Diana Of Alcotta (Yrsoreth Chronicles 1)

SEASON 1 ♛ Prologue

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Alexanderian Calendar

The first year of Alexander's reign

10th hour under the twin full moons

3rd day of the 6th month

Alexander Claumont Gran Dacchia, the new king of the reborn Gran Dacchian Kingdom, sat on a wooden chair, creaking as he moved. It was not fit for the 22-year old Bastard Prince from the Slums, now the sole monarch of the country.

It won't be long when he returns to the capital and claims the most coveted seat. But he preferred his current chair. It creaked, but it never broke. Unpolished, but never weak.

He leaned and closed his eyes. At last, his rebellion is over. Her dream will be fulfilled, and soon, he can give her the world.

"How about the corpses, Your Majesty?" Ysivan, his long time friend, and will be his prime minister, asked.

"Burn them," Xander said without hesitation, her smiling face still lingered on his mind. Now that he has power, he can protect it.

Ysivan nodded and did not question further. Burning the rest of the royal family without burial in the royal graveyard is a taboo for traditions. But the old Gran Dacchia is no more. If the man at the center of the new reign does not adhere to past rules, then it must be done.

After Xander stamped his first decree as King, he announced, "Tomorrow, I shall depart for Alcotta Isle."

'Long live the king.' She said in confidence that he would be one. It has been months since then. All the words he could have said before she boarded the ship; the promises and how lovely she was on that day-bottled inside him.

He was aware that his silence cut her deep,

but alas, she will hear them soon.

"About that... A messenger has come for the news of Lady Diana."

He snapped towards his friend, in a silent pressure of why he was told only now.

Ysivan gulped. "...We had to wait after the execution, Your Majesty."

"How long has he waited?"

"Half an hour now."

"Bring him in." Xander was known to be calm and composed. He did not bat an eye as he cut his brother's head a moment ago, nor he flinched as the rest of the royal family pleaded for mercy. Years of oppression pushed him to the edge and honed his skills of outward serenity. And yet, impatience laced in his voice by the mention of his ex-fiancee's name.

The messenger entered and squirmed under the sharp gaze. Sweat bled from his face and his back, as his trembling hands handed the sealed parchment to Ysivan and then to the new monarch.

In silence, Xander read the contents. The tent's temperature dropped, along with a paper that slipped from his hands. "What does this mean?" he asked in a small voice that slightly quivered. His red eyes shook, to his hands where the parchment used to be, then back to the man who delivered it. Then he roared. "Speak!!"

Everyone in the tent flinched. Xander has never raised his voice, even on the battlefield. He was the illegitimate second prince, but the opposition could never find fault in his measured manners. But as of the moment, rage flashed into his eyes, then panic and confusion.

The messenger trembled, asked the gods why he had to be the bearer of the news, about the young yet cold king's beloved. But he has no choice. He opened his trembling mouth and said,

"Lady Diana is dead, Your Majesty."

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