Beaneth the Crown

At the Crack of Dawn

At the crack of dawn, a piercing outcry echoed through the palace halls, shattering the fragile morning silence. The once-serene air filled with chaos as maids stumbled out of their chambers, their faces pale with terror. The distant crackling of flames grew louder with every passing moment, accompanied by the acrid smell of smoke.

The scene in the corridor was pandemonium. Shouts and screams ricocheted off the marble walls as servants scrambled in all directions. Some carried buckets of water, while others tried desperately to calm the hysterical women. The fire burned with a vengeance, its light flickering ominously across the walls.

"Quickly! Over here!" one of the palace ladies cried, her voice strained as she struggled to direct the maids. "The fire is spreading too fast!"

The women worked frantically, but the flames refused to yield. Embers floated in the air like fiery spirits, scorching everything they touched. The destruction was merciless. By the time the guards and servants broke into the room, it was no longer recognizable. The once-lavish chamber, adorned with gold embroidery and silken drapes, was now a smoldering wasteland of ash and ruin.

It was too late.

The destruction left everyone in stunned silence. Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, growing louder with each moment. Was this a terrible accident? Or was it something far more sinister?

Amid the wreckage, a dreadful discovery was made. The bodies of the king and queen were found amidst the rubble, their once-regal forms reduced to charred remains. The sight left even the strongest among the guards shaken to their core.

"Where is the prince?" a trembling voice broke the silence, belonging to one of the palace maids. Her question hung in the air like a heavy cloud. The baby, the kingdom's only heir, was nowhere to be found.

Chaos erupted once more. The discovery of the royal couple's deaths had plunged the palace into disarray, and now suspicion loomed heavy over everyone. How could such a tragedy strike within the palace walls? And worse, who could have committed such an unspeakable crime?

---

Andras's Deception

The news of the fire reached Andras's chambers just as he stirred from his supposed slumber. Sitting up on his bed, he stretched lazily, feigning ignorance. The corners of his lips twitched upward into a smirk as he heard the muffled cries of the servants echoing down the hall.

"Perfect," he whispered to himself.

He ran his hands through his hair and splashed water on his face to give the appearance of a restless night. By the time a servant knocked at his door, Andras looked the part of a distraught brother.

"My lord," the servant stammered, his voice trembling, "a tragedy has struck! The king and queen... they—"

"What happened?" Andras interrupted his tone sharp and filled with feigned concern.

"There was a fire, my lord. They... they didn't make it," the servant said, his voice breaking.

Andras's heart leaped with triumph, but outwardly, he collapsed onto a nearby chair, covering his face with his hands. "No... this cannot be..." he muttered, his voice cracking. "Who could do such a thing?"

He stood abruptly, pacing the room as tears welled in his eyes. "Whoever has done this must have fled far beyond the kingdom," he said, his voice rising in anger. "The war isn't over. The enemy is still attacking us!"

To sell his act, Andras let tears stream down his cheeks, his fists clenched as if consumed by grief. "This is no time for weakness," he said to the servant, his voice filled with resolve. "Gather the guards. I want search parties sent to every corner of the forest. Bring me Mira—she's the only one who might know the truth."

The servant hesitated, his face a mask of uncertainty. "Mira, my lord?"

"Yes," Andras barked. "She was seen fleeing the palace last night. If she's innocent, she has nothing to fear. But if she knows something... I'll get the truth out of her myself."

The servant bowed and hurried off to carry out his orders. Alone once more, Andras allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. His plan was falling into place perfectly.

---

The Meeting of Elders

Andras made his way to the royal meeting chambers, where the palace elders, royal guards, and chiefs had gathered. The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere charged with grief and uncertainty. The elders sat in a circle, their faces grim, while the guards stood at attention, awaiting orders.

The conversation was already underway when Andras entered the room.

"Was the child in the fire?" one elder asked, his voice heavy with sorrow.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one of them stepped forward. "We... we don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Another elder slammed his hand on the table, his frustration evident. "Who instructed you to leave your posts? You were supposed to protect the king and queen at all costs!"

"The king himself," a guard replied, his voice trembling. "He told us to rest for the night. There was a feast, and... we drank too much. We never suspected something like this would happen."

The guards fell to their knees, bowing their heads in shame. "We beg for your forgiveness," one of them said, his voice breaking.

Andras stepped forward, his face a picture of sorrow and understanding. "I forgive you," he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "But this act of rebellion cannot go unanswered. We must act swiftly before the enemy strikes again."

His voice grew stronger, filled with determination. "Prepare yourselves for battle. We will strike first and ensure this kingdom remains safe. May the souls of my brother, his wife, and their son rest in peace."

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he spoke, and his voice broke on the final words. "Gather the ashes and bring them to me. I will scatter them in the royal garden—the most peaceful place in the kingdom. The wind will carry their souls to our great ancestors."

The room was silent, the elders and guards moved by Andras's apparent grief.

---

The Elder's Declaration

"Indeed, there is no time to mourn," one elder said, rising to his feet. "The kingdom cannot remain without a ruler. We must appoint a new king within a few days."

He turned to Andras, his expression somber. "As the second-born son, you are the rightful heir. You will carry on the legacy of our ancestors."

Andras bowed his head as if overcome with emotion, but inside, his heart swelled with triumph. Everything was going according to plan.

"Thank you," he said humbly, his voice steady. "I will do everything in my power to honor our ancestors and protect this kingdom."

The elders nodded in agreement, and the guards saluted him.

As Andras left the meeting, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk. The crown was almost his.