Decreash Imperial Palace
The castle was quite tense today. Ragaleon was in a terrible mood and had suddenly decided that the whole royal family will be going to the Kingswoods.
The servants were trying their best to hasten the preparations, getting all the game sets ready and preparing the royal carriage; everywhere was simply chaotic.
This was the atmosphere that greeted Micah when she stepped out of her chamber. She was dressed in a yellow sleeveless gown; it had a V-neck, and the collars were sharp.
Some part of her cleavage was in view, compressed by the tight crochet underneath the dress. Her dark wavy hair was pinned in a low bun, her thick brows darkened with some charcoal powder.
Micah was apparently not aware of Ragaleon's latest orders. She was in a world of her own; in her hand was a book, and she was making her way to the garden but couldn't help but take notice of the glaring sight playing before her.
The servants were carrying heavy bags filled with arrows, swords, and other equipment. Micah tilted her head backwards, watching as the servants endlessly streamed in, carrying one thing after another.
Of course she would have ignored the obvious, but when she saw Ragaleon conversing with Brandon some distance away, her brows creased.
He wasn't dressed in his normal royal outfit. Today he was wearing long black pants with brown boots, his dark blue shirt extended to a cape behind him, and his shoulder-length hair was packed up in a ponytail.
He had his hands crossed behind his back as he conversed with Brandon in a low tone. Micah had seen enough; she waved down a servant who was walking by and then signaled her to come forward.
"What is going on?"
She questioned, fixing her gaze on the maid.
"The king has ordered that the royal family will be taking a trip to the Kingswood to have a nice entertainment of games."
The maid answered, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her feet. Micah was ostensibly stunned; she remained silent for a while before finally finding her voice.
"You may leave."
She barely finished her sentence before turning away. Tamar, that useless handmaid of hers, didn't bother to inform her about the current happenings in the castle.
The Kingswoods lies south of Decreash, stretching toward the sea. It was preserved for hunting and for showing off games, usually for courtly leisure.
Racheal was already seated in the courtyard pavilion, waiting for the maids to finish up the preparations.
Her legs were crossed as she savored the taste of red wine. Her gown shimmered faintly as she rested, her fingers tracing the arm of the chair in idle thought.
From the archway came the soft echo of footsteps, measured, elegant, and deliberate.
Jazell entered, her presence commanding without a word. Each step rang sharply against the polished marble, the click of her heels marking her approach like the steady beat of a drum.
Sunlight caught the edge of her jeweled crown; she was wearing a green dress, the back open, with ropes tied across her back, holding the dress together.
Racheal lifted her gaze, calm and unyielding, watching as Jazell glided into the courtyard with an air of silent authority. For a heartbeat, only the whisper of the breeze and the clicking of heels could be heard.
Jazell's stormy blue eyes locked with Racheal's, who was seated in the courtyard basking under the rays of the sunlight streaming through the open walls.
She walked up to Racheal without a word; she steadily slid her hand around the cup of wine resting in Racheal's grasp, claiming it as her own.
She lowered herself gracefully into the chair opposite, the soft rustle of her gown brushing against the marble beneath her.
With her gaze fixed on Racheal, she lifted the cup to her lips. The wine caught the sunlight streaming in through the open wall; she halved the wine, relishing the taste, before focusing her attention on the person in front of her.
"Drinking wine at such an early stage of pregnancy can lead to the child being aborted."
Racheal reminded her calmly. Jazell froze, her stormy blue eyes losing their spark. She had just taken another sip, but it remained stuck in her mouth, refusing to go down her throat.
She managed to push the content in her mouth down before dropping the cup of wine on the floor beside the chair.
"You had the chance to watch me lose the only thing stirring favor from the king, but you threw it away; how thoughtful."
Jazell crossed both her hands, then placed them on her lap. Racheal sighed and then rolled her eyes.
"Can we not talk right now? I am saving up the little strength I have to defeat you in the games that will be taking place in the Kingswoods."
Jazell glared at Racheal, her thoughts running deep.
"In your health condition I don't think it is advisable to come along on the trip."
"Oh please."
Racheal said, waving her hand off.
"I am pregnant, not helpless."
She retorted before straightening up. Her protruding stomach came into view, pushing through the gown she was wearing.
Jazell smiled slyly, then clicked her tongue against her cheek.
"You must really want to defeat me in front of everyone so badly."
She mused, and Racheal shrugged lightly.
Just then a maid rushed in and then stood before both of them.
"The horses are ready; it is time to commence on the trip."
She said, her gaze dilating, before slowly bowing and taking her leave.
Jazell rose to her feet, the chair scraping lightly against the marble as she pushed it back. Her shadow fell across Racheal as she leaned forward, her voice low, edged with warning.
"Watch your back," she said, before leaning away.
Racheal's fingers stilled against the armrest before she slowly lifted her gaze. Her eyes, unflinching, rose to meet Jazell's stormy ones, a faint spark glimmering in their depths.
"I will," she answered, her tone cold and deliberate, each word a promise rather than a threat.
For a fleeting moment, silence clung to the air between them, sharp and heavy. Jazell grinned cunningly; she liked being challenged.
What was more fun than watching your enemies crumble, making them swallow their own words? Racheal watched Jazell take her leave; she didn't fail to notice the faint chill that ran across her spine.
Outside the castle, rows of carriages stood in stark readiness.
Black and white horses pawed at the ground, their bridles gleaming. Each carriage was laden with bundles of arrows stacked neatly in quivers, spears bound together in tight clusters, and swords sheathed in rows, their hilts glinting in the pale light.
The queens were led beyond the high doors of the castle, their gowns trailing over the stone steps as they descended into the open air.
A full escort of knights surrounded them, each man clad in gleaming armor that caught the sun in blinding flashes. The polished steel reflected like mirrors as the knights moved in disciplined formation.
The queens were led to the waiting carriages; Micah and Jia took the same carriage. Selena and Jazell were in another carriage.
William was seated on a brown horse behind the carriages; he was on the lookout, but a knight was assigned to him.
However, a knight guided Racheal forward, past the rows of carriages and the waiting soldiers, until she reached the very front of the parade.
There, beneath the morning sun, the Ragaleon was seated on a black horse, his presence as commanding as ever.
There was a white horse beside the black horse Ragaleon was seated on.
Racheal was about to mount the horse when her gaze drifted, and there she caught it, the dark glare coming from Jazell.
Jazell was just about to step into a carriage when she noticed Racheal was led to the front of the parade.
She halted in her steps, standing right in front of the carriage, her hand on the door but her body half-turned as she locked gaze with Racheal for a while.
Her gaze was intense, sending invisible daggers. The more she looked, the darker her eyes grew.
At last, Jazell lifted her chin, breaking the gaze. She stepped inside the carriage, then took her seat elegantly. Her hand rested protectively against her stomach as she exhaled softly.
Racheal also retreated her gaze; with careful hands, she was steadied once more and lifted higher, settling in her place upon the white horse.
She sat tall despite her weariness, her figure a stark contrast to the nausea she was feeling due to the pregnancy.
Ragaleon turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes glancing at her, unreadable. His countenance was always cold and emotionless, but his gaze softened slightly when it rested on Racheal.
Around them, banners stirred, armor clinked, and the assembled knights shifted, awaiting the signal to march.
Side by side, Ragaleon and Racheal were seated, respectively, on the black and white horses. In front of them were knights, for protection and security.
Ragaleon raised his right hand high into the air, the sunlight gleaming off the rings that marked his authority. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold still, the knights frozen in their saddles, the horses snorting impatiently, and the banners fluttering in the faint wind.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he closed his fingers, curling them into a tight fist.
The signal.
In an instant, the silence shattered.
Racheal steadied her breath as she kicked the horse, and it began to trot forward.
Hooves struck the ground in union as the horses surged forward. Carriages creaked into motion, their wheels grinding against stone and soil, the weapons they carried clattering faintly within.
The knights moved like a single body, their armor flashing as the formation rolled forward. From the castle walls, courtiers and guards watched as the parade spilled into motion.
They turned away from the main road, veering toward the Old King's Road, a weathered path few commoners ever saw.
The old king's road was an ancient, partially overgrown track; it was rarely passed except by the king, most times only during royal hunts.
The reason Ragaleon had decided to take this lane was because it avoided the main city streets, letting the royalties slip into the forest without parading before the townsfolk.
Creeping vines had begun to claim the walls where the forest pressed close, but the way was still clear enough for the king's host.
Within minutes, the rumble of carriage wheels and the heavy rhythm of hooves vanished from the ears of the castle, swallowed instead by the hush of the woods.
The white horse of Racheal and the black steed of the king led the column, their pace steady, their presence commanding, while behind them the carriages rattled.
After what seemed like hours, the king drew his black steed to a halt. The sound of hooves slowed and stilled, and one by one the carriages rumbled to a stop behind him. A hush fell over the procession. The only sounds were the soft snorts of the horses.
The smell of fresh soil and damp leaves filled the air, mingling with the crisp coolness of the shaded woods. Before them stretched an open clearing.
Canopies of rich fabric had already been raised, their colors fluttering in the breeze. Beneath them stood long tables of carved wood, set with games and wild meat, goblets gleaming beside platters of fruit and bread.
Ragaleon surveyed the scene with a slow nod before slowly climbing down from his horse.
"Welcome to the Kingswood."