"The six kingdoms include you, right?" Ian finally asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the queen.
The queen inclined her head, her lips curling into the faintest trace of a smile, though her expression remained measured. "Yes, my lord. This kingdom stands among the six. I pledged my loyalty the day I took the crown, and I have never faltered."
Ian nodded slowly, though his mind was far from settled. The number six kept repeating in his head, but it was not enough to silence the nagging question that pressed against his lips.
"How many kingdoms are there in total... in this world?" he asked at last, his voice quieter than before, yet filled with a restless need to understand. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on her, as though daring her to give him a number he could actually believe.
The queen did not look surprised. She turned her gaze toward the high windows, her tone was calm, almost casual, as if she were reciting a lesson that every child in her realm already knew. "There are many kingdoms, my lord. Over a hundred at least, some large, some little more than scattered provinces, but every one of them bends the knee to the empire. Their rulers hold their crowns at the pleasure of the Empress. The empire is the sun at the center of this world, and all else revolves around it."
Ian’s breath caught. His eyes widened slightly as he absorbed the magnitude of what she had said. "So you mean... one Empress controls the whole world?" His voice cracked slightly, a mixture of disbelief and awe threading through the words.
The queen turned her gaze back to him then, her eyes steady and unflinching. "Yes," she said simply, with no need for further elaboration. The certainty in her tone left no room for doubt.
Ian took a step back as his thoughts tumbled one over the other. A hundred kingdoms, a single empire, an Empress who already ruled everything, what place was left for him in such a world? He felt the air in the chamber grow heavier, pressing down on him until it was difficult to breathe. He rubbed his face with one hand, exhaling sharply through his nose, frustration boiling beneath his skin.
"Then what’s the point?" he muttered at first, almost to himself, before raising his voice, his tone sharper, more insistent. "If everything is already in order, if the Empress has already secured the world under her rule, then there’s no need for the rightful heir anymore. You don’t need me." He looked straight at the queen, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I prefer the way things were. Let it stay that way."
The queen did not answer Ian’s words with anger or outrage. She only shook her head slowly, the kind of gesture one makes when a child speaks of matters they cannot possibly understand. Her expression softened into something caught between pity and exasperation, and for a long moment she did not speak. Ian stood there, shifting uneasily, waiting for some kind of rebuttal, but none came.
At last, the queen brushed her bloodstained palm with a cloth, and turned to him.
"You truly have no idea, my lord," she said in a voice that carried no malice, only a quiet weight. "Politics, world power, the balance of life itself... these things are not as simple as crowns and titles. The empire may appear whole, but the truth is far more fragile." She crossed the room, the train of her gown trailing like a shadow behind her, and came to stand before the great map carved into the wall. Her hand lifted, fingers gliding across the etched surface as though she were caressing the veins of the world itself.
"The world is deteriorating," she continued, her tone firm, her gaze fixed upon the map as if it alone could bear witness to her confession. "And the reason lies in the imbalance of power. For centuries now the weight has shifted further and further into the hands of women. Men have grown weaker, their influence withering year by year, their voices little more than whispers in the chambers where decisions are made."
Ian listened in silence, his brow furrowed. He wanted to interrupt, to protest that he still did not see how this concerned him, but the gravity in her voice held him still.
"It was this imbalance," the queen said, her voice dropping low, "that drove the redheads into their madness. Desperation consumed them, a hunger to reclaim the rule that once belonged to men. They saw the scales tipping and believed they could seize back what they had lost. But instead of wisdom they chose violence, instead of patience they turned to cruelty, and instead of seeking unity they sought only domination. Their hands were stained with blood long before their cause could ever be heard, and thus they dragged the world into greater ruin." Read full story at novel·fire.net
She turned from the map and faced Ian again, her eyes steady, searching his face as though waiting to see if he would finally understand.
"They took the wrong approach, my lord," she finished, her words sharp with finality. "They became monsters in their desperation, and the cost of their failure weighs heavily on us all."