a worthy heir to the throne in this competition for Ashland’s sake. "Let's start laying out the blueprints for the future," I encouraged my companions.