TIKKA — TIKKA PALACE
The Capital of Tikka
The great palace gates groaned open, iron hinges protesting as the towering doors were pulled wide.
One after another, coaches rolled through the entrance and onto the wide stone courtyard.
They were magnificent vehicles, long-bodied carriages lacquered in deep colors, polished until the sunlight reflected from their curved panels.
Some were dark crimson trimmed with gold, others midnight black with silver engravings along the doors.
Crests of noble houses were carved proudly into the wood, each coach announcing the lineage it represented.
Powerful horses pulled them forward in disciplined lines.
White stallions with braided manes stamped their hooves impatiently, while tall chestnut warhorses snorted clouds of warm breath into the air.
Their harnesses were decorated with brass rings and leather straps polished to perfection.
The coaches halted one by one.
Doors opened.
Nobles stepped out onto the palace courtyard, young men and women dressed with deliberate elegance.
Tailored coats, long flowing cloaks, embroidered gowns, and finely cut boots marked their rank.
Some carried themselves with cautious confidence, others with the restrained unease of people suddenly placed in positions far greater than their experience.
Servants hurried to guide them toward the palace entrance, where guards in polished armor stood motionless like statues.
Inside the palace throne room , Master Elian Thorne stood before the throne, his posture respectful but troubled.
"My king," he began, bowing his head slightly, "they have arrived.
Each house representative is waiting at the Palace Suite just as you instructed.
Every letter was delivered to the heads of the houses, and the replacements have come as commanded."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Replacing each house head with one of their lineage was… effective.
But I must say, they are rather young and inexperienced to rule beside you.
I understand that the former counselors cannot be forgiven for betraying the House of Max, but appointing their heirs, many of them untested to advise you… it is an unusual decision, my king."
King Charlotte leaned back slightly, her eye, pure sliver - white with prism refraction moved with calm, thoughtful, her hair sliver white
Then she spoke.
"Master Thorne, "she said evenly, "a forest does not grow by preserving old trees forever.
When lightning strikes and the giants fall, the young roots must claim the sunlight."
She rose slowly from the throne.
"Do not underestimate youth.
A blade freshly forged may cut sharper than one dulled by years of complacency."
Her gaze turned toward the palace doors.
"I do not want counselors who remember the power of their fathers. I want rulers who will grow with my reign."
She clasped her hands behind her back.
"They will learn beside me.
They will struggle beside me.
And in time they will understand me."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And most importantly… they will be people I can trust.
People whose loyalty is not chained to old politics and old grudges."
She turned back toward Thorne.
"A ruler sleeps peacefully not because the kingdom is quiet… but because the people standing beside the throne are loyal."
"A new council must be grown, "she said calmly. "Not inherited."
TIKKA PALACE — PALACE SUITE
The Palace Suite was a grand chamber designed to receive the most distinguished guests of the kingdom. High arched ceilings stretched above polished marble floors, where intricate mosaics depicted ancient victories and royal crests. Tall windows framed with silk curtains allowed warm sunlight to spill into the hall, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.
Long banquet tables had been arranged throughout the chamber, covered with pristine white cloth and adorned with silver plates, crystal goblets, and polished cutlery. Platters of roasted meats, fresh fruits, cheeses, pastries, and warm bread were carefully arranged in abundance. The scent of seasoned dishes and honeyed desserts drifted pleasantly through the air.
Elegant maids moved quietly between the guests, refilling goblets, offering fresh dishes, and responding instantly to any request. Every servant carried themselves with disciplined grace, ensuring the noble representatives lacked nothing.
The young nobles themselves were dressed with careful refinement, each bearing the dignity of their house.
Alric Lot, the representative of House Lot, stood tall in a neatly tailored dark navy coat trimmed with silver embroidery. His dark chestnut brown hair was combed back neatly, and his steel-blue eyes carried the quiet confidence of a trained knight.
Nearby stood Lyra Corven of House Corven, wearing a flowing black gown lined with emerald embroidery that matched the color of her striking emerald green eyes. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, giving her a calm but commanding presence.
Toren Draeven from House Draeven leaned casually near one of the tables. His deep copper-red hair caught the light, and his amber eyes studied the room carefully. His attire a fitted crimson coat with dark leather gloves gave him the air of someone used to both court and battlefield.
Across from him stood Varik Karsis of House Karsis, dressed in a sharp black coat with gold buttons. His black hair and dark brown eyes gave him a composed, calculating look as he quietly observed the other representatives.
At the far end of the table, Jeff Morholt from House Morholt laughed with ease while finishing a slice of roasted meat.
His ash-brown hair was neatly trimmed, and his dark green eyes shone with a friendly warmth. His attire, though noble, was simpler an olive-green coat and sturdy boots.
Standing near the window was Freya Brann of House Brann.
She wore a beautiful auburn dress with delicate golden patterns stitched along the sleeves and waist. Her auburn hair flowed loosely over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes sparkled with curiosity as she spoke freely with the others.
Beside her, Lucan Velisa of House Velisa carried himself with relaxed charm.
His golden blond hair fell slightly across his forehead, and his warm brown eyes carried a gentle expression. His outfit—a cream-colored coat with fine gold lining—reflected the elegance of his house.
Finally, Darion Eredin from House Eredin stood quietly, observing the room. His dark brown hair was cut short and precise, while his deep blue eyes gave him a thoughtful, composed look. His dark blue coat bore the crest of his house on the chest.
The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed. Despite their noble status and the weight of the occasion, the young representatives spoke freely among themselves, sharing laughter, exchanging stories, and tasting the luxurious food prepared for them.
The tension of politics had not yet taken hold.
Then the doors of the suite opened.
A small girl stepped inside.
She had soft brown hair that rested just above her shoulders and hazel eyes that quietly observed the room. She wore an elegant royal outfit—an ivory dress trimmed with delicate silver embroidery, a short velvet cloak draped over her shoulders, and polished black shoes that clicked softly against the marble floor.
Yet none of the young nobles recognized her.
None of them had ever seen the King.
Freya Brann was the first to approach.
She walked over with a bright smile and leaned down slightly.
"Aren't you adorable," Freya said warmly, gently patting the girl on the head.
Charlotte frowned immediately.
"Can you stop that already?" she said bluntly. "It's kind of annoying being treated like a kid."
Freya laughed softly, still amused.
"I can't help it. You look so cute," she replied. "What house do you belong to? You're quite small to represent your family… and adorable too. Letting you come all the way to the capital alone."
Charlotte crossed her arms slightly.
"What house do you represent?" she asked. "And what's your name?"
"House Brann," Freya answered proudly. "I'm the second daughter of the house. I still don't know why the king chose me instead of my older brother, He was quite angry about it. It surprised all of us."
Freya suddenly leaned closer, studying Charlotte's face.
"You know," she said excitedly, "would you like to be my little sister? We have something in common, our eyes.
And I bet you'd look even prettier if I styled your hair."
"No. I don't want that," Charlotte said flatly as she turned and began walking away.
"Hey! Don't walk away," Freya called after her, quickly following behind. "Come back already!"
Around them, the palace suite continued to buzz with conversation.
The young nobles laughed, shared food, and continued getting to know one another.
Hours passed peacefully.
Then the great doors of the suite opened again.
A palace official stepped inside, holding a scroll.
"The King requests your presence in the Throne Room," the man announced clearly. "Within one hour, you will all be escorted there."
The message was delivered.
The doors closed once again.
And the atmosphere in the room slowly began to change.
Charlotte rose from the chair and headed toward the door.
"Wait!" Freya called after her. "You still haven't told me your name… and where are you going?, the king would be calling for us any minute from now, don't stay long" added waving her hand.
The doors of the palace suite swung open once more, the polished wood echoing through the hall. Three guards stepped forward, flanking a tall, imposing man dressed entirely in black.
"I'm Animus," he announced, his voice low and measured, carrying the weight of authority. "Formerly the King's right hand. I am here to escort you all to the throne room."
THE THRONE ROOM
The chamber was silent, the long obsidian table gleaming under the fractured sunlight. Lord Silas Vane and Master Elian Thorne were already seated.
"From the House of Draeven, Toren Draeven," a herald announced. Toren stepped forward, his amber eyes steady, and took his seat.
"From the House of Karsis, Varik Karsis." Varik strode confidently to the table and sat.
"From the House of Morholt, Jeff Morholt." The young man nodded curtly before taking his place.
"From the House of Brann, Freya Brann." She approached with grace, sliding into her seat smoothly.
"From the House of Lot, Alric Lot." Alric gave a brief bow before sitting.
"From the House of Corven, Lyra Corven." Lyra moved with quiet poise to her seat.
"From the House of Velisa, Lucan Velisa." Lucan's warm brown eyes swept the room as he took his place.
"From the House of Eredin, Darion Eredin." Darion's deep blue gaze lingered on the table before he sat.
"With all ten councillors now seated, only one presence remains , from the house of max, king Charlotte"
She entered the throne room with quiet authority, each step measured and deliberate. As she passed the long obsidian table, the representatives instinctively straightened, their whispers filling the space.
"She's the King…" someone murmured, disbelief lacing the words.
"What the… I had no idea," another voice followed, tinged with awe.
"Why was she in the suite?" a third asked, confusion and curiosity mixing.
"So cute," Freya Brann whispered, unable to hide her admiration as she glanced at Charlotte as she walked to the throne.
The murmurs and low chatter continued, but all eyes were on her as she climbed the throne's stairs. With a graceful motion, she seated herself, the throne seeming to mold to her presence as if it had always awaited her.
"Now that we are all here, just as I requested," she began, her voice calm yet commanding, "thank you for making the time to come to the palace on such short notice. Now that everyone is present, let us get down to business."
The room fell silent, the representatives' initial shock replaced with focused attention, every mind tuned to the words of the ruler before them.