In the King's Palace of Runa
The grand chamber was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn to soften the afternoon sun. A faint breeze swayed them, but the room remained stifling. The scent of herbal remedies hung in the air, unable to mask the underlying presence of illness.
A servant entered, bowing deeply. "My Queen, the doctor is here."
Queen Ria sat beside the grand bed where King Azar Kruzenski rested, his once-powerful form weakened by the illness that slowly consumed him. At the servant's words, she straightened.
"Send him in."
The doctor entered, bowing respectfully before approaching the king. "May I begin?"
At the queen's nod, he proceeded with his examination. His hands were steady, but his expression gradually darkened as he worked. When he finally stepped back, the look on his face said it all.
Queen Ria's voice was firm, though her fingers trembled slightly in her lap.
"What do the results say, Doctor?"
The physician hesitated before speaking.
"The medicine is slowing the illness, but it cannot cure it. If His Majesty continues taking it, he will have a little more time."
"How long?"
"...About six months."
A flicker of hope crossed the queen's face.
"That's longer than last month's results! The medicine is working. If we perfect it, we might be able to stop the illness entirely."
The doctor sighed.
"My Queen, we have perfected every remedy we could. There is nothing left to improve. We have done all we can. I'm so sorry."
Queen Ria's lips parted as if to argue, but before she could speak, King Azar lifted a hand.
"That's enough," the king said, his voice steady despite the weight of the words.
"Thank you, doctor. You may take your leave."
The doctor bowed low and left the chamber. Silence filled the room, broken only by the queen's quiet sniffles as tears welled in her eyes.
"Why are you crying?" Azar said, his tone light, almost amused.
"I'm not going anywhere just yet."
He pushed himself up from the bed, walking toward the balcony with a slow but determined stride. Queen Ria followed, her hands clenched at her sides.
Outside, the sprawling capital of Runa stretched before them, its streets bustling with life. The sun peeked through the thick clouds, casting golden light over the rooftops.
Azar exhaled, resting a hand on the stone railing.
"What we really need to worry about isn't me dying in six months. It's what happens next. Now that word of my illness is spreading like wildfire, I hear whispers of secret meetings happening behind my back. Wolves that once hid in sheep's clothing are beginning to show their true colors. Things will only get harder from here, and for me to pull through—I need you to be strong, Ria."
Queen Ria inhaled sharply, wiping her tears.
"I know. I'll be strong from now on. But… can I cry this one last time?"
Azar simply nodded. Without hesitation, Ria stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him as she let the tears fall. The king's death was inevitable.
In six months, if no successor was chosen, the kingdom could easily fall into chaos. Blood would be spilled. Factions would rise. The only way to avoid catastrophe was to select an heir before the king's passing.
But even that wouldn't be simple.
As if reading his thoughts, Queen Ria whispered, "Azar… where is Ashia?"
---
Near Runa Kingdom's Fish Market
Laughter and voices filled the air, blending with the scent of salt and fresh fish. Princess Ashia moved through the crowded streets with wide, curious eyes. Her cloak covered most of her features, but the way she carried herself—graceful, confident—was enough to draw attention.
Behind her, her servant, Yelena, struggled to keep up.
"My Highness, you shouldn't be outside the royal grounds!" Yelena hissed, trying to stay close without bumping into the bustling townsfolk. "If the king finds out—"
"He won't do anything to me," Ashia said with a small grin.
"Yes, but he'll behead me for letting you go!"
Ashia chuckled, unfazed. "Relax. We won't be here long."
She hurried ahead, weaving through the marketplace. The past three days of constant rain had slowed fishing efforts, so there were fewer fish than usual.
Even so, the streets were packed—everyone had come out to stock up now that the rain had stopped. Ashia took in the sights, her excitement barely contained.
For a moment, she forgot she was the princess of Runa.
Then, something caught her attention.
"Oi! Walk properly! Stop slowing down the line!"
A gruff voice shouted from the side of the street. Ashia turned her head.
A line of chained people shuffled forward under the watchful eyes of slave traders. Their wrists and ankles bore iron restraints, their clothes torn, their faces empty of hope. The traders barked orders, pulling on chains whenever someone fell behind.
Ashia's breath caught in her throat.
She had never seen this before. Born and raised within the palace walls, she had lived in luxury, shielded from the darker realities of the kingdom. But now, standing in the middle of the street, she realized how little she truly knew about the world outside.
"Yelena…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What's going on?"
The servant sighed, her expression unreadable. "They're slave traders. Normally, they transport slaves in carriages, but for some reason, they're walking them through the streets today."
Ashia's stomach twisted. "Does my father know about this?"
"This isn't anything special, my Highness. This is life outside the royal grounds. The king didn't want you out here for a reason. As lovely as the city seems, there are bad people everywhere."
Yelena tugged on Ashia's sleeve. "Come on, Princess. We should go back."
But Ashia couldn't move.
She stared at the slaves, at their hollow expressions, at the bruises on their wrists. A deep frustration swelled inside her. She was a princess, yet she couldn't do anything.
Her hands clenched into fists.
Then, forcing herself to remain composed, she turned away. Drawing her cloak tighter around herself, she silently followed Yelena back toward the palace.
But even as she left, the image of those chained people burned itself into her mind.