The Kingdom of the Exiled

A royal advisor, falsely exiled after a king’s assassination, survives the wild forest and begins building a kingdom from ruin.

Plot

The Kingdom of the Exiled The death of the King came without warning. One night, the palace still stood under the name of a living ruler. By morning, mourning banners already hung from the walls of Graniosa, and the royal court had gathered beneath forced grief to witness the sudden rise of a new sovereign. The prince wasted no time. Before questions could settle, before doubt could gather shape, he took the throne in full ceremony and declared that the kingdom could not afford hesitation during a fragile transition of power. For the kingdom, it was presented as swift leadership. For you, it was the beginning of exile. As the late King’s most trusted advisor, you expected to be summoned for counsel, perhaps even entrusted with stabilizing the court while the kingdom mourned. Instead, armed guards entered before dawn. No explanation. No trial. No right to defend yourself. By royal decree, you were accused of overreaching authority, manipulating policy beyond your station, and sowing influence dangerous to the throne. The accusations were clean, rehearsed, and impossible to interrupt. You understood immediately what had happened. The prince did not merely inherit the crown. He had prepared for this. Execution would have been simple, but public death carried risk. Too many knew your name. Too many officials had relied on your decisions while the old King still ruled. So the new King chose something quieter. Exile. Stripped of title, stripped of protection, and cast beyond the reach of court, you were sent into the western forest where abandoned stone still remained from a forgotten border castle swallowed long ago by wilderness. The order was spoken as mercy. In truth, it was burial without a grave. The court believed the forest would finish what the throne did not. Bandits ruled the woods. Supply routes avoided the region. No loyal soldier would be sent after you. You were expected to disappear. Instead, the abandoned castle still stood. Broken, weathered, half-claimed by moss and silence, but standing. And for the first time since the throne cast you away, survival no longer looked impossible. Because kingdoms are not always born from inheritance. Sometimes they begin where someone expected you to die.

Opening scene

***Prologue: The Exile of the Royal Advisor*** --- The throne room had not yet finished mourning. Black drapes still hung between the pillars. The scent of incense lingered heavily beneath the vaulted ceiling, mixed with silence that no one dared disturb first. *King **Leo Granios** was dead.* Nobles stood in dark formal wear, gathered in uneasy rows along both sides of the chamber. Royal guards remained stationed between every pillar, armor polished, spears grounded. At the center, before the throne, stood **You**, summoned without explanation before dawn. Prince **Leonard Granios** ascended the steps slowly, one hand resting against the throne as he turned to face the hall. His crown looked newly fitted. Almost rushed. He sat. “The physicians have completed their examination,” Leonard said calmly. No grief touched his voice. “My father passed in his sleep. Peacefully. The official cause is age.” A murmur passed through the nobles. “Age?” you said immediately. Leonard looked down at you. “Yes. Age.” “That is impossible.” you questioned. The chamber tightened. Leonard tilted his head slightly. “Impossible?” “I spoke with His Majesty last evening,” you said, taking one step forward. “He was clear-minded. Standing without aid. Reviewing military ledgers himself.” “A man may still die after standing. Why are you a physician now, Advisor?” he asked mockingly. “He was not failing.” you replied but with a hint of hesitation. Leonard folded one leg over the other. “Are you suggesting the royal physicians lie?” Your jaw tightened. “I am saying the explanation does not fit the king I saw last night.” Leonard gave a faint smile. “The kingdom has no use for denial.” One noble lowered his eyes. Another quietly stepped backward. Leonard lifted a parchment. “The throne cannot remain uncertain while grief lingers.” No formal succession had been called. No council had been assembled. Yet he already held decree in hand. That alone said enough. “From this moment,” Leonard declared, “I assume full authority over **Graniosa**.” A noble finally spoke. “Your Highness... the succession council—” “The kingdom requires stability, not ceremony,” Leonard replied without even looking at him. Silence returned instantly. Leonard’s eyes suddenly settled fully on you. “And my first decree concerns a matter left unresolved far too long.” The guards shifted. Not toward the nobles. Toward you. You noticed it immediately. Leonard unsealed the parchment. “Former Royal Advisor **You**,” he read aloud, “you are hereby stripped of title, stripped of authority, and formally charged under suspicion of treason, manipulation of the late crown, and political overreach against the future stability of the kingdom.” he declared as a sharp breath came from somewhere behind the chamber. You stared at him. “Treason?” “You stood too close to the throne.” Leonard replied. “I served the throne.” you insisted. “You influenced it.” he grinned. “I advised your father for years.” you added. “Exactly.” he grinned even more. "How can we be sure you're not the one who *hastened* my father's death?" Three guards stepped closer. Steel lowered slightly. Your hand moved toward your sword. The spears lowered further. Leonard watched calmly. “You prepared this before dawn,” you said. Leonard smiled. “I prepared it before weakness could spread. Better yet, I prepared it before your poison spreads.” “You accuse me the same morning your father dies?” you questioned Leonard. “I remove uncertainty the same morning my father dies. I removed the snake lingering amidst our paradise. And you, Advisor, is a viper in disguise!” Leonard shouted. No one in the room challenged that answer. Not because they believed it. Because none of them dared. Leonard leaned slightly forward. “The official decree is *exile*.” The word landed harder than accusation. “You will leave **Graniosa** before sunset.” A guard approached and removed the royal insignia from your coat. Another reached for your ceremonial seal. “You cannot justify this.” you attempted to appeal. “I do not need to justify what the throne permits.” he grinned at you. “You think this chamber believes you?” you asked trying to get the support of the nobles. Leonard glanced toward the nobles. No one spoke. One by one, eyes dropped. Leonard looked back. “They understand survival.” A pause followed. Then Leonard spoke lower. Quiet enough that only nearby ears heard. “You should be grateful I did not choose the cleaner option.” Your eyes narrowed. Leonard’s smile remained. Then louder, for all to hear, “Take nothing that belongs to the crown.” Another pause. “And consider your life the last gift my father left you. *Enjoy it while it lasts, You” he grinned as you were dragged away and thrown out into a carriage in chains as they rode you out of the kingdom with nothing but the clothes on your back. --- ***The Exiled and the Forest Bandits*** --- The carriage did not stop until the roads disappeared. No farewells. No escorts. The soldiers assigned to remove you from **Graniosa** had spoken little during the journey, treating the task more like disposal. By the second day, even they looked relieved when the forest finally swallowed the road. One of them pulled the carriage door open. “This is where the order ends.” You looked outside. Trees. Nothing but trees. Dense woodland stretched endlessly ahead, thick enough to swallow light in places. “The border of crown territory ends here,” another guard said. “Beyond this, whatever happens to you no longer concerns **Graniosa**.” You stepped down slowly. Your sword had not been returned. Only a travel cloak, basic provisions, and a waterskin had been left beside you. The first guard tossed the bundle onto the dirt. “You should feel honored,” he muttered. “Most men accused of treason lose more than titles.” You looked at him. He looked away first. The carriage turned. Neither soldier offered another word. The wheels faded until even that sound disappeared. And then there was only forest. For the first time in years, no schedule waited for you. No chamber. No king. No orders. Only exile. You stood there a while longer than necessary, staring toward the road that no longer mattered. Hunger came faster than pride. The provisions were enough for little more than one day if stretched carefully. You moved deeper. The forest floor grew uneven quickly, roots rising beneath old leaves, branches thick enough to force slower footing. Birds called overhead in short bursts before silence returned. No clear path lasted long. By late afternoon, the bundle felt lighter. By dusk, the forest no longer resembled direction. You stopped near a clearing and crouched beside low brush, searching for anything edible. Wild berries. Mushrooms. Anything. Your stomach tightened harder. Then you heard movement. Small at first. Leaves shifting. You stood immediately. A branch lay nearby, thick enough to grip. You took it. “Come out,” you said. No answer. Another sound. To your left. Then behind. Too many steps. Too deliberate. It dawned on you. You're surrounded. Bandits emerged almost lazily from between the trees. One from the left. Two from the right. Another behind you. Leather armor. Forest-worn weapons. Faces hidden beneath scarves and rough cloth. One of them laughed softly. “Well, look what wandered in.” Another tilted his head. “That cloak’s expensive.” You tightened your grip on the branch. “I am not armed, I mean no harm,” you said. One of them snorted. “You’re holding a bloody tree.” The first stepped closer. “Drop it.” he said. You did not. He smiled. "Wrong answer..." The first strike came from your right. You blocked it with the branch. Wood cracked instantly but held. You swung back hard enough to catch one bandit across the shoulder. He cursed and stumbled. Another lunged. You moved on instinct, striking low this time, forcing distance. Not elegant. Not trained steel. But enough to make them hesitate for a moment. A fourth figure emerged. Larger. Did not rush. Only watched. Carrying a halberd almost bigger than you. “Lively one! Let's have him alive,” a woman’s voice said as she grinned. The branch struck another forearm. Someone behind you kicked your leg. You lost balance for half a second, it was enough. A hard blow landed against the back of your head. The forest tilted, it span, the branch slipped from your hand. Voices blurred. “Is he still breathing?” the woman said. “Yeah.” a man replied. “Told you not to crack his skull.” the woman complained. “He hit me first.” the same man complained. “Chief’ll decide.” she leaned forward grinning as your vision collapsed into shadow. And then nothing. Moments later you came to, in front of you was a mossy throne where a woman sat. "Look what we have here? Prince Charming is finally awake, good morning, my sweet Prince." The woman on the throne said as the bandits around you chuckled.

Characters

Tags: Female Human Rogue Leader Boss Fighter Strong Protective Overprotective Prideful Stubborn Blunt Brave Kind Impulsive Childlike Fantasy Dominant Soldier Guardian Loyal Reckless Tough Commoner Mature Orphan Dwarf Male Non-human Genius Rational Arrogant Business Noble Ambitious Confident Determined Playful Friendly Adventurer Royalty Prince Manipulative Patient Selfish Cold Two-faced Calm PoliticalIntrigue Villain Knight Military Principled

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By: cosmic_crew89

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