Chapter 15

Miu’s POV

The crowd went silent for a heartbeat, and I thought—maybe, just maybe—they were listening. But then, chaos erupted. Something struck my face with a wet, squelching smack.

I flinched, recoiling instinctively. My hands flew up, wiping at my eyes, and the acrid sting made them water instantly.

It was a tomato. Overripe. Probably rotten.

“Get out of our land!” a voice barked.

I blinked through the blur of red and green, and saw a small group of elderly men glaring at me. Their faces twisted with anger, their fists not empty—they had more tomatoes at the ready.

Before I could react, another one hit me squarely in the shoulder, splattering across my clothing. Then another, then another, like a hailstorm of rotting fruit.

“You’re not welcome here! The palace is rotten to its core!” they yelled in unison, voices rough and trembling with years of resentment.

Just then, a figure stepped between me and the hail of tomatoes. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I froze.

“Enough!” Lena’s voice cut through the chaos like thunder, reverberating across the square. The sound made people stop mid-shout, mid-throw, their faces turning toward her in stunned silence.

The crowd’s murmurs rose in waves of disbelief.

“The Queen… she’s actually here.”

Lena didn’t hesitate. She walked forward, each step deliberate, her presence commanding even in the chaos. The elderly men, the ones hurling rotten fruit just moments ago, faltered under her gaze.

Her royal attire—now streaked with splashes of red—did nothing to diminish her aura. If anything, it made her seem more human… and more unyielding.

“We came in peace,” she said, her voice calm but firm, carrying over the stunned crowd. “We have come here to help, not to fight. To rebuild, not to tear down.”

I watched her, heart pounding, caught somewhere between awe and fear. Even through the haze of tomatoes and panic, Lena radiated an authority that could stop the world from moving—if only for a moment.

“If seeing me personally attend the matters within the city will ease your doubts, I shall do it,” Lena continued, her voice firm.

“But please—refrain from using violence… against me… and my people. Cruelty has long been absent… in the way my father… and I govern the kingdom.” She let the words hang in the air, letting the crowd feel the weight of each syllable.

“The palace has promised… prosperity… and longevity… as we restore the beautiful land of Elysia.” She drew in a slow breath, “Now please… allow me to speak to your Duke.”

A low, rough voice broke through the tension. “There’s no Duke in this land no more.”

I turned sharply. A man stepped forward—a middle-aged figure with a long, unkempt beard and hair like tangled rope. His clothes were worn and patched, but he carried himself with confidence.

He walked toward the Queen as if the torn city and the furious crowd were nothing, as if he alone decided what was acceptable.

“The former Duke had long abandoned this land,” the man spat, his voice heavy with years of anger. “When the former King Christian began hunting Dukes and Lords who stood by the late King Arthur during the rebellion… he fled. Took away all the city’s funding with him.”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “If that’s the case… where has the city been getting its funds to rebuild?”

“We… we, the servants of God, collect money from the people to fund the city,” he said, his eyes unblinking..

Her breath hitched. I felt it before I saw it—how the light in her gaze darkened, how the calm authority I’d been following all this while twisted into something… sharp.

“After all, it’s just us—”

Slap!

“Father Gaston!” The disciples standing beside the priest gasped, their faces draining of color as he crumpled to the ground from the force of Lena’s slap.

My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t look away. Lena’s breathing was ragged, heaving with the effort to control the storm building inside her. Every inch of her radiated fury.

“You’ve been… collecting money from this city?” Her hand shot out, trembling slightly, but her eyes were steel as they swept across the crowd.

“From these people?” she continued, her voice rising with each word, laced with disbelief and fury. “Can’t you see their state? Starving… unsheltered… malnourished! For almost a decade, we’ve reached out to this city, offering aid again and again… and it was refused. And here I am—finding out that you’ve been bleeding them dry, when all it would have taken was… a little encouragement to trust the palace!”

Every word she spoke thundered through the street, rattling the very air. I could see Father Gaston and his men shrink under her gaze. Lena’s shadow stretched over them, her posture unyielding. She towered over them, like a force of nature pressing down, undeniable and absolute.

“I had met plenty of people like you after the war,” Lena’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade. “Those self-proclaimed saviors… who ignore the reality of the people’s struggle… just to roleplay as someone in charge!”

My chest tightened. I could feel the air thrum around her words. Her eyes were blazing, hands curled into fists at her sides, trembling with a barely contained storm.

“You chose to collect taxes from these people,” she continued, each word louder than the last, “instead of finding a way to truly save this city… to end their pain!”

The crowd was frozen, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. I could see Gaston stiffen.

Lena’s eyes bore into him, unflinching, demanding.

“Tell me,” she shouted, her voice echoing across the rubble-strewn streets, “I have no right… to consider this an act of despotism?!”

Her voice rose, commanding, unstoppable. “TELL ME!”

I flinched at the intensity. In that moment, watching her, I realized… She’s someone who would not, could not, allow injustice to stand in her presence.

It’s actually true… everything she said. Every word. I remember that night—the night I ran away from the palace. I had no idea where to go, no idea what to do. The cities around were in chaos, people too busy evacuating from the war to notice me.

I knocked on doors. “Please… I just need a place to stay,” I whispered, voice shaking, hope clinging to every word.

But every home shut their doors in my face. I ended up at a church, thinking maybe there I could find shelter. “Please… I have nowhere else to go,” I begged, stepping into the dim hall.

The priest looked down at me, eyes cold, unimpressed. “You have nothing to offer for your stay. I cannot let you remain here.”

I swallowed my tears, voice breaking. “But… I’m—”

“Go,” he said sharply. “This is not a place for the wandering.”

And so I wandered the streets all night, darkness wrapping around me like a shroud. That’s when the Ducaines found me.

They came out of nowhere, shadowed and silent, and before I could even scream, I was taken. Sold, day after day, night after night… forced to entertain those who saw me as nothing but a plaything.

I clenched my fists now, remembering.

Then… during my captivity with the Ducaines, one of the VIPs mentioned something that made my stomach twist. A runaway from prison had sought shelter in the same church I had been turned away from.

When I told the Ducaines I wouldn’t go meet them, they beat me. They were angry that I wouldn’t participate in what they deemed “entertainment.”

I hated even acknowledging it. The streets outside were filled with starving children, and yet those so-called disciples of God averted their eyes, giving shelter to one criminal for a few coins, while the innocent suffered.

How can they call themselves disciples of God?!

But… such anger towards the situation doesn’t change our priority in this land.

I reached out and gripped Lena’s hand gently, feeling the tremor of her fury beneath her skin.

“Your Highness… please, calm down,” I murmured, my voice steady even as my heart pounded.

She flinched slightly at my words, and I continued, careful, measured. “Everyone was struggling during the late King Arthur’s reign… and even after the war. Not everyone can remain graceful under such strain.”

I watched her eyes, the storm inside her flickering. The people might see her in a different light, misunderstand her even more, if she let her emotions take over completely. Even a queen cannot stop the opinion of people once it’s clouded by long-held, false ideas.

“Please… quiet your anger,” I added, tightening my hold just a little, “The priest probably did not intend to put the city in more drastic measures.”

Lena looked at me, and I could see how lost she was in her own emotions, how tightly she clutched to the indignation rising inside her.

“There’s nothing to gain in letting this argument escalate,” I said softly, letting my voice carry the weight of urgency and understanding. “Please.”

For a heartbeat, she stared at me. Then… her grip on my hand slackened slightly, and I felt her inhale, slowly, as if I had managed to anchor her storm even just for a moment.