Welcome to Briteland, the lost British Isle, last known country of magic.
Chosen at birth as one of five members of the Queen's Guard, the young knight Galavere has spent all seventeen years of her life training to protect the kingdom's reigning mo...
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As Imogen took her place on the Briteland Throne, the rest of the Guard stationed themselves by her right. On her left, Kiril dismissively waved his hand and the sound of ethereal bells began to ring through the hall. The marble throne room was pristine and bright, topped by a domed ceiling shimmering with foxglove blue constellations: a jeweled tapestry that told Briteland's history, and many believed, its future. Above Imogen's throne hung a single floating banner bearing Briteland's crest of a winged fox.
The Briteland courtiers stood out from the English, the light and colourful romantic hues of their garb in stark contrast with the drab, dark tones of the British delegate. Spring had bloomed in the magical kingdom, and the delicate pinks, yellows and blues of the citizens' ethereal skirts and tunics perfectly matched the change of the season. The grey furs and thick wools of the English diplomats told of a foreboding, cold country left behind.
Click. Click. Click. Galavere could hear Reginald before she saw him. Some of the Briteland nobility had begun to refer to him as "the vampire," but Galavere thought he was more wolf than blood sucker.
The ceremonial bells continued to chime, cascading through the halls, until the entire English procession had arrived in the throne room. Unlike their previous visits, there was nothing accompanying the princes. No tiger, no jeweled box containing a precious family heirloom, no gilded blade forged from English iron.
This worried Galavere. Reginald's face betrayed a smugness she had not perceived before, while Leopold looked uncomfortable. Were the English tired of diplomacy? If flattery had failed in convincing Imogen to lift the Veil, would they use brute force?
"Your presence is most welcome, Prince Reginald. Welcome back, Prince Leopold. I trust your journey was smooth?" Imogen inquired with regal poise, her practiced implacable expression now a permanent feature. Galavere knew she was one of the lucky few to have seen Imogen undone. With both her parents dead, it was Galavere alone who had witnessed Imogen's intimate midnight anxieties. Now even she had been banished from that most inner sanctum.
"Your Royal Highness. Our voyage was no less tedious than usual." Reginald seemed to speak for both princes, though everyone longed to hear more from the quiet and amiable Leopold. Galavere, on the other hand, wished to hear no more from either of them.
"We paid homage at the Oracle's temple on our way," Reginald continued. "I was able to speak with Volumina, to clarify the prophecy painted in your stars here," Reginald said, gesturing to the ceiling he could not see.
"The secrets held by the blue heavens are not easily deciphered my lord. Of which prophecy do you speak?" Imogen replied. Galavere shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, feeling as though everyone was speaking a language she didn't understand.
"That regarding the fall of the Veil. That Briteland will not topple her barriers, will not make herself available to another kingdom until that which seeks to enter has bequeathed its most precious treasure to her." A small murmur rippled through the court. What prophecy was this?
Imogen looked to Kiril, then Lumina. "Is this true?" asked Imogen. Galavere wracked her brain to think of what she'd overheard Imogen and Kiril speaking of, only moments before in the throne room antichamber. Was she indeed ignorant of this prophecy, or was Imogen feigning a lack of knowledge?
"The prince speaks true, my Queen. Such a prophecy exists, though how he may have come to know of it, I am unsure." Lumina said quietly. Her mother, the High Oracle, would never speak with outsiders regarding sacred prophecies unless forced. Galavere stifled a gasp, as did much of the court. If what Reginald said was true, then all England had to do to ensure open borders with Briteland was hand over whatever their most precious treasure happened to be.
Reginald smiled, unperturbed by Lumina's subtle accusation. To Galavere he seemed like a cat playing with his meal before devouring it.
"We have brought you our crown jewels, ancient weapons from our most storied warriors, fey elixir from the time before. Gifts that many might consider England's most precious treasure." Click, Reginald checked his position, and took a few steps towards the throne.
"And we have received them with great honour. We wish nothing more than to remain good friends with England," replied Imogen.
"But how can we do that if Briteland will not open her-" Reginald paused here for effect, allowing the court to fill in his silence with "legs," before pivoting to the more genteel: "arms... to your loving English brethren?"
"The Veil is not simply for my people's protection, but for the protection of us both. Magic breeds greed faster than gold, and makes men mad twice as fast," countered Imogen.
"Protection for both kingdoms is precisely what I am pursuing, your highness. As such, I have brought with me a gift that can fulfil this prophecy, thereby allowing for the lifting of the Veil and the union of our two great kingdoms. I have brought what is beyond a doubt England's greatest treasure."
Another murmur rippled through the court. Galavere threw a glance to Lumina who was staring at Reginald's white scepter with a sick look on her face. Imogen was silent for a moment. She looked to Kiril who shook his head in bewilderment. Once a hush had fallen over the court, she spoke.
"What is it?"
With that, Reginald turned to his brother Leopold. "Your turn," he said in a low and crooning voice.
All eyes turned to where the handsome young prince stood, immobilized with a distinct look of terror on his face. He swallowed hard, and bent one knee to the ground, putting a hand on his chest. "Your royal highness. Queen of Briteland, Protector of the Blue Heaven, Lady of Salistina, and daughter of Good King Harodin, I offer myself to you, and ask, will you marry me?"
The court erupted. Galavere looked to Imogen, but could not read her implacable expression, though she swore she saw her eyes begin to glow. Yellow eyes were common amongst Briteland's royal bloodline, but only those that held the ultraviolet glow were said to carry madness. Legends were told of the Mad Queen's sun-like eyes, with a glare so bright it was nearly impossible to look at her directly. Galavere had never seen Imogen's eyes carry the light before, but she knew the Queen had secrets, herself among them.
Before Imogen could reply, Kiril whispered in her ear.
"It would be a great offence to turn down so generous an offer," Reginald called out, over the hubbub of the court.
Leopold was glued to his position on the ground, his eyes fixed on Imogen. Galavere was on high alert. She only half understood the complex position into which Imogen had been thrust, but appreciated the danger. Reginald had played his cards well. Imogen was compelled to say yes, as the offer complied with Britelend prophecy, and would cement an unbreakable alliance between the kingdoms. If she said no, choosing to protect her people from the British greed for magic, England could take the rejection as a great offence, using the slight as a catalyst for war. Though it would be a costly last resort, the British could always use sheer force to bring down the Veil, as long as they were willing to sacrifice thousands of their own in the attempt.
When Galavere looked back, Imogen was being whisked away by Kiril. Her eyes caught the Queen's briefly before the antichamber door slammed shut between them.
"What does she say?" called out Reginald. No one replied. Click. Click. Click. He realized she was gone.
