Rena settled into her chair at the polished oak table, reminding herself to breathe evenly as she faced the small assembly. The council chamber, lit by softly guttering torches and a single chandelier overhead, felt more intimate than the grand halls she was used to. Every shuffle of parchment or creak of wood seemed to echo in the hush. Outside the tall, arched windows, moonlight skimmed the courtyard stones, lending the late hour a certain gravity. The people gathered here were wide awake despite the fatigue that lingered in their eyes—a testament to the urgent question before them.
Severin inclined his head with an impeccable show of respect, though a trace of coldness glinted in his gaze. On the map laid out at the center of the table, the northwestern stretch of Silverstrand's territory was circled in red ink. Rumors of renewed bandit activity there demanded swift action, or so the steward insisted. Rena refused to overlook the possibility that Severin might be exaggerating or manipulating these reports to force his agenda. Yet she also couldn't dismiss the potential danger to travelers and villagers.
Lady Halene stepped forward, addressing the group with a firm but measured tone. "This region has historically seen small-scale brigand groups—most of them scattered after the last winter campaign. However, Captain Loran's messenger indicated unfamiliar faces lurking near remote villages. So far, they've only caused minor thefts, but that could escalate."
Ambassador Kaian from Imlera pursed his lips, his white-streaked hair catching faint torchlight. "Our merchants pass through that northern route regularly. If threats are brewing, we risk losing cargo or worse. Imlera would be open to discussing cooperative patrols, Princess Rena, as we value secure roads."
Rena dipped her head. "We appreciate Imlera's willingness. If these bandits are real and growing, outside support could help. But I don't want to burden local villages with increased taxes or harsh measures. Many are already struggling."
Lord Arturin of Drenvale, seated beside Kaian, rested his hands on the table. "Drenvale merchants also rely on these roads. My men can attest to incidents of raiders attacking lone wagons. We should coordinate with your guard, but we'd like to see a balanced approach." His glance slid toward Severin, who calmly met his eyes. "I don't believe starving the populace to fund more soldiers is prudent."
Severin pressed his palms together, an air of tolerant patience about him. "No one desires starvation, Lord Arturin. But if we ignore the threat, the bandits could dig in, become bolder. Then we'd be forced to muster an even larger force later. Higher levies—properly implemented—could ensure we're prepared without endangering the capital's defenses."
Rena caught the subtle way Severin emphasized "properly implemented," as though he alone understood how best to tax the countryside. She glanced at Gareth, who hovered behind her, and caught his faint frown. Likely he shared her concern that Severin's "implementation" would exact too high a cost on farmers already at their limit.
She lifted her chin, speaking clearly enough for all to hear. "We can't adopt a scorched-earth tactic on our own citizens. If taxes are raised, it must be minimal and carefully targeted, not an all-encompassing hike. If the threat is as severe as you suggest, Lord Severin, we must use the existing budget as much as possible. And if we do need more revenue, we should look first at reducing waste, not punishing villagers who barely survive."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Severin's face before he masked it with a cool smile. "Your Highness, I appreciate your compassion. However, one could argue that any shortfall in funds endangers far more lives. Surely the bandits won't spare peasants just because we pity them."
Rena's stomach knotted. "No one is saying we sit idle. I only suggest balance." She looked to Lady Halene. "Please outline how we might temporarily reposition some guard units. Perhaps that, coupled with a modest levy—if absolutely necessary—will suffice. And if the bandits prove fewer than rumored, we can scale back."
Halene nodded, drawing a second parchment from her pile. "We have patrols assigned to regions currently at peace. Redirecting, say, two squads to the northwest could deter trouble without severely weakening other areas. It's not ideal, but it might buy us time to gather accurate intel."
Kaian and Arturin shared a glance. "Imlera and Drenvale could also dispatch a small contingent, under Silverstrand's guidance, to guard key trade paths," Kaian offered. "That might ease the burden on your own forces."
That suggestion lit a spark of interest around the table. Severin tensed—Rena guessed he disliked the idea of foreign troops operating within Silverstrand's borders, as it might reduce his ability to claim full control. But he could hardly oppose it without appearing uncooperative or insecure.
"If done carefully," the steward said, measuring each word, "there is merit in such collaboration. I would, of course, insist on detailed protocols to ensure foreign troops remain under suitable oversight. We don't need confusion in the chain of command."
Rena seized the moment. "That's reasonable. We can arrange for joint patrols with clear leadership roles, guaranteeing our allies don't infringe on sovereign territory. Meanwhile, local villages would see a supportive presence, not an oppressive wave of newly taxed soldiers."
Arturin drummed his fingers on the table, thoughtful. "Agreed. Drenvale will volunteer some skilled riders. We're no stranger to dealing with brigands along our own western front. Though we typically rely on well-trained militia rather than large levies."
Severin raised an eyebrow. "A militia can't always quell cunning raiders."
"Neither can an impoverished citizenry," Rena cut in, voice calm but firm. "If we cripple our farmers with taxes, we feed the bandits' recruiting pool."
Severin's eyes flicked to her with a trace of grudging respect. "As the princess wishes to emphasize caution, perhaps we can draft a provisional plan. We dispatch limited reinforcements to Captain Loran, accept small foreign detachments for joint patrol, and see how the situation develops. However—" he paused, letting his words settle, "—we must reevaluate in two or three weeks. If the threat grows, we'll need broader measures, which may mean higher levies. Agreed?"
An uneasy silence hovered. Rena knew this was Severin's attempt at a compromise but suspected he fully intended to claim the bandit situation had grown dire when reevaluation came. Still, refusing him outright could derail the immediate cooperation that might help quell whatever bandits truly existed. She exchanged a look with Lady Halene, who gave a tiny nod, conceding it might be the best outcome for now.
Rena sighed inwardly. "Yes, let us adopt that plan. A modest troop shift, a small foreign presence, and no severe tax changes unless we have undeniable proof the bandit threat is escalating. We'll convene again to assess progress."
Halene quickly took notes, formalizing the agreement. Kaian and Arturin signaled their approval. Severin, wearing the mask of a gracious official, murmured assent. Relieved but still wary, Rena prayed that Captain Loran's forthcoming reports would shed truth on the matter before Severin twisted the facts.
With the core issue decided, the meeting wound down, a subtle dispersal of tension easing the chamber's charged atmosphere. Cassira commended Silverstrand's willingness to collaborate. Arturin thanked Rena for her balanced approach. A few lesser nobles, eager to align themselves with the princess's stance, spoke up with mild praise for "reasoned leadership." Severin offered measured compliments as well, though his tone felt like a snake gliding over polished marble—slick, watchful, and unreadable.
Lady Halene began collecting documents, while Gareth and a pair of guards stepped forward, ready to escort anyone who might need direction in the late hour. Torches crackled in the mounting quiet. Rena stood from her seat, shoulders tense but relief stirring in her chest that no shouting match or bitter meltdown had occurred. She'd navigated a precarious path, forging alliances with foreign delegates and holding Severin at bay—for now.
She turned to gather her notes, only to find Kaian approaching. The Imlera ambassador bowed, expression kind. "Your Highness, might I have a word in private? A brief matter regarding Imlera's hopes for future healing collaboration."
"Of course," Rena said, though her legs nearly protested with fatigue. She gestured to a quieter corner of the room, out of earshot of the others. Gareth lingered not far behind.
Kaian lowered his voice, glancing toward Lady Cassira, who was reviewing a map with Halene. "We've discussed your gift among ourselves. Many in Imlera are intrigued by true healers, particularly after witnessing your intervention. Our kingdom's own medicine traditions have advanced cures for rare poisons, yet we lack a strong healing magic or similar technique. If, in time, you could spare an envoy to Imlera—or perhaps host an Imlera physician in Silverstrand to learn from you—such an exchange might greatly benefit both realms."
Rena had to hide her surprise. The notion of sharing her ability, even partially, felt daunting, especially since she herself didn't fully understand its origins. Yet she recalled how Aunt Sorren always urged openness in studying remedies across cultures. "I appreciate the idea," she answered gently. "But I can't promise extensive training in something I haven't fully mastered. Still, if we find a method to share knowledge, I'm open to the conversation."
Kaian bowed again, gratitude flickering across his face. "That is all we ask, Princess. Thank you for considering it."
She watched him depart, rejoining Cassira and a small knot of Imlera officials. Their voices were hushed but tinged with excitement. A yawn tugged at Rena's mouth, which she stifled quickly. Gareth, noticing, stepped closer. "You did well," he said quietly. "That was a deft negotiation."
She managed a tired smile. "Thank you. Let's see if it holds. Severin won't give up so easily."
Gareth's gaze hardened slightly. "No, but you've forced him to cooperate under watchful eyes—yours, the queen's, and the envoys'. Harder for him to manipulate everything alone."
Glancing around, Rena realized how the chamber had mostly emptied, the meeting's participants dispersing. Severin lingered briefly near the door, exchanging a few last words with one of his supporters—a graying noble who seldom spoke in council but now nodded vigorously at something the steward said. Then Severin's dark eyes swept the room, locked with Rena's for a moment, and he offered a short bow of farewell before disappearing into the corridor.
Lady Halene joined Rena, releasing a small breath. "He's satisfied for now, or at least pretending to be. I'll finalize these notes and present them to the queen. Then Captain Loran can receive official orders." She gave a faint smile. "Well done, Princess. Truly."
Rena returned a weary grin. "Thank you for your help. Let's hope peace holds in the north. And we must remain vigilant for any mischief he might pull before the reevaluation meeting."
Halene promised to stay alert and left with her stack of papers. When they were gone, Rena realized how quiet the room had become—just the crackle of torches and the faint shuffle of a guard near the door. Stepping away from the table, she ran a hand through her hair, the braids pinned for the dinner slightly loosened by hours of tension. A dull ache pulsed at the back of her skull, underscoring just how tired she was.
Gareth guided her to the corridor. "At least you can rest now. It's well past midnight."
She nodded gratefully, though rest felt like a fragile hope with so much swirling in her mind—Severin's cunning, her father's condition, the bandits' uncertain threat, the possibility of forging deeper ties with Imlera. But she'd done what she could for one day. Each step back toward her chambers felt heavier, until finally they stood before her door, the hallway almost deserted.
Rena paused, turning to Gareth. "Thank you again. You always seem to be here when I need support or clarity."
His expression softened. "It's my duty, and my choice. This kingdom needs you—needs your gifts and your compassion." He hesitated, then added quietly, "If there's anything you require—beyond rest—I'm at your service."
Moved by his sincerity, she felt a swell of gratitude, wishing, not for the first time, that court etiquette didn't hamper the warmth she wanted to express. "Your presence is enough, truly," she said. "Good night, Gareth."
With a final nod, she slipped inside. The room was dimly lit by a single candle. Shedding her formal shoes and cloak, she all but collapsed onto the chaise near her window. Days of healing, negotiations, and constant vigilance pressed down on her like an invisible weight. Yet, oddly enough, she sensed a flicker of pride. She had faced Severin in open debate and walked away with a compromise that favored prudence over oppression. Perhaps Aunt Sorren would remind her that a single victory didn't define the war, but it was a step.
She rose to extinguish the candle and prepared for bed, every movement slow and measured. Pulling aside the curtains, she took one last look at the moonlit courtyard. The fountain shimmered below, droplets catching the silvery glow. A fresh breeze wafted in, carrying the mild scent of nighttime blossoms. In that fleeting moment, she let her weary mind rest on the image of her father's half-smile earlier, the hush of the council chamber yielding to reason, and the possibility that forging alliances with Imlera and Drenvale might truly reshape Silverstrand's future for the better.
Tomorrow would bring fresh challenges—bandit reports, her father's fragile health, the ongoing dance with Severin—but she had learned enough in these past days to realize she could face them head-on. Quietly, she slipped under the covers, the bed's softness a balm to her drained body. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted into a slumber infused with cautious hope. Even if the path ahead was steep, tonight she had managed to steer the kingdom a little closer to justice and compassion, and that knowledge eased her into the gentle arms of sleep.