It was the day of deployment. The air crackled with tension as Meredith stepped into the courtyard, her cloak billowing slightly in the cool breeze. The royal crest embroidered on her chest stood out, her dress concealed beneath the heavy fabric.
Around her, the soldiers assembled, their murmurs subdued as they completed their preparations. She climbed onto a raised platform, scanning the faces of her troops. Among them stood Garrick, her new grizzled right-hand man, arms crossed, his sharp eyes quietly assessing her.
Byron had recommended Garrick for his sharpness and versatility in combat, qualities Meredith had seen firsthand in the war chamber and fully agreed were essential for the task ahead. But Garrick's skeptical expression betrayed his doubts. Though he respected Meredith's education and skills, he knew she was still untested in battleground.
Meredith squared her shoulders and raised her chin, letting her voice ring out over the gathered soldiers. Behind her, Fresia stood quietly, ever loyal and watchful.
"Greetings, fellow Pyrians. Before we leave, I'd like to say a few words," she began, her tone commanding yet earnest. "When you became soldiers, you swore an oath to protect Pyria, and along with it, the family that guides it."
With deliberate movement, she unclasped her cloak and let it fall to the platform, revealing a formal princess dress beneath. Gasps rippled through the crowd as she raised her voice again.
"This will be the last time you see me wearing this dress before we go," Meredith declared, her voice unwavering. "Today, I leave behind the duties of a princess and take up the responsibilities of a commander. I will not wear this dress again until Pyria is safe and sound."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, lingering on Garrick for a moment before continuing. "Pyria wasn't built by those who turned away from danger. It was forged by people like you—people who see a challenge, opportunities, new world and rise to meet it."
Meredith's voice grew steadier, her conviction burning brighter. "Yes, we've lost towns. Yes, the road ahead is perilous. But Pyria hasn't lost our spirit. Our mission is simple, yet vital: we will secure the path to Elysia Island and build the necessity to protect every inch of Pyria along the way."
She let her words settle for a moment, locking eyes with Garrick again. "I'll be right there with you. Every step. Every fight. Because Pyria is my kingdom as much as it is yours."
For a moment, silence hung over the courtyard. Then, one of the younger soldiers let out a cheer, followed by another. Soon, the courtyard erupted with the sound of rallying cries, the tension of the moment melting into resolute determination.
Garrick uncrossed his arms, his lips twitching into what might have been the hint of a smile.
"Solid speech, Commander. Maybe you do have the makings of a leader," he murmured, his gruff tone carrying just enough warmth to suggest he meant it.
Fresia followed Meredith as she descended the platform. Then, Meredith turned to face him, her subtle smile transforming into a radiant beam. "Maybe? Give me a few days and I'll make you certain," she said.
He shrugged, the faintest glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Don't let it go to your head, Your Highness. You've still got to prove it out there."
Meredith gave a mock salute. "Noted, Lieutenant."
Behind her, Fresia cleared her throat and stepped forward, her arms full of practical travel clothes. "Your Highness, we should get you changed before we leave. Quickly, please," she added in a hushed tone, her eyes darting nervously toward the gathered soldiers.
"Let's just do it here," Meredith said nonchalantly, already loosening the clasp of her dress. "It'll save time."
"Princess!" Fresia hissed, her cheeks flaming as she rushed to shield her princess from view with her cloak. "For the love of Elyon, have some dignity!"
"Oh, don't fuss, Fresia," Meredith replied breezily, her hands still at the dress. "They've all seen someone change before. It's not as if—"
"It's entirely improper!" Fresia cut in, her voice low but firm, her face burning brighter than the morning sun. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a few soldiers awkwardly averting their eyes, and muttered under her breath, "Serving you is going to be the death of me."
Garrick turned away with a shake of his head, muttering, "Well, she's certainly not a typical princess."
Meredith, completely unbothered, laughed as Fresia struggled to wrap the cloak around her. "Oh, come on, Fresia. It's nothing they haven't seen before. Besides, who has time for dignity when there's a kingdom to save?"
Fresia shot her a look that could have melted steel. "You'll have plenty of time for indignity once we're safely on the road."
"Fine, fine," Meredith said with exaggerated exasperation, finally letting Fresia help her into the practical travel clothes. She turned back to Garrick as she cinched her belt. "Satisfied, Lieutenant?"
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression dry. "I'll be satisfied when we're halfway to Elysia and still alive."
Meredith grinned. "You've got it, Garrick."
Fresia sighed heavily, muttering something about how difficult it was to manage a shameless princess, while Meredith's laughter rang out, light and untroubled, as if the weight of her responsibilities had vanished, if only for a moment.
---
Meredith and Garrick spent the first few days leading the troop through familiar territory, establishing defensive positions and scouting for potential threats. Although the soldiers respected her title, Meredith quickly realized that leading in the field was vastly different from theoretical lessons or drills.
One afternoon, as they approached a narrow forested pass, Garrick called for a halt, his sharp eyes scanning the area.
"This is perfect ambush territory," he said, his tone grim. "We should send scouts ahead and double the guard."
Meredith hesitated. "If we split the group, it'll slow us down."
"Better late than dead," Garrick countered, his voice clipped.
Meredith clenched her jaw, glancing at the terrain. Garrick was right, but the delay could cost them. After a brief pause, she nodded. "Fine. Scouts ahead, but I want runners ready to signal if they spot anything unusual. We'll keep moving but stay in formation."
Garrick's expression softened slightly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Smart call, Commander."
Despite the plan, tensions rose when the soldiers encountered a set of fresh tracks heading deeper into the woods. Meredith's initial instinct was to investigate immediately, but Garrick stepped in.
"Hold back," he said, his tone firm. "If it's an ambush, charging in will only get us surrounded."
Meredith hesitated again, doubt creeping into her mind. But then she straightened, her voice steady. "We'll circle around and flush them out from the sides. Set up archers on the ridge and have the engineers prepare traps in case we need to fall back."
As the soldiers moved into position, Garrick gave a small nod of approval. "You're learning," he muttered.
It was late afternoon when the scouts returned with grim news. A village along their route was under attack—a dragon.
Meredith didn't hesitate. "We're going in. Garrick, take the main force and evacuate the villagers. I'll keep the dragon distracted."
Garrick's eyes narrowed. "That's not a plan; that's a death wish."
"I didn't ask for your permission," Meredith shot back, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You have your orders."
Grumbling under his breath, Garrick relented, motioning for the troops to follow him toward the village. Meredith, armed with her bow, motioned for Fresia to stay close as they approached the chaos.
The dragon's immense size easily dwarfed two men, its gray scales glinting in the dying light. It roared, its wings beating a violent rhythm that shook the earth. Fire rained down on the village, consuming homes and sending villagers fleeing in terror.
Meredith conjuncted a spirit arrow and loosed it, striking the dragon's side. It roared, turning its glowing eyes toward her.
Her second arrow missed, and the dragon's tail swung in retaliation. Fresia's protective spell deflected the blow, but Meredith could feel her grip on the situation slipping. The beast's fiery breath forced them back, and a poorly timed command left the flank exposed.
"Fall back!" she shouted, realizing too late that her orders left Fresia vulnerable.
A sharp crack echoed as the dragon's tail struck Fresia, sending her sprawling. Guilt clawed at Meredith as she scrambled to recover, narrowly dodging the dragon's snapping jaws.
Panting and injured, Meredith stood her ground, raising her dagger as the dragon loomed over her. Is this the end for her?
A blinding light split the sky, and Gabriel descended with the fury of a storm. His white wings caught the fading sunlight, casting shimmering arcs as he drew his blade.
The dragon roared, turning to face this new threat, but Gabriel moved with impossible speed, his blade striking with precision.
The battle was swift and decisive. Gabriel's movements were fluid as he delivered the final blow. The dragon let out a mournful cry before collapsing, its form shaking the ground as it fell.
Meredith, still clutching her dagger, stared at Gabriel in shock, her heart racing. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said, her voice breathless but laced with a teasing edge.
"It's my job," he said simply, his tone calm as though he had dispatched nothing more than a passing nuisance.
Only then did Meredith understand: Gabriel's presence in Pyria all this time was no coincidence; he was a fulfillment of the promise Lord Elyon made during that fateful garden party. Lord Elyon had dispatched Gabriel—not to protect the mortals out of benevolence, but to maintain balance in the mortal realm.
Before she could respond, the sound of footsteps drew their attention. Garrick emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and frustration as he scanned the scene. His sharp eyes locked on Meredith, who looked battered but resolute.
Gabriel's gaze flicked briefly to Garrick, his face unreadable. Without a word, he sheathed his blade and took a step back, his wings unfurling with a subtle rustle. He cast one last glance at Meredith—an enigmatic look that lingered for just a moment—before leaping into the air. His white wings carried him upward, and within seconds, he was gone, leaving the humans to deal with the aftermath.
Back at camp, Garrick wasted no time in scolding her. "That was reckless, Commander. You nearly got yourself and your people killed."
Meredith, still streaked with dirt and ash, met his glare with defiance. "And yet we saved the village. That's what matters."
Garrick's expression softened slightly as he took in her battered appearance and the determination still burning in her eyes. "You're brave, I'll give you that. But bravery without discipline is a liability."
Meredith's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of his words sinking in. "I made mistakes," she admitted, her voice quiet. "But I'll learn from them."
The faintest glimmer of approval crossed Garrick's face. "See that you do. The soldiers need a leader they can trust—not one they're afraid to follow."
The next morning, Meredith made a point of addressing her troops. She gathered them around the campfire, her tone measured but honest.
"I made errors yesterday," she began, her gaze steady. "And some of you paid the price for my inexperience. For that, I'm sorry. But I promise you this: I will not make the same mistakes again."
The soldiers exchanged glances, surprised by her candor. One of the younger men stepped forward, his voice hesitant but earnest. "We follow you because we believe in you, Commander. Just… don't get yourself killed out there."
A ripple of agreement passed through the group, and Meredith felt a surge of warmth. These were her people, and she was determined to earn their trust.
Nearby, Garrick leaned against a tree, watching the exchange with a faint smile. "You're getting there," he muttered under his breath.
---
That night, Meredith sat by the campfire, her fingers deftly tying a bandage around a soldier's arm. Her own wounds stung, but she barely noticed, too focused on tending to her people. The dirt smudged across her face and the fraying hem of her tunic did little to dull her determined radiance. Nearby, Fresia hovered with a perpetual frown of disapproval.
"You should stop this," Fresia said, her voice low but firm. "Your Highness, you're hurt."
Meredith waved her off with a grin, her tone light despite her exhaustion. "Oh, please. I'm fine. These are just scratches, Fresia. I've had worse from falling out of trees."
Before Fresia could argue, a soft rustling in the shadows caught Meredith's attention. She looked up, and there he was—Gabriel, standing just beyond the flickering firelight.
Fresia's breath caught as she took in the angel's presence—the shimmering glow of his white wings, his golden eyes that seemed to pierce through the night, and the ethereal calm that radiated from him like a silent storm.
"Oh," Fresia managed to make a sound.
Gabriel turned his gaze to her, and for a moment, Fresia felt like she was being weighed and measured by something far beyond mortal comprehension. His nod was slight but respectful, as if acknowledging her presence while simultaneously dismissing her unease.
"Fresia!" Meredith called, grinning shamelessly. "Meet Gabriel—our mysterious, overly stoic guardian angel. Quite literally, in his case."
"Your Highness," Fresia's voice was barely above a whisper as she glanced between them, her face pale. "This is him? The angel you've been speaking about?"
"Yes," Meredith said brightly, gesturing toward Gabriel as if presenting him at court. "And just as dramatic as I described, don't you think?"
Gabriel's brow arched slightly at the comment, but he said nothing, his golden gaze fixed on Fresia. She shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to bow, kneel, or simply bolt in the other direction.
"I—uh..." Fresia stammered, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. "It's an honor, sir—um, Lord Gabriel."
Gabriel inclined his head again, this time with the faintest glimmer of amusement. "There's no need for titles. Gabriel will suffice."
Meredith, ever the opportunist, smirked. "He's more humble than he looks, isn't he? Don't worry, Fresia, he doesn't bite."
"Your Highness!" Fresia whispered fiercely, scandalized.
"What?" Meredith replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You can't tell me you're not a little impressed. Look at him! Golden eyes, perfect hair, awesome, sexy angelic body…"
"Your Highness!" Fresia hissed again, her mortification clear as she struggled to maintain composure.
Gabriel, unfazed, stepped closer, the air around him charged with a quiet intensity. "You must be Fresia," he said, his voice smooth and resonant. "Meredith has spoken highly of your loyalty."
Fresia's embarrassment deepened, but she managed a shaky nod. "I... I try to serve her well."
Meredith's lips quirked into a small smile, but before she could respond, Gabriel's golden eyes shifted to the soldiers around the campfire that she took care of earlier.
His gaze returned to her, thoughtful, almost curious. "You're a princess," Gabriel said as he stepped closer, his voice smooth, quiet, and annoyingly calm. "Why do you do this yourself?"
Meredith tilted her head, studying him with a half-smirk. "Why? Were you expecting me to lounge in a tent while everyone else did the hard work?" She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Well, you've been watching me long enough to know better, haven't you?"
His lips twitched into something that might have been the faintest hint of a smile. "Perhaps."
She tilted her head, her tone turning playful. "Careful, Gabriel. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were impressed."
Gabriel didn't answer immediately, and the silence stretched between them like a taut string. Then, leaning slightly closer, his golden eyes caught hers. "Maybe I am," he said, his voice low and rich.
Meredith's breath hitched at his sudden proximity, but she refused to back down. "Well," she said, her grin turning shamelessly flirtatious, "you should be. I am pretty incredible."
Gabriel straightened, his wings shifting behind him, catching the firelight in a way that made them shimmer like molten gold. "Confidence suits you," he said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of something heavier.
Meredith blinked, briefly caught off guard, before recovering with her trademark grin. "And modesty suits you, doesn't it?" She leaned forward slightly, her chin resting on her hand as she tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance. "Not that I've seen much of it."
Gabriel paused mid-step, turning his golden gaze back to her. "Angels don't have the luxury of modesty," he replied, his voice smooth, almost teasing. "We deal in absolutes."
Meredith's grin widened as she leaned back against the log, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, I see. So you're saying you're absolutely perfect? That's quite the statement, Gabriel."
Fresia, who had been quietly fussing with the bandages nearby, glanced up, her eyes darting between the two with growing discomfort.
She cleared her throat softly, trying to save the angel from her princess' shameless flirtations. "Your Highness, Gabriel may have chosen to visit, but don't you think we should let him get back to... angelic matters?"
Meredith waved her off without breaking eye contact with Gabriel. "He's fine. Besides, who better to critique my battlefield decisions than someone who thinks he knows everything?"
Gabriel's lips twitched in what might have been the faintest hint of a smile. "Is this how you always speak to those who save your life?" he asked, stepping just close enough to cast a shadow over her.
"Only the ones who keep coming back," she shot back, her voice low but teasing. "Makes me wonder what it is you're really here for."
Fresia's face turned a deep shade of red as she muttered, "I think I'll... check the supplies." She scrambled to her feet and hurried toward the other side of the campfire, clearly trying to escape the increasingly charged atmosphere.
Meredith watched her retreat with a sly grin. "She's far too protective of my dignity. It's endearing, really."
Gabriel said nothing, his gaze following Fresia briefly before returning to Meredith. The tension between them softened, the banter giving way to something quieter as the fire crackled and shadows danced across their faces.
The minutes stretched into hours. They talked, their words flowing like a tide, rising and receding between moments of candid conversation and comfortable silence. Gabriel spoke in low, measured tones about warfare. Meredith, in turn, enriched his views with her bold idealism, sharing stories of her people and her own drive to protect them.
When Fresia finally returned, she froze at the sight of the two sitting so close, their conversation still ongoing, the firelight casting warm shadows on their faces.
Meredith glanced up, catching Fresia's expression and breaking into a grin. "Oh good, you're back! Gabriel was just telling me about the time he outsmarted a dragon with nothing but a glance."
Gabriel's lips quirked into a faint smile. "A glance, you say? I'll have to remember that for the next encounter. Far less effort than wielding a blade." His golden eyes lingered on her, softening briefly. "But I think you've had enough excitement for one evening. Rest is what you need now."
His gaze lingering on her as though searching for something. Then, with a subtle incline of his head, he turned, his wings brushing against the air with a soft rustle as he stepped back into the shadows.
"Goodnight, Commander," he said, his voice carrying just enough warmth to make her pulse quicken.
Meredith watched him go, a victorious grin playing on her lips. "Commander," she repeated under her breath, as if testing the title's weight. "Has a nice ring to it."
Fresia sighed, her voice low. "You really shouldn't tease him like that."
Meredith leaned back against a nearby log, her grin unrepentant. "And yet, he keeps coming back. What does that say about him?"