My adored queen

4.

A Difficult Decision

One Week Ago

"Attention! His Majesty, King Leonard Martial of Lantonia!" The master of ceremonies' voice could be heard, it seemed, at the other end of the capital and even far beyond its borders. "He certainly was born with a loud voice," the monarch thought to himself, wishing to rub his ears. He had grown accustomed to everything in his twenty years of rule, but these announcements still irritated him. They always had, from his time as crown prince to his coronation and this very day.

The courtiers bowed in reverences and curtsies long before the ruler's shadow appeared in the wide doors of rare red oak. The guards also tensed much earlier, scanning all three hundred and sixty degrees for what seemed like the thousandth time. And the young head of the royal security service could assure the monarch that everything was in order. Daniel Arron always had everything under control, just like his father, who held the position until his death five years ago.

"Where is the crown prince, Kert?" His Majesty asked with his lips alone, still approaching the doors. He had long learned to communicate silently.

"I personally informed him and spoke with the queen. This event and His Highness's presence are very important," Kert Manner, the king's personal assistant, reported in a whisper. The ruler nodded, dismissing the servant, and turned skeptically to his best friend and head of the kingdom's spiritual world, Cardinal Mastermal, who walked beside the king of Lantonia, a step behind.

"He spoke with the queen... I've been talking to her for almost thirty years, and do you see any results? Robert is grown and should stop hiding behind his mother's skirts and learn to be responsible for his actions. I hope he's not late, otherwise... I don't have much time as it is, and I have to coddle all of you."

"By the way, sir, did you take your medicine?" the mentor asked quietly, looking at the monarch with concern.

"Since when did you become my warden?" the ruler smiled wryly, but reassured his friend, "I did. But you know they're only needed to keep anyone from suspecting. They give strength and help maintain my tone, but they don't cure. That's why it's so important to pass Lantonia into reliable hands," His Majesty emphasized the last words and glanced at his friend for the first time, but immediately turned to the young man waiting for him at the door.

"Sir, everything is ready as you ordered," Count Arron whispered to the king, bowing slightly, and stood waiting for new orders. An imperceptible shadow fell across Leonard's lips. He lightly patted his best servant's shoulder, thanked him with a flicker of his eyes, and confidently stepped forward into the crowd of courtiers and commoners who had come to this reception to share their troubles. In the past, this had never happened; the king learned about the people's affairs through trusted individuals, but His Majesty wished to speak with his subjects personally and designated three days a year when the palace doors were open to all. He had introduced many new things and could have done much more for his kingdom, but fate had other plans. Sir would have been happy to pass the throne to his son, but his priority was to ensure the preservation of the order he had established. And with each new day, Leonard clearly understood that Robert would not cope, and greedy nobles would take power, leading to disaster. He sought alternatives and only one came to mind – to issue a decree and place on the throne the only person who thought like him. Only she could continue his endeavors and protect the kingdom. But it would not be easy for her; he was well aware of the pressure the young person would face after such an unexpected coronation.

"Long live King Leonard! May Your Majesty live for many years!" hundreds... thousands of subjects shouted as one, beaming with smiles. The people adored him, and the nobility respected him and could not disobey his orders. That was enough.

"Did Daniel take good care of security?" the cardinal asked quietly, looking around, out of earshot.

"It's Daniel; if everyone were as loyal and prudent as he is, the kingdom would flourish. I love that young man. I'd like to see him as my son-in-law, but... young people," Leonard smiled cheerfully and confidently walked to his throne, majestically taking his rightful place. In the front row, near her husband, Queen Clarissa shone with jewels, feeling incredibly bored even now, as the event had just begun. The king met his wife's gaze, asking about their troubled son with a mere expression. She nodded calmly, as if to say, "Everything is under control, he'll be here soon, just don't worry."

"Why not order Marchioness Annie to marry him?" the cardinal suggested, taking the first honorary seat to the right of the monarch. However, his advice was met with a stern look.

"My girl will marry when she wants, and whom she wants. There's no need to force her. I was forced, and look: am I happy with a greedy wife and a womanizing son? There's no one to pass the kingdom to. Ugh," despite the "ugh," a smile shone on his lips as the first commoner approached, rehearsing his request or complaint on the way to make it constructive. The royal servants constantly reminded everyone in line to be concise.

An hour of tireless work passed, then two, and the people kept coming to their "father."

"Your Majesty, we are farmers, working the fields and growing crops is our only livelihood," two middle-aged men in old, seemingly poor clothes, which were clearly their best, stood before the throne, not daring to raise their heads. The long journey had been difficult, the long queue was behind them, and finally, the long-awaited moment had arrived when they had the chance to ask for mercy from the ruler of Lantonia himself. Peasants, poor townspeople, even barons did not miss the opportunity to meet with their king, as such an opportunity only came once every four months, and no one doubted Leonard Martial's fairness: he, surprisingly, always heard the voices of those who needed his help. "And this year our work has been disrespected. The harvest is gone. We are desperate, we don't know what to do, how to survive the winter..."

"What happened? Drought or flood?" the ruler asked, tensing. He always respected the affairs of peasants and artisans, supporting them. The unfortunate men exchanged glances, visibly worried about how to report their complaint.

"Sir, forgive us for being frank. Two weeks ago, His Highness and his retinue hunted in the Elvian Forest; our fields adjoin it. The crown prince and his companions, on horseback, chasing a wild hare, trampled the entire wheat harvest," the farmers reported, guiltily lowering their heads, as if they had lured the hare into the fields and released the heir to the throne. Leonard sighed heavily, exchanging glances with the cardinal. Today was not the first complaint about the crown prince.

"Don't worry, you will be paid for the wheat from the treasury," he replied briefly, immediately giving the necessary orders to Kert. Sitting at a small writing desk to the left of the monarch's throne, Kert briefly noted all the orders.

"May the heavens reward you and grant you many years of rule! Thank you, sir," bowing to the ground, the men hurriedly stepped aside to avoid delaying the line. Their souls were now at peace, as the king's word would always be fulfilled. The common people loved and respected their monarch, which could not be said of his son.

"Where is Robert?" the lord grumbled, taking a sip of water from his goblet.

"Do you want me to find him and bring him?" the cardinal asked just as quietly. If Mastermal had to go after the heir himself, it would not go well for him. They already had strained relations. Rumor had it that the cardinal wanted to excommunicate the crown prince because of the complaints, but did not because of his friendship with the king.

"I don't. We'll find out later what detained him..."

The queen lowered her eyes and exchanged eloquent glances with her ladies-in-waiting. She knew her husband too well not to see the fire of anger in his eyes.

The event went flawlessly, so the monarch's mood was relatively good. Only this pleased Her Majesty. When the fanfares rang out in the capital in honor of Leonard Martial's justice, he himself, tired but satisfied and thoughtful about the concerns of his people, which he knew he would not have time to resolve, returned to the palace.

"His Highness is in his chambers," the loyal servant had already found out and reported, so without wasting time, the king went to his son. But what awaited him did not surprise His Majesty.

Cheerful laughter echoed from the heir's chambers, meeting the monarch in the corridor. Losing the remnants of his composure, he quickened his pace. The lackeys, standing proudly at the crown prince's door, opened it without waiting for an order, and Leonard confidently entered. What he saw next was worthy of a painting: it was so picturesque!

The crown prince and his best friends, just as foolish marquises as he was, sprawled on the sofas, were animatedly discussing something. The topic was so interesting that no one noticed His Majesty's arrival. Collection wines adorned the party, and empty, pot-bellied bottles on the plush carpet added to the colors.

Robert was drunk – a masterpiece. With his right hand, adorned with rings, he drew strange cabalistic figures in the air before his friends and boasted about something, so emotionally that any first-class actor would envy.

"When I become king, they all... all will be mine. That's where I'll have them," His Highness declared, demonstrating a clenched fist, though it was hard to tell who he meant. And it was not certain that Robert himself had not lost the thread of the leisurely conversation.

"Right! For the king!" his friends supported, raising their glasses, not referring to the current monarch. If Leonard could have observed this chaos, he could have learned many interesting things, but what he had seen was enough.

"What's going on here?" the loud voice of the elder Martial and his figure, stepping majestically into the sunlit room, brought silence for a moment. Scanning the drunken descendants of the nobility with a grim look, the monarch forced them to get up (or at least try to) and leave the room with the sound of unsteady footsteps. The prince was more capable of speaking, though he had also drunk too much. He even made a semblance of a bow.