Dukes in Dread (1/2)

[Narrator POV]

On edge.

That was the best way to describe the current climate in the Kingdom of Alkavia. From the highest nobles to the humblest of commoners, the tension in the air was palpable, a shared anxiety that bound the nation together in unease.

The cause? A tremor—not just one, but many—that had rippled across the kingdom, shaking the very foundations of its society. The tremors were not of the earth, nor of storms, but of something far more unnerving.

Their Queen, silent since her coronation, had finally moved.

For years, she had sat upon the throne, a figure of mystery and restraint. Her silence, once viewed as caution, now bred uncertainty. The people, lulled into comfort by the late Emperor's steady rule, had grown soft, unprepared for the unknown force she represented. Her first action as ruler would define her reign, and by extension, the fate of the entire kingdom.

Whispers circulated, even in the darkest corners of taverns and bustling marketplaces. Some spoke of her valor during the Great War, a time when she had not yet donned the crown but wielded the sword. Where the Emperor had been their shield, protecting Alkavia from countless threats, the then-princess had been the sword, cutting through the kingdom's enemies with ruthless precision.

Her feats had become legend. Tales of her battlefield prowess, her strategic genius, and her unparalleled ferocity spread like wildfire. Even now, years later, people spoke of her in awe and fear. She was no mere monarch; she was a war hero, a warrior queen whose legend rivaled even that of the Commander who had served beside her.

But now, those stories felt distant, almost mythic. What kind of ruler would she be, now that she sat on the throne? Would she wield her authority as she had her sword, with deadly efficiency? Or would the throne dull her edge, as it had so many before her?

Alkavia waited, breath held, as the Queen's first decree spread across the land.

[Unknown POV]

"Care to explain Sir Windslow?"

The voice thundered through the grand chamber, filled with indignation and frustration. Around a lustrous, long table sat five men, each one a symbol of power and authority. The table was crafted from the finest wood, its surface polished to a gleam, shaped into a perfect pentagon to give equal stature to each of its occupants. The arrangement was designed to ensure that no one Duke held sway over another, at least in theory.

For those familiar with the Kingdom of Alkavia's power structure, the sight of these five men together was monumental. These were the Dukes, each commanding immense influence over their respective domains, second only to the Queen herself. Yet despite their equal footing, all eyes were currently locked on one edge of the table.

The man directing both his words and gaze to his comptriate, was draped in gold. His clothes shimmered in the dim light, embroidered with the crest of House Leon—a roaring lion, its mane flowing majestically as though captured mid-roar. The man himself was the very embodiment of nobility. Every inch of his regal posture, every calculated gesture, oozed the effortless charm and power expected of a Duke. This was Leon Mera, the Duke of House Leon, known to all as "The Noble Lion." His allure was undeniable, his aura commanding attention without a word. Even among Dukes, Leon was a figure that could turn heads.

Seated beside him was a stark contrast. Draped in hues of deep, oceanic blue, the Duke of House Aqua sat with a serene stillness. His attire bore the crest of the Leviathan, the mythical sea creature known to surface only in the gravest of times. Aqua Lira, known as "The Gentle Wave," was as calm and composed as the deep sea itself, his eyes reflecting a thoughtful, measured mind. Where Leon's presence was loud and commanding, Lira's was subtle and introspective, yet no less powerful. He was a man who could drown his enemies in silence, just as easily as he could lift his allies with a wave of wisdom.

Yet, it was neither Leon nor Lira who had spoken first.

To the right of Duke Lira sat a figure unlike any other in the room—ancient in both wisdom and age. He was draped in earthy tones, his long, weathered fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest of his chair. The oldest among them, even older than the late Emperor himself, this man had lived through more seasons than any at the table could count. His posture was hunched, but his presence was as sturdy and immovable as a mountain. His clothes bore the emblem of a turtle, a creature that moved slowly, but with the patience to outlast any storm. This was Totle Mola, Duke of House Totle, known as "The Immortal Bastion." His nickname was no exaggeration—his wisdom, accrued over decades, had seen him through more crises than any of the other Dukes combined.

Totle's voice, when it came, was soft but resonant, like the creaking of ancient wood. "There are storms that do not announce themselves, Sir Windslow," he remarked, his eyes half-lidded, betraying nothing of his thoughts. "But they leave devastation all the same."

And finally, at the far end of the table, sat the youngest Duke—a firebrand of a man whose energy was barely contained within his chair. Dressed in the deep, crimson colors of House Ursa, the crest of a roaring bear emblazoned on his chest, he fidgeted with barely concealed impatience. His name was Cassius Ursa, the head of House Ursa, and he was known across the kingdom as "The Roaring Flame." His temper was legendary, as was his passion. Though young, his fiery spirit had already earned him a reputation as both a brilliant strategist and an impulsive warrior. He was like a firecracker, always on the verge of exploding into action, and his youth made him a wildcard among the older, more seasoned Dukes.

Cassius leaned forward in his chair, fists clenched in raw frustration. "What game is your daughter playing exactly, Duke Windslow? Is she looking for a fight?!"

Though Cassius' words were coarse, they perfectly captured the silent question lurking in the hearts of every man at the table. The room fell into a tense quiet, all eyes turning toward the figure at the center of their scrutiny.

Duke Leonard Windslow, head of House Windslow, stood in the eye of the storm with the calm confidence of a man who had mastered it. His short, regal hair gleamed a striking shade of purple, matching the deep amethyst hue of his sharp, calculating eyes. The sigil of his house—a silver hawk, wings spread wide against a backdrop of purple—symbolized the precision and foresight for which House Windslow was famous. His gaze moved with quiet intensity, his mind already calculating three steps ahead of every other Duke present.

Known across the kingdom as "The Amethyst Hawk," and renowned for his scheming intellect and strategic brilliance, Duke Windslow had earned the highest honors among the noble houses during the Great War—discounting the royal family, of course. His house had risen to prominence by his hand, and none could deny his place among the kingdom's most powerful men.

In fact, it was his relationship with the late Emperor himself that cemented his status. Windslow had been one of the rare few trusted to strategize alongside the Emperor, playing a pivotal role in their victory in the Great War. His tactical genius was legend, and even now, years later, the respect he commanded in this room was clear.

It was this respect, and perhaps fear, that had led the other Dukes to his domain today, despite the tensions wrought by recent events. Windslow's influence and reputation demanded that they give him the benefit of explanation.

"As I've said before, Duke Ursa," Windslow began, his voice calm but authoritative, a tone formal yet meaningful, not dripping with the charisma of Duke Leon but instead weighted with reason. "Is it a crime to have a capable daughter?"

"Bullshit!" Cassius shot to his feet, his hand pointing accusingly at Windslow, his temper flaring like a roaring bonfire. "Bullsh—"

"Duke Cassius," a voice cut through the young man's outburst, like water dousing flames. The voice belonged to none other than Duke Lira, as serene as the sea after a storm. "I think it's best that we let Duke Windslow explain himself before jumping to any conclusions."

Cassius' fiery temper was momentarily checked. His face twitched, clearly frustrated, but he relented, collapsing back into his chair with a huff. "Fine, Lira, you deal with him then," he muttered, though his glare remained fixed on Windslow.

The room's attention shifted, now settling on Duke Lira. As was his trademark, Lira closed his eyes, his thoughts flowing like a calm current. His sapphire gaze was the image of collected composure when they opened again, his voice soft yet filled with gravity.

"Explain yourself, Duke Windslow," Lira spoke slowly, his tone measured. "Though it is beneath us to hold you accountable for your daughter's actions, surely you understand that we require an explanation."

"I concur," came a rasping voice from across the table, one that sounded as though it had weathered the passage of centuries. Duke Totle, ancient and wise, nodded as he spoke, his voice like the crackling of dried parchment.

"Seconded," agreed Duke Leon, his voice smooth as gold, chiming in with a measured nod.

And just like that, the rest of the Dukes were in agreement. A rare sight indeed, but one befitting the weight of the situation before them. The actions of Lady Fiana Windslow, Duke Leonard's daughter, had rattled the entire kingdom. This was no small matter, and all present knew it.

"My friend," Duke Leon continued, taking advantage of the lull in conversation to press the issue. He leaned slightly forward, his golden attire shimmering in the low light, his expression both charming and grave. "Not to diminish your daughter's talents, but we all know that her recent actions couldn't have been achieved, even if the Emperor himself were back on the throne."

His words struck to the heart of the issue. Lady Fiana's recent maneuvers, with the resources she had somehow gathered, had sent shockwaves through the kingdom. Every dukedom had felt the impact.

Once might have been luck. Twice could be called brilliance. But thrice? Four times? Ten? It was nothing short of a miracle. The sheer number of ingenious strategies and changes Lady Fiana had implemented, reshaping industries, advancing technologies, securing trade routes—each idea more revolutionary than the last—had left them all bewildered. No one had expected such audacity, such vision, from the young noblewoman.

Her influence spread like wildfire, touching every corner of the kingdom, altering the course of entire economies, military structures, and even the political landscape. And these were no small innovations—they were grand, sweeping reforms that would have taken seasoned rulers years to envision, let alone execute.

What was most disturbing to the Dukes seated at the table, however, was that they barely understood how she was doing it. Lady Fiana's reach, her precision, her foresight—it was almost supernatural. Some had begun whispering that her abilities bordered on witchcraft, while others feared that she had uncovered ancient knowledge or hidden relics lost to time.

The fear gnawed at them. If she could conjure such influence now, with only the backing of her house and her father's resources, what would happen if she continued unchecked?

"Just look at this!" Cassius practically shouted, his voice laced with desperation as he thrust a stack of papers onto the table. The other Dukes leaned in slightly, their eyes narrowing at the detailed sketches of a new sewage system—one that was set to transform the infrastructure of the Royal Capital. Without missing a beat, Cassius grabbed another pile and dropped it onto the table with a dramatic thud. "And this!" This stack contained the proposal for a series of new businesses—innovations so novel, they could revolutionize the city's economy.

"And this," Cassius continued, his hands shaking now as he picked up yet another stack of papers, this one even more alarming. It was a document proposing changes to the Alkavian Statutes of Law. No—rewriting them was more accurate. The sheer volume of reforms proposed made it look less like a few adjustments and more like a complete overhaul of the kingdom's legal system.

"Has your daughter gone crazy?!" Cassius demanded, his voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch. His face flushed with stress, his hands trembling as he stared across the room at Duke Windslow, as if hoping for some impossible reassurance.

Though young, Cassius wasn't a fool. His insight was sharp—sharp enough to have earned him a seat at this very table alongside the other Dukes. But unlike the others, he struggled to conceal his fear, his panic laid bare for all to see. He was the most outwardly "normal" of the five Dukes, his emotions still unrefined, and it showed. He lacked the composure of men like Lira or the ancient wisdom of Totle, and as such, his heart quaked more openly in the face of the turmoil brewing around them.

And he wasn't the only one. Every Duke seated at the table—the calm, the collected, the calculating—all of them, to a man, were terrified by the propositions laid out before them.

The reason for their fear? Using their various connections, each Duke had heard the same troubling whispers from within the Palace of Peace. Lady Fiana Windslow, the enigmatic daughter of Duke Windslow, had become a constant presence in the Office of Legislature, seemingly possessed by a feverish determination. She had been spotted moving from meeting to meeting, proposing sweeping changes to the kingdom's laws, its infrastructure, and even its economy, all without a shred of discretion.

It was that lack of secrecy that unnerved the Dukes the most. Any one of them, if they had come up with such revolutionary ideas, would have moved with utmost caution, hiding their plans until the perfect moment, ensuring no one could see the full scope of their ambitions. But Lady Fiana? She had no such reservations. She was bold—brazen, even. It was as if she wanted everyone to see the changes she was making, to know that she was reshaping the very foundations of Alkavia.

However, it wasn't Lady Fiana's reckless transparency alone that left the Dukes on edge. It was the Queen's full and unwavering support of every single proposal the young lady put forward. Royal decrees were flowing out of the Palace like a blizzard, demanding change at a breakneck pace. Of course, the Queen had full control over the capital—Alkavia's heart was hers to shape as she pleased—but the sheer speed and scale of her reforms were breathtaking. The city was transforming before their very eyes, becoming almost unrecognizable in a matter of weeks.

For the Dukes, this put them in a deeply uncomfortable position. Every one of them wanted a piece of the growing pie, but to simply copy the Queen's ideas would be the height of disrespect. Worse yet, to do so would be to invite suspicion and possibly even punishment. The Queen's will was law, and they were not so foolish as to oppose it openly. Still, her actions—and those of Lady Fiana—left them restless, their greed barely contained.

Even Duke Lira, the calmest of them all, found it difficult to restrain his desire to capitalize on the changes sweeping the kingdom.

"Explain yourself," Lira pressed forth, his voice calm but firm. His words carried the weight of the collective unease that hung thick in the air.

The situation simply made no sense. If the Queen had such revolutionary ideas in her arsenal, why would she choose to implement them all at once, rather than slowly, carefully, to extract the maximum benefit? It was as though she was flaunting her newfound power, like a commoner showing off a vast inheritance in the most dangerous part of the city. Why dangle such wealth, such potential, in front of them—especially when every man at the table had the means, and the hunger, to take it for himself?

The Queen had always been a warrior, but never a fool. Far from it. As a child of the late Emperor, she was expected to possess a sharp mind, one that rivaled even the greatest tacticians. Even if the Queen herself had somehow taken leave of her senses, surely Lady Fiana would have advised restraint?

All of the Dukes were intimately familiar with the little games between the Queen and Lady Fiana before her coronation. Together, they had turned the kingdom on its head more than once. There was the time they had nearly flooded the Royal Capital just to hold a grand boating competition to see who could design the most beautiful ship. Or the time they had turned the palace gardens into a battlefield for a grand mock war, dragging half the city into their antics for a month.

But this? This was something on an entirely different level.

In the minds of the Dukes, one troubling question began to surface.

'Had the Queen's madness finally spread to Lady Fiana as well?'

It was a thought no one dared voice out loud—such words would be treason, especially when directed toward the Queen herself. But it lingered nonetheless, gnawing at the back of their minds.

What troubled them even more, however, was not how Lady Fiana had come by such revolutionary ideas. Trying to decipher where she had drawn this knowledge from was a fruitless endeavor. Some whispered that perhaps the Magi, once solely focused on magic, had turned his attention to the realms of governance and economics. But even if that were true, why would he share such knowledge with Azuleth, and why now?

No, what truly disturbed them was the Queen's seemingly reckless flamboyance in implementing these changes. She wasn't hiding her moves—she was practically shouting them from the rooftops. The way she was going about it could only mean one thing.

She wasn't afraid of their greed. She wasn't scared of their ambitions. In fact, it was as if she welcomed it.

'But why?' The question continued to turn unbidden in their minds. Even for the Queen, to openly challenge the Dukes in such a brazen manner seemed foolish. The late Emperor had worked tirelessly to maintain harmony between the Crown and the noble houses, a delicate balance that had kept Alkavia united for generations. His daughter had inherited the kingdom on a silver platter, with every advantage at her disposal. Why would she suddenly throw it all away in such a reckless manner?

It made no sense.

It defied logic.

It defied reason.

And it left the Dukes in a state of paralyzing uncertainty.

Their minds wrestled with the implications, each of them searching for an answer to the madness that seemed to have taken hold of the kingdom. The more they thought about it, the more they feared what the future held. And the more they feared, the more they realized the precariousness of their own positions.

For the first time in years, the Dukes—men of immense power and wealth—felt their hearts quake.