07-09-2025, 05:44 AM
End of a Bygone Era
Palais des Lumieres, Lac des Lumieres, Lourenne | 7:09 PM
A long, black state vehicle was parked three miles from the grounds. A large carriage, made of beautiful mahogany wood, adorned with golden trim and the most elegant white silks rode up to the vehicle. A large contingent of royal guard troops surrounded the horses and the carriage--waiting for the guest to climb aboard. A woman, 35 years of age wearing a dark burgundy pantsuit, an elegant cashmere scarf, and a small diamond brooch resembling a lion. She stepped into the carriage and was taken away.
As the carriage arrived to a large entrance, the palace smelled of mildew and closed air. A shell of its former glory. The palace seemed alone, dust gathered in empty room full of unused furniture. The woman was led down a long hallway, passing mirrors and marble statues. She entered a small room with a wooden desk and several windows. An old, wrinkly old man sat in a leather chair next to a fire. He wore a golden ring with a Canrillaise flower. He had gray hairs and hazel eyes. He spoke quietly.
"Ah, usted es la hija de don Romulo. Ven acercate", he says in a broken accent.
"Majestad. Please we need not continue in Egelian. I am most honored to be in your presence. I come as representative of Hius Majesty, King and Tsar Ar--"
"You've come for my money have you not?" The king's response leaves her mildly surprised and flustered. She questions her next course of actions.
"IRSA has told me for quite some time. Your brother eyes the family's jewels. The gold--all of it! I know his plots."
"Aha, so you have your spies in the royal capital."
"It should come as no surprise, Princesa. We see and we hear all. This country may have gone down into irrelevancy, but our ways continue to exist."
She waits and stares into his eyes. The crackling fire breaking the silence between the two.
"We know your fortune is going to us anyway. Your line is ready to die out. You're not going to give it to the Eliors are you? They've given up on the throne of Yishelem and live as squatters in Fort William. There are no more heirs! no more inheritors, Majesty. We will inherit the wealth. As for the throne.... Well, if you don't want it to go to the Eliors. You'll give it to us."
"I would rather bathe and lick the shit off of the filthiest thaller that ecists on this planet than give the throne to you northern mutts!"
"Then I'm afraid your dynasty shall die out, Majesty. A lineage thousands of years old--finished because of the arrogance of one man."
"So be it. If this shall be the end of the Orleans-Vassers, so be it. But of course you know, the blood still runs in your veins."
"I understand that. We will forever be connected to the family. Even if we cannot receive the throne of Canrille. We can still take the wealth. Imagine it. Thousands of years of accumulated wealth. Hundreds of billions if not a trillion fleurs! Ready for the take it. Of course, your blood may be spent, but your legacy--your wealth may forever live."
The king sits in silence. Staring at the woman.
"Leave at once. Tell your brother that once I am dead, he can take all of the money he wants. All of it. All of the investments, all of the gold, the jewels, the paintings, fortune--everything. I will send our representatives for I care not. But the throne must be left. Canrille may not exist, but at least the people will have the opportunity to keep or destroy the throne. The Orleans-Vasser dynasty must continue through your family--for better or for worse."
The woman turns towards a gold chalice sitting behind the king near a window. She slips a powder into the fresh wine from Kanjor.
"I shall take my leave, Majesty. Please get some rest. Rest assured--your dynasty is now in our hands."
The woman leaves and returns the carriage the same way she entered. The palace fading into darkness for one last time. Once in her vehicle, she makes a direct call from her cellphone.
"Get me IEI--secure line............ Buenas noches, Consejero Mondragon..... It is ours."
Palais des Lumieres, Lac des Lumieres, Lourenne | 7:09 PM
A long, black state vehicle was parked three miles from the grounds. A large carriage, made of beautiful mahogany wood, adorned with golden trim and the most elegant white silks rode up to the vehicle. A large contingent of royal guard troops surrounded the horses and the carriage--waiting for the guest to climb aboard. A woman, 35 years of age wearing a dark burgundy pantsuit, an elegant cashmere scarf, and a small diamond brooch resembling a lion. She stepped into the carriage and was taken away.
As the carriage arrived to a large entrance, the palace smelled of mildew and closed air. A shell of its former glory. The palace seemed alone, dust gathered in empty room full of unused furniture. The woman was led down a long hallway, passing mirrors and marble statues. She entered a small room with a wooden desk and several windows. An old, wrinkly old man sat in a leather chair next to a fire. He wore a golden ring with a Canrillaise flower. He had gray hairs and hazel eyes. He spoke quietly.
"Ah, usted es la hija de don Romulo. Ven acercate", he says in a broken accent.
"Majestad. Please we need not continue in Egelian. I am most honored to be in your presence. I come as representative of Hius Majesty, King and Tsar Ar--"
"You've come for my money have you not?" The king's response leaves her mildly surprised and flustered. She questions her next course of actions.
"IRSA has told me for quite some time. Your brother eyes the family's jewels. The gold--all of it! I know his plots."
"Aha, so you have your spies in the royal capital."
"It should come as no surprise, Princesa. We see and we hear all. This country may have gone down into irrelevancy, but our ways continue to exist."
She waits and stares into his eyes. The crackling fire breaking the silence between the two.
"We know your fortune is going to us anyway. Your line is ready to die out. You're not going to give it to the Eliors are you? They've given up on the throne of Yishelem and live as squatters in Fort William. There are no more heirs! no more inheritors, Majesty. We will inherit the wealth. As for the throne.... Well, if you don't want it to go to the Eliors. You'll give it to us."
"I would rather bathe and lick the shit off of the filthiest thaller that ecists on this planet than give the throne to you northern mutts!"
"Then I'm afraid your dynasty shall die out, Majesty. A lineage thousands of years old--finished because of the arrogance of one man."
"So be it. If this shall be the end of the Orleans-Vassers, so be it. But of course you know, the blood still runs in your veins."
"I understand that. We will forever be connected to the family. Even if we cannot receive the throne of Canrille. We can still take the wealth. Imagine it. Thousands of years of accumulated wealth. Hundreds of billions if not a trillion fleurs! Ready for the take it. Of course, your blood may be spent, but your legacy--your wealth may forever live."
The king sits in silence. Staring at the woman.
"Leave at once. Tell your brother that once I am dead, he can take all of the money he wants. All of it. All of the investments, all of the gold, the jewels, the paintings, fortune--everything. I will send our representatives for I care not. But the throne must be left. Canrille may not exist, but at least the people will have the opportunity to keep or destroy the throne. The Orleans-Vasser dynasty must continue through your family--for better or for worse."
The woman turns towards a gold chalice sitting behind the king near a window. She slips a powder into the fresh wine from Kanjor.
"I shall take my leave, Majesty. Please get some rest. Rest assured--your dynasty is now in our hands."
The woman leaves and returns the carriage the same way she entered. The palace fading into darkness for one last time. Once in her vehicle, she makes a direct call from her cellphone.
"Get me IEI--secure line............ Buenas noches, Consejero Mondragon..... It is ours."
![[Image: Your-paragraph-text-60.png]](https://i.ibb.co/Jwww0CVb/Your-paragraph-text-60.png)