The Autumn Queen
“The… storm?”
Two lines of Churnlords sat at the long, marble table that sat in the middle of the darkened room. An assembly had been called, one of the utmost urgency, but only one person in the room was completely sure of what had occurred.
“You heard me. The storm qu…een. That shall be the title of my eldest daughter.”
The group of semi-incompetent nobles stared on in silence. Most were only here for whatever sort of dish were served by the royal cooks. However, one spoke up.
“A storm? Not autumn? Straying away from the elegance of your traditional naming makes me wonder if there is a reason, my queen.”
Vartian Col wasn’t a fan of leaving out details.
“Good question, Vartian. That’s because…”
The summer queen paused for a moment, gritting through a sudden wave of pain, both from her head and stomach.
“…we have found a well. It lies within Mont Lille. I have… gazed into its depths. The power is immense, and it will be her responsibility to strengthen… our country around it. She will be our storm.”
The whole room was suddenly on edge, as the queen pushed through the pains of her second pregnancy and strange disease. A well of power? THAT well? It would certainly bring prosperity, but at the cost of a constant threat of war. Murmurs sprung up across the room, but were quickly silence by a banging of a hammer from the queen.
“I am on borrowed time. The moment we have both passed, I wish to give full reign to Louisa. Hopefully, not my only one.”
Her words brought silence to the group of nobles. For once, it felt like their attendance was somewhat important.
300 words is tough to work with.
