Rosalis stood in a stand, clad in just her trousers and a tunic, having had her armour confiscated. 12 jurors stared at her, their cold eyes piercing into her soul. The judge stood up, proceeding with the inquisition.
“Rosalis Ventris,” He announced. “you are hereby put on trial for the regicide of King Edmund III of Frinnor. How do you wish to plead?”
“I plead innocent.” She said without one hesitation. “In my defence–”
Suddenly, there was an uproar from the crowd.
“In! My! Defence!” Rosalis roared over them. The crowd quieted down as the judge held his hand up, sitting back down at his chair. “I killed the assassin with my very own sword.”
“You could have conspired with him.”
“That accusation is absurd. Do you really think that I will kill my own ally?”
“Silence!” The judge suddenly roared, his voice echoing through the court. He snapped his fingers and a knight came up to him, holding a longsword in a steel scabbard. The judge took it and unsheathed it, the blade was covered in dark, dried blood. “Is this your sword?”
Rosalis hesitated. “Yes.”
“Then please explain how it came to be covered in blood?”
“I already told you, I killed the assassin with my own sword.”
“How do we know that you didn’t kill the king with this very blade?”
“I have been a custodian and herald of two kings. Both of which I have sworn to protect with my life.”
The judge sighed, sheathing the bloody blade and handed the sword back to the knight. He took it and returned to his post. “I think that I am ready to deliver my verdict.” The judge suddenly banged down his palm onto the table, sounding the end of the trial. “By the power vested in me, I hereby judge you as guilty, for the regicide of King Edmund III of Frinnor. Your execution shall take place in a week’s time.”
And with that, Rosalis was taken away.
Rosalis sat in the dark, cold and damp jail cell, fearing her impending doom. Three days later, she heard the rattle of a key in the lock. She stepped out from the shadows and stared at the knight as he unlocked the gate. He opened it and gestured with his head.
“You’re free to go.” He told her. Rosalis frowned slightly, confused, but then went on anyway.
Rosalis sat at a large table in the castle’s hall after having retrieved her armour and sword. She endlessly drummed her fingers onto the tabletop, anxiety grabbing her. What was going to happen now? Edmund’s bloodline was wiped out. How was the kingdom going to survive without a ruler? The doors of the hall opened and a man entered. He stopped at the end of the table, clasping his hands behind his back.
“My lady,” He said. “it is time that you prepared for the election.”
Rosalis immediately stopped drumming her fingers and looked up at him in a slight shock. “Election?” She asked.
“You are going to be elected as queen of Frinnor. It was one of Edmund II’s wishes that if his bloodline should end, you are to start a new one in the name of the kingdom. Frinnor is now yours to command and protect.”
Rosalis’ mouth slightly dropped open and her eyes widened. She lifted her hand up and wagged a finger slightly. “Excuse me.” She grabbed a bottle of wine and uncorked it, poured herself a large amount.
“It is not wise to drink before an election.” He advised her. But before he could physically stop her, Rosalis had already gulped some down. She then looked at him, midway through the second gulp.
“Yes. You’re right.” She put the chalice down and wiped her mouth with her hand. Standing up, she walked over to her blood stained armour and proceeded with cleaning and polishing it.
Rosalis stood at the balcony of Frinnor’s palace, staring at the crowd that stared back at her. The archbishop administered the oath to which she agreed to all. He placed the crown on her head and she stood up, looked down at the crowd.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, queen Rosalis I of Frinnor.” The archbishop announced. A servant stepped up to Rosalis from behind and adorned her with a purple cape. She stared at the crowd, the orb and sceptre in her hands. “Long live the queen!”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Long live the queen!” The entire kingdom echoed.
Rosalis sat in her throne after the ceremony, trying to take in everything that had just happened. She went from being a custodian and a herald to a queen. No one walked into the hall, Rosalis having decided not to elect a custodian and herald for herself. It was just her and her alone. She sighed and then proceeded with the monumental task of rebuilding Frinnor.
Three months later, Frinnor was rebuilt, restored back to its former glory. Rosalis endlessly ventured through the palace, having to deal with political matters. She looked at four messengers that stood in front of her and then sent them away to send the message.
The first messenger arrived in Hebia. The stench of the swamp filled his nostrils and he forced himself not to gag. He pulled his mask up further, covering his nose completely and continued forward. Mist slowly rose from the bubbling bog. A creature perched on a branch looked at the newcomer and chirped, tilted its head to the side sharply, looking at him with its large eyes, unblinking. The messenger stopped in place and looked at it. He shot his hands out at it, attempting to scare it away, but it still looked at him, unfazed by the threat. He shook his head and proceeded forward, just as the tail of a large unseen creature disappeared into the boggy swamp water. The messenger arrived at the palace and was gained entry. The king looked at him as the messenger pulled his mask down, breathing in fresh air. He was clad in long, green robes that looked like they were rotting away. A golden crown adorned with green crystals sat upon his head.
“Speak.” He said.
“Your presence is called for at Frinnor.” The messenger told him. “There will be a peace conference.”
“Then I shall be there.”
The second messenger arrived in Ponazia. He wrapped his wolly cloak around him tighter, trying to not catch a cold. The houses were all frozen over. He looked at the castle which was mainly made out of ice. Arriving at the palace, he looked at the king. He was clad in long, white robes. A spiked, white crown rested on his head. He looked at him, waiting for him to speak. “Your presence is called for at Frinnor.” The messenger told him. “There shall be a peace conference.”
“Then you can be assured that I will arrive.” The king replied.
The third messenger arrived in Doyeya. He walked along the half a mile bridge, battling his way through the furious storm. A forty foot stone lighthouse sat in the ocean, the waves crashing against it with wrath, trying to topple it into a watery grave, but to no avail. Suddenly, the light slowed down and stopped completely. The messenger paused his journey, noticing the static light and looked at the lighthouse. The keeper inside awoke from his slumber and looked at the large lens in front of him. Quickly springing to action, he jumped out of his bed and ran downstairs to the floor below. He grabbed the large lever and strained, pushing it forward, winding it clockwise. The huge gears clanked and groaned as they grinded against each other. The lens then slowly proceeded to spin once more, being powered up. The keeper released the lever and grabbed the sand timer, flipping it over. Ten minutes later, the last grain of sand fell, the light passed by the window and the beacon shone out to the sea once more. His job done, the keeper went back upstairs and slithered into bed once more. The messenger made it to the doors of the palace and opened them up, stepping inside. Water poured off his clothes, himself soaking wet. He walked over to the king and stood in front of him. He was clad in grey robes that looked like they were drenched in water and refused to dry out. A silver crown adorned with blue crystals sat on his head.
“What is it that you seek?” He asked.
“Your presence is called for at Frinnor.” The messenger told him. “There will be a peace conference held there.”
“Then I will be there.”
The last messenger arrived in Wolfholde. He crept through the dark streets and walked up to the castle. The knights standing guard allowed him through without one question asked, seeing him as no threat. He walked up to Uliraf and stood in front of him. The king looked at him.
“Speak.”
“Your presence is called for at Frinnor.”
“How come?”
“There will be a peace conference.”
“A peace conference you say?”
“Yes.”
Uliraf thought about it for a couple of moments. “You shall have my presence.”
The messenger inclined his head in a small bow and turned around, relaxing. Uliraf looked at him as he went and smiled, chuckling lightly.
Rosalis entered the hall where the four other kings stood there, from the other four kingdoms. Rosalis walked up to them. In front of them all was a single large piece of parchment.
“Now that we are all here, we can proceed.” The king of Ponazia said. “This political peace treaty, once signed, would ensure peace throughout the five kingdoms. We do not want a war like the last one. Too many lives were lost back then.”
“Indeed.” The king of Hebia replied.
“Well then,” Rosalis said. “let us not waste any time then.”
One after the other, the four kings and queen took the quill and proceeded to scribble down their signatures onto the parchment. Rosalis lastly scribbled her name down, and it was done.
“I think that a celebration is now in order.” The king of Doyeya said. Rosalis whistled and immediately the doors of the hall opened up. Servants and chefs poured in, setting the long tables, placing down an abundance of food and drink. Barrels of wine and mead were set out. The entire Kingdom of Frinnor arrived and the celebration was quickly underway. The custodians of the king of Doyeya smacked their tankards down onto the table and stomped their feet as they sang sea shanties. Rosalis mingled around with the other kings.
“I guess that we should congratulate you on being elected queen.” The king of Hebia said. Rosalis smiled.
“I thank you all for the compliment.” She replied. She then suddenly caught sight of Uliraf staring straight at her. She looked at him as he smiled at her, raising his goblet to her.
