Last Queen of Silberwald

1.2 - Lily Flower

  The secret conversation between the king and his pawn continues, sheltered from curious ears, while the night proves to be difficult for the queen. Haunted, as usual, by memories of a past she would rather forget than remember.

  At the break of dawn, she stirs to life. The sun's earliest rays kiss the awakening horizon, yet there she stands, armored, ready. Planning an escapade to limber her limbs and fill up her lungs with energy and fresher air, away from the prying Castaliere servants.

  The castle appears to be a true maze of luxury; steering her away from the intended path to the courtyard garden. Instead, she finds herself navigating through the floor of a grand hall.

  She’s on the first-floor balcony overlooking the vast space below, where is a training session. The first prince and his mentor are locked in combat, their swords crashing together.

  Against the balcony's edge stands a figure that draws the queen's eye-a maiden with locks of gold, a delicate side braid adorned with a tiara. Her emerald pupils shine bright into the prince.

  The silver queen chooses to mimic her posture, settling beside her. Both women observe the combat, clearly favoring the mentor over the aggressive apprentice, who ultimately suffers a crushing defeat.

— "The heir prince is such a brute. impulsive and hot-tempered." comments the young lady.

— "Rare are those who hold the prince in their hearts. Yet, he's the king's favorite..."

  The maiden express surprise with a glance, slightly disturbed by the queen's soft voice.

— "Given your armor, one might mistake you for a man," she responds. Her face finally returns to the training scene. "My father, the king, sought comfort between many women's legs. Whores, and even whores claiming to be queens."

— "And if the first prince is cherished dearly by your father, it's because he was born of a woman he truly loved?" questions the silver queen, observing the princess with curiosity.

— "You're not aware? It's widely known throughout Castaliere that the first prince was born of the king's childhood sweetheart. The first and former consort who was condemned to burn for sorcery. Perhaps, that's the root of the prince's profound bitterness."

— "That clarifies much," the queen concedes, her gaze returning to the duel, witnessing yet another victory by the mentor over the prince.

— "You, cloaked in your resplendent armor, are whispered about as the last queen of Oridor, savior of honor," says the princess. "But no matter the thickness of your armor or the firmness of your voice, you remain a woman."

  The queen, sensitive to the subject, responds :

— "I grasp the essence of your words, and I don't like it." With that, she descends the stairs, moving towards the training ground where the prince and his mentor are.

  The prince, exhausted, leans against a column. His breathing is deep and rapid, sweat drops bead on his forehead and bare chest. His shoulders now slump under the weight of pain and muscle strain.

  Upon the queen's approach, the mentor, a man whose skin speaks of a life under the harsh sun, possibly of Sinna descent, awaits her. His copper eyes, reminiscent of desert storms, meet hers.

— "You must be the famed copper wanderer," the queen addresses him, proposing a friendly duel as she grabs a wooden sword.

  Without uttering a word, the mentor seems to decline with a hand gesture, immediately sparking the anger of the first prince, who interjects with venom, "Don't you dare show mercy. Prove to that cunt in armor she cannot best me."