The throne room of Carreon was quiet. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, falling on polished marble floors.
King Belmont sat on his throne, an open letter in his hand. His golden robes rested neatly over his shoulders. A royal seal from the Kingdom of Bulcan was broken at his feet.
He read the last line again. Then he leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"So, King Geoffrey is dead," he said softly.
A few advisors stood nearby, watching him closely but saying nothing.
Belmont tapped the letter against the armrest.
"I know Geoffrey was not the rightful heir," he continued, "but he had power. Real power."
He glanced at his generals.
"What is it in this princess that let her take back the throne? That's what I want to know."
No one answered.
Belmont looked back at the paper. His jaw tightened.
"She won," he said. "Somehow."
The hall remained silent.
"We could take Bulcan," said one general finally. "It's a small kingdom."
