The night was silent save for the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the dirt road. Elara's cloak whipped in the wind as she guided her mare away from the capital, the palace fading into the distance behind her. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the dark landscape. The stars above seemed to be watching her, bearing witness to her first steps toward a destiny she had never chosen but one she was now determined to control.
As she rode deeper into the countryside, her thoughts raced. She had escaped the palace, but the danger was far from over. Tristan's treachery was not just a threat to her father—it was a threat to the entire kingdom. He had aligned himself with dark forces, and the invasion at the northern borders was only the beginning. If she didn't find help soon, Eldoria would be consumed by the shadowy powers he had unleashed.
But where could she go? The capital was behind her, but ahead lay villages and towns filled with people who had never seen her face, let alone knew her name. She had spent her entire life within the confines of the royal court. The life of a commoner was foreign to her, a world she had only glimpsed from her tower window.
I must blend in, she reminded herself. I cannot be Princess Elara out here. I must be someone else.
As the sun began to rise over the horizon, Elara slowed her mare, approaching a small village nestled in a valley between rolling hills. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the distant sound of livestock could be heard. It was a humble place, far removed from the grandeur of the capital, but it was exactly what she needed—somewhere she could disappear.
She dismounted her horse at the edge of the village and led the mare toward a stable near a small inn. The innkeeper, an elderly woman with silver hair and kind eyes, looked up from tending her garden as Elara approached.
"Good morning, traveler," the woman greeted her with a warm smile. "What brings you to Bramble Hollow?"
Elara hesitated, quickly considering her story. "I'm just passing through," she said, keeping her voice steady. "I'm looking for work, if there's any to be had."
The woman eyed her curiously, no doubt noticing her clean hands and the quality of her boots—things that betrayed her royal upbringing. But to Elara's relief, the woman didn't press.
"There's always work to be found," the innkeeper replied kindly. "If you're looking for a place to stay, I've got a room available, and there's a farmer down the road who's always in need of extra hands. You look like you could use a good meal, too. Come in and rest."
Elara nodded, grateful for the kindness, and followed the woman into the small inn. The common room smelled of fresh bread and herbs, with a fire crackling in the hearth. It was a simple, cozy place, a far cry from the marble halls of the palace, but Elara found comfort in its warmth.
After stabling her horse, Elara sat at a rough wooden table while the innkeeper brought her a bowl of steaming stew and a hunk of bread. The taste was hearty and comforting, though vastly different from the delicacies she was accustomed to. As she ate, she listened to the conversations of the other patrons, trying to blend in and learn as much as she could.
The villagers spoke of simple things—harvests, livestock, the weather. But every now and then, a darker topic would arise.
"Did you hear about the northern borders?" one man muttered to his companion, his voice low. "I heard there was an attack, an army out of nowhere."
"Aye," the other man replied. "I heard the same. Shadows, they say. Soldiers who melt into the night. It's unnatural, if you ask me."
Elara's heart sank. The rumors were spreading quickly, and it was only a matter of time before the news of the attack reached every corner of the kingdom. Tristan's forces were already making their move.
She finished her meal and thanked the innkeeper before heading out into the village. The sun was now fully risen, casting a golden glow over the thatched roofs and cobbled streets. Children ran through the square, chasing chickens and laughing, while merchants set up their stalls to sell their wares.
Elara kept her hood low, avoiding eye contact as she walked through the village. She needed to find someone—anyone—who could help her. But she couldn't risk revealing her identity to just anyone. For now, she was just a traveler, a commoner with no ties to the crown.
As she wandered through the marketplace, her eyes landed on a group of men gathered near a large oak tree, their faces serious as they spoke in hushed tones. They looked like mercenaries—strong, battle-hardened, and well-armed. One of them, a tall man with dark hair and a scar running down his cheek, caught her attention. His gaze was sharp, and there was a sense of authority about him, as though he were used to leading men into battle.
Elara hesitated, then approached the group cautiously.
"Excuse me," she said quietly. "I couldn't help but overhear. You're talking about the northern borders?"
The scarred man turned to her, his eyes narrowing. "Aye. Why do you ask?"
"I'm looking for work," she lied smoothly. "I've heard rumors of trouble up north, and I was wondering if there's anything I could do to help. I'm… good with a bow."
The man studied her for a long moment, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. Elara kept her gaze steady, willing him to believe her. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded.
"You're not the first to come looking for trouble," he said gruffly. "There's a war brewing, if you haven't noticed. The King's forces are stretched thin, and mercenaries are in high demand. If you're as good as you say, we could use you."
Elara's heart leapt. This was her chance. She had no intention of joining a band of mercenaries, but if she could get close to them, she might be able to learn more about the state of the kingdom—and about Tristan's plans.
"I'm willing," she said, her voice steady. "Where do we go from here?"
The scarred man smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "We leave at first light tomorrow. But if you want to come with us, you'll have to prove yourself first. Meet me at the training yard behind the inn at dusk. We'll see if you've got what it takes."
Elara nodded, trying to suppress the nerves bubbling up inside her. "I'll be there."
As she walked away, her mind raced. She had taken her first step into the world beyond the palace walls, but the road ahead was still uncertain. If she could earn the trust of these mercenaries, she might be able to uncover more about the forces gathering in the north—and how to stop Tristan.
But first, she had to survive the night.