Chapter 1
A warm breeze swept through the crowd in Dean Square, a crisp, blue sky overhead. Protected by the humbly-clad Knights among them and under the kind, watchful gaze of Jonah on the Square’s LightComm screen, the people of Majesta chattered excitedly about the special announcement by the Royal Family. Stories covering Our current Majesty, Leslie Dean, as well as speculations surrounding the new Majesty, bombarded LightComm feeds almost as soon as Our Majesty proclaimed the coming arrival of a new, stronger heir. Could this be the announcement Majesta was waiting for?
Towards the West Wing of the Royal House that surrounded the Square, Tina Minoru was decidedly silent. The constant vomiting from earlier in the morning--an unfortunate result of her current pregnancy--had sucked away nearly every atom of energy she had, and though her husband, Robert, tried to convince her to rest at home and watch the announcement through her LightComm Lenses, she insisted that she attend Dean Square in person. Leslie Dean had been so good to people like her--more days off of work, a personal doctor to attend to her prenatal care, and even signed messages from the Royal Family wishing her well while carrying her newest daughter--the least she could do was show her loyalty and thanks by attending this announcement in person.
“You could have chosen to rest at home, you know. I’m sure Our Majesty would understand,” said Robert, interrupting Tina’s silent attempts at disciplining the steady onslaughts of vertigo that currently racked her brain.
“I know. I’m fine,” Tina replied sternly. Her tone was not mean--Robert could tell what that was like--but he knew better than to press further. And so Tina returned to battle her nausea: her head held high, gaze fixed on the upper doorway of the North Wing, anticipating Our Majesty’s entrance. Robert stared at his wife’s profile for a few slow seconds before letting loose a quiet chuckle. Tina noticed.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked, breaking her gaze towards the front of the Square. Despite her current ailment, her voice was tinged with amused curiosity, her eyes narrowed slightly with playful suspicion. “I told you I was fine.”
“I know, I was just--”
To anyone else, Tina’s gaze was fierce, enough to scare them into revealing the truthful reasons behind unmet quotas, the locations of goods “set aside,” and suspicious absences. It was why she excelled at her position as a produce distribution manager. Robert, however, noticed her eyebrows raise slightly. He did not need to surrender. Yet.
“--thinking. About how incredibly strong you are,” he finished with a lilt of admiration. After overcoming the Strong Force, Tina quirked the edges of her lips in a small smile at him. Robert would have doted on her more--Tina’s smiles, no matter how subtle, were some of the most beautiful in the universe--but he decided to save it until after the announcement. Tina detests being showered with affection in public, and besides, Our Majesty has something very important to say. He would not want to miss that. Instead, he glanced down at their two-year-old daughter, Amy, who studied the square intensely. She did not say much. Robert hoped she would grow up to become someone who marvelled in the finer details of life, just as he did. After all, it is often the little things which are the most valuable.
On the other side of the Square, towards the East Wing, stood Dale and Stacy Yorkes.
“Our Majesty’s been all over the LightComm feeds lately,” remarked Dale, in his usual upbeat fashion. “Strange that she wasn’t mentioned at all yesterday.”
Stacy turned away, bending her head down slightly, “Yeah. I guess it is pretty strange.”
Five months. That was how long ago it had been. The physical pain that day--all centered around her abdomen and lower back--was bad enough, but seeing the blood and discharge was even worse. Having taken some pre-med classes in University, she already knew what the doctor would tell her when she arrived. Ever since then, she could not bear to look at any LightComms, with their constant coverage of Our Majesty.
Stacy wondered how long it would take for her grief to pass.
She did not wonder very long, however. After a couple minutes, the large, purple door on the North Wing opened with a loud bang. Leslie Dean, poise confident, stepped out onto the balcony, a deep mahogany that blended elegantly with the glossy, reddish-brown bricks creating the rest of the Royal House. The rest of the Royal Family soon followed: Frank Dean, Minister of Faith, carrying a curious bundle of blankets in his arms; Victor and Janet Stein, Head Ministers of Science; Catherine Wilder, Head Minister of Records; and Geoffrey Wilder, Head Minister of Defense. The LightComm screen in the square transitioned from the face of Jonah to the portrait of Our Majesty, though a watermark of Jonah was left behind--a reminder. The crowd’s noise came to a halt.
“My people of Majesta,” she began, “I know you have all been watching and waiting, and I am here to tell you that your waiting is over.”
The crowd in Dean Square murmured in excitement.
Our Majesty continued, “Today marks a very special and important day, both for me and all of you. Majesta’s new heir is born, and her name is Karolina Dean!”
Frank Dean uncovered the face of a little girl. The LightComm display faded from Our Majesty to Our Princess, her cornflower-blue eyes and golden blond hair a sharp silhouette. Chants of “Karolina! Dean!” reverberated throughout the Square.
A couple minutes afterward, the Royal Family started filing back inside the House. Karolina’s face was still on the LightComm outside, and the Royal Family knew that Jonah would guide the people back to their work stations. When the time was right.
“Congratulations on your new daughter, Majesty Dean,” Victor Stein stated crisply, once the Family had completely entered the Royal House. “May she rule with a fair, iron hand.”
“I have full confidence that she will. Thank you for your help,” Leslie replied. She turned to Janet Stein. “And the mutations? Have they shown any signs of instability?”
Janet answered, “Not at all, Our Majesty. Thankfully, the Yorkes did most of the gritty sequencing before...you know.”
“Well then,” Leslie remarked, “may she rule with a fair, iron hand indeed.”