Drops of Ruby Regality

Chapter One: Zemira Floarea

     I fumble around the blue kitchen, navigating around the piles of flour covering every countertop. I muster out a cough as a small cloud of dust finds its way into my throat. The sun shimmers through the thin curtains, warming the side of my face and supporting the pots of plants lining the corner of the kitchen.

    "Zemira, dear, could you please grab more coal for the oven? I have five more loaves of bread to make and there's no way I'll get through it will that little coal left."

    "Yes, Father," I agree, "I'll be right back."

    I head to the tall, oakwood door and quickly out to the yard. The sun shimmers brightly down on me, peaking through the clouds and tree branches as the chickens leap around at the sound of people. I grab the bag of seeds and quickly pour some into their feeding trays before grabbing the bag of coal. I lift it shakily and let out a breath before following the dirt trails back inside. I gently place it on the floor and look for the coal shovel.

    "Is that all?" My father questions. He gestures towards the bag.

    "Yes."

     "We don't have nearly enough money for more coal after selling Rosie. Were there any eggs?" My mother chimes in. She rolls a clump of dough, a cloud of flour surrounding the air around her. Rosie was our cow. We were forced to sell her for meat a little while ago because we weren't making enough money off of butter and milk. Since we own the town bakery, we thought we would be able to make the money back relatively quickly, but we haven't been able to.

    I shake my head, "Not that I can recall."

    "Oh lord." My mother sighs at the bag. "I don't know how much longer we will be able to go on like this. I can't make much bread with this and even if I could, nobody is buying bread. We might have to call it quits."

    "Vera, don't worry about it. We're going to be fine. We'll figure it out, we always do," My dad replies. He smiles softly as he wraps his arm around her, his shaggy copper hair resting on his forehead.

    "I hope you're right, Lieven," my mother responds quietly. "Have you heard anything about Prince Silas's engagement with princess Octavia?"

    "Not since Deacon last came around," my father explained.

    I glance out the window, the sounds of horseshoes clanking across the stone roadways.

     "Hear ye! Hear ye! Libertia is on lockdown! King Atticus was found dead!" a voice I recognize as Pier Rolfe's, the main royal messenger, shouts, directing a dark brown horse down the road.

    I narrow my eyebrows and rush out the door. My long green dress brushes against my boats as I walk towards Deacon, my parents trailing behind.

    "What's going on?"

    Deacon directs the horse over to the stone pathway leading up to our small cottage.

    "Halt, boy," He mutters, holding tightly onto the reigns.

    My eyes follow the row of horses galloping down the road, dozen of royal messengers in ruby velvet uniforms alerting everyone on the street.

     Deacon runs his hand through his curly chestnut hair, examining the area around us. "Pier came storming into the dorming house thirty minutes ago shouting about the King's death. Apparently, when he went to check on the King this morning, he was unresponsive. There was supposedly blood splattered all over his sheets and along the wall. I didn't see him myself, but the situation is not good. Queen Philomena sent us out to alert the town about the lockdown and sent a few of us out to guard the borders."

    "Does that mean Prince Silas becomes King?" My mother questions.

    "I suppose it does,' My father replies. He gulps before looking over at Deacon. "Are they questioning villagers then?"

    He bites the inside of his cheek. "I am not entirely sure, Mr. Floarea. I would believe so. We won't quite know until it happens."

    My father nods. "Thank you, Deacon."

    "Of course, sir. I should be going through it. I'm sure I will see you all soon. Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Floarea. Bye Zemira."

     "Bye Deacon."

    I watch as he directs the horse back to the road and gallops off, catching up with Piers. I listen as they shout the news to the villagers down the road as the wind rustles through the trees.

    "We best get back inside,' My father insists. He wraps his arm around my mother's shoulder and guides her inside. "I don't want us being out in the open after what just went down in the castle. Who knows the intentions of those people."

    I take a breath before heading into the house, the wooden floor creaking beneath my feet.

     Something like this has never happened in Libertia before. While our country Libertania has had a few disagreements with other countries' leaders, we've never had an assassination or even threats. Even internally, nobody has had any major issues with our leaders, the Vlad Family. Here we are though.

    "I suppose we won't be heading off to sell any of our bread today, huh?" My mother muffles. She puts her hands on her waist, looking down at the woven basket on our kitchen table.

    "I guess we'll have to eat up then," My father replies. He smiles as he scoops a loaf of bread out of the basket and takes a bite.

     "Lieven!" My mother scolds.

    "What? Can't let it go to waste." My father laughs before handing me half a loaf. "Eat up, hun."

     I smile. "Thanks, dad."

     He nods as my mother shakes her head. "Fine, but no more. If this all calms down soon, we can head down to the market before it all goes bad."

    "Alright, Vera."

     I take a bite of the warm bread as I look out the window at the trees, the trees Deacon and I used the climb as kids. We met as toddlers since our dads were friends when they were young. Our families would have dinner together every Friday night at our house, my parents baking something special every time. One day, Deacon's dad got trampled by a horse while serving as a royal messenger. He became paralyzed. To make sure they still had enough money, Deacon took over his job. He's been working as a messenger for what feels like forever. Since he's always so busy, we don't get to see him much, but we see his father every once in a while. Things still just don't feel the same. And after today, I'm sure they won't be.