Kingdom's Foundation Day — A Day to Remember
It was that time of year again—the day the Kingdom celebrated its birth.
From the high towers of the royal palace to the winding alleys of distant villages, the air buzzed with anticipation. Banners of deep red and royal gold danced in the wind. Floral garlands hung from every balcony. Street performers, musicians, and children filled the city with laughter and song. It was the most awaited day by every citizen—the Kingdom's Foundation Day.
In the capital, the royal palace gleamed like a jewel under the morning sun. The grand parade was about to begin.
The main gates opened, and the royal procession began.
At the front rode the Emperor and the Empress, side by side, waving to the sea of citizens who lined the streets, cheering and throwing petals. Behind them followed the three great Ducal families, including Alex and Elisha, riding with dignity and grace. All around them, people cried their names, praised their deeds, and hailed their glory.
It was not just a parade—it was the heartbeat of a proud kingdom.
When the procession reached the Central Plaza, the Emperor and Empress stepped down from their carriage. With linked arms, they walked toward the grand stage. Then, to roaring cheers, they raised the national flag together, its colors soaring into the sky, dancing above the kingdom it represented.
Trumpets sounded. Drums rolled. The celebration officially began.
But amidst the joy, something was off.
As the Empress stepped down from the stage, her smile faltered. A slight sway, a sharp intake of breath—Alex noticed it instantly. The Emperor caught her just in time.
Without drawing attention, the Emperor leaned toward Alex and whispered, "Come."
Alex and Elisha followed the imperial couple swiftly but subtly. To the cheering crowd, it looked like a royal departure. Only a few sharp eyes noticed the Empress leaning into her husband for support.
Back in the palace, the royal physician was called.
The Emperor paced outside the chamber, his usually composed face marred by worry. Alex stood nearby, silently guarding the hall, his jaw tight, hands folded behind his back.
Then the physician stepped out.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "Congratulations. The Empress is… with child."
There was a long silence.
Then—relief, joy, disbelief—washed over the Emperor's face. Without a word, he rushed inside.
The Empress sat on the bed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
Tears not of fear—but of happiness.
After 25 long years… she was going to be a mother.
The Emperor dropped to his knees beside her, holding her hands as the emotions washed over them. Laughter and tears mixed in the quiet chamber.
Outside, Alex stood still. He had heard everything.
With a soft smile, he turned away, giving them the privacy they deserved. But not before calling all nearby servants and the royal physician.
He looked at each one of them sternly.
"What happened here today," he said quietly, "remains within these walls. Speak of this to no one."
They bowed in unison. "Yes, Your Grace."
By evening, the palace had transformed again—this time into a ballroom of glittering lights, flowing gowns, and clinking glasses. Music echoed through the halls as nobles from across the kingdom arrived to celebrate Foundation Day.
Before the party, the Emperor called Alex privately. When Alex entered, he found the Empress seated beside her husband, looking radiant but calm.
He bowed. "Congratulations, Your Majesties. This is truly joyous news."
The Emperor smiled, for once allowing himself to appear not as a ruler—but as a man whose life had just changed.
"I have a favor to ask, Alex," he said.
"Anything, Your Majesty."
"I want you to personally guard the Empress. From this day onward."
Alex didn't hesitate. "I accept."
The Empress gave him a warm nod. "Thank you, Alex."
As they walked toward the ballroom doors together, Alex leaned slightly and asked, "Will you be announcing the news tonight?"
The Emperor glanced at the Empress. She looked uncertain.
"I'm not sure," she said softly. "What if…"
Alex, ever composed, offered a suggestion. "Perhaps it's best to wait. The royal court can be… unpredictable. Let's not give them time to prepare. When the time comes, let the kingdom be surprised."
They both agreed.
As the royal family entered the ballroom, everyone turned.
Applause broke out.
One by one, nobles came forward to offer their blessings, unaware of the miracle that had just taken place behind closed doors. The Emperor smiled and thanked them, holding his Empress close.
Only a few—Alex, Elisha, and a handful of trusted aides—knew the truth.
And as the night wore on, the music rising and laughter echoing through the palace, Alex remained at the Empress's side, every sense alert.
Because now, everything had changed.
There was more to protect than ever before.
The grand ballroom of the royal palace still pulsed with life, but not all hearts beat for celebration.
Some beat with suspicion. Some with envy.
Among the clinking of crystal goblets and the harmonious strings of the royal orchestra, subtle glances were exchanged. From shadowed balconies and golden banisters, the kingdom's central nobles observed the Emperor and Empress closely.
The Empress seemed tired—too tired. Her steps were slower. Her appetite lesser. Her hand rarely left her stomach.
They began to wonder.
Did something change?
Is the Empress hiding something?
Among them sat Countess Renhilde, an eagle-eyed aristocrat with ears in every corridor and a taste for secrets sweeter than wine. Leaning toward Lord Cassian, she whispered, "Notice the Duke? He hasn't left the Empress's side all night."
Cassian narrowed his eyes. "Alex Luxembourg only stays close when he's guarding something… or someone."
The Countess raised her glass. "Then we must find out what."
Back at the mansion, Maria leaned over a velvet-lined balcony, watching the moonlight pour over the snowy hills.
She was tired, but her heart was full.
For days now, Alex had been busier than ever—protecting the Empress, unraveling the network of traitors, and investigating the failed kidnapping. Yet somehow, whenever he returned to the North, he found a moment to see her. To speak to her. To hold her.
They didn't talk about the pain as much anymore. They didn't need to.
It lived in their silences, in the way Alex would brush his thumb across her hand like he was reminding himself she was really there. In the way Maria would rest her forehead against his chest, just listening to his heartbeat.
But Maria had learned to read the shadows in his eyes.
Something was coming.
The next day, while the kingdom recovered from the night of revelry, the true web of whispers began to spin.
One of Countess Renhilde's spies had caught sight of the royal physician quietly receiving a delivery from the County of Astrel. Medical herbs—common enough. But one of them was a rare flower used only for easing symptoms of early pregnancy.
It was enough.
Rumors bloomed.
"The Empress is with child…"
"After all these years?"
"And the Emperor hasn't said a word?"
"Who will this child replace in the line of succession?"
In a locked chamber of a secluded manor, a few central nobles gathered in secret.
"If it's true…" said a voice cold as frost, "this child will change everything."
"The people will rally behind a true heir," muttered another.
"And with Duke Luxembourg guarding the Empress…" hissed a third, "it will be almost impossible to reach her."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, a cruel voice said, "Almost."
A Glimpse into the Game
Somewhere far away, in a distant estate lit only by flickering candlelight, a group of cloaked figures met again.
They spoke in coded phrases, never names.
They spoke of the Empress's pregnancy.
Of the North's rise.
Of Alex Luxembourg.
And of Maria.
"She's dangerous."
"She was supposed to break."
"He still protects her. We underestimated that bond."
"If we can't take the Empress, then we take her."
Whispers had always danced through the corridors of the palace, but this time, they moved like wildfire.
"The Empress is pregnant."
It started with hushed words among the servants, then spilled into the noble circles. Tea parties, estate halls, ballrooms—every corner of the Kingdom buzzed with the rumor.
No one knew for certain. No official statement had been made. Yet the people hoped. The Royal Family had not seen an heir in decades. Could it be true?
The constant speculation finally pushed the Emperor to act.
The following morning, a royal proclamation echoed through every street and city square:
"Her Majesty, the Empress, is with child."
And with those words, the Kingdom erupted into celebration.
Bells rang in the capital.
Festivals began in towns.
The people, once subdued by politics and war, now had something to believe in again.
In the Empress's palace, joy filled the air like spring fragrance.
Elisha Luxembourg, now serving as royal advisor and protector of the Empress, took her role seriously. Alongside her was Countess Wilmore, the Empress's trusted lady-in-waiting. Together, they managed everything: from Her Majesty's walking schedule to her meals, ensuring she was always surrounded by comfort, calm, and care.
The Empress often placed a protective hand on her stomach, her lips curling into a soft smile that carried twenty-five years of longing.
This wasn't just a child.
This was hope.
Far from the joy and glitter of the palace, in a dim, smoke-filled chamber, a different kind of gathering was taking place.
Three men sat around a cracked table, their faces hidden by cloaks.
"Here, take it."
One slid a small vial across the table. It gleamed faintly under the lantern's dim light.
"What is this?"
"The same thing we gave to the Northern Duchess."
"What?! How did you even get this?"
"Forget how. The point is—it works. We just need to use it again."
A heavy silence fell.
Then, one voice asked what the others wouldn't dare.
"But… who will do it?"
A pause.
Then a cold, deliberate reply.
"I know someone who will."
Back in the palace, Marquise Morgan arrived to meet the Emperor. He walked with quiet pride, bringing with him not only reports—but his daughter, Maria.
While the Marquise proceeded to the Emperor's study, Maria entered the Empress's chamber.
And there she saw her.
The Empress—glowing, radiant, full of life.
Maria stood still for a moment, her eyes tracing the woman who once embraced her like a sister. The Empress turned and smiled warmly.
"Maria," she said, her voice tender. "You're here."
Maria stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and came to sit beside her.
The Empress's hand instinctively rested on her belly.
Maria's eyes softened. Her chest tightened.
She remembered.
The child she never got to hold.
The life that was stolen from her.
Her gaze drifted down, and her smile faded. The Empress noticed.
Before she could speak, a soft knock broke the silence.
Elisha entered.
Maria lifted her head.
Five years had passed, but in that moment, time collapsed between them.
"Maria…" Elisha whispered.
"Elisha."
They walked toward each other and embraced, their bond unshaken by time.
As they sat beside the Empress, the warmth returned—memories of laughter, shared nights in the North, the battles they'd fought together, and the wounds they carried.
Maria, unable to hold back anymore, let her tears fall.
The Empress gently reached for her hand.
"Crying won't undo the pain, my dear," she said softly.
"What's past is past. But we're still here… and we must move forward."
Maria nodded through her tears, finally finding peace in that moment.
But outside that room, the enemy had already begun to move.
The palace slept in silence, bathed in moonlight. Lanterns flickered in the corridors, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Guards made their rounds, their armor clinking softly, unaware that danger had already crept past them.
In the far eastern wing of the palace—near the Empress's quarters—a figure moved like a ghost.
Clad in black from head to toe, the intruder slipped past guards with ease, every step calculated, silent. He blended into the shadows, familiar with every twist and turn in the palace's layout.
This wasn't a first-time infiltrator.
This was someone who had been here before.
Someone on the inside.
Maria sat alone in her guest chamber, unable to sleep.
The sight of the Empress, radiant with pregnancy, had filled her with a strange mix of joy and sorrow. Her thoughts drifted to Alex, wondering what he was doing. Her fingers unconsciously grazed the scar near her stomach—a reminder of what she had lost.
She stood up and walked to the window.
Suddenly, she noticed something.
A shadow moved across the courtyard below. It was swift—too swift for any regular servant.
Her breath caught.
That corridor… it led to the Empress's room.
Maria's heart dropped.
No… it can't be.
She turned and rushed toward the door, calling out to the nearby guards.
"Something's wrong! Raise the alarm! Now!"
Inside the Empress's chamber, everything was still.
Elisha had stayed by the Empress's side until she fell asleep, then retired to her own quarters just two doors away.
The masked figure entered soundlessly through the servant's passage.
He pulled a vial from his pocket—the same kind of vial used on Maria years ago.
He poured its contents into a silver chalice of herbal tea on the table.
Then… he waited.
But before he could move further, a sound broke the silence.
A sword is being drawn.
"That's far enough."
Elisha stood in the doorway, blade in hand, eyes locked on the assassin.
She had sensed something was off and returned.
"Step away from her," she growled.
The intruder didn't move.
Then—he lunged.
Elisha met him mid-strike. Their blades clashed, steel sparking in the moonlight.
The Empress stirred in her bed, disoriented by the noise.
The assassin tried to make a break for it, but as he turned, Maria burst through the door, flanked by two palace guards.
"Seize him!" she shouted.
But the man was fast. He threw a smoke bomb to the ground, filling the room with choking fumes.
When the smoke cleared, he was gone.
Only the poisoned cup remained.
The physician was called immediately. The Empress was unharmed—she hadn't drunk the tea—but the close call left everyone shaken.
Elisha clenched the vial in her gloved hand, trembling with fury.
"He knew the passages," she muttered. "He knew when to come. This wasn't random."
Maria stared at the silver cup.
"This was the same poison… the same one used on me."
They looked at each other.
It was happening again.
And this time—it wasn't just Maria who was a target.
It was the future of the entire Empire.