A Council of Conscience
The atmosphere in the Royal Council Chamber was heavy with both anticipation and trepidation. In the days following the coronation, whispers about a queen had grown louder, echoing through the marble corridors of the palace. Though King Solis had declared his intent to rule alone for now, several of his most trusted advisors and ministers had gathered to discuss the mounting political pressure and the long-term implications of a solitary reign.
At the head of the long oak table, Solis sat in his regal attire, his expression as unyielding as ever. Surrounding him were ministers who had earned his trust—loyal Magic Knight captains, reform-minded administrators, and even a few progressive nobles who had allied with him. Among them, Fuegoleon Vermillion, Nozel Silva, and a sharp-witted economic minister, Lady Marcelline, exchanged wary glances.
Lady Marcelline cleared her throat.
"Your Majesty, the people continue to ask—when will there be a queen? Not only do they wonder about tradition, but they also fear that a king ruling alone might be too isolated to understand the diverse needs of our people."
Solis's eyes, still burning with the intensity of his earlier proclamation, remained unmoved.
"I have heard these murmurs," he replied evenly. "But my focus is on reform—on creating a system of justice and prosperity that does not rely on age-old privileges."
Yet Fuegoleon leaned forward, his tone measured but insistent.
"My King, a queen can serve as both a counterbalance and an extension of your rule. History shows that unity in leadership can fortify a nation against internal strife and external threat. Without a queen, you risk alienating not only the traditionalists but also potential allies who see a complete royal couple as the symbol of stability."
Nozel added quietly,
"It is not simply about tradition. A well-chosen consort could bring fresh perspectives, and her presence might even temper some of the harsher aspects of your methods—improving public sentiment without diluting your reforms."
Solis paused. His gaze drifted momentarily to the window, where the early light hinted at a new dawn, yet his jaw remained set.
"I appreciate your counsel," he said slowly. "But I must decide when the time is right. My kingdom is in the midst of transformation, and introducing a queen now might only provide distraction and weaken our resolve. I intend to consolidate power—purge corruption and establish a new order—before entertaining such alliances."
Lady Marcelline pressed on, her voice soft but urgent.
"There is also the matter of legitimacy on the international stage. Foreign courts and rival kingdoms expect a united monarchy. They will not hesitate to exploit your solitary rule if they perceive weakness. A queen, chosen for her competence and honor, could project strength and unity to our adversaries."
Portents from the Realm
Just then, a royal messenger arrived, breathless and wide-eyed. He unfurled a scroll before the council.
"Your Majesty, urgent news from the border regions and trade centers: several influential families and even a few foreign envoys are inquiring about potential matrimonial alliances for the crown."
A murmur rippled through the room as the messenger continued,
"They claim that a queen would complete the royal image, restoring faith in the monarchy and ensuring a harmonious balance of power."
Solis's eyes narrowed as he regarded the document. His mind raced—not with the desire to compromise his independent vision, but with the understanding that political forces rarely waited for personal choice.
"So, the external pressure grows," he murmured.
He looked directly at Julius Novachrono, who had been quietly observing from the side.
"Julius, what is your opinion? Must a king always conform to tradition, even if it means sacrificing the principles he has fought so hard to establish?"
Julius regarded him with a mixture of amusement and solemnity.
"The traditions of old are powerful, Solis. But you have already broken many of them. The people will eventually come to accept—or even demand—a queen if it strengthens your rule. Yet, you must choose wisely. Not any alliance will do. The future queen must be more than a figurehead; she must embody the reform and vision of your reign."
The Unsettled Decision
For a long moment, the council fell silent. Solis's gaze swept over the assembled ministers and advisors. The weight of his crown, now freshly claimed and still burning with the fire of revolution, pressed down upon him.
"I will not be rushed," he finally declared, his voice firm.
"I will rule alone until my reforms are complete. But know this—I will consider any proposal that serves the kingdom's interests. If a noblewoman, or even a commoner of extraordinary merit, can be convinced that her place is to help me build a better future, then I will listen. Until then, I am a king without a queen."
The room exhaled collectively—some in relief, others in disappointment. Yet even as the debate simmered, a few ministers whispered of potential candidates—a woman of both noble birth and unyielding character, one whose reputation for justice rivaled that of Solis himself.
As the meeting adjourned, the ministers departed with heavy minds and uncertain hearts. Solis sat alone in his private chamber, the questions of unity and partnership echoing in his thoughts. Outside, the kingdom stirred in anticipation of the changes that were yet to come—a kingdom in which a solitary king might eventually find a queen, but only when the time was ripe for a union that would secure a new era of justice and prosperity.
End of Chapter 38