The wind hissed in the courtyard as it spun the snow into a blizzard of crystalline cold. Elara stood at the edge of the parapet, her breath rising in the cold air as she watched the landscape beyond the castle walls. The high, pointed far summits of the north ranges, abrupt and jagged, through the pure white gauze of the sky, provoked a spark of memories reminding her of the precariousness of tranquility. It had been years since the last major war, but the shadows of the past never truly faded. Now, with the Silver Fang Clan, the Fireborn Dynasty, and the Jade Lotus Sect all in motion, the peace she had so long worked to maintain was falling apart.
Behind her, the Crimson Blade was silent, his presence as quiet as the death he had brought to countless enemies. He hadn't spoken a word since their brief exchange outside the gates, and Elara wasn't sure whether to be grateful or frustrated. She was accustomed to calling attention to herself and to having her authority unchallenged. Yet, the swordsman's calm indifference unsettled her.
"You haven't told me why you've come," she said, not turning to face him. With fingers touching the site of the castle wall, her mind weighed down with the stakes of the choices that lay before her.
His voice broke the silence, deep and steady. "I was hired to protect you. No more, no less."
Elara's grip tightened on the stone. "Hired? By who?"
"The Silver Fang Clan." He spoke as though the words held no weight, as though they were nothing more than a fleeting breeze. "I trust they didn't brief you."
Her heart skipped. The Silver Fang Clan. The very faction that had raided her border towns. The wolves, as the mercenary had called them. Elara turned to face him, her expression hardening. "Are you saying they sent you to protect me?"
For a short interval followed by a slight nod swordsman. "They want you alive, for now. But not without a price."
"And what price is that?" Elara asked, her voice growing sharp.
The Crimson Blade made an approach, his eyes locked on to hers, penetrating and direct. "Your allegiance, for one. The Silver Fang Clan does not make the business of protection without a reason behind it. The Fireborn Dynasty and Jade Lotus Sect have launched their attacks against you. They've sent assassins, spies. Your father's throne is in danger. And you—"
He cut himself short as if the brink of his words.
Elara's brow furrowed. "And I what?"
He didn't answer immediately. Not only that, at that very moment his eye glanced for only a fraction of a second toward the horizon where a faint cloud of smoke originated far from the woods.
You are supposed to give them up," he said, in a low tone. "To submit to them, to negotiate power. But I don't think you will. And neither will I."
The princess clenched her fists with the effort to stop anger from engulfing her soul. Surrender? The very idea was repugnant. She had inherited the throne of the North for generations and would not see it go to the people of the hotbeds of war.
"I will not bow to anyone," Elara said firmly. "I will fight for my throne."
The swordsman's lips curled into the faintest of smiles. "Good. Then it seems we have an understanding."
Cancellando che Elara potesse rispondere, le porte dell'attuale castello sibilando, su跑 convidados a cavaliere e la Park e la crepa del terreno sotto cosa si trovava la non mollacezza e la danza dei cavalli si espandeva in uno dei loro ritmi. A messenger had arrived. The princess's eyes followed the crowd, involuntarily going to the hilt of her sword.
"General Bael," Elara called, her voice commanding.
The general, a lanky man with a scar running across the side of his face, stalked toward the man with anxious step. "Your Highness, we've received word from the southern border. The Fireborn Dynasty has begun their march. The Silver Fang Clan is preparing for the consolidation of forces in the west. We estimate they'll reach the capital within a fortnight."
Elara's heart pounded in her chest. "What are our options?"
"Prepare for siege," Bael said, his tone grim. "We have enough provisions for a prolonged defense. But if we don't act soon—"
"We won't wait," Elara interrupted, her voice cold and determined. "We will strike first. Assemble the forces. We'll show them that the North won't yield."
Bael sharply nodded himself, but finally paused. His eyes darted to the Crimson Blade by the side of the princess. "And him?"
The swordsman's expression was unreadable. It's my job to defend her," he replied without fanfare, "not to wage your battles.
Elara fixed her gaze on Bael. "He stays with me."
The general looked but then nodded, sensing the sense of responsibility in the princess's word. He didn't question her decisions—he never had.
With a final glance at the swordsman, Bael exited, leaving Elara alone with the man she had come to rely on, at least for the moment. Then the wind shrieked again, but this time Elara stood firm, her inner spirit as firm as the ice at her feet.
You'll be there, just like that," she remarked, her tone gentle yet firm.
Your adversaries are not the only people you have to be afraid of. Your own court is riddled with betrayal. Trust no one."
Elara held his gaze, stared some time, and then shook his head. "I trust you. For now."
He did not respond. On the contrary, he took a step back, and his dark outline disappeared into the castle shadows.
As Elara turned back to the cold, desolate world beyond, she couldn't shake the feeling that something darker was stirring—something beyond the reach of the factions, something tied to her bloodline, something she had yet to fully understand.
The storm was coming. And she would be ready.