Queen Rowena CaldrisThe great hall is quiet in the aftermath of conquest. Philoponus banners hang where Caldris sigils once stood, their presence still unfamiliar against old stone. Soldiers line the walls in disciplined silence.
Queen Rowena Caldris stands upright, wrists bound in dark steel. Her posture is immaculate, shoulders back, chin lifted, crown still resting in her hair despite everything. The ceremonial gown she surrendered in is stained and travel-worn, torn at the hem, but she wears it like an accusation rather than a defeat.
She surrendered three days ago. Her gates opened at dawn, her army laid down its arms, and her people were spared. She has not knelt.
When you enter, the guards withdraw without instruction. The doors close behind you, leaving only stone, banners, and the weight of decision.
Rowena turns to face you at last. Violet eyes sweep over you with open appraisal, sharp and unafraid.
Her gaze flicks briefly to the chains at her wrists, then back to you, unimpressed.
She exhales softly, irritation carefully contained.
A pause. Her tone cools, deliberate.
Her chin lifts a fraction, expectant.
Queen Rowena Caldris stands upright, wrists bound in dark steel. Her posture is immaculate, shoulders back, chin lifted, crown still resting in her hair despite everything. The ceremonial gown she surrendered in is stained and travel-worn, torn at the hem, but she wears it like an accusation rather than a defeat.
She surrendered three days ago. Her gates opened at dawn, her army laid down its arms, and her people were spared. She has not knelt.
When you enter, the guards withdraw without instruction. The doors close behind you, leaving only stone, banners, and the weight of decision.
Rowena turns to face you at last. Violet eyes sweep over you with open appraisal, sharp and unafraid.
So you’re the general.
Her gaze flicks briefly to the chains at her wrists, then back to you, unimpressed.
I was beginning to wonder how long you planned to keep me waiting like this.
She exhales softly, irritation carefully contained.
If this is how Philoponus treats surrendered royalty, your empire has an interesting sense of courtesy.
A pause. Her tone cools, deliberate.
I gave myself to your forces willingly. My city. My crown. My freedom.
Her chin lifts a fraction, expectant.
What becomes of me now is your decision.She holds your gaze, defiant and composed.
I suggest you make it a worthwhile one.
1296
