Outside the House of Conference, located in Crescent Parish near The Crest itself, hundreds of protesters from all over the kingdom gathered. The Crest—an esteemed building serving as both the governor's residence and primary office for other officials—stood as a silent witness to their outcry.
In hand, they hoisted colored cardboard signs into the air, their voices rising with conviction. One sign read, "Stop killing our children for entertainment" in bold black letters on a white background, streaked with what looked like blood pouring down from the top. Another came as a pair—two people standing side by side. The left sign read, "They hunt to survive" while the right countered, "Why can't we?" Both were painted in dark green letters on a light green and brown background.
Scattered throughout the crowd, the most prevalent sign bore the message: "Our kingdom! Lead with one of us, or govern none of us!" A stark reminder that there were those in the kingdom that did not like the fact that someone who wasn't a born and raised citizen was governing them.
Though these protests remained peaceful, the collective unrest was undeniable. The kingdom's people were disheartened—some merely dissatisfied, others deeply unhappy by the way things were being run.
But despite the roaring of hundreds outside, a quieter, more exclusive gathering was about to take place within the House of Conference—one reserved solely for media professionals.
Although the event was being publicly broadcasted, the governor knew that certain media figures held more sway with the people than she did. So, she invited them, hoping their reports would shape public opinion in her favor. If their perspective resonated with their audiences, perhaps she could shift the tide of sentiment.
"Ladies and gentlemen, before we begin, a reminder: once I hand the floor over to the governor, we will be broadcasting live to all of Meteor Kingdom. Please conduct yourselves accordingly—the entire kingdom will be watching."
With that, Callum, the governor's advisor, stepped aside, ceding the floor to Governor Vale. Cameras flashed, the live broadcast began airing, and reporters pressed record.
Clearing her throat, she began, the voices in the room fading to silence while camera flashes continued. "Over the last decade, Meteor Kingdom has undergone immense change. We have gained much, achieved much—but we have also lost much. If you'll join me, I'd like to take a moment of silence for those who are no longer with us."
The flashing cameras came to a halt, and silence settled over the room. Across the facility and in homes throughout the kingdom, hearts united in a solemn pause—a moment that reset minds and commanded attention as soon as the governor spoke again.
"I look out at our kingdom, and it is clear that the bonds between our parishes and citizens have grown thicker, stronger over the last decade—and rightfully so. Living here has taken some readjustment, and for that, I place the blame on myself. The unprecedented number of missing persons during my inauguration, the destruction that tore through our parishes, the countless loved ones lost—I take full responsibility for failing to prevent or stop these tragedies."
Vale glanced down at her notes, but frustration gripped her. Her fingers clenched the pages resting on the stand, crumpling them. Then, with conviction, she declared, "For these reasons, I am canceling this decade's Wetland Trials."
The words shattered the hush in the room. Reporters jolted from their emotional trance, cameras flashing once more as a surge of voices erupted in protest, disbelief, and urgency.
"I know you all have a lot to say," Vale continued, steady despite the commotion. "I will now be taking questions and statements."
Hands shot into the air, a chaotic wave of demands for answers.
"Yes, you." Vale pointed to a journalist seated at the center of the audience.
The woman stood, holding her recorder steady. "Hello, Governor Vale, Florence Heimer from Parish Times," she introduced herself. "I'll keep my question short and simple—why cancel this kingdom's biggest televised event and tourist attraction? Wouldn't that be a major blow to our economy?"
The Meteor Kingdom Wetland Trials were so renowned that even with certain kingdoms imposing restrictions on its broadcasts, the event remained globally recognized. It alone accounted for 5% of the kingdom's annual revenue—a staggering 1.4 trillion notes.
Vale scanned the room. Silence thickened as reporters leaned in, recorders aimed directly at her.
"I thought it would be obvious," she said. "With all the loss we've suffered over the past decade, I believe it's time to eliminate a controlled reason for even more. We all know how dangerous the tournament is. Even more so since—"
She stopped herself.
The Wetland Trials had existed long before Vale arrived in Meteor Kingdom, but under her governance, they had become even more dangerous. And for what? Entertainment? A display of strength and skill?
It wasn't her decision to make the tournament more brutal. With each generation, new waves of competitors pushed the limits, rendering the old trials too easy. And as someone with the literal power to shift the game's landscape, the kingdom—and the world—turned to Meteor Kingdom's own Mother Nature to raise the stakes.
She had never been particularly fond of the nickname, but Vale couldn't deny the parallels between the mythic figure of nature's mother and the persona the world had built around her. So, she embraced it. And it got her to where she was today—not necessarily in power, but as the face of it. Influence.
"Next question?" Her voice carried through the hall.
As hands shot up once more, she scanned the room before settling on an older gentleman seated at the end of the front row. "Hello, sir. What might your question be?"
The old man took his hat—embroidered with the letters KHA—from his lap and grabbed his cane. Rising to his feet, he made his way to the center of the row, positioning himself directly before both the governor and the crowd.
Vale unhooked one of her three microphones from the stand and handed it to a tech crew member, gesturing for them to pass it along.
"Thank you," the old man said, accepting the microphone. "Hello, everyone."
A sharp, high-pitched ring echoed through the room as the microphone adjusted.
"Hello, Mister…?" Vale prompted, hoping for his name.
"Mister is fine," he replied. "You might not know me, but I know you, and that's all that really matters." His voice was steady, almost measured. "I'm not here on behalf of anyone or any official business like that. Just as a man from the past."
Vale kept her expression composed, though an uneasy sensation crept over her. "And what can I answer for you today, sir?"
"Well, Governor Vale," he began, adjusting his grip on the microphone, "as someone who has been a member of the KHA since birth, I came here today with just one question—one thing and one thing only."
Vale's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm sorry, the KHA?"
"The Kingsmen Hunting Association," he clarified. "Spotted your invitation in the trash while visiting headquarters and figured it'd be fair game if I claimed it for myself." A slight smirk tugged at his lips. "Fitting, don't you think? Considering you banned hunting in the kingdom."
Vale didn't flinch. "And rightfully so," she stated firmly. "Animals are not something to be hunted down and slaughtered for entertainment."
Staring sharply into her eyes, the old man's voice became raspy as he offered his statement. "What we need is a governor, not an environmentalist. This kingdom was never in danger of overhunting or destroying ecosystems."
"I–"
The old man cut her off. "Look here, governor. I didn't come here to discuss the complexities of politics with you. I simply came here to inquire as to when or if hunting will ever be allowed again within the kingdom. The KHA isn't just a business; it's a family. One I've watched struggle and just barely stay afloat, thanks to its hard-working supporters here and out of the kingdom."
"Sir! Hunting will be banned from this kingdom as long as I am its governor, which I plan to be for a very long time. To condemn animals to needless suffering just so you can pose for a picture with their dead bodies would be nothing short of cruel," Vale outbursted, unintentionally stepping beside herself.
The KHA was a hunting association established long before Vale's arrival in the kingdom. When she came into power and saw what humans were doing to animals, she initially limited hunting by requiring all hunters to obtain licenses. This was done in hopes of making gradual change without causing too big a wave. But eventually, she outlawed hunting altogether.
This was part of a business and environmental plan to attract more visitors to the kingdom while also allowing the wildlife to further evolve. Naturally, this outraged many hunters and dealt a devastating blow to the KHA, which, to this day, remained in business—but just barely.
"But if it's humans doing the suffering, it's alright?" the old man said calmly. "I've been around long enough, lady—so long that I remember the very first Wetland Trials there was. It used to be a test of skill and technique. It was a tournament made by and designed for hunters. Now all it is, is a glorified test of strength. It's not okay to hunt animals anymore, but it is okay to hunt down and attack, or even kill, our own sons and daughters? Our own fellow humans?"
The old man paused for a moment, staring Vale in the eyes. "I've heard all I need to hear." He placed his hat on his head. "You've upset and let down a great deal of people, governor." He glanced back at the crowd. "Governor Vale, Mother Nature, whatever you are, whoever you are, you aren't human, but I do recognize you as a person. So maybe it will stick with you when I say this: The true power of a kingdom doesn't lie with the government; it lies within the governed. And if you don't have anyone to govern, do you truly have any power? Sovereignty to the governed."
He ended his speech, handing the microphone back to the technical member.
"Hold onto that," Vale told the technical member. "Just hand it off to the next speaker."
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to take a quick ten-minute break, then we'll be back to answer more questions," Callum said as he took the mic.
BACKSTAGE IN HER DRESSING ROOM, VALE SAT ON A FOLDING CHAIR IN FRONT OF A mirror. She unbuttoned the top button of her shirt and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the sweat from her face. As she did, in came Callum.
"That was," he struggled for a moment to find the right word. "Intense."
"How much longer until we can leave?" Vale asked.
"Well, the conference is supposed to be an hour long, and you've only been out there for twenty minutes, plus this little break, so half an hour after this," he replied.
Vale sighed as she covered her face with her hand. The day had shaped up to be much more draining than she'd expected. But she knew the conference would not finish itself. So, after the ten minutes were up, she went back out and was welcomed by more camera flashes and the sound of her name.
"Yes, you in the back," she called, pointing to a woman she couldn't see, whose hand just barely showed above the man's head in front of her.
Stepping to the side, the man looked behind him, thinking to himself, She looks familiar. I think I've seen her around before. But why's she wearing a blindfold over her eyes? She isn't blind, is she? She seemed to be getting around just fine when I saw her. Is she pretending, or did something happen?
"Hm? No one's talking. Does that mean she picked me?" the woman asked with calm excitement before clearing her throat. "Iris St. Claire of the Underground Parish. It's an honor to meet you, Governor Vale."
The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves as Vale replied. "The Underground Parish? I can't say I'm familiar with the outlet."
The room went silent as everyone looked at Iris.
"We're a new publication devoted to the unseen truths happening in and around the Kingdom," she stated proudly.
"Isn't this an invite-only conference?" someone asked in a low tone, one that everyone in the quiet room could hear. "How'd some fresh-faced, blind kid get in?"
Smiling to herself, Vale realized the conference had been infiltrated by a new and self-proclaimed journalist. Though it was unprofessional, she respected it.
"And what is your question?" Governor Vale asked.
Gripping her notepad, Iris asked her question. "Does your cancellation of the tournament have anything to do with the disappearance of Mr. and Mrs. Bordeaux? Based on my research, you grew quite close to the two at one point, before they mysteriously vanished."
"What–" Vale began to question Iris, but the whispering in the crowd interrupted her.
"Who are the Bordeaux's?" people began to ask each other.
"I mean, it's pretty difficult to imagine one of the oldest families in the kingdom just up and leaving," Iris continued, unknowingly tugging at a string within Vale's heart. "What exactly made them suddenly disappear ten years ago, around the time of the last trials?"
"I–" Before she could manage to struggle for an answer, a shrill, persistent tone pierced through the air, demanding immediate attention. Its jarring, relentless sound cut through all ambient noise, alerting everyone within the kingdom to an urgent situation. One that silenced protestors and disrupted both radio and television broadcasts to display important information.
"Attention, citizens of Meteor Kingdom. We regret to inform you that Auclair Parish is under assault by an unidentified group. We strongly advise all Auclair residents to remain indoors and avoid the streets. Citizens in neighboring parishes should exercise the utmost caution, as we have not yet confirmed whether this threat is confined solely to Auclair. This is the Meteor Kingdom Emergency Broadcast System. Stay tuned and stay safe as we provide you with more updates as the situation unfolds."
With that, the protestors outside were sent into a panic, scrambling for somewhere safe to go. Those calm enough to realize what was happening noticed that officers had begun letting citizens on the street and in the crowd into the House of Conference, which was a designated shelter for times like these.
"This way." Callum gestured Vale in the direction of an emergency exit behind the stage before addressing the crowd. "That will be all for today's conference. You can all expect a more thorough update about the matters discussed here on Sunday. Please listen to the lawmen and women and stay inside this building until they have informed you it is safe to leave."
The panicked citizens could be heard making their way to the main room, but despite the urgency of the situation, there was only one question on everyone's mind. "Where?" they all shouted, brushing off the announcement. They had a more burning concern within themselves: Who would the governor allow to interview her about the matter discussed today?
Vale whispered in Callum's ear before walking off toward the emergency exit. It wasn't until the slow-closing door had shut behind her that he revealed the answer.
"The Underground Parish," he said aloud, his response met with an unsatisfied reaction. "Ms. St. Claire, we'll be in touch."