Men of Vorenia (Updated)

Chapter 9: Rebellion

I inhaled the steam from my tea, my limbs relaxing. I tipped the petite cup back, the liquid slipping between my lips and sinking to my stomach. “Finally,” I said, tilting my head back. “Some quiet alone time.”

The quiet alone time that I longed for was quickly interrupted as Lord Maxim burst into my parlor. “Your Highness!”

“Maxim,” I exclaimed, nearly choking on my tea. “What is it?”

“We have a major issue! The Imperial Court is in shambles! Fights have broken out, and the Imperial Guards are trying to break things up, but they are not succeeding.”

I put my teacup down on the table, rising and rushing out of the door. Before I reached the end of the hall, I met Benedict. His face was flushed, his eyes wide with what appeared to be shock. “Your Highness,” he exclaimed, catching his breath. “There is an urgent issue!”

“Benedict, if it is regarding the Imperial Court, I am heading there right now!”

Benedict shook his head, looking at me with begging eyes. “No. This is far worse.”

I panicked, thinking hard about what I was to do. “Go,” I said, turning to Maxim. “Try to calm the Imperial Court! I will be there as soon as I can! If Lord Chancellor Brooker isn’t there, find him!”

Maxim nodded, looking back at me as he ran back to the Court Hall. I sighed, turning to Benedict. “Lead the way,” I said, Benedict turning and walking through the palace.

We eventually reach the front of the palace, Benedict pausing before turning to me. “Your Highness, I must warn you. It is quite bad.”

With that, Benedict pushed the doors open. The scene before me shook me to my core. A group of sobbing ladies surrounded a mangled mass on the hard stones of the front courtyard. “Clear the way! Her Highness has arrived,” a guard yelled, shoving the nobles away.

My jaw went slack as I approached. That mangled mass was a woman, dressed in a thin cotton shift. “Oh my God,” I muttered, my stomach dropping.

The woman’s body was completely disfigured, suggesting a fall from great heights. Her face, however, was peaceful. A pair of porcelain blue eyes stared unfeeling at the sky, the life completely drained from them. Those lifeless eyes had looked at me with much malice previously. I collapsed to my knees, my jaw still slack as my heart sank. “Olympia,” I breathed, my gaze fixed on the blood-soaked stones before her body.

The women’s sobs intensified around me, tears of my own threatening me. This was all my fault. If I had not executed Beaumont, his wife would have continued to live. I closed my eyes, separating myself from the sobs, from the dead body before me. The darkness that embraced me was cool, but I could not care less. I stood, turned, and walked away. There was nothing I could do about Olympia Beaumont, but I could do something about the Imperial Court. I stopped alongside Benedict, my eyes fixed on the palace walls. “Have the guards take care of things here.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

With that, I began my brisk walk to the Imperial Court. By the time I reached the doors, I could hear shouting with the occasional dull sound of knuckles hitting skin and bone. I shoved open the doors, the sheer chaos truly emerging. In the center of the hall, eight courtiers fought violently. Chancellor Brooker stood on the opposite side, watching the fight while begging the men to stop. His pleas were nothing short of feeble in the wake of the ceaseless punching. “Gentlemen,” I cried, rushing through the crowd. “Stop this at once!”

My own words hardly breached my ears. I saw Maxim, the cavernous eyes of the mask looking at me anxiously. It was as if they asked me, “What are you going to do?”