The moment the doors closed, the room felt smaller.
Not physically—politically.
Three people remained.
The queen.
The captain of the royal guard.
And a king who technically shouldn't be alive.
Alright, he thought. Tutorial phase.
In every strategy game, the tutorial lied.
It pretended things were safe while quietly teaching you how badly everything could go wrong.
This felt exactly like that.
.........
"You should rest," the queen said first.
Her tone was calm, reasonable. The kind that didn't invite argument but dared you to try.
"Agreed," he replied immediately.
Both of them paused.
The captain blinked. The queen's eyebrows lifted just a fraction.
Good, he thought. Disrupt expectations early.
"I will rest," he continued, "but not before I understand what I'm ruling."
The queen studied him. Not suspicious. Curious.
"In what sense?" she asked.
"In every sense," he replied. "Power. Authority. Who listens to whom. And who smiles while planning my funeral."
The captain felt he was listening to secrets he really shouldn't be listening to.
The queen didn't deny it, as it was the truth.
"You have authority," she said after a moment. "As king."
Symbolic authority, his mind translated automatically.
"And actual power?" he asked.
A pause, that was too long.
"There are… constraints," she admitted.
Ah. Tutorial text unlocked.
"Such as?" he prompted.
"The nobility controls regional forces," she said evenly. "The treasury answers to the council. The army answers to its generals."
"And you?" he asked.
She met his gaze. "I coordinate."
Meaning she holds everything together with duct tape and competence.
He nodded slowly.
Yep. Worst starting position confirmed.
In the game, this was known as The Fractured Crown scenario.
Low king authority.
High internal instability.
External pressure from the west.
And if you played it wrong—
Game over by Chapter 30.
"How long was I unconscious?" he asked.
"Three days," the queen replied.
Three days.
In the game, that was enough time for:
..Two secret alliances to form
..One assassination attempt to fail
..And one rebellion meter to quietly tick upward
Fantastic.
"What happened in those three days?" he asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
Good. That meant the answer mattered.
"The court stabilized," she said carefully. "Publicly. Privately… rumors spread."
"About?"
"You."
Of course.
"Go on," he said.
"That you survived due to divine favor," she continued. "Or dark magic. Or that the curse failed because you were already dead."
He snorted before he could stop himself.
"Impressive creativity," he said. "Any favorites?"
The queen's lips twitched—barely.
"Fear is more useful than certainty," she replied.
Damn, he thought. She's good.
He shifted slightly against the pillows, ignoring the lingering ache in his chest.
"Captain," he said, turning his head.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"How many guards are loyal to me personally?"
The man hesitated.
Just long enough.
"Truthfully?" the captain asked.
"Always," the king replied.
"Less than half," the captain said. "More if ordered. Fewer if pressured."
Exactly as expected.
He nodded once.
"And you?" he asked.
The captain met his eyes without hesitation. "I am loyal to the crown."
Not to the king, he noted. But that can be fixed.
"Good," he said. "Then we're on the same side."
The captain frowned slightly. "We are?"
"For now," the king replied.
He turned back to the queen.
"In your opinion," he asked casually, "how many people here wanted me dead?"
She didn't flinch.
"Enough," she said.
"Helpful," he replied dryly. "Anyone disappointed I survived?"
She met his gaze. "More than you'd like."
Yep. Tutorial difficulty confirmed.
He exhaled slowly.
Okay. No rash moves. No power plays. No 'I know the future' nonsense.
That was how players lost.
"I won't attend court for seven days," he said suddenly.
The captain stiffened. The queen's eyes sharpened.
"That will be seen as weakness," she said.
"No," he replied. "It will be seen as recovery."
"And the difference?" she asked.
"Timing," he said. "And preparation."
She studied him in silence.
"Seven days," she repeated. "And then?"
"Then I return," he said. "With a plan."
Her gaze searched his face.
"For what?" she asked.
He smiled faintly.
For preventing the next scripted disaster.
"For ruling," he said aloud.
The queen inclined her head.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"One more thing," she said.
"Yes?"
"The western kingdom has sent condolences," she said. "And an envoy."
Of course they did.
"When do they arrive?" he asked.
"Six days," she replied.
Perfect.
He nodded. "Inform them I look forward to meeting them."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'm sure you do."
When the doors closed behind her, the room fell quiet again.
The captain remained.
"You believe the western kingdom is responsible," the captain said.
"I know they are," the king replied calmly.
The captain stared at him, suprised by his certainty.
"…How?"
The king leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Because I've lost this scenario before.
Aloud, he said, "Because they always are."
The captain hesitated, then nodded.
"I will increase security," he said.
"No," the king replied. "Do the opposite."
The captain stiffened. "Your Majesty—"
"Reduce visible guards," he said. "Let them think I'm weak."
The captain's jaw tightened.
"That's dangerous."
"So is being predictable," the king replied.
Silence stretched.
Finally, the captain bowed. "As you command."
When he left, the king closed his eyes.
Alright, he thought. Seven days. Low authority. Hostile court. Incoming enemy envoy.
Worst start possible.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
That's Great.
He knew this map.
And this time—
He wasn't playing blind.