A dozen or so old men sat on intricately carved wooden chairs that looked as ancient and unyielding as the men themselves. Their faces were maps of wrinkles, creased with age and what the kingdom liked to call "wisdom," though Jackline already suspected it was mostly a cover for stubbornness. They wore the finest royal attire, their garments a testament to the wealth and power of their respective kingdoms, a sea of colorful, ornate garments—velvet, silk, and brocade—that clashed with the grey stone of the room. Each man wore the symbols of their office, their crowns and hats adorned with precious gems and intricate designs that sparkled in the torchlight. The room was a tableau of pomp and grandeur, a display of everything Jackline had been raised to respect, yet which now felt like an elaborate charade.
She ignored the dozen or so eyes that tracked her every movement and started making her way with a slow, deliberate stride towards the king's elevated seat. The room was weirdly quiet, the heavy silence amplifying the click of her heels on the stone floor.
"Look who finally decided to join us." Alex's voice cut through the quiet, a smirk evident in his tone as he stared at Christopher from his position amongst the elders. He was clearly enjoying this small act of defiance and the tension it created, but Christopher ignored him, his face a mask of Nordic perfection and cold indifference.
"Continue." Christopher commanded, his voice a low growl directed at the men in the room, a silent dismissal of Jackline's presence, even as she took her place beside his empty, matching throne. The tension in the room was palpable, a live wire, as each elder presented their grievances and demands.
One of the old men cleared his throat and spoke, his voice shaking with age and indignation. "Your Majesty, I speak for the Kingdom of Eldoria, which has been wronged by the actions of the Kingdom of Aethoria. They have been constructing a massive dam on the River Eld, which flows through our lands and provides sustenance to our people. The dam will disrupt the natural flow of the river, causing widespread famine and hardship."
Jackline studied the man while he spoke. His name was Eldor, the elderly representative from the Kingdom of Eldoria. He wore a velvet cloak with intricate gold embroidery, his long white beard flowing down his chest like a river of snow. His eyes, sharp and piercing, sparkled with intelligence and a barely contained fury. He was a man fighting for his people's survival.
Aethoria's representative, a tall, imposing figure with piercing eyes, stood to respond. He wore a dark blue robe with silver trim, his hair a majestic mane of silver and gold. His name, she learned in a whispered introduction from Ramien, was Lord Varrick.
"Your Majesty, the dam is necessary for our kingdom's survival. We are experiencing severe drought, and the dam will provide much-needed water for our crops and people. Eldoria is being unreasonable and selfish, prioritizing their own interests over the well-being of our kingdom."
The king listened, his expression neutral, an unreadable enigma, as the elders presented their cases. The Kingdom of Marcellia complained about the Kingdom of Verdia's aggressive trade practices, while the Kingdom of Calonia accused the Kingdom of Solaria of harboring a notorious fugitive.
As the debate raged on, a sea of complex political maneuvering and ancient feuds, the king's advisors scribbled notes and whispered in his ear. Jackline didn't know anything about what was going on. She had never been in one of these meetings. In her home kingdom, her father, the king, used to take care of everything, keeping her in the dark since she was a princess and not a prince. She didn't want to be here because she understood nothing, her grand gesture of defiance quickly turning into a moment of profound inadequacy. The only reason she came was because Christopher had excluded her, and now she felt out of her depth, a child among wolves. She wondered when all this would end and if she would be able to escape without further embarrassment.
The representative from Marcellia, a slightly younger man with a bushy mustache, wore a bright red doublet with golden buttons, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he whispered to his neighbor, clearly enjoying the drama. The Kingdom of Verdia's representative, an ancient man with a wispy beard, wore a somber black robe with a silver clasp, his eyes sunken and tired-looking, a man weary of the world.
Finally, Christopher raised his hand, and the room, a moment ago a cacophony of grievances, fell into an immediate, deafening silence. The true power in the room was not the elders, but the man on the throne.
"I have heard enough," Christopher finally said, his voice commanding. "Both of your grievances are valid." He paused, his piercing blue eyes finally turning from the elders to Jackline, a slow, predatory smile touching his lips. "But since the Queen decided to join us today, why don't we give her this chance to tell us her opinion."
Her eyes went wide with shock, the blood draining from her face. He was doing this on purpose. He knew she knew nothing. This wasn't an invitation; it was a trap. A public humiliation designed to put her back in her place. The silence in the room was absolute, every eye now on her, waiting for her to speak.