Chapter 5: The Kings Decree
1335 Words
The royal carriage came back days later to meet Elanor’s family.
It stopped at the edge of the village.
That was where the guards told them to stop.
No explanation.
No farewell.
No escort to the outskirt town.
Just a command.
Elanor stepped outside onto dusty road, her sketchbook pressed tightly against her chest.
Her mother came out after her.
Behind them, the carriage remained still.
One of the guards unrolled a sealed parchment.
Elanor’s stomach tightened.
“What is that?”
The guard looked at her.
“The King’s decree.”
Her mother immediately reached for Elanor’s hand.
The guard broke the royal seal.
His voice carried across the road.
“By order of His Majesty, King Aldren of Esmeria…”
People began gathering.
Doors opened.
Faces appeared at windows.
Children stopped playing.
Everyone knew something serious was happening.
“…Elanor, daughter of—”
The guard read her family’s name.
Elanor lowered her head.
“…is hereby forbidden from entering the royal capital or any territory under direct royal protection.”
A murmur passed through the villagers.
The guard continued.
“She is forbidden from approaching the royal palace, the King’s household, or any member of the royal family.”
Elanor’s fingers tightened around her sketchbook.
Her mother squeezed her hand.
“There is more,” the guard said.
Elanor looked up.
“By royal command, Elanor and her immediate family shall leave their present residence and establish themselves elsewhere within the kingdom.”
Her heart stopped.
“Leave?”
Her mother whispered the word.
The guard continued reading.
“The family shall not be granted royal protection, employment, audience, or patronage.”
The parchment lowered.
The village fell silent.
Elanor stared at the guard.
“Why my family?”
The guard’s expression remained unchanged.
“The decree concerns you.”
“But they did nothing.”
Her voice cracked.
“My mother didn’t do anything. My father didn’t do anything.”
The guard said nothing.
Elanor stepped forward.
“I made the mistake. Not them.”
Her mother pulled her back.
“Elanor.”
“No.”
She looked toward the royal carriage.
“I want to speak to the King.”
“You cannot.”
“He needs to know—”
“He already knows.”
The guard folded the decree.
“He made his decision.”
Elanor felt something collapse inside her.
She had thought the worst part would be losing her own home.
She hadn’t understood that her mistake would take her family’s home too.
The carriage turned.
The horses began moving.
Elanor watched it disappear down the road.
She wanted to run after it.
To beg.
To explain.
To tell the King that she had never intended to hurt anyone.
But her feet remained still.
Her mother stood beside her.
Neither spoke.
The villagers slowly began dispersing.
Some whispered.
Some stared.
No one came close.
Not even those who had once welcomed Elanor warmly.
She looked toward her home.
For the first time, it no longer felt like hers.
They packed that evening.
There was little to take.
Clothes.
Cooking pots.
Fabric.
A few family belongings.
Elanor stood in her room, staring at the shelves.
Her fingers brushed over old dresses she had sewn.
A blue one.
A yellow one.
A white gown she had made for herself but never worn.
She touched the sleeve.
She had always believed she would stay here.
Grow older here.
Become known as the best seamstress in the village.
Perhaps even build a larger shop.
Now all of it was disappearing into wooden trunks.
Her mother entered.
“We need to leave before dawn.”
Elanor nodded.
She didn’t move.
“Where will we go?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will anyone take us?”
Her mother looked away.
“We will find somewhere.”
Elanor knew what that meant.
Her mother didn’t know.
Neither of them did.
Elanor sat on the edge of her bed.
She opened her sketchbook.
The drawing of the King stared back at her.
She hated it.
She loved it.
She couldn’t decide which feeling was stronger.
Her pen lay beside the drawing.
She picked it up.
Her hand hovered over the page.
For one moment, she considered changing everything.
She could redraw the King forgiving her.
She could redraw the decree.
She could redraw the villagers welcoming them.
She could redraw the whole day.
Her fingers tightened around the pen.
Then she stopped.
What if changing it made things worse?
What if—
She closed the book.
For the first time, Elanor chose not to draw.
Before dawn, her father came home.
He had been away when the decree was delivered.
Elanor watched his face as her mother explained.
He listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he sat down.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he looked at Elanor.
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Her father sighed.
“Come here.”
She hesitated.
Then crossed the room.
He pulled her into his arms.
Elanor broke.
“I’m sorry.”
Her tears soaked his shirt.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“I thought I was helping him.”
“I know.”
“I thought…”
Her voice disappeared.
Her father held her.
“You made a mistake.”
She nodded against his chest.
“But mistakes don’t have to become the end of your life.”
Elanor pulled away.
“The King says we have to leave.”
“Then we leave.”
“He hates me.”
“Perhaps.”
Elanor looked at him.
“Does that mean you hate me too?”
Her father’s expression changed immediately.
“Never.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“You are my daughter before you are anything else.”
Elanor cried again.
Her father wiped her tears.
“Whatever your gift is, whatever it becomes, you must learn one thing.”
“What?”
“Power without understanding is dangerous.”
Elanor looked at the sketchbook.
“I know.”
“No.”
He gently touched her shoulder.
“You don’t.”
His voice was quiet.
“But you will.”
They left before sunrise.
Elanor looked back at the house one last time.
The windows were dark.
The door was locked.
Her childhood was behind it.
She wanted to remember the place exactly as it was.
Instead, she remembered the King.
His empty throne.
His wife’s crown.
His sons’ belongings.
Her own pen.
The three deaths she had never intended.
She climbed into the wagon.
Her mother sat beside her.
Her father took the reins.
The wheels began turning.
As the village disappeared behind them, Elanor opened her sketchbook.
She stared at the blank page.
She could draw them back.
She could redraw the decree.
She could make the King change his mind.
She could restore everything.
Couldn’t she?
Her pen moved toward the page.
Then stopped.
A strange fear settled over her.
She remembered the words that had appeared beneath her drawing.
And what did you think would happen to everything else?
Elanor closed the book.
She tucked the pen inside its binding.
“I won’t use it again,” she whispered.
Her mother looked at her.
“Use what?”
Elanor shook her head.
“Nothing.”
The wagon continued down the road.
They did not know where they were going.
They only knew where they could no longer stay.
Behind them, the village slowly disappeared.
Ahead of them waited unfamiliar roads, unfamiliar people, and a future Elanor could not yet see.
And somewhere inside the closed pages of her sketchbook, the image of the King remained unchanged.
Alive.
Exactly as she had intended.
But three empty spaces remained behind him.
Three lives that fate had claimed in his place.
Elanor did not yet understand the rule.
She only knew that her gift had given her what she wanted—
the King lived.
And taken everything she never thought to protect.
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