The Commoner’s District unfolds before ?nnywella as she peers down from the balcony of the Queen’s Chamber. The district’s twisting cobblestone streets are lined with six-floor, whitewashed apartments and the occasional store.

  The folk live peacefully down there, simply, but peacefully, with little concern for the world around the mountain city—those who do not live on the lakeside have most of their rent covered by the citizen-dividend handed out once per year. Yet, some still manage to find themselves in squalor, a peaceful squalor, but squalor nonetheless.

  The early morning fog creeps in fast off the caldera lake, slowly engulfing the Commoner’s District, and leaving only the tall walls of the Garrison visible.

  ?nnywella shakes her hand, the shells of the seeds in it click against one another, “Father never had this issue, did he, Dyder? The birds loved it when he did this; I watched them eat from his hand on many an occasion—but why not mine?” she keeps her focus on the seeds.

  “Perhaps they are simply not yet used to a new face, yet, Gekaryna.” Dyder responds.

  “I hope you’re right... I hope you’re right,” turning her hand over, she lets the seeds fall down to the courtyard below, watching as the mountain swifts and Ianya bridge swallows—who have nested in the tower’s greenery and the bridge nooks—swoop into the fog after them, then takes a long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the corners of her mouth through her sigh.

  The deadbolt on the iron-wrapped door clicks, and the door to the Queen’s Chamber opens.

  Dyder turns from the balcony quickly, instinctively placing his palm on the pommel of his sword, removing it shortly after he realizes it is only Gekaryna’s ladies-in-waiting.

  “Quite the guard dog you are,” ?nnywella chuckles.

  Two of ?nnywella’s ladies-in-waiting (more specifically, two of the three Women-of-the-Bedchamber, Ede Myna Heren and Enlynn Konst?nze Glisrynn; the third, Awenela ?denora Epp?ns, was visiting her family) enter the Queen’s Chamber with two small trunks and a tall wooden dress case.

  Ede is a plump girl of average height with green-brown eyes and straight flaxen hair that is cut just above her elbows. Out of all the ladies-in-waiting, Ede has known ?nnywella the longest.

  Enlynn is smaller than Ede, with light brown eyes and dark brown hair, which is braided and tied into an ornate bun.

  “Out with you, Dyder!” Ede says.

  “Yes! we have pressing matters, and you cannot be present.” Enlynn says.

  Dyder nods, leaves, and locks the door behind him, he sits down in his chair and gets himself comfortable; the large, leather upholstered chair has served as his bed since his recent promotion to the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, he had dragged the chair from the house his uncle—and former head of the King’s Guard—Hynewykk had moved out of; he begins to look down the spiral stairs before him and wait.

  Three loud thumps and six loud clicks echo throughout the chamber as the Women-of-the-Bedchamber put the trunks and case on the bed and open the clasps. They remove various parts of ?nnywella’s processional dress and hang them on a wheeled clothing rack—making sure to place them in the order of dress—and small boxes of make-up, placing them on her vanity table.

  “Big day, Queenie—don’t worry, we will have you looking great for the plebs.” Enlynn chuckles as she begins to help Gekaryna out of her day dress, leaving her in just a white silk chemise and a pair of matching stockings, held up by gold lace garters.

  Ede moves the stool from Gekaryna’s vanity table, placing it at the foot of her bed, and takes the heir apparent by her shoulders and seats her on it. “Yes indeed, but we cannot have this here; we got the finest incense from the west to burn.” She confiscates Gekaryna’s cigarette, snuffs it out in the redwood ashtray on the bedside table, and carries the ashtray to the balcony before returning to the trunks. From them, she removes a gold censer, charcoal discs, and a small case of pressed mint and oak resin incense, setting them where the ashtray had been. Lighting a charcoal disc, she places it into the mouth of the censer, and waits—in hopes of dispelling the scent of tobacco which plagues the air—for the disc to start to glow. She turns to Konst?nze, “Do you think they will be able to see our work from the garth? Gekaryna will be fifteen meters up?” Then, turning back to the censer, she sprinkles incense over the now glowing charcoal.

  “Does it matter? She is the queen; I’m sure those who attend will be happy to be in her presence; we also have to redo it after the coronation anyway.” Enlynn responds as she begins to tie and pin Gekaryna’s long auburn hair back.

  “Hmm, quite true; I myself am quite happy to be in the presence of such a wonderful queen.” Ede grabs the washbasin from the vanity table and fills it with rosewater from a jug the two brought in the trunks. “It means I didn’t have to be married off to some fat, lethargic bastard at sixteen.”

  “My father said he’s waiting for a better dowry; ber’Loarch offered 300 full golds for me to marry his son, Aelak, but he said, ‘I must decline; I would require 375 and access to the river.’—I think that’s a bit low.”

  “I don’t know how much my dowry is; I hope it’s about the same.” Ede wrings a towel out above the basin and begins to scrub Gekaryna’s face.

  “It’s not; ber’Heren would take 100 golds and five cattle to make you another man’s problem.”

  “Both you... and your... fathers... are delusional.” ?nnywella tries to speak when the towel isn’t blocking her mouth.

  A snort from Dyder can be heard from the hallway; he agrees with her.

  “Enough of you der’Dornytter; Twenty-Eight, head of the Queen’s guard—but maidenless? what does this say about your personality?” Ede yells.

  “My father said he would split a dowry with me. I’ve been courting your sister, Ilsenyla, for many years now, Myna—having access to the iron deposits in your father’s fief is a bonus.” Dyder chuckles.

  Ede goes silent and hangs the towel up to dry; how has this escaped her? she must spend too much time at the castle and away from her family—but how has this not come up until now?

  “You have had suitors asking about you, Kary. I’m surprised your father never sought to have you engaged before you ascended the throne.” Enlynn says as she applies a white priming powder to a sponge.

  “He was always very aware of my love for Sorynn, and he kept this in mind—something I am deeply grateful for.” Answers ?nnywella.

  “He’s been across the world for five years now; you’ve gotten what? two letters and a wooden bird. Do you think he will come back?” Ede says.

  “He’s doing the carpentry for the entirety of the ?dhywon [1] parliament; he said it will take, at minimum, seven years—I promised him to wait ten; I intend to keep my word. Though if he makes me wait longer, I shall sic K?spar on him, where I will then charge Sorynn for treason and lock him away forever, where only I will have the key.” Now that she will be queen, nothing is stopping her from just sicing K?spar on him now, besides the fact that by the time K?spar gets to ?dhywon and comes back with Sorynn, the same amount of time would have passed as if she were to wait.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Well, if you only like Sorynn for his looks, I think you should marry Ludhyn vel’Fyan—”

  Freshly applied priming powder obscures ?nnywella’s face as she exhales angrily from her nose, causing Ede to start coughing.

  “Fyan, just... Fyan... there is no ber, there is certainly no vel [2]; it is simply just Fyan.” ?nnywella says in an annoyed tone, “Only those with Herst blood are worthy of claiming sovereign rule over this land—my blood, my soil. But, please, by all means, continue; just keep this in mind.”

  Ede stops coughing and returns to applying the priming powder, fixing the spot under Gekaryna’s nose. “Sorry...”

  The three women are silent as Ede finishes applying the priming powder.

  “Now, as for why I shouldn’t marry Ludhyn Fyan.” ?nnywella starts—she has found three effective ways of distracting herself from the beckons of tobacco: itching at her arm, licorice, and discussing politics. “I would not be gaining control over the Kingdom of S?gsetun [3]; instead, Ludhyn would be gaining control over the Kingdom of the Great Moon of Our Lady. Based on Amendment Seven to The Ianyan Succession Laws in 520 [4]:” ?nnywella pauses, squints slightly, and looks up. She begins to recite the amendment. “In the absence of a male heir of suitable birth, the crown shall descend unto the eldest female issue of the royal line, who shall thereupon assume the dignity and authority of Queen Regnant. Should such a Queen Regnant lawfully take to husband a man adjudged by the Court of the Queen Regnant to be of sound mind, noble estate, and competent in governance, the said husband shall be elevated to the style and office of King, and the Queen shall yield precedence and sovereign authority unto him, retaining thereafter the title and honors of Queen Consort.” She closes her fist and shakes it slightly, proud of her memory.

  Silence falls over the bedchamber as Ede and Enlynn look blankly at ?nnywella, then at each other, and back to ?nnywella.

  “So you will not marry Sorynn? You two were quite cute.” Ede removes a small tin of lipstick and a small brush from one of the trunks.

  “I will have to see how much he has learned on his travels; will he still be my quiet carpenter, or will he come back an outspoken proponent of republics over monarchies?”

  “My father talked about how they let people vote in ?dhywon; I cannot imagine my opinion being worth the same as someone who shovels the streets or picks leeks,” Enlynn says.

  “The men of Ianya have voted for the last thousand years—just in municipal politics; mayors and whatnot—” ?nnywella is interrupted as Myna starts dabbing the dark red salve onto her top lip—part of her is certain that she did this to prevent her from talking. Myna steps away, heading back to the basin—probably to get a damp cloth to clean up her work and make it look more natural; ?nnywella seizes the opportunity and continues—“The people in ?dhywon do something similar, except they favor multiple rounds of random lots to remove the chance of nepotism and corruption. The people elected municipally are chosen at random by a random person from the street—” Myna takes her by the chin and cleans up the lipstick.

  Enlynn groans as she watches Gekaryna open her mouth again to continue, “If I knew this job would require daily lessons on political philosophy, I would have run away and become a whore.”

  “You say you do not want the serfs, craftsmen, and military—*plebs* as you call them—to vote, but you refuse the knowledge that would allow you to be informed to a degree where you are knowledgeable enough to know how to pick a proper ruler.”

  “Both of you, please, let us change the subject. I’m content never voting; all I want is five kids and a sober husband,” Ede puts the make-up away, “Please stand up; your make-up is done.”

  “Someone could put a dog in a hat on the ballot, and you would happily vote for it. So, I would be happy with you never voting either,” Enlynn snarks.

  ?nnywella stands up, flattening her chemise with her hands, “I would prefer women not to vote in general, especially unmarried women without children, as they lack a concern for the future. If—” She pauses to laugh a brief, deep, throaty laugh—the peasants voting amuses her greatly, “If I were to give the folk an ability to vote, it would be limited to men who are paying the land-tax and have children under... let’s say fifteen. But that will never happen; democracy never ends well[5].”

  Enlynn quickly changes the subject as she makes her way to the clothing rack, “I cannot understand why dera’Vesars wanted us to get you to try on the old processional and coronation dresses; just standing you next to them, it was clear they were 2 to 3 sizes too big.” She removes a cream-colored back-laced stay and brings it over to Gekaryna and Myna.

  The two women-of-the-bedchamber pull the back open, allowing ?nnywella to step in.

  “Gertrud is frugal; she always has been.” ?nnywella’s voice is strained as Konst?nze and Myna lace the stay shut; she feels one working down from the top and the other working up from the bottom, before pulling it tight when they meet in the center and tying it off. “She is also about seventy-eight; her vision must be going. The blue of ?nnylyse IV’s [6] dresses does not suit you very well.”

  Ede nods in agreement, “They would look excellent on ?denora.” She heads to the clothing rack to grab the first petticoat; the simple white cotton is soft under her fingers.

  “Anyone who knows the history of ?nnylyse IV would not be keen on seeing the first Queen since her, wear her dress either,” ?nnywella says; there had been enough of an uproar when her mother took the title of Anwelyse V—she would not be caught dead in a dress of ?nnylyse IV; she steps into the petticoat, watching as Konst?nze retrieves the next.

  Enlynn comes back with a second petticoat, “Well, we do not, and please spare us from it.”

  ?nnywella steps into the petticoat, which is more elaborate than the first, made of a cream-colored cotton, pleated, with five narrow horizontal tucks just above the hem; the hem itself is decorated with a wide tulle lace.

  Chuckling, ?nnywella watches Konst?nze and Myna move hurriedly in hopes of avoiding further lectures.

  The main processional gown is carefully lowered over ?nnywella’s head as she sits on the stool, Ede and Enlynn moving slowly to avoid catching any of the makeup on the gown or smudging it. The gown is a dark-red velvet with puffed shoulders and a square neckline, featuring golden embroidery of leaves and acorns around the hem of the sleeves and skirt; other than this, it is an intentionally quiet design so as not to compete with the coronation gown. They pull the laces at the back tight, securing them around ?nnywella.

  “We had new shoes cobbled for you,” Ede says, removing a wooden box from one of the trunks. She places it on the bed, opens it, and removes the shoes, handing them to Gekaryna.

  ?nnywella inspects the pair of red high-heels: there is a soft luster in velvet which is contrasted nicely by five bows going down the front, a large one in the center, and two smaller bows, both above and below it—she slips her feet into the shoes, “These are amazing; who made them?”

  Klaes Flyx, in the Artisan district; 154 Gelm’Lynou.” Ede answers; she is pleased that Gekaryna likes the shoes.

  “I will have a word with him at some point. Now, we must get going—it would be terrible to be late to my own coronation.”

  ?nnywella heads for the door; Enlynn and Ede close the make-up trunks, taking them and following ?nnywella.

  [1] A large, volcanic mountain to the east in Ianya. Its tallest point is ~4100 m. Most know it for the large caldera lake that sits at ~3600 m, which holds The Crown Isles in the center.

  [2] A republic on the far western side of the continent.

  [3] Vel/Vela is an honorific originally given to those who have passed the rites and been granted the status of sovereign by Luhnylla. Since 0553EotG it has mostly become synonymous with “king” or “queen,” leading to the heads of other Ianyan Kingdoms taking it.

  [4] Located in the west of Ianya, S?gsetun is the second largest kingdom in Ianya and controls 65% of the region’s shoreline with the inland sea.

  [5] Due to the failed rule of The Forlorn Queen the Ianya Succession Laws were updated to make it more difficult for women to take the throne. This was pushed for by the public due to the lingering effects of The North Quarter Collapse in 0513EotG. It is widely regarded as reactionary by historians, due to Ferrynn Herst II (b. 25/07/0496 EotG, d.21/03/0540 EotG) wanting to please the people after years of political turmoil.

  [6] ?nnywella seems to be equating ‘democracy’ with ?dhywon’s form of republic—which is inaccurate. ?dhywon is more precisely described as a sortition-based oligarchic republic, lacking any form of equal suffrage at the national level. Furthermore, ?dhywon’s system has worked with remarkable continuity since its peaceful establishment—shortly after the fall of Agrela—in 3518 EotTS. By contrast, the Herst’s rule over a unified Ianya only lasted from 4682 EotTS until 0553 EotG, and started following a decade of what can only be considered exterminatory conquest and collapsed with little resistance and wide-spread support.

  [7] Beatrice ?nnylyse Herst IV (b. 10/04/0490 EotG, d. 26/09/0515 EotG), or, The Forlorn Queen, was the ruler of Ianya from 0513EotG to 0515EotG.

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