Living in royalty can't be so bad, right? But... what if you're not technically royal?
*****
In late eighteenth century Europe, nestled in eastern France, is a peaceful kingdom called Totresia. A carriage wreck disturbs that peace when found by Totr...
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It was a chill-inducing, stormy spring night when the royal proceeding passed through the deep forests near the Marquessate of Mara, on the edge of the kingdom of Totresia. The rain had halted, and a fork of lightning cracked through the clouds, banishing the shadows that loomed among the trees.
Exhausted horses pulled carriages and sloshed through the deep mud, carrying heaps of precious cargo, Totresian nobles, and the King and Queen of Totresia, on their way back from a dreadful meeting in Lyon, France.
"Oh, that man—" King Edouard seethed from inside his velvet-laden freight, struggling to hold his tongue in presence of his ever-lovely, but easily angered, wife. "I almost wish Louis himself would have come."
"Now, now, Edouard." Clémentine set her fur-trimmed glove atop her husband's knee, squeezing. "The envoy was cordial, you said."
"Cordial—ha! Another word for disrespectfully pompous, you mean." He sighed, removing his ruby-encrusted crown from his umber-and-taupe mane. "I am sorry, dearest... I should not trouble you with this."
"We will be home soon, and all will be—"
Their carriage jerked forward as it halted. Horses whinnied and shouts echoed out into the night. Distress seeped into the vehicle, and Edouard sat up straight, clutching his crown in one hand, his other lifting to the window flap.
"Edouard..." whispered Clémentine, gripping the edges of her navy skirts, hunching over. "Why have we stopped? Are we not in the middle of a forest?"
Edouard placed a finger before his lips and narrowed his gaze. "Let me listen."
A weight lifted from the freight as the driver descended. Nearby hoof-beats trudged into thick mud, followed by a gruff voice; the Captain of the Totresian Guard. "Why have you stopped?" he said, passing the window and meandering towards the front of the vehicle.
"Because those in front of us stopped!" The driver's irritation broke through the brisk night air, causing Clémentine to scrunch her delicate features, to squeeze her syrupy eyes shut.
"Edouard." She reached his knee again, shaking him. "What is happening?"
"Hush, I said!" He listened as the Captain and the driver argued, their discussion simmering and fading as they distanced themselves from the royal coach. "They are investigating. It sounds like... the head carriage came to an abrupt halt, holding us all up."
Clémentine attempted to pry the opaque flap from the window to catch a better view, but Edouard slapped her wrist. "But I want to see—"
"—wait, would you?" He frowned, pressing his ear to the cushioned walls, clasping her hand in his to stop her from interrupting him again. Squelching footsteps caused him to cringe, signifying someone approaching. "They... they are returning."
