The Good Crown

Chapter 23

Walking through the hallways of the palace, I made my way to my father's office in a hurry. My thoughts were racing, but I knew this needed to be addressed now. I didn't slow my pace, not even when I reached his door. Entering fast, I saw him glance up from his desk, concern flickering across his face as I rushed in.

"Noah? Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked calmly, setting down the quill in his hand.

I nodded quickly, still catching my breath. "Yes, but I have an important matter to discuss."

He raised an eyebrow but gestured for me to sit. I took a deep breath, settling into the chair across from him, trying to gather my thoughts. He watched me with that same calm, expectant expression, and I knew I had to choose my words carefully.

"It's about Family Day," I said finally, keeping my voice steady. "I think we should allow the town kids' families to come into the kingdom for it."

He didn't react immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered my request. "The town families?" he repeated slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. "Why do you feel that's necessary?"

I hesitated for a moment, knowing this wasn't going to be an easy conversation. "The royal children get to spend the day with their families," I began, keeping my tone even, "but the town kids—our students—they don't. It's not fair to them. Family is just as important to them as it is to us."

His expression remained neutral, but I could see the skepticism in his eyes. "The town children are being given an opportunity most could never dream of—to attend our school, to learn what the children of royalty and nobility do. That should be more than enough."

"With all due respect, Father," I interjected, "they're not just students. They're people with families who love them. Family Day isn't just about celebration—it's about unity. We preach about how the kingdom values all its people, but we're treating them like outsiders. If we don't allow their families to join them, how are they supposed to feel like they belong?"

His gaze hardened slightly, and I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. "The kingdom has its boundaries for a reason, Noah. You of all people should understand that."

"I do," I said quickly, "but I also understand that isolation is not the answer. They've already proven that they belong here. Their families deserve to see that, to be part of that."

There was a long pause. My father studied me carefully, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest of his chair. "You're very passionate about this," he said at last, his voice softer but laced with something I couldn't quite place. "Why, Noah? Why are you so invested in these townsfolk? You've started this entire program for them, pushed for their inclusion in the school. What is it about them that stirs you so?"

His question hit me harder than I expected. It wasn't one I had been fully prepared to answer, not out loud. I looked down for a moment, gathering my thoughts, then met his eyes again.

"They're not so different from us," I said quietly. "I've spent time with them, seen how hard they work, how much they care for each other. They remind me of... of what we could be, if we stopped seeing them as separate. This kingdom is stronger together, not divided."

He didn't say anything for a long time, his eyes locked onto mine as if searching for something. I didn't know if my words had moved him or if he still saw the world in the way he always had—divided by lines of nobility and blood. But I had said my piece.

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. My father's eyes remained locked on mine, weighing my words as though deciding their worth. I held his gaze, refusing to back down even as doubt gnawed at the edges of my confidence.

Before either of us could speak again, the door creaked open. My mother stepped inside, her expression softening as she saw us, though a flicker of concern crossed her face.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, her voice gentle as always.

"No," my father replied, his tone neutral. "In fact, I'm glad you're here." He gestured for her to join us, and she approached, her eyes moving between the two of us, sensing the tension in the air.

"What's going on?" she asked, taking a seat beside me. Her hand found mine under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Noah," my father began, his gaze shifting toward her, "has a proposition. He believes we should allow the town children's families to come into the kingdom for Family Day."

My mother's brow furrowed slightly, her fingers tightening around mine. "The town children's families?" she repeated, glancing at me, then back at my father.

"Yes," I said quickly, leaning forward. "It's important, Mother. They deserve to be with their families, just as we do. Family Day is meant to bring people together, but we're keeping them apart. How can we expect them to feel like they belong here if we don't treat them as equals?"

My mother looked at me for a long moment, and I could see the worry in her eyes—the fear of change, of upsetting the delicate balance of the kingdom. But there was something else too. She saw how much this mattered to me, how deeply I cared.

She turned to my father, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. "It's not without risk," she said slowly, "allowing so many townsfolk into the kingdom. But..." She paused, her gaze softening as it returned to me. "I can see how much this means to him. And he's right. We can't keep them at a distance forever. If we're going to welcome their children into our school, we should also be willing to welcome their families, at least for a day."

My father's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite read. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling together as he regarded us both in silence.

"I see," he said finally, his voice measured. "You both make a strong argument. But understand, Noah, this decision won't be made lightly. There are dangers in opening the kingdom's gates to so many outsiders. We must tread carefully."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "I understand, Father. But I believe this is the right thing to do."

My mother smiled faintly at me, her support a quiet strength in the room. My father's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"I will consider it," he said at last, his voice firm but not unkind. "For now, return to your lessons. I'll speak with the council."

Relief washed over me, though I knew it was far from a victory. It was a step, a chance, and that was more than I could have hoped for. I stood, my mother giving my hand one final squeeze as I met my father's eyes.

"Thank you," I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me.

"Don't thank me yet," he replied, though there was a hint of something softer in his tone. "We'll see how this plays out."