Chapter 8: The Queen’s Decree

The village square had at last quieted. Roman’s voice, strained from raising it in front of the crowd, had calmed the frightened townspeople, though many faces still wore expressions of doubt and fatigue. It had been so long since Roman had felt any peace himself, yet here he stood, watching as the flickers of hope emerged in their weary eyes. As their shouts faded to murmurs, he could feel his own exhaustion creeping back, his face cooling now that the crowd was settling.

Roman’s throat burned, hoarse from addressing the masses. The poor diet and grueling conditions of his imprisonment had taken a toll on his body. Bread and thin, tasteless porridge were his daily fare—scraps left from the soldiers’ meals, at best. He’d once received a strip of dried meat, though such days were as rare as a blessing from a merciful God. Now, even standing under the sun’s intense heat felt punishing, his heavy armor trapping the warmth, suffocating him beneath layers of leather and steel. He marveled at the guards who wore such gear daily, wondering how they endured the stifling weight and relentless sun.

And then there were the villagers—those he was supposed to protect. He saw only haunted eyes and trembling hands, peasants reduced to destitution. He had heard rumors of demons, of terrible creatures who emerged in the night, but he hadn’t yet faced one. He knew almost nothing about these enemies he was to fight, his training woefully inadequate. He felt as ill-prepared as he was underfed, and yet here he was, standing in front of desperate people, expected to be their savior.

A thin, hollow-cheeked man called out to him, breaking Roman’s thoughts. “Sir Knight, what are you going to do? To stop this? To save us?”

Roman struggled for an answer. These people were looking to him for guidance, to be the symbol of hope they so desperately needed. But Roman barely knew his own role, let alone a strategy to save an entire village. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, feeling a pang of guilt as the man’s face fell. “I’m no strategist; I’m just… better at following orders. Queen Madlene, though, she’ll find a way. She’ll know what to do.” He forced a weak smile, trying to inject confidence into his words.

A young woman stepped forward, her hand wrapped in a tattered cloth, covering what looked like freshly severed fingers. “You should stay out here, to protect us! They come at night, and you’re a knight! You can keep us safe, right?”

Roman’s eyes darted to Madlene, then back to the crowd. “I need to stay by Queen Madlene’s side. Her safety is my priority.” He struggled to keep his voice steady, hoping to quell their worries.

“She should stay out here, too!” an older man interjected, his voice sharp with bitterness. “Let her see how we’ve been suffering for years!”

Roman’s temper flared, and his voice cut through the murmurings. “Absolutely not. I won’t put her at risk to make a point. She’s your queen, and she’s here to help. You just got her back; don’t jeopardize that.”

Madlene, who had been quietly listening, stepped forward, her face grave yet resolute. She looked upon the crowd, her eyes scanning the haggard faces before her. She raised a hand, silencing them further, and spoke with a calm strength that surprised even her. “I understand your fears, your anger, and your doubt. I know what you’ve endured, and I won’t turn my back on you. But I must protect myself to be of use to you. Roman is right—my safety allows me to fight for you all.”

The crowd grew quiet, their initial anger cooling into something resembling cautious hope. They were listening, clinging to her words as if they were lifelines. Madlene’s voice grew firmer as she continued. “But I won’t ask you to face this alone. The doors of my castle will remain open. It will be a sanctuary, a shield for any who seek refuge. No one will be turned away.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of relief and skepticism. “You mean to keep the doors open? For all of us?” someone called from the back.

Madlene met the villager’s gaze with a steady resolve. “Yes. The castle’s doors will remain open. It is my duty to protect you, and that duty extends to my home. Within those walls, you’ll be safe.”

Roman was momentarily stunned. Such an open offer was unheard of, and though the queen’s decree seemed simple enough, he sensed the enormity of the task. It was a generous notion, yet he couldn’t help but feel a nagging doubt. He didn’t know much about the intricacies of governance or military strategy, but inviting an entire village into the castle felt reckless. Still, he remained silent, unwilling to sow doubt amongst the villagers who finally looked at Madlene with something close to trust.

He turned to her, his tone cautious, almost pleading. “Madlene, if we’re to accommodate so many refugees, perhaps we should return to the castle and begin discussing… logistics?”

She nodded, sensing his unease but unwilling to diminish her promise to the people. Together, they began to move through the crowd, Roman stepping protectively between her and the villagers, his body tense, his mind reeling with questions he dared not voice.

“Madlene,” he murmured as they walked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Do we have the resources for this? Surely, you don’t intend to guide each and every one of them through the gates personally. Advisors… servants…?”

She met his gaze, the weariness in her eyes reflecting his own. “We will find a way, Roman. If this is what it takes to earn back their trust, to restore order, then we will do it. Together.”

Roman felt a strange warmth in her words, a camaraderie he hadn’t expected. Despite his doubts, despite the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him, he found a renewed sense of purpose. He was no longer a mere pawn in this strange game; he was her shield, her knight, and, perhaps, her friend. And as they walked back toward the castle, he made a silent vow to protect not only the queen but also the hope she had sparked within these broken people.

Roman's sensible advice and concerns resonated deeply with Madlene. She nodded curtly in agreement, her expression grave. The prospect of welcoming an entire village into the castle was indeed daunting, the weight of such a decision settling heavily on her already burdened shoulders.

"You are right," Madlene replied, her voice a blend of determination and worry, carrying the weariness of recent months. "I’ll need to consult with the castle staff and advisors to prepare for this... transition. We’ll need every resource and every hand available to make it work." She spoke with authority, but there was an unmistakable tremor beneath her words—a vulnerability that rarely surfaced, even in moments of uncertainty.

A subtle glance passed between Madlene and Roman, a silent understanding that was more eloquent than words. In that fleeting moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for her knight’s steadfast presence. Though she carried the crown, Roman’s presence was an anchor, grounding her in these turbulent times.

Together, they turned back towards the castle, a newfound sense of purpose quickening their steps. They walked side by side, their pace hurried and purposeful, their boots crunching against the dusty cobblestones that marked the path through the town. Once vibrant, the town had been the heart of her kingdom—a kingdom she once ruled alongside her beloved husband. Now, with him gone, the streets felt ghostly, and the townsfolk, who once cheered for their queen, now watched in silence.

The villagers, still gathered in tense clusters, observed her and Roman with a mixture of fear and fascination. Their initial hostility had softened, but distrust lingered in their gazes. Yet beneath the suspicion, there was a faint glimmer of curiosity, perhaps even hope, as they watched the queen pass by—a hope that the queen might indeed rise from her grief to restore the kingdom to its former glory.
Madlene felt the weight of their stares, each one a reminder of the expectations that hung upon her. She held her head high, refusing to let them see the strain that ran through her every muscle. She could almost feel their whispered thoughts reach her ears, questioning, doubting, wondering if she was capable of leading them through these dark times. She clenched her jaw and pushed forward, each step a silent vow to prove herself worthy of their faith.

As they approached the castle gates, the imposing structure rose before them, its vast stone walls casting long shadows over the path. The intricate architecture, once a proud symbol of her family’s legacy, now seemed a stark reminder of all that had changed. The gates creaked open, the sound echoing across the empty courtyard, and they stepped inside.

The castle grounds, which had once bustled with life, were now a somber sight. The gardens, once meticulously maintained, lay in disarray, overgrown with weeds. The pathways, once filled with the sounds of laughter and music, now felt cold and hollow. Madlene paused briefly, allowing herself a moment of quiet relief as they finally passed beyond the villagers' prying eyes. She let her shoulders relax, just slightly, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion.

Inside the walls of her own domain, she allowed herself a brief sigh, silent and heavy. She turned to Roman, meeting his gaze with a newfound resolve. There was much to be done, and she would face it all—even if she had to confront her own fears, her own grief, to restore what had been lost.