The Emperial Highness, Prince Riven.

"Good sir, please, how many days till we get to Diando?" Matthias asked with a frustrated look etched on his face. He sat at the back of the carriage, squeezed uncomfortably among the various goods the merchant was transporting.

"About a month and a week or so," the merchant replied, adjusting his hat to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. "Diando is quite far; we'll be passing through three kingdoms to get there."

The road was dry and dusty, and the sun was at its peak, making the journey even more arduous. Matthias, however, was not deterred by the discomfort. He was on a mission to ignite anger in his cousin, King Travaris of Diando, to bring about the downfall of Arcadia.

"Oh, that fool of a king will pay," Matthias mumbled to himself, his eyes glinting with malice.

******

Isadora and Princess Matilda, along with the rest of the Royal Family, had already arrived in Diando. Traveling by land would have taken three months, but their sea voyage, though quicker, had been grueling. Matilda, in particular, had suffered severely from seasickness, leaving her pale and exhausted.

As they disembarked, they were welcomed by a guard, who was actually King Travaris' personal knight. He led them to their inn and offered a tour of Diando's capital.

"Is Diando's capital different from the capital in Arcadia? I have every reason to believe even your cultures are different," Isadora asked as the tour commenced.

The knight smiled and began showing them around the bustling marketplace. The marketplace in Diando was a vibrant tapestry of sights and sounds. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, their colorful canopies fluttering in the warm breeze. Vendors called out their wares, offering everything from exotic spices to intricately woven textiles. The air was rich with the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread, mingling with the sweet aroma of ripe fruits.

Isadora and Princess Matilda moved through the crowd, their eyes wide with wonder. They sampled juicy pomegranates and sipped on spiced teas, marveling at the array of flavors. At one stall, they savored skewers of tender lamb, seasoned to perfection, while at another, they indulged in honey-soaked pastries that melted in their mouths.

Children ran past, laughing, while street performers juggled and danced, adding to the lively atmosphere. The market was a feast for the senses, a true testament to Diando's rich culture and vibrant spirit. The culmination of their tour was an invitation to a famous opera performance, a cultural jewel of Diando.

After the opera, Matilda exclaimed, "Ma! I'll never fall in love."

"And why is that?" Phoebe asked, laughing at Matilda's dramatic expression. She lifted Matilda onto her back and began to lament playfully.

"If you don't fall in love, I'll never see my grandkids. You don't want mummy to be sad, do you?" she continued, her voice light with humor.

"I can't believe a whole king and queen of a country are acting like commoners. It's quite nice, really," Fabian commented, observing his family's playful interaction.

"But Pa... king or not, we are originally commoners. It's not like there's a special blood that flows through us. For example, we are not descendants of a dragon, continuing his lineage as humans. We are just people. Think outside the box, Pa!" Matilda argued.

Isadora smiled at the scene, a wave of nostalgia washing over her as it reminded her of her own mother and foster father.

'If only I could go home after this holiday,' she thought wistfully. 'I wonder what the baby mommy was going to give birth to looks like. I'm sure he is as beautiful as Ma!' Despite the sadness in her heart, her smile remained.

******

In the subsequent month, King Fabian worked tirelessly to convince King Travaris of Matthias' deceitful nature. He warned that whatever his cousin claimed would be lies. Despite Fabian's efforts, Matthias eventually arrived in Diando, his grievances ready to be aired.

"Do you see the attitude that the King of Arcadia showed to me? A maid framed me!" Matthias complained, his voice rising in feigned indignation.

King Travaris, attempting to remain rational, replied, "He knows you are a foreigner who married into his kingdom. This is why banishment, not death, was your punishment."

Matthias leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Did you know that in one of the meetings, His Majesty said he might start a war with Diando because of how rich we are in gems, which his daughter needs?"

Travaris' eyes widened in alarm. "Everything was as Fabian warned," he yelled, his voice echoing in the chamber. He turned on Matthias, his anger palpable. "You poison a whole king and expect everything to be alright? We are talking about an entire kingdom. That alone means you are challenging the power of the Emperian family."

Matthias tried to maintain an innocent facade, but the tension in the room was mounting. Just then, a guard entered, his presence commanding immediate attention.

"His Emperian Highness, Prince Riven, has arrived," the guard announced, causing a stir among those present.

King Travaris turned, his surprise evident. "Your Emperian Highness, what brings you here?" he asked, striving for calm.

Prince Riven's eyes were cold and resolute. "I am here to deal with trash for you," he replied curtly, signaling his aide to step forward.

The aide unrolled a decree and began to read, "On the Emperian decree, Matthias, you are hereby sentenced to execution for challenging a member of a royal family. You also tried to ignite a war between two countries. It has also come to our notice that you were involved in numerous embezzlements of public funds. This has pointed out the fact that you do not see the rulers of the empire as worthy rulers. Your execution will be held in three days."

The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically, the tension giving way to an oppressive silence. Travaris looked at Matthias, a mix of anger and disappointment in his eyes. Matthias, for his part, seemed to finally grasp the gravity of his situation, his bravado slipping away.

The room was still, the weight of the pronouncement hanging heavily in the air.