Months had passed since Leona’s initial reign. She was now seen less as a figurehead and more as an actual Queen. Her decrees helped stabilize the kingdom and curb its ever-increasing violence. However, despite her best efforts, most noble houses still regarded her rule with contempt and distrust.

  She sat in her office—which also served as her bedroom—books piled high in the corner, her black overcoat and hard cap hanging loosely from a coat hanger near the door.

  “Your Majesty.” Gunther entered, carrying a stack of papers. “These are the reports from our factories.”

  “Thank you, Gunther. Leave them on my desk—I’ll review them once I finish signing these documents.”

  “If I may be so bold, my Queen… these cannot wait.”

  She glanced up at him.

  “Is this about the missing goods?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright. Give them here.”

  She scanned the pages carefully. With each line, her expression hardened.

  “This report…” She paused. “Who wrote it?”

  “Knight Phoebe, Your Majesty.”

  Silence followed. Leona drew a slow, measured breath.

  “Very well. You may go. I’ll handle this personally.”

  Gunther bowed and left.

  Leona set the papers down, changed into her military attire, then retrieved the report and stepped outside, where Krieg stood on guard. Without a word, she headed for the throne room, her knight followed close behind.

  Passing saluting musketmen, she exited through the rear of the castle and entered the training grounds, where Priscilla trained soldiers with bayonets.

  “Priscilla!”

  The noblewoman turned sharply.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Drop the formalities. I need you to verify this report personally.” Leona handed her the papers. “Bring a platoon of musketeers—and Phoebe. Apprehend anyone who surrenders. But if they resist…” Her gaze hardened. “Do not hesitate.”

  “Understood.”

  She returned to the castle at once and began assembling her troops. All the while Krieg could see the discomfort and disgust in her face.

  “Leona, I can lead them instead.”

  “No, it has to be me. I refuse to be some sheltered Queen for those nobles.”

  “Very well. I shall be your shield.”

  “Thank you, Krieg.”

  They marched. Their troops were disciplined and consisted mostly of demi-humans loyal to Leona. There were still some human soldiers but they weren’t as numerous out of fear of repercussion from the noble houses.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Krieg’s mount was a black horse equipped with silver armor. He rode beside Leona, who was riding a pure white horse that contrasted with her black military uniform and cap.

  Some citizens saw Leona and waved at her. Most of them were youngsters and had bright smiles on their faces.

  The Queen waved back and a faint smile on her lips.

  Priscilla and Phoebe, alongside Leona, led the army to the industrial district. The thick black soot had given way to clearer smoke. The demi-humans now had at least some semblance of standardized work hours and pay. Though many were still seen with poor clothes and without a place to call their own.

  That sight tightened Leona’s chest, but she knew she couldn’t be aggressive in her reforms just yet.

  From there, Priscilla’s troops branched off the Queen’s as they headed inside the factories with muskets and blades ready. Meanwhile, the main troops continued heading south to the outskirts of the city.

  At the southern outskirts, she found a group of men with vastly different clothing hauling wooden boxes on top of a carriage. Leona knew all too well, desert traders of the kingdom of Aradia. Seeing the large army was enough to send them into a panic as they dropped the merchandise and tried to run.

  “Men!” The Queen shouted. “Apprehend them. Do not let a single one escape.”

  The mounted musketeers galloped ahead of the foot-soldiers that encircled the foreign smugglers. They were apprehended and later returned to the southern kingdom in exchange for ransom.

  Leona’s way of sending a message.

  “If you mess with my kingdom, there shall be consequences, huh…?” Lord Lorraine muttered as he read the report aloud, swirling expensive zenithian liquor in his glass.

  “That damn girl… she thinks she can shut us out of business just like that?”

  He hurled the glass against the floor and turned on his trembling demi-human servant. His eyes were glowing with a dark red miasma around them.

  “Bring me my pen and papers. Now.”

  Slow and steady, reforms took root within Arcadia’s systems. Levied militias were dismantled and replaced with trained, salaried soldiers under direct royal command. The residential districts expanded outward, rebuilt with proper planning and infrastructure—streets lit by newly harnessed electricity rather than crude gas lamps.

  Crime dwindled. The streets grew safer. The number of homeless demi-humans diminished with each passing month.

  For the first time in generations, Arcadia was becoming a kingdom worth fighting for. Leona’s name was celebrated in the streets; humans and demi-humans alike enjoyed a quality of life unseen for decades. Even trade—largely abandoned during the Great War due to the logistical dangers of constant conflict—returned as a cornerstone of Arcadia’s prosperity and that of its neighbors.

  To the west, the Kingdom of Zenith established aerial trade routes using gryphons, securing a steady supply of industrial components for their metallurgy. In return, Arcadia received luxuries once reserved solely for the nobility—chocolate, fine alcohol, and entertainment.

  To the east, the Citadel of Akrapocalis entered trade in earnest. With the migration of the Loraexion household into Arcadia, many of its engineers and scholars followed, forcing the dwarven citadel to rely on Arcadia for specialized components and blueprints it could no longer easily produce alone.

  To the north, Londria extended its hand under a new prime minister. In exchange for frostburnt silver, Arcadia sent vast shipments of food drawn from its revitalized agricultural output—lifelines for the people of the frozen lands.

  The human kingdom was becoming more than a symbol of reform.

  It was becoming the heart of the continent.

  But peace was never meant to last—not with power accumulating so rapidly within Leona’s realm.

  Muskets gave way to rifles, weapons of greater range and precision. Cannons evolved into mobile field guns, instruments designed not merely for siege, but for efficient killing. And beyond steel and powder, the kingdom forged something far more dangerous: loyalty.

  Yet even as Arcadia’s influence grew, dissatisfaction festered among the noble houses. Their authority had been reduced to coin alone. There were no private armies, no monopolies, no privileges reserved for blood and name.

  Slavery was abolished within the first year of Leona’s reign. The freed either enlisted beneath the Queen’s banner or became citizens in truth—working fields, workshops, and factories for wages instead of chains.

  Quietly, deliberately, the noble houses reached beyond Arcadia’s borders. They conspired with the southern kingdom, plotting a masterstroke meant to end Leona’s reign and reassert themselves as the rightful rulers of the realm.

  In Arcadia’s long history, it was the first time civil war ignited within its walls.

  Memoirs of Marcus Avellion: 1873