(TW: Alcoholism, Depression)

Queen Elissa Renatus of the Kingdom of Torvaland was a puppet.

Despite being descended from Saint-King Aeternus, Elissa had no real divine power herself. The faint trace of divine blood in her veins was not strong enough to give her any tangible gifts or abilities. She was immune to vampirism, mind control and poisons, but little else.

This made her a perfect puppet for the scheming nobles. The near-powerless symbolic figurehead for them to feign fealty to. Soldiers fought in her name, waging war against the endless hordes of Duke Godfrey Drakos and his army of vampires and abominations, but it was all mere pomp. Elissa had nothing but irrelevant ceremony and faux luxury.

Elissa sat in the gardens. It was overgrown with weeds and dotted with cracked statues, but the rest of the palace was not much better.

“Another lovely day in Valgarde,” she snarked while pouring herself more wine. She could see the familiar vast slums, seedy black market, and roving bandits from her garden balcony. The capital was a dismal sight, but it was home.

She was joined by her retainer, someone who has grown beyond a mere servant and into a confidant, friend and perhaps more.

“Tell me… are you truly loyal to me, or just another puppeteer?” she asked idly.

Before her retainer could reply, she barked out a low sardonic laugh.

“Do not look offended or shocked. I am a puppet, it is in my nature to be manipulated. Ah, but fret not. I don’t really care. So go do what you want, I honestly will not even hold it against you. My hand? My crown? Take either, or both. I really just don’t give a single fuck,” she explained as she downed a goblet of wine. “This game of knives and intrigue played in the court needs some twists to stay fun. I hope your scheme for me is at least interesting.”

Elissa turned to her retainer with a wry smirk as she continued to drink. She was fond of them, and so mostly hoped that whatever schemes they plotted would not interfere with their garden visits.