The Fallen Throne

Chapter 5.1 ✦ Beginning Of Fire

The next morning doesn't seem any more peaceful or non-eventful than the day before when the kings had their meeting and when the locals of Theia were protesting in the city centre.

Words spread fast that they would soon have to bow down to an emperor.

The locals of Theia aren't too pleased. They'd expected more from their king, whom they always respect and look up to. Unfortunately, the respect had finally came to an immediate end once the decision is made. The locals know full well of their position, though; they are powerless. They can say nothing, do nothing, for they fear that their fate for betraying the king would be far worse than the fate they are currently being enforced unwillingly on.

That is, for the most of them. A minority of the locals -- despite nearly the entirety of Theia being against the idea -- who are brave enough to step forward, are currently protesting directly in front of the castle gates. In their minds, a theory: that since the king hasn't officially announced to the public regarding the matter yet, they still are not completely dead, even with the slightest possibility; in their hearts, a small fire of burning hope.

Meanwhile, Alastair sits in his study, obvious dark circles under his emotionless eyes, like he hadn't slept a wink. His posture is flaccid, his shoulders slouched and saggy; it is as if even the slightest wind would topple him. He remains in his seat like a statue, and no one really knows if he'd actually been there all night, not leaving the study at all.

He looks deep in thought, but his mind is really only empty. Despite his lack of consciousness demeanour, though, he is alert and aware. The noises outside, after all, can never be easily ignored, for they drift swiftly across the castle gates into the castle and finally drum in Alastair's ears.

Frowning, he calls for a guard. The guard bows, ready for an instruction.

"What is the uproar this early in the morning?" he questions, although he already has an idea in mind.

"Protests, your majesty," the guard says timidly, not lifting his head. "The locals are unhappy and are demonstrating."

Alastair heaves a long sigh, tiredly. It is rather unknown whether he is angry, frustrated, or just simply annoyed. The guard flinches ever so slightly. "And the situation?"

"They are not leaving until they hear from you, your majesty. They are demanding for an explanation."

Alastair rises from his seat suddenly, startling the guard. "Very well. I shall enlighten them," he says, making his way towards the doors of the study.

As he is about the pull open the doors, though, the doors open at the same time, and a woman enters the room rudely, with a man closely behind her along with two to three guards near them.

Alastair turns the to guard he was just speaking to. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Your majesty -- I apologise," one of the guards outside answers instead. "They forcefully barged in, seeking you -- they mean no harm, they are not armed."

"Your majesty!" the woman huffs, breathless and seemingly trying to contain a mixture of emotions: anger, worry, and fear. "Where is my daughter?" she asks like a demand, showing no shame of disrespect talking to the king directly. The man inches closer, comforting the woman who is now on the brink of tears.

"Pardon me?" Alastair asks, clearly confused.

"I asked -- where is my daughter? Rose, her highness's friend," Mrs Travis repeats with detail, her voice rising.

Alastair furrows his brows. "Are you mistaking something?"

"I am most definitely not. Shall I rephrase it to your understanding, your majesty? May I ask, when was the last time you seen the princess, her highness?"

"The princess has been in her room since last evening. I have ordered the guards to watch her closely."

"Are you certain, your majesty?"

Just then, a guard strides quickly into the open room. He stops in front of the king. "Pardon my intrusion, your majesty."

"What is it?" Alastair demands, frustration obvious in his tone. There are just too many matters rising out of thin air on a simple morning, all on his tray to deal with.

The guard looks hesitant to speak, uneasy. "Her highness, she --" he pauses, and he shuts his mouth then opens it again, finding the right words. Finally, he clears his throat and says, as calmly as he can, "the princess is nowhere to be found, she is not present in her room."

Alastair immediately turns back to the woman, anger taking over every other emotion he had felt before. "What were you trying to deliver?" he asks the woman he had been talking to impatiently.

Mrs Travis looks angrier than the king, if possible. She stares into his eyes fiercely. "Someone saw my daughter roaming the streets with her highness along with two other young men late in the night," she explains, "my daughter -- you are responsible for her safety! Return her to me! Where is she?" Her voice rises like a crescendo.

Unfortunately, Alastair does not have the slightest idea where his daughter had gone, let alone her child who was with Alaina. Without an answer to deliver, he turns to the guard who had just delivered the news. "I had asked of you to watch her closely, to ensure she does not exit the room, let alone the palace. Did I not make myself clear?"

"Your majesty, her highness wished for us not to disturb and --"

"And how could you have not noticed?" Alastair sighs, shaking his head. Flicking his hand and turning away, he says, "please see to it that they leave."

He glances one last time at Rose's parents; Mrs Travis shouting in protest as Mr Travis tries to calm her gently. "Please rest assured that I shall be looking into this matter, immediately after I address the locals formally," he reassures them, and turning to the guards nearby, he says, "please make preparations for my entrance to the city."