The First Empress

Roenesia

Annie sat by Helena's bed, a sad smile on her face. She stroked her blond hair gently as her queen slept soundly. She would toss and turn every once so often, incohesive murmurings upon her lips. Despite sleeping in the comfort she deserved, her lady in waiting imagined her dreams to be far from peaceful. After watching her for an hour more, she rose, only to stop in her tracks as her queen latched a hand onto her dress.

'No, don't leave...'

Though she trailed back to sleep, Annie then chose to sit beside her for the rest of the night, clasping their hands together.

Morning found them both where night had left them, Helena curled into a ball on the enormous bed with Annie slumped onto the bed from the chair she sat in. There came a knock on the door to the king's chambers,

'Your majesty, it is I, General Crozat'

The two women awoke, Annie bolting upright in her chair and Helena sitting up on the bed.

'Enter,'

Though the man rushed in, he later turned around in haste as he took in the scene of the two ladies sleeping. The tips of his ears turned pink, and the queen couldn't help but chuckle,

'Fear not, General, I assure you, we are fully clothed'

Clearing his throat, Crozat proceeded to give them a status report on Roenesia, his back to the ladies. He recommended she got Delacroix to hand the crown over in writing and proceed to take over the country's military. Helena was only too happy to agree, after all; the more time they wasted, the more people died. Thus began their mission to retake Liberia.

In the weeks to come, decrees to withdraw forces from Liberia were issued by the king bearing the royal seal. The control of all Roenesia's armies was placed in the hands of Crozat, who took the liberty of sending most of its troops back home. Funding was down to near naught, even those who tried to stay back had no choice but to obey. The royal guard was replaced, now consisting of only Liberian troops, with all the remaining Roenisian officials summoned back to the castle to be addressed by their new leader. All of this was done inconspicuously, so much so that the nationalities of the Liberians were concealed. This made the locals more receptive to the changes, although they were sudden.

Economical changes were next; the economy received its much-needed attention, budget allocations were made and trade within the country resumed. The king even resumed court, though he rarely attended, the newly appointed general appearing in his stead. The nobles objected at first, how could a mere general replace the king's presence? When they began to see how Crozat kept to his word and saw their requests through if he deemed them valid, however, they accepted him. He listened to reason, and for that they respected him.

Helena grew impatient as the weeks drew on; undoing the selfish king's work proved to be a bigger task than she had hoped. She longed to set off past Roenesia's borders, back home to Tallur where the sea awaited her. She also wanted to accelerate her coronation as queen over the land; it would make it easier to deal with the forces from the East. Ravens from Liberia informed her that though they had withdrawn upon seeing their allies abandon their posts, the forces from Lozenberg had merely camped out in the country, refusing to leave. Her new armies would give her the numbers needed to chase them out of her land.

--

It had been one and a half months since she arrived and made Delacroix a puppet. Helena's boots clicked against the stone floor of the dungeons as she was led to the cell that held the boy who attacked her back at Berth. She could hear water dripping in the distance, the scampering of mice echoed down the corridor and the air smelt stale. Part of her felt sorry for holding him here, she chose not to touch him until he was transferred to a secure holding facility. Far be it from her to keep prisoners, though in this case, she felt it necessary.

'This cell, your majesty,'

Crozat was close at her heels, insisting he accompany her, should anything go wrong. A faint smile crossed her face; she never felt the need to reveal how she had learnt her way with a blade, nor how she could hold her own with a bigger man. The help at the chateau had unwillingly obliged in teaching her self-defence, some having been handpicked by Helena as a mercy to redeem themselves from a dark past. In exchange for her kindness, they were required to bring their expertise to the table, be in knife tricks, pickpocketing or the like. It was there she learned how to defend herself, and it served her well throughout the years.

She approached the filthy metal bars behind which a bulky form could be made out sitting on the dirt crusted floor. The figure stirred as the queen's face came into view, illuminated by the torch she held in her right hand.

'You, I believe an explanation is well overdue.'

Much to the surprise of her subjects, she sat cross-legged, a foot or so away from the bars. The figure crawled towards her, sitting right in front of her. As he opened his mouth to speak, she raised her free hand to pause him,

'Spin not a tale of woe, my friend, for my patience runs low. Instead, tell me why you were led to nearly murdering the queen you shall soon thank for sparing your life.'

There they sat as the would-have-been assassin told her of how he was forced into the trade. Minutes drew to hours as Helena listened to his tale and offered him a way of redemption.