I jolted awake, my eyes darting left and right in a panic, before I realised where I was: my room, in the royal palace.

I sighed. Another nightmare.

They’d started right after the day of coronation; it was now two months later, and they were still happening. Sometimes I had dreams of being changed, sometimes about my friends dying, sometimes of being in Izaak’s bedroom again. The nightmares were slowly becoming rarer and rarer – at first they happened almost every night, now only about once or twice a week – but they still hit me hard when they happened. I just had to hope they would stop altogether. Eventually.

But in the end, it was alright. I was safe. My friends were safe. The country was safe. A few sleepless night was no steep price to pay for that.

I lay in bed for a while, summoning the willpower to stand up; I knew I had to, it was a big day, and I had lots to do.

I got dressed in a simple cotton shirt and trouser combination (I always shirked the trappings of royalty if I could help it, I was a simple girl at heart), fastened my sword around my waist, and opened the door to my room. The two Knights who were standing guard saluted.

“At ease,” I said, and they relaxed; I started to make my way towards the throne room, and they followed close on my heel. I disliked constantly having bodyguards with me; but after the assassination attempt a month after I’d seized power, Andrej had insisted. It didn’t matter that the would-be assassin had caused me no harm – I’d been trained as a Royal Knight, after all: I’d disarmed him before he could even blink. And it didn’t matter that we quickly discovered who’d been responsible for it, a rogue member of the council of nobles who objected to me being queen. My friend was still concerned, and had ordered the Royal Knights to set things up so at least two of them would always be close by. I would have to talk to him about it; maybe in a few more weeks, when nothing else happened, he would relent, but for the time being I just had to bear it.

Speaking of the Royal Knights, I’d used my authority as queen to modify their oath: now they just promised to protect the Kingdom of Harburg – not the crown, the Kingdom – with their lives, and they weren’t sworn to obey every order. This way, they had some leeway on how to go about things and, critically, they could refuse to follow a ruler who didn’t care for the well-being of the country.

“Good morning, everyone,” I said entering the throne room. It was markedly different from before: gone was the throne, and instead a large table was in the middle of the hall, with chairs all around it. My idea: my power came from the people, and I had to show I was not above them, but instead their equal and ally.

“You’re late, Erica,” Sylvie chided me from her place at the table. “I know you’re queen now, sister, but that doesn’t excuse sleeping in when we have so much work to do.”

“Hey, I’m only slightly late,” I protested with a smile. “We can still manage to do everything, no problem.”

“If you say so,” she smiled back. “Shall we begin then?”

“Let’s,” I said, sitting down. I grabbed my crown – a simple silver circlet, emblazoned with the Kingdom’s coat of arms – from where it rested on the table and put it on. “I, Erica, Queen of Harburg, hereby bring this meeting of the ruling council to order.”

I hated being so formal, but some things still had to be done in the official way.

Besides Sylvie, sitting around the table were a handful of nobles – we’d had to include some of the original council of nobles, sadly, or we’d risk having a rebellion on our hands – along with several commoners, who’d been elected by the various cities in the Kingdom to represent their interests before me. That had been the Children of Kendrik’s idea, and I’d agreed: giving the common people a voice in how things were run was a positive thing. And of course, Andrej, as Commander of the Royal Knights and now chief general of the army, had a seat at the table, too. In the end, my word was still law: but I heard everyone out before deciding what orders to give. In time I would start to delegate, until the country began to rule itself, as it should be.

“First things first,” I said. “How goes the war?”

“It… Goes,” Andrej answered. “No change since yesterday; we’re still at a stalemate, no action worth reporting.”

I nodded. “And the negotiations?”

“Still ongoing,” one of the nobles spoke up. “But we should have some results within the week.”

After Izaak had been overthrown, most of the neighbouring countries quickly sent envoys acknowledging me as queen and establishing formal relations; they called me Erica, the Unbroken Queen of Harburg, which was a bit funny to me – they obviously didn’t know just how close I’d come to breaking because of Izaak and Verdun.

The Aswanians, though, were calling me a usurper; and they’d dug up an old claim – the current Duke of Lower Aswania was apparently descended from a distant cousin of Kendrik the First – to try and say that Harburg was rightfully theirs. They’d even invaded the country… Briefly: they’d quickly been beaten back, and our troops and theirs had been glaring at each other across the border for a month now. Hopefully a solution would come soon.

“Alright,” I said. “I entrust the negotiations to you. On to other business. Are the shipments of food still arriving?”

“They are,” Sylvie said. “They are being distributed to the people, as usual.”

I nodded. The drought was still ongoing; but at least, thanks to the kingdom’s wealth, the people weren’t going hungry. In time the rain would start falling again, and everything would be alright.

“Good.” I thought back at what was on the council’s agenda for the day, and I grimaced as I remembered. I took a deep breath. “Is everything ready for today?”

The mood around the table became grim. “Everything is ready,” Andrej replied. “The gallows have been built, and all things are in place.”

As promised, Izaak had been put on trial for his crimes a week after his regency had ended. Had it been for me I would have simply forgotten about him, but the people needed justice too; after a trial that had lasted for nearly two months – a proper trial – he’d been found guilty, and sentenced to death. He would be beheaded at sundown that very day.

“Will you attend the execution, my Queen?” one of the nobles asked.

“I must,” I replied. In truth I didn’t want to, but it was my duty as ruler: to witness the people’s justice being brought to fruition. The noble nodded, but didn’t say anything further.

“Is there anything else?” I asked, looking around the table.

“Just one last thing,” Sylvie said, reading from a piece of parchment. “The signing of the treaty with Irbia.”

Oh, right, there was still that.

The treaty Izaak had drawn up with Prince Julien had been quite good, as it turned out; it barely needed some adjusting before being put into effect. But it still needed to be signed.

“Alright,” I said. “Is Prince Julien here?”

“He is,” Sylvie replied.

I gave an order, and the Crown Prince of Irbia was shown into the room.

“Good morning, Queen Erica,” he said, a smile on his lips. “I must say, you’re looking particularly beautiful today.”

I half-sighed, half-groaned. Nope. Despite being a good guy at heart, Prince Julien was still an idiot, and much too carefree for someone who would one day become king of his country.

“I still won’t marry you,” I replied. He’d been pestering me since the day after I’d become queen, at first saying that I was bound by the treaty’s terms to give me his hand (to which I immediately responded by striking a line through that passage in the treaty in front of his very eyes), and then he’d begun trying to woo me through compliments and gifts.

He shrugged. “Worth a try. I’m still not giving up, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “Now, if you’ll just sign here, we can get this over with.” I extended a quill towards him, and pointed at a huge parchment, unfurled on the table; a pot of ink was beside it.

He nodded, and signed the parchment under the treaty’s text; I signed too, and it was done with.

“I’m heading back to Irbia the day after tomorrow, to bring the good news,” Julien said. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“I won’t join you.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, shrugging again. “I’ll be sure to write.”

He turned around to leave, but I spoke up: “Prince Julien.”

He turned back, and looked at me inquisitively.

“Harburg owes you – you personally – a great debt,” I said. “You’ll always be welcome, here in the palace or anywhere else in the Kingdom.”

He smiled, nodded in acknowledgement, and left the room.

I gazed around the table. “Anything else?” I asked. When no one replied, I nodded, and continued: “I, Erica, Queen of Harburg, hereby bring this meeting of the ruling council to a close.”

I removed my crown and placed it back on the table.

Everyone got up and slowly filtered out of the room; I was left alone with Sylvie and Andrej.

“Are you okay, Erica?” he asked. “You seemed upset earlier, when you came in.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Just another nightmare. I’ll be fine.”

My friends nodded, but I could see they were still a bit worried.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” I said; we made a point of eating together wherever we could. “I’m taking a break now.”

Sylvie smiled. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I intend to,” I said, smiling back.

Still followed by the two Royal Knights I left the throne room, and made my way down to the palace courtyard; everyone was there already.

It made sense, after all. The city streets weren’t very conductive to swordsmanship training. But how about some place wide open and with plenty of space, as well as training resources readily available should the need arise? Somewhere like the royal palace?

“Good morning!” I exclaimed cheerfully.

“Teach! You’re late!” Fergus protested.

“I know,” I replied. “Official business.”

“Or you just overslept,” Enrique interjected.

“Or I just overslept,” I conceded. “That happens. Are you done with your drills for the day?”

Fergus nodded, and I smiled. He was still my best student, and he always took care of the class when I wasn’t there. I was almost of a mind of asking him – and some others – to join the Royal Knights before long.

“Alright,” I said, unhooking my sword belt and placing it aside. “I’ll show you some new techniques today.” I grabbed a wooden training sword from a rack.

I could sense excitement ripple through the class.

I took a stance. “Now, look carefully and try to remember how I move; and keep in mind, we’re not dancers, we’re fighters. We’re clear on that, aren’t we?”

“Yes teach!” was the unanimous response.

“Good. Let’s get to work.”

The end.

ZoeStorm

And that's it. This concludes Simulacrum, by far my longest story until now. And it's actually a proper novel, according to NaNoWriMo rules: it's well over sixty thousand words, and it takes fifty thousand to classify as such. Never would've thought I'd write something this long, especially not something inspired by a single scene I saw in a dream.

Thanks for being with me until now, folks, and thanks y'all for the comments you've left on it.

If you've enjoyed this story, do check out my other stuff: it's quite different (this was a unique piece compared to what I usually write), but I think you'll enjoy it. And I have something else coming up in the pipeline. Tune in on Monday to find out!