Living in royalty can't be so bad, right? But... what if you're not technically royal?
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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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"A gift from God, you say?"
King Edouard came close to spitting out his gulp of wine. "She is, Sir Bristol—but please explain to me why you would think otherwise?"
The auburn-and-sable-haired man's expression froze. "I meant no offense, Sire, but—"
"—but you did offend, and I suggest that you wait until I request your opinion before giving it." Edouard took another swig, swirling the liquid in his mouth, imbuing his taste buds with the decadent berry taste, and swallowed. "So, as I was saying... we have a dilemma, it appears."
The gentlemen around his massive oak table grunted in response. The night before, when stumbling into this very room, its forest-green walls and tapestries of exotic carpets muffling his stomping, Edouard had enjoyed the silence. Now, crowded with nobles who resided in his castle, in his town, or as close to Torrinni as possible, he regretted not waiting another day or two before convening with them.
Another gentleman tipped forward, rising halfway to show the King he spoke. "Might I say several dilemmas, Sire? That session with Louis' envoy..." Sir Richel, the Marquess of Valeville, had eyes gray as slate and the beginnings of a mustache forming over his thinned lips. "I was there, I saw that contempt. And I must add, the notable Giromian absence... troubling, no? Why focus on Totresia? They plot, Sire. France plots against you."
"Gregor was absent?" asked a young man Edouard barely recognized.
"Sent some Duke or other in his place, foul thing he was, I prefer not to recall his name." Sir Richel mimicked gagging. "Louis only wanted to talk to our monarch. But who are we to question the King of France, hm?" The Marquess returned his gaze to Edouard. "But anyway... Majesty, I worry."
Groaning, Edouard set his goblet down and leaned against his Meeting Room throne, the cushions not plush enough to provide him comfort on such an exhausting day. "I worry too, Barnabé, and I will bring these concerns up soon, I promise, but yesterday's events take precedence. Our discovery in the woods beside Mara is of far greater importance. A threat to our security if we do not hasten to figure out who committed such a foul crime on our territory."
The Marquess squinted at his King, but lowered into his seat. "So you were saying this child is a gift from God, Sire?"
"Yes, she is. A girl. Golden curls, bubbly, about the same age as Antoine." Edouard couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips as he spoke of her. "Found in the arms of a manwe are assuming was her father." He swallowed. "Of distinguished descent."
His Captain, standing a few feet from them, guarding the entrance to the King's smaller Office behind his throne, slid forward. "We cannot be certain he is her parent, but I confirm he appeared to have insignia on his garb. It was burned, scratched off. Intentionally ruined."
Edouard did his best to appear unaffected in front of his men; but inside, a storm brewed, a hurricane swirled and disturbed his organs, and fear swelled in his gut more than it ever had. "I cannot fathom how this innocent thing got so lucky. The man's face was bashed in beyond recognition. The culprits chopped off all his hair, too, furthering our difficulties. But yes, I do believe he had some noble blood. His carriage had a sturdy set of wheels and elaborate doors."
