The Head That Wears The Crown

Chapter 1: Womanly Pains

The morning had dragged on for what felt like a lifetime. Just like every other day, it was dull, filled with an endless stream of stiff formalities, stroking egos and dodging the needlework workshops the court council have forced upon her as a manner of befriending more ladies of nobility, dreary both in practice and execution. But at least the view was exceptional.

But, as if life as a whole wasn't unpleasant enough, the date by which the council required a royal engagement was fast approaching, with her coronation following suit. Naturally, word of such a deadline was common knowledge, resulting in one final hobby she had no choice but to take up; dodging the heinous advances of countless idiotic, noble-born men who took it upon themselves to try their luck at wooing the heir to the throne of Zaun.

It was, in a word, exasperating.

But thankfully, however, most of her pursuers were knighted and therefore had no business to be in the room in which she currently sat. Instead, the gaze of countless commonfolk peered up at her and chattered from their various positions across the room; aline of individuals snaking through the back end of the hall and out the door, all keen to seek the assistance from the King Regent of Zaun, Vander, with their varying civil disputes.

Vi's perfectly manicured fingers tap impatiently against the armrest of her gilded wooden throne. Her eyes narrow as she stares pointedly at the commoner standing before her. She takes no issue with the concept of hearing out public affairs, but men like him are an exception to the rule.

"So, as you can imagine yer highness, my sales have dropped significantly since their family came to town. It's hurtin' my business, my family!" the middle-aged man exclaims dramatically, a well-dressed arm flinging velvet through the air as he points accusingly at a man at least a decade, maybe two older, standing just out of reach.

Huffing in disagreement, Vi drags her eyes across to the poor man standing beside him. It is clear he is much less fortunate than his accuser, his sun-weathered skin and slightly soiled clothes are proof of that. But it is his horrified expression, marred with anxiety that makes her stomach sink.

King Vander leans forward casually, a sigh rolling off the tip of his tongue as his eyes scan the older man, carefully choosing his words before he speaks. "Please offer us your side of this quarrel," he requests, his kind voice as firm as always in public.

The old man nervously looks around the room, eyes flicking between Vander and Vi's as he bows deeply. "I moved my family 'ere in the hopes that we could make a name for ourselves in the big city. We are simple country folk. My wife an' I travelled 'ere from the foot of the Ironspike Mountains," he starts to explain, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean no disrespect!"

In that instant, Vi can hear it in his register, the anxiety, disappointment and torment he has undoubtedly endured at the hands of the oaf standing smugly beside him. It is clear that there is a distinct class difference between the two; the former is most likely a wealthy merchant, as far as commoners go, whereas the latter is undoubtedly from the country as he had revealed, that much is apparent by the twang in his voice.

Is it a matter of prejudice? Is the former farmer the only victim? There's no way this man is guilty of anything other than seeking a better life for himself, she notes silently, fingernails clawing into the armrest as she tries to contain herself. The urge to spring forth and berate the velvet-clad weasel is overwhelming.

"I started to close the shop earlier as he requested and I've even looked into broadening my stock so our offerings differ more. But for the life of me I dunno why I need to do any of it. If he wants to threaten me again, so be it. I am an honest, hard-working man. I don't have much, but I've worked damn hard for what I've got," he continues, before pausing to swallow heavily as he turns to look at his accuser. "I thought monopolies on essential goods weren't permitted until I heard that this fella is going around ruffling everyone's feathers in my industry."