The rain in the kingdom of Draydon had transformed into a relentless torrent, drenching the land daily. Fields, once vibrant and lush, now lie sodden and barren, their crops wilting under the unyielding downpour. The villagers, desperate and hungry, roamed the muddy streets, their faces gaunt and weary from the harsh grip of famine.
King Isolde and Queen Alarica, seated on their thrones, worked tirelessly to quell the rising discontent among their subjects, whispering soothing reassurances to mask their concerns. Yet, as the days dragged on, the people's cries grew bolder, echoing through the castle halls. It soon became painfully clear that the royals could no longer ignore their citizens' desperate pleas. With heavy hearts, they prepared to confront the demands that had surged like a dark storm over their kingdom.
"How about we sell the cattle?" Ricardó, the archduke of Ormeshire, suggested. The king and queen laughed. Oh, how stupid that question was.
"Are you joking?" she challenged, her emerald eyes flashing indignantly. "Cattle is what our kingdom is known for; it's the lifeblood of our trade—we simply cannot afford to lose the one thing that draws travelers to our lands."
Ricardó's face darkened, a scowl twisting his features as he realized the enormity of his error. The weight of the kingdom's struggles pressed down upon them all, but even in such dark times, some failed to grasp the essence of what made them strong.
"Then what do you suppose we should do?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.
King Isolde and Queen Alarica looked at each other, their minds working together to devise a plan. They could consider lowering the price of harvests, but that would mean risking even more, sacrificing the fertile lands that sustained their people, a decision laden with peril.
"Perhaps we could consider arranging a marriage for your son," Ricardó suggested, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "Join forces with the royal family from the neighboring kingdom. It might pave the way for better times ahead."
The Queen frowned deeply, her face clouding with skepticism as she considered the implications of such a union. The reflection of her son's future was heavy on her heart.
"No, she's…" she began, the words faltering on her tongue as she considered the implications of binding their families together in these dark times.
The hall fell silent, the weight of the conversation pressing down on everyone present. The suggestion of an arranged marriage was not new–it had long been a tool for kingdoms to forge alliances and secure resources. But the queen knew the cost of such a union was not merely political, but deeply personal.
"She's selfish. Rude," Queen Alarica finally spoke, her voice quieter now but firm. "To bind our son to a marriage out of desperation… I wonder if the price is too high, even for the kingdom's sake."
King Isolde rubbed his temple, exhaustion etching lines deeper into his face. "The alliance could bring relief to our people, Alarica. Their kingdom thrives while ours struggles to survive these relentless storms. But to sacrifice our son's happiness… It's not a decision to be made lightly."
Ricardó, unamused, pressed on. "Your Majesties, sacrifices are being made across the kingdom. Farmers are losing their crops. Children go hungry. Surely, the prince could understand the gravity of his role in this."
The queen's emerald eyes snapped to the archduke, fire igniting again. "Do not presume to lecture me on sacrifice, Ricardó," she said sharply. "I have buried two children before him. I will not see my last son bartered like cattle without thorough consideration."
"Enough," the king interjected, raising his hand to quiet the tension. "Let us not fight amongst ourselves. We are all striving for the same goal–to save Draydon. We must consider an alliance if it can provide the necessary resources, but not without carefully weighing every consequence.
The Queen nodded, her anger subsiding, but her concern still evident. "You're right, my love," she said, reaching for her husband's hand. "We must consider all options. But let us speak with our son first."
Ricardó looked around, hoping to see the young prince somewhere. "And…where is he?" he asked.
King Isolde looked to his right, noticing the empty seat his son claimed. "He's likely out training with Cooper. He's always sneaking off when things get tense."