The sun pierced through the thick clouds, scattering fragmented rays of light across the sky. A chill wind whispered of an impending thunderstorm. Despite the serene sky above, the ground below contradicted the calm; the rapid clatter of footsteps echoed through the streets, reminiscent of a herd on the move.

“Hurry, O’ people of Alqarah! Gather for the Queen’s address! The attack on the treaty is condemned. Assemble at the fourteenth hour; Miraz awaits.”

A young girl looked up, puzzled. “But how will we know when the fourteenth hour arrives?”

Her father smiled gently. “The Castle of Miraz will guide us. It has two minars, one on the right and one on the left. When the pinnacle of the Palace’s right minar begins to gleam with the sun’s full brilliance, you will know the hour has come.”

As the people hurried towards the capital, Miraz prepared for the surge, its bustling streets and the Baazar—the main market—brimming with anticipation. Deep within the capital, the Royal Castle stood vigilant, its towering walls guarding the heart of the city. Within its embrace, the Palace of White Pearls gleamed under the sunlight, its radiant minars casting beams that danced in unison, heralding the forthcoming address. The Main Hall, vast enough to hold twenty thrones side by side, boasted a ceiling that seemed to reach the heavens.

The Queen sat regally on a throne of unparalleled craftsmanship, adorned not with gold or diamonds, but with an array of exquisite stones. Her crown, set with three rare gems—Peridot on the right, Aquamarine on the left, and a stunning Pearl at the center—reflected her royal stature. Clad in a pristine white dress, her light blue eyes, porcelain skin, and ash-blonde hair tied elegantly, she commanded attention effortlessly. Yet, her eyes betrayed a hidden sorrow, shimmering with unshed tears, as if burdened by an immense, invisible weight.

A herald’s voice broke the silence. “General Haroon awaits outside, Your Majesty.”

Her eyes, a blend of hope and sorrow, brightened. She stood tall, her voice resolute. “Let him in!”

General Haroon entered the Main Hall in his formidable armor, his thunderous steps resonating through the room. His strong build seemed capable of moving mountains, and his sharp eyes peered through the slits of his sallet. He bent down and uttered, “My Queen!” before raising his head high.

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“General Haroon, any news about my sister?” the Queen inquired, her voice carrying the weight of desperate hope.

Haroon’s head fell, and with it, the Queen’s hopes crumbled. His words blurred into a tide of despair. “The information is uncertain, but someone resembling her was spotted among the dead in the trench... The massacre continues, targeting any outsider from Alqarah,” he emphasized, addressing the broader implications for the kingdom.

The Queen’s voice trembled as she asked, “… And what of Jafar? Has fate been equally cruel to him?”

“No, Your Majesty. There is no news of him,” Haroon replied, his tone grave.

The Queen sank into her throne, her hands cradling her head in despair, bearing a burden only she could fully comprehend. Outside, the voices of the people began to rise, their impatience seeping through the walls of the Main Hall.

“You must address them now… Your despair will mean nothing to them… They need to see you strong and resolute!” General Haroon urged.

Steeling herself, the Queen blinked away the moisture in her eyes and steadied her emotions. With a determined expression, she made her way to the Grand Balcony for the crucial address.

The gates opened with a dramatic proclamation: “Behold! The First of Her Name, the Great-Granddaughter of King Arshaan Arjomand the Beloved, and the Second Daughter of King Behdaad Arjomand and Queen Delara. The Pearl of Alqarah and the Rightful Heir to the throne of Miraz, Queen Saba Arjomand, stands before you!”

A hush fell over the crowd as they focused on their Queen, eager for her words.

“In the name of God, the All-Mighty and Just. Today, I stand before you, the people of Alqarah, in grief and anguish over the heinous slaughter perpetrated by the Emperor of the West against our kin. The violation of the treaty and the massacre of countless innocent men, women, and children reveal the Emperor’s cowardice and cruelty. Alqarah and its people have always been committed to peace and diplomacy. Yet, when necessary, we have embraced the path of strength and resilience against injustice and tyranny.

Silence in the name of peace is akin to complicity in violence. With the grave threat posed by these cowardly attacks, Alqarah cannot afford to retreat. But if we stand united… I assure you… We Shall Drive Our Enemies Back to Their Graves!”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, the clouds obscuring the sun as the sky echoed their fervor with flashes of lightning. “WE ARE WITH YOU… WE ARE WITH YOU!”

With the atmosphere surged with passion and energy, the Queen’s gaze shifted from the crowd to the top of the Palace’s right minar. Peering into the tiny open window, she concluded her address with a murmured wish, “… May our hopes remain high.”