"G̤̈R̤̈Ä̤T̤̈Ï̤T̤̈Ṳ̈D̤̈Ë̤ for your full attendance, my Lords," the Queen said, her hands on the lengthy ebony table. Stacks of papers laid in front of her, showcasing the amount of work that laid in their wake.

   "You are most welcome, your majesty, mais, je ne comprend pas (but, I do not understand) as to why you brought your betrothed over. Should we bring our wives as well?" To that, the Queen let out a sigh of irritation. Duke Reginald had grown quite fond of grating on her nerves every chance he got. While she, on the other hand, had been controlling herself so as to not go and welk him 'til he turned black and blue. Now, she was this close to losing her calm and collected demeanour.

   "J'ai sauf que un question pour toi (I have a question for you) , are you some sort of bloody eejit?" the Queen querried, her eyes trained on him in unmasked ire, her fingers lightly drumming the table to reel in her temper.

   "Of course not, your majesty," he replied, his tone haughty and his arms crossed on his chest.

   "You are deceiving yourself. You are a dolt for not realising that he is a person much higher in rank than you are and also, might I add, your future King. Thus, his attendance should be of no surprise as the matter we are about to discuss concerns him as well, to some extent," the Queen said coolly, levelling him a glare that was sure to shut his mouth for a considerable amount of time.

   "Nigh, the matter at hand is no trifling thing, rather, it is grave and could lead to a war if we do not weigh it out wisely and the issue is: Duke Alain has been charged by His Imperial Majesty, King Joffrey of the Nayern Nations for assassinating his heiress daughter. I received a missive from him about a fortnight ago and the conditions are: if I will not hand over Duke Alain to his Nation, he would wage a war with Troyes for failing to give him his chance to have justice for his late daughter. So with that, I set the matter forth and urge each and every one of you to share your ideas." Silence reigned over the room for the longest time. They knew not what to say or do.

   "I see no need for an entire meeting when he has already given us a solution. Let us just handover Alain to them and save our Queendom from war," Duke Julien spoke, carelessness in his tone.

   "It is not as simple as it seems, Julien," Duke Renaud––a mild-tempered man with a friendly appearance––said, a thoughtful look on his countenance.

   "The people of his duchy love their ruler to the extent that, at the mention of his possible execution, they might form a coup and if their demands are not heard, might rebel against the Monarch. Our Queendom is in no way able to struggle to diminish a civil war when the people of Troyes are known to have this inner drive to pursuit justice with brute force, no matter the cost. Therefore, either way, we have the chance of a war whether civil or a war with the great Nayern Nations." Everyone let out a sigh of resignation. The strings in their mind pulled taut, threatening to cut loose upon any more pondering.

   "Well," Duke Reginald spoke once more, adding a sniff after saying so and his tone still haughty, "I wouldn't blame the people for not entrusting their lives on a teenager, and, most of all, a female," he said with palpable distaste.

   That is it, the Queen thought, this man has driven me to insanity.

   Before she could take any action, a loud scraping of chairs was heard followed by thunderous footsteps that echoed in the large meeting room.

   It was the foreign Prince––heading over to where Duke Reginald sat rather snuggly on his allotted seat––rolling up his sleeves, his jaw ticking in suppressed rage. In a fraction of a second, he struck Duke Reginald square on the jaw, making his entire being swivel at the brute force. Reginald stood up hastily, vengeance in his eyes until when he was met with the Prince's stone cold, icy glare that made him clamp his mouth shut and swallow the words that had once before bubbled inside him.

   "Never ever speak such bull crap about my betrothed or your Queen, anywhere. Neither here, nor there or anywhere else. Am I clear?" he said, his tone clipped and cold with a threatening rise to it. In response, Reginald simply nodded his head.

   Satisfied, the foreign Prince walked back to his designated chair at the furthest end of the table, smoothing the sleeves of his shirt. The heart-stopping smile that the Queen had the pleasure of seeing the day before made it's way through his face.

   "Your Majesty, I deeply apologize for displaying violent conduct upon your presence, but, I simply am not tolerant to sexist pigs."

   "You are pardoned," she said, suppressing a smile, one that she rarely let others see. Letting out another sigh, she focused her mind on the possible solutions floating about in her head. But, for some reason, they all seemed to lead to a dead end and the result of pursuing such foolish thoughts was an even worse ending thang that which laid in store for them.

   "May I propose an idea, Your Majesty?" the foreign Prince said, meeting her gaze with a stern one. The Queen had to admit, 'twas the first time she saw him serious and his eyes not holding that twinkle of naughtiness in them.

   "Please, do not hesitate."

   "What if we invited King Joffrey over to Troyes and kindly ask him to conduct an investigation with us. His presence is imperative as he would be representing his case. That way, the final judgement would be fair to the both of us if Duke Alain truly hasn't committed the crime. What do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Silence engulfed them once again as they mulled over his overture.

   "I think it plausible. That way, neither of us would have cause to complain at the end result," Duke Renaud said, nodding his head in approval to what he proffered. He threw the foreign Prince a clandestine glance and watched the way he sat on his seat lazily as if he had accomplished what he came to do. Indeed, he had. Nary could he have guessed that he would be one to have high intellect despite his mannerisms.

   There is more to this boy than what meets the eye, he thought.

   "All in favour of the proposal, say aye," the Queen said, seeking for the final say in the matter.

   "Aye!" All of the male voices boomed, none denying the tender. Even those other nine Dukes who had yet to say a word spoke their mind.

   "Then it is settled. I have already written the letter to King Joffrey kindly requesting for his visit yester. I will notify you when I have received any new tidings from him. Dukes, dismissed," the Queen commanded. Chairs scraped against the marble floor as the twelve Dukes shuffled out of the Meeting Room. Those who remained were her and the foreign Prince.

   "Your High-"

   "Please, do call me Rafa when it's just us two, Star," Rafael cut in and in response, she shook her head in exhaustion.

   "D'accord. As I was saying Rafa, do you remember the tour you asked for yester-evening? It seems like the meeting ended much sooner than I had expected and now I have the entire day free. There is sometime in my schedule to give you a tour round Paris, the main duchy. Are you interested?" To that, Rafael's eyes twinkled with delight as he nodded his head vehemently akin to a child on a Christmas night. However, it was all a facade.

   "Well then, you can change out of your formal attire and into something casual. I simply do not wish to attract any unneeded attention." With that, she glided out of the room with the same amount of grace that she held always.

   Rafael stared at the space left behind after she left in confusion. Things happened very fast.

   She had clearly stated yester-evening that the meeting would approximately take the entire day when it only took a mere two hours. Which means I woke up so damn early in the morrow for no good reason and I can't go back to sleep because of the damned tour I just had to request.

   He walked through the sunlit corridor leading to his chambers in a sort of daze. Rafael Hernandez was not a morning person. He simply abhorred them with an undeniable passion and his patience always ran thin when someone or something irked him. The simple solution he had was to just hit the thing until it shut it's yap. Which was exactly what he did to Duke Reginald. His irritation was also added on by the way he spoke so ignobly about his betrothed and her ability to rule.

   Upon reaching his chambers, he found that his valet had already arrived and placed his riding clothes on his bed, ready to attend to him.

   So she had planned this all along, he thought.

   Half an hour later, he got out of the Castle to find Estelle already perched on her amber-coloured stallion checking her timepiece every once in a while impatiently. She was wearing a casual, long-sleeved cream-coloured shirt and burgundy riding trousers that fitted her like a second skin, shaping evey curve of her hips.

   By God.

   "Finally decided to grace me with your presence? After taking a whole half an hour?" Her tone was sharp and indented with irritation.

   "Pardon my tardiness, mi amor," he said as he climbed his jet-black stallion. The response he got was a huff as she spurred her stallion to break off into a gallop. Doing the same, he kicked his stallion and soon caught up with her.

   "Do handle Noir carefully and soothe him anytime he starts to neigh persistently. He can be quite easily irked by unfamiliar riders."

   "Noted," he replied and they rode on in acompniable silence. Not for long though. He was one who simply despised silence.

   "What is your horse called?" he asked, striking up a conversation.

   "Rouge. Brother-mine had gifted it to me when I turned fourteen and he has been my horse since," she said, a wistful look on her countenance at the mention of her beloved late brother. Rafael stayed quiet, uncertain of how to keep the conversation going on and also stay clear of mentioning her late family.

   "How have your years as Queen Regnant treated you thus far?" he gave yet another attempt.

   "Oh, if only you knew what a tumultuous three years it's been. By the Lord, people were so annoying, treating me with utter disrespect, like I was a person below their rank. How I wished I could welk them good. But, as always, I kept my cool. Nary did I want to portray myself as a hot headed teenager. So, instead, I gave them quite the undertone tongue lashing that left them burying their heads in embarrassment. I, for one, abhor being underestimated." She held her head high at that moment, deftly jumping a puddle with her horse.

   "If I were you, I could have just welked them already. I mean, I would be the Monarch and what they think or say about me would be none of my concern," Rafael gave his view and she shook her head at him, followed by rolling her eyes at his childish opinion.

   "And, how exactly, would you expect them to respect you, then? I did not simply command them to, I earned their respect along with other few of my people. Well, with an exception of Duke Reginald and the likes of him," she replied, glancing at him to see his reaction.

   "Well, I guess that does sound albeit a tad bit more grown up," he concurred, tilting his head to the side in consideration.

   Soon enough, they stopped short after slowing down to a steady canter as they neared the heart of Paris.

   Though still in the forenoon, the area was bustling with a plethora of activities going on.

   But, by God, this place is beautiful. So modern. Unlike anything I've ever seen. Rafael thought as his mouth hung wide agape as he stared around, nonplussed. The City had cobblestones on each path, placed symmetrically in a diagonal manner. The trading stalls were placed in such an orderly manner that he believed it to be a trade fare instead of a local market. Each stall had a board atop it, showcasing what wares they were selling.

   "Close your mouth for goodness sake. Flies will get in," Estelle admonished, raising an exasperated brow.

   "Are there even flies in this place? It looks so . . . Clean. So clean and orderly that it scares me," Rafael replied, still in a daze before it was interrupted by his growling stomach. The both of them had yet to eat since they woke up.

   "It seems like we need to find a place to break our fast. Good thing is, Paris is conveniently filled with them. You see, Paris mainly specialises in anything that involves cooking. From Crème Frâches to Soufflés, all of them revolve around Paris." Rafael salivated at the mention of such 'fancy'––as he put it––dishes. His stomach growled even more as his thoughts wandered to piping hot, steaming, buttered, golden-brown croissants served with a glass of Crème de Cassis.

   "By the Lord, would you please close your mouth?" Estelle almost yelled at him with unmasked irritation. Rolling her eyes, she jumped off her horse deftly to fumble with her saddle. Before she could even take hold of his hand and take him to a nearby restaurant, loud thumping of horses' hooves could be heard and she reached to unsheathe the sword by her waist instinctively.

   "Get behind me," she commanded and Rafael unconsciously obliged, but, once he caught sight of the sword she firmly held in her hands, his eyebrows drew into a frown.

   "Why on earth do you have a sword?"

   "For protection. Now, would you please keep quiet?" she asked him, nay, ordered him and he fell silent as he studied her defensive stance. The thumps grew louder and soon, a whole battalion of men rushed towards them.

   "Your Majesty, Your Highness," a stout man bowed to them once he jumped off of his steed. When he rose up, it was clear to Estelle that it was none other than Duke Julien of Paris. So it seems like their clandestine tour was sabotaged.

   So much for not attracting attention, Estelle thought.

   "You may rise, Julien." The Duke rose and faced the two Royals. He was heaving heavily and sweat had matted his dark brown hair.

   "I bound towards the City as fast as I could manage when I got tidings that you were around, Your Majesty. Pourquoi tu ne infomer pas moi, Votre Majesté (Why didn't you inform me, Your Majesty)?" the Duke asked, switching to Troyent already.

   "I did not wish to disturb you and your . . . " the Queen paused, uncertain of what to call the mini-army that he had gathered. She wasn't going to war or anything of that sort. "Entourage. May I ask, why so many people?"

    "Pour ton sécurité, Votre Majesté, (For your security, Your Majesty)" he replied solemnly. The Queen simply titled her head, wondering why she needed a whole battalion of men when just two knights could suffice.

   "Thank you for your concern, Julien. But, such heavy protection is not required. I can take care of myself well enough and so can my betrothed. We just wanted to go break our fast. If you'd excuse us?" she asked and Duke Julien was about to object when she levelled him one of her signature glares. That look simply told him, 'Do you dare disobey me?' Therefore, he swallowed his words and nodded his head in compliance.

    "Make yourself useful and tie our horses to the tree yonder, will you? And please, do disperse the men. You're giving the citizens quite a fright." In response, he nodded his head once more and did as he was told.

   Estelle then walked away with Rafael following closely behind. They walked for a while before they came to a stop in front of a hotel with a huge signboard atop the front door, written in beautiful Troyent penmanship. It read, 'Le Grande Pain'.

   "If I'm not wrong, that means, 'The Big Bread', no?" Rafael asked, tipping his head upwards to look at the signboard once again.

   "Yes, it does mean so. Seems like your Troyent isn't that bad," she remarked and he grinned widely in response. He did act like a child at times. Anyway, she couldn't complain, it was his personality after all.

 
*Chapter Two: Council Meeting and A Day in Paris*