Rena awoke before the sun fully breached the castle walls, roused by a swirl of half-remembered dreams in which shadowy figures conspired through endless corridors. She lay there a moment, breath uneven, recalling that the conspiracy she'd uncovered in the old library wing was no dream at all—Lord Ryndel, Lady Cessine, and Lord Bemeth truly plotted to reshape Silverstrand's power structure, banking on King Darius's failing health. The details came rushing back: their plan for a secret alliance of discontented nobles, a two-week timeline to enlist new supporters, and the possibility of using Severin or overriding him. The weight of that knowledge settled on her chest like a physical burden.
She sat up in bed, noticing the first pale glimmers of dawn creeping around the edges of the thick drapes. How she longed for another hour of rest, but that was impossible now. Duty pressed in on her with urgent force: she had to share the news with Queen Maribel, strategize with Halene and Gareth, and prepare for a day of subtle action. Any misstep could alert the conspirators that they were being watched, driving them deeper underground. Or worse, prompting them to move their timetable forward. Throwing back the covers, Rena rose and quickly dressed in a dark green gown embroidered with silver threads. She pinned her hair into a simple coil at the base of her neck, choosing practicality over elaborate style. Let them see a princess who was ready for work, not idle vanity.
As she stepped into the corridor, her eyes still gritty with fatigue, she found Gareth posted near her door, arms crossed as though he'd been there for hours. The relief that flickered in his expression told her he'd worried she might oversleep, missing a crucial opportunity to act. He offered a slight bow, speaking in hushed tones out of habit. "Good morning, Princess. I assume we're heading straight to speak with the queen?"
Rena nodded. "Yes, we must. Is she in Father's chamber or her private receiving room?"
"Her private receiving room," Gareth said. "I heard she rose early to check on King Darius, then left the physicians tending him and slipped away. Halene joined her not long after dawn."
Rena's stomach twisted. No rest for any of us, she thought. Together, she and Gareth navigated the hallways, passing only a handful of bleary-eyed servants who curtsied or bowed. The hush in the castle at this early hour made every footstep echo. Rena wondered if the conspirators also stirred, anxious about the day's moves. She prayed they believed their midnight gathering had gone unnoticed—there was a chance they might feel too secure to mask their communications, which could help Rena's side intercept letters or overhear relevant tidbits. At the same time, she dreaded the possibility that Ryndel, Cessine, or Bemeth might suspect infiltration, driving them to accelerate. Time felt like a double-edged sword.
They reached Queen Maribel's receiving room, a modest chamber of warm tapestries and a tall window that admitted early morning light. A single attendant guarded the door; he bowed and admitted them without question, having been instructed by the queen to allow Rena and Gareth entry at any hour. Inside, Rena found Queen Maribel sitting in a carved wooden chair, back poised, hands folded in her lap. Halene stood beside her, a small pile of papers and scrolls arrayed on a low table. The queen's face had a drawn pallor, worry lines deepening around her eyes. Yet her gaze sharpened the instant Rena appeared.
"Child," the queen said softly, motioning Rena to a seat nearby. "Tell me everything. Halene caught me up on your infiltration. You heard quite the seditious conversation last night."
Rena dipped her head in acknowledgment and wasted no time, recounting the conspirators' words in detail. She described Ryndel's restless ambition, Cessine's caution about how to handle Severin, Bemeth's suggestion of a carefully timed push for a new council, and the mention of forging alliances with more lords across the realm. As she spoke, Queen Maribel's hands curled on the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening. Halene chimed in now and then to clarify how they might track the conspirators or intercept coded messages. Through it all, Gareth remained behind Rena's shoulder, silent yet steady, as though his presence alone bolstered her confidence.
When Rena finished, the queen shut her eyes a moment. "We face threats from all sides, it seems. The steward nurses his own schemes, these lesser lords gather under cover of night, and my husband remains ill, teetering on the edge. We must handle this carefully, or we risk outright revolt."
Rena's heart ached at the weariness in her mother's voice. "I know it's much, but we can't let them gather more strength. They said they'd meet again in two weeks, hoping to have five or more new lords sign on. That's our window to act."
Queen Maribel stood, smoothing her gown. "We'll begin by tightening surveillance—quietly. If we pounce too soon, they'll scatter like frightened birds. But if we wait too long, they might rally a dangerous faction. Halene, do we have loyal courtiers who can observe Ryndel, Cessine, and Bemeth without arousing suspicion?"
Halene nodded. "I believe so. Some minor functionaries, scribes, or even stablehands who are fiercely devoted to the monarchy. They can shadow movements, listen for talk of secret letters, and keep an ear to the ground for any unusual visitors. We'll have to orchestrate it carefully—too many watchers, and the conspirators notice. Too few, and we risk missing crucial developments."
Gareth spoke up then, his tone quiet but resolute. "Let me also suggest we approach the city guard's upper ranks discreetly. If the conspirators plan to use the guard's potential discontent as a wedge, we should reaffirm loyalty. Let them know the crown has heard their concerns about pay, equipment, and the bandit skirmishes. If the guard remains firmly with us, these rebels can't seize control so easily."
Queen Maribel considered that. "Yes, but do it carefully—some guards might be swayed by promises from Severin or lords offering more coin. We need to identify the guard captains we trust most, begin a subtle morale campaign."
The queen then turned to Rena, taking her hand. "My dear, your role is paramount. People look to you for hope, especially with your father so weak. Appear in public settings as you can—address small gatherings, speak kindly to servants, let them see a princess who is neither aloof nor frightened. Show them that the monarchy is not on the verge of collapse. It won't stop the conspirators outright, but it may stiffen the resolve of those still loyal."
A small tremor coursed through Rena. She recalled her constant healing attempts, her father's relapses, the negotiations with foreign envoys, the friction with the steward, and now this conspiracy. She feared buckling under the weight of so many responsibilities. Yet she inhaled, summoning a flicker of that unyielding determination she had felt the day she discovered her father's identity. "I'll do it," she said quietly, "whatever it takes."
The queen's eyes shone with gratitude. "We'll protect your father's kingdom together. Halene, arrange the watchers. Gareth, handle the city guard overture. Rena, start with a series of small acts—visit the stables, the kitchens, speak with staff who are loyal. Make your presence felt in hallways and courtyards. Keep healing your father as you can, but don't sacrifice yourself. If we lose you, all this unravels."
Hearing the queen's words, Rena felt both the warmth of her mother's love and the stark reality of her situation: everything hinged on her health and her ability to maintain composure in the face of adversity. Nodding, she rose from her seat. "Then let's not waste time. I'll begin at once, perhaps with a public stroll through the courtyard gardens. People tend to gather there in the morning. I'll make sure they see me confident and at ease."
Halene mustered a supportive smile. "Exactly. Even a smile or a greeting can spread reassurance. Meanwhile, I'll dispatch coded instructions to our watchers. We'll try to intercept any messages Ryndel, Cessine, and Bemeth send out of the castle."
Maribel stepped closer to Rena, embracing her gently. "Go, then. And if your father wakes, I'll pass along any news. Don't forget to eat, child—you look pale."
Rena allowed herself a small wry grin. "I'll try. After all, we can't have the princess fainting in public." She squeezed her mother's hand once more, then turned to Gareth, who dipped his head, ready to follow. Together, they left the receiving room, forging a new day's plan in the quiet corridors. All the while, the words of the conspirators reverberated in Rena's mind: "If the king dies or fails, we must seize the moment." She felt a protective fury at that callous assumption, renewing her vow to keep King Darius alive and safe from opportunists.
They first headed for the courtyard gardens, located at the very heart of Silverstrand's palace complex. The gardens sprawled around a grand fountain shaped like a crescent moon entwined with lilies—mirroring the kingdom's crest. Trimmed hedges and flowerbeds formed winding paths, and orchard trees offered patches of shade. Usually, one might find a handful of nobles enjoying the bloom, or servants passing through with supplies. Today, the sky remained overcast, though not quite as bleak as dawn. A few faint sunbeams broke through the cloud cover, illuminating spots of color among the flowers.
As Rena stepped onto the main path, a passing servant froze in mild surprise. Then he executed a hurried bow, muttering a polite greeting. She offered him a bright, warm smile, asking his name—Timaeus—and whether he found his duties manageable. He seemed startled by her personal interest but relaxed enough to admit that the new steward's taxes and rules had stretched the kitchen staff thin. Rena listened attentively, promising she'd see if the crown could lighten the load. This small moment felt like precisely the kind of reassurance her mother wanted her to provide: a visible sign that the princess cared about everyday burdens.
Word traveled fast. Within minutes, two more servants emerged from an adjoining corridor, bowing and smiling to greet her. An older maid approached, curtsying with trembling hands, telling Rena that she was praying day and night for King Darius's recovery. Rena thanked her, touched by the sincerity in her tearful eyes, and gently assured her that the king was fighting valiantly. The maid's face lit up with gratitude at this personal update. Rena could sense the tension in these staff members—uncertainty about the monarchy's future, fear of new hardships—but each friendly exchange seemed to chip away at worry, at least for a moment.
They continued along the garden's winding paths, stopping once so Rena could admire a cluster of moonflowers that had managed to bloom despite the season. This earned the attention of a guard patrolling the perimeter, who paused to bow. Rena asked if he had enough resources—armor, rations, anything that might be lacking. The guard hesitated, eventually confiding that shifts had grown longer since the bandit scare, and morale sometimes wavered, but he insisted they stood loyal to the king. Rena encouraged him, praising the guard's dedication. Gareth stood by, offering supportive nods, occasionally exchanging a quiet word with the guard about shifts and postings.
The courtyard stroll became a small hub of activity, more servants and a few low-ranking nobles drifting out once they heard Rena was in the gardens. She engaged them in short, genuine conversations, gleaning tidbits about daily life under the steward's watchful policies and bandit rumors. Though physically tired, Rena forced energy into her demeanor, standing upright, keeping her voice clear and confident. The warmth in the eyes of those she met suggested her efforts were effective: they saw a princess who wasn't cowed by adversity, who took interest in the smallest concerns. It might not quell the conspirators plotting behind locked doors, but it strengthened the monarchy's hold in the hearts of ordinary palace dwellers.
Yet as she continued speaking with a cluster of lesser courtiers near the fountain, Rena noticed a figure standing on the far edge of the courtyard, half obscured by a willow tree. The man wore a plain cloak, face partially turned away, though something about his posture or build struck her as familiar. Gareth, following her gaze, tensed slightly. The cloaked figure lingered a moment, then slipped behind the tree, vanishing from sight. Rena's pulse quickened. Could it be one of Ryndel's allies, scoping out her public display? Or perhaps a spy from the steward? She was tempted to pursue, but the moment was wrong—interrupting her friendly mingling to chase a shadow might create a scene. Instead, she memorized the figure's approximate height and gait. She would ask Halene's watchers if they had seen him.
After nearly an hour, she excused herself from the courtyard, politely telling those gathered that she had pressing affairs to address. Many bowed or curtsied, expressing relief that she was present in these uncertain times. Rena thanked them, aware that no grand pronouncement had been made but that her mere presence, listening ear, and gentle reassurances formed a small but vital shield against creeping rumors of monarchy collapse.
She and Gareth retreated back indoors, wending their way to a side corridor where they could speak more privately. The hush of the stone walls felt almost stifling after the bustle of the garden. Rena leaned against a pillar, letting out a shaky breath. "I hope it helped. They seemed… comforted, at least for now."
Gareth's gaze held a note of admiration. "It did, and it will. They'll talk, tell others the princess is active, concerned about daily hardships. That alone counters the notion that the monarchy is inert or on the verge of toppling."
Rena closed her eyes briefly, exhaustion threatening to seep through her limbs. She remembered how that cloaked figure in the courtyard had vanished. Could it be someone from the rebellion checking on her morale? Or a steward's spy cataloging her moves? She couldn't let paranoia overtake her, though. She had a kingdom to keep steady, and King Darius to protect.
She refocused, pushing away the pang of fatigue. "Let's find Halene. We should see if her watchers have turned up anything new, or if a suspicious courier tried to leave the castle. We might also discuss a direct approach to the guard captains, as you suggested."
Gareth agreed, falling into step beside her as they navigated the winding corridors once more. The palace's daily rhythm had begun in earnest: pages darted about delivering letters, minor officials huddled in corners discussing schedules, and the shuffle of cleaning staff came from behind half-open doors. Occasionally, Rena paused to greet someone or return a polite bow, continuing the impression of an accessible royal presence. She noticed that people generally brightened upon seeing her, no longer as hesitant as before. Word of her father's partial recoveries and her healing gift must have spread hope.
They found Halene in a small side chamber near the steward's administrative hall, quietly conversing with two scribes. At Rena's approach, Halene dismissed the scribes, then gestured Rena and Gareth into the room. She gave them an update in a hushed voice. "We've discreetly placed watchers near Ryndel, Cessine, and Bemeth's quarters. So far, no unusual visitors, but a servant claims Lady Cessine penned multiple letters in code this morning, presumably to be sent outside the castle. The courier has not yet left, so we might intercept him."
Rena's pulse quickened. "Yes, intercept. If we can decode those letters, we'll know who else she's recruiting. But keep it subtle—she mustn't suspect we've read them. We can let the courier go afterward, maybe with altered versions of the letters or an excuse for delay."
Halene nodded with a faint smile. "I'll handle that carefully. Also, Bemeth was spotted talking to a scribe near the library annex, possibly referencing old land records. That could just be personal business, but we'll keep an ear out. If he's planning to buy or sell influence, the land records might be his bargaining chip."
Gareth folded his arms. "Any sign of others who might be part of their circle? We overheard them mention enlisting more lords. No fresh arrivals, I assume?"
Halene shook her head. "Not yet. Some lesser barons are expected in the city next week, presumably to address the steward's new tax measures. That might coincide with the rebels' timeline. They could attempt to sway those barons, present them with half-truths about King Darius's condition."
Rena drew a measured breath, letting the sense of urgency ground her. "We have to stay one step ahead. Keep watchers on any barons who arrive early, see if they meet with Ryndel, Cessine, or Bemeth in secret. Meanwhile, we must continue building morale among the city guard. If they remain loyal, even a small rebellion can't seize the palace easily."
Halene agreed, scribbling notes on a parchment. "I'll coordinate with Gareth. We'll approach the guard captains discreetly, remind them the crown is addressing concerns and that you, Princess, have personally advocated for fair treatment. That should curb any infiltration attempts by the rebels or the steward's faction."
Rena glanced at Gareth, who gave an encouraging tilt of his head. She felt a surge of gratitude for their unwavering support, though a pang of frustration lingered at the swirling shadows around them. This was not a heroic duel of swords or a single grand confrontation; it was a slow war of attrition, fought with hidden letters, whispered alliances, and the fate of a sick king who, at any day, might slip too far to recover.
She turned her attention back to Halene. "Is there any news from Father's chamber? I want to see him soon, ensure the fever hasn't spiked again."
Halene softened. "I checked on him an hour ago. The fever remains subdued, thanks to your healing, but he's very tired. Queen Maribel said he fell back asleep. The physicians believe he needs absolute calm and minimal stress. She'll send a page if anything changes."
Rena's shoulders eased a fraction. "Good. Let's keep him resting. He can't face these constant political battles in his condition." A flicker of determination lit her eyes. "But I can. I'll carry on the monarchy's work until he's able."
She spent the rest of the morning cycling through small but impactful tasks: visiting the stables, where she spoke to the head groom about horse supplies and the morale of stablehands; dropping into the scribes' hall, asking questions about administrative tasks to show interest in the paperwork that underpinned kingdom governance; and taking a short walk through one of the palace's busier corridors, greeting minor officials by name whenever she could recall it. It felt almost theatrical, a staged performance of confidence, but the grateful expressions she saw in response assured her it was worth it. If Ryndel, Cessine, and Bemeth wanted to spread rumors of a crippled monarchy, she would present a living contradiction.
Around midday, she returned to her room for a quick meal. The castle's daily hustle had heated up: clattering dishes from the kitchens, pairs of guards rotating shifts, a mild flurry of visitors seeking audience with the steward or other administrators. Once inside her chamber, she noted with mild pleasure that a tray of warm broth, fresh bread, and sliced fruit awaited her, likely delivered by a thoughtful maid. She sank into a chair, removed her shoes to rub her aching feet, and ate in silence. Gareth hovered near the window, glancing outside at the courtyard below.
After a few bites, Rena asked softly, "Gareth, do you think this ploy will hold? Acting confident, traveling through the halls, greeting staff—it helps morale, but can we truly deter a conspiracy by smiling and playing nice?"
He turned, arms relaxed. "It's part of a larger strategy," he said. "Morale is crucial. If the conspirators can't sow panic or cynicism, they have less ground to stand on. Meanwhile, we gather evidence, intercept letters. We're not just relying on good optics. We're undermining their plan at both ends."
She let out a breath, inclining her head. "You're right. It's just that everything seems so precarious. Father's health could tip at any moment, Severin remains watchful, and now these rebels plan for a fortnight to rally more support. Sometimes I worry I'm just plugging holes in a sinking ship."
Gareth stepped forward, resting a light hand on her shoulder. "You're doing more than that, Rena. You're building a foundation for the realm—each day you stand firm, each vow you make to help these people, ensures they remember your leadership when crisis peaks. That's how you truly secure the monarchy."
Her cheeks warmed faintly at the sincerity in his voice. She mustered a small smile. "Thank you. Your confidence helps me more than you know."
Before either of them could say more, a soft knock sounded at the door. Rena called permission to enter, and the door opened to reveal a young page in palace livery. He bowed hurriedly. "Princess, Lady Halene requests your presence in her office again. She says the courier intercepted from Lady Cessine's quarters is ready for questioning."
Rena stood, heart leaping. So Halene had managed to intercept a letter or letters that might reveal the rebels' next moves. Exchanging a decisive glance with Gareth, she thanked the page and slipped back into her shoes. With a final gulp of water and a quick wipe of her mouth, she made her way out. The weight of the day's progress settled over her: she had upheld a public front, fostered morale, and now the intelligence side of their strategy beckoned. The conspirators might not realize that their coded letters risked betrayal.
Ten minutes later, Rena arrived at Halene's small office. The door was guarded by one of Halene's trusted knights, who stood aside at her approach. Inside, the cramped room felt particularly full: Halene sat behind the table with a parchment in hand, while a nervous-looking courier in simple traveling clothes stood by, shifting on his feet. Two of Halene's watchers flanked him. Gareth moved in behind Rena, crossing his arms with a watchful stance.
The courier, presumably Lady Cessine's messenger, looked petrified. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. Rena's heart softened a fraction—this man might be an unwitting pawn, or he might be complicit in the plot. Either way, she had to be firm. Halene beckoned Rena forward and quietly explained that they'd intercepted the courier at the stables, citing a "sudden inspection." Among his parcels, they found a small envelope sealed with Lady Cessine's crest. Halene had gently pried the seal open. It indeed contained coded writing.
Rena approached the table, gazing at the slip of parchment. The writing was a neat series of symbols and letters that made no immediate sense. She frowned, turning to Halene. "Have you deciphered any of it?"
Halene nodded. "We believe it's a substitution cipher of some sort. My watchers recognized certain letter frequencies. We've made partial progress, enough to guess it references meeting times and a mention of 'Baron Tyem' from the south." She tapped the parchment. "If we can fully decode it, we might confirm Lady Cessine's attempt to bring Baron Tyem into the conspiracy. That'd be a direct link to their recruitment drive."
Rena eyed the courier, who stared at the floor. "Does he know the letter's contents?"
Halene's watchers shook their heads. "He claims ignorance—that Lady Cessine simply instructed him to deliver it to a contact near the southern border. We haven't pressed too hard yet, lest we spook him or force him to lie. We wanted your direction, Princess."
Rena turned her attention to the courier, stepping closer. "What's your name?"
"M-Markis, Your Highness," he stammered, bowing so low his hair nearly brushed the floor.
Rena softened her tone. "Markis, did Lady Cessine explicitly mention anything about secrecy or concealment regarding these letters?"
He swallowed hard. "She… told me not to open them on pain of dismissal, or worse. Said they were private matters of estate business, nothing more."
Rena studied his expression. "And you believe that? Or do you suspect something more?"
His eyes flicked up, brimming with anxiety. "I've delivered messages for her before, mostly normal correspondences. But these last ones… she seemed nervous, checking if I was followed. I truly don't know the details, I swear."
Rena exchanged a look with Halene. It seemed plausible Markis was just a courier caught in the middle. She decided a softer approach might yield cooperation. "Markis, we're not accusing you of wrongdoing if you're simply carrying letters as instructed. But these letters concern urgent matters. If we allow you to proceed as if nothing happened, do you think Lady Cessine's contact would suspect anything amiss?"
He trembled, uncertain. "They might not. I… I usually hand letters off to a stable near the border, to a man who's arranged a horse for me. He's never questioned me, just took the letters. I know not his name or purpose."
Halene broke in. "Perhaps we should let him deliver the letter—after we decode and reseal it—so Lady Cessine believes all is normal. Meanwhile, we keep track of that stable contact if possible."
Rena weighed the risk. If they replaced the letter with a doctored version, the conspirators might glean false information. But that could also tip them off if they spot a flaw in the seal or an inconsistency in the text. Alternatively, they could insert a subtle clue that might lead watchers to bigger links in the conspiracy. She inhaled, feeling Gareth's calm presence behind her. "Yes," she decided, "do that. Let's decode it fully, re-seal it carefully, and Markis can deliver it as usual. We'll see if we can track the chain of recipients."
Halene nodded, grateful for the clear directive. "We'll keep him here until the letter is decoded, so he can't inadvertently signal Lady Cessine. Once we're satisfied, he can go. With any luck, we intercept more messages."
Rena returned her gaze to Markis. "Cooperate with Lady Halene's watchers. We don't wish you harm. But if you attempt to warn Lady Cessine, you'll face the crown's penalty. Do you understand?"
He bowed, voice trembling. "Yes, Princess, I understand."
She stepped back, letting Halene handle the specifics. Gareth lingered, ensuring the watchers maintained a respectful but firm posture. Rena's mind raced with the possibilities: If this letter pinned down more details of the conspirators' plan or named specific allies, they'd have a major step forward. The rebels had thought they could freely message each other without detection, an error that might cost them dearly. And if the letter contained references to Severin, or instructions on how to manipulate him, that too could be explosive.
She turned to Gareth, lowering her voice. "Let's allow Halene and her watchers to finalize the decoding. Meanwhile, we can quietly check on the city guard matter, as we planned. If the conspirators want to challenge or bypass the monarchy, they'll need to undermine the guard's loyalty."
He gave a crisp nod, then a fleeting smile. "Lead the way, Princess. We'll speak to the guard captains we trust."
Leaving Halene's office, they retraced their steps through the castle, heading toward the guard barracks annex. The day felt as though it had barely started, yet Rena had already played the part of reassuring figure in the courtyard, supervised an intercepted letter, and mulled over the conspirators' next moves. Her shoulders ached, her head pounded faintly, but she pressed on, fueling herself with the knowledge that every moment counted. If the rebels discovered even one slip, the precarious calm might shatter.
As they neared the barracks, the hum of clanking armor and the occasional barked order drifted through the corridor. A pair of guards on duty saluted Rena, plainly surprised by her visit—rarely did a princess walk into the guard annex unannounced. She offered a reassuring nod and asked if Captain Darnell was available. The guard leading them nodded, stepping aside. Darnell was a capable officer known for his no-nonsense approach to security and his reputed loyalty to King Darius. If anyone could help reassure the ranks, it would be him.
They found the captain in a small office near the barracks' main hall, hunched over a desk stacked with duty rosters. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a few silver threads in his close-cropped hair, he stood at once upon seeing Rena. "Your Highness," he said, bowing stiffly. "I'm… surprised to see you here. Is everything all right?"
Rena gave a polite, measured smile. "All is as well as can be, Captain. I wanted to check on the city guard's morale. There have been bandit skirmishes, new tax policies, and I know the steward has demanded more frequent patrols. I want to ensure the guard receives the support it needs."
Captain Darnell's stern features softened just a touch. "We're managing, Princess, but it's been trying—long shifts, plus confusion about the crown's long-term plan if the king's health continues to waver. Men talk, and rumors fly. If I'm honest, there's some anxiety about the steward's intentions."
Rena dipped her head. "That's exactly what I hoped to address. The king, though ill, remains committed to the guard's well-being. I personally vow we'll keep the lines of communication open. If your soldiers feel overlooked or pressured by certain lords or the steward's new taxes, I want to hear about it."
Gareth stepped in. "Princess Rena saved a man's life in front of the foreign envoys, and she continues to stand by King Darius. The monarchy does not take the guard for granted. We aim for stability and fairness. We want your men to know that no hidden agenda threatens them."
Captain Darnell's gaze flicked between Rena and Gareth. "I appreciate this. Truly, it helps quell doubts. Some of the younger recruits worry the crown might collapse if the king can't recover. They fear the steward might impose harsher measures or punish them for perceived disloyalty if they protest. A direct word from you, Princess, will reassure them."
Rena's chest warmed slightly. "Then let's do it. Gather a handful of your key lieutenants, those who spread word among the ranks. I'll speak with them briefly. The guard must know the monarchy is not crumbling, nor are we blind to their efforts."
His expression brightened, and he bowed again, quickly stepping out to summon a few officers. Rena leaned against the desk with a soft exhale, letting Gareth's presence steady her. Each conversation, each promise might be a small stitch, sewing up the tears in the kingdom's social fabric. If the rebels came forth in two weeks claiming the monarchy was faltering, they'd face a guard loyal to Rena's public stance. The conspirators might also attempt bribery or manipulation, so ensuring the guard's morale was strong would be crucial.
Within minutes, four lieutenants entered—a mix of seasoned and newer faces, each bowing upon seeing the princess. Rena greeted them by name if she knew it; otherwise, she asked them to introduce themselves, mindful to show respect for their role. She could sense their curiosity: a princess personally visiting them, talking about guard morale. She recognized a flicker of skepticism in one younger officer's eyes, the same doubt she saw mirrored in the staff around the palace. They'd only known the monarchy through distant edicts or glimpses of King Darius's weakened appearances. She intended to change that.
They formed a small circle around the battered wooden desk. Rena spoke to them earnestly, her voice quiet enough to maintain a sense of intimacy but firm enough to convey confidence. She thanked them for their vigilance amid the bandit threat, acknowledging how stressful it must be to manage rising patrol demands. Then she addressed the swirling rumors about King Darius, explaining in gentle phrases that while his condition was grave, he was not abandoned or without hope. She herself used her healing gift to keep his condition stable, and the entire monarchy was united in preserving peace until he recovered.
She noticed, with a mixture of relief and sorrow, how the officers drew in closer, hanging on her words. They wanted to believe that the kingdom wasn't teetering on the brink of a steward's coup or a wave of rebellious lords. When she promised that the crown would not impose further burdens on the guard without exploring real solutions, they exchanged heartened glances. This was exactly the reassurance Halene and Gareth had told her to give.
One lieutenant with graying temples cleared his throat. "Princess, many of us have served under King Darius for years. We've always admired his fairness. If the steward tries to push harsh new policies or if some lords attempt to seize power, you'll have our loyalty if you stand for the same principles."
Rena smiled, a flutter of hope displacing her fatigue. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I stand for fairness, compassion, and the stability of this realm. My father taught me that a kingdom is its people, not just its ruler."
They spent a few more minutes exchanging thoughts on readiness, supply shortages, and the possibility of further bandit trouble. Eventually, Rena excused herself, graciously bowing to them in a gesture of mutual respect. The officers saluted her, a spark of renewed confidence flickering across their features. Once she and Gareth stepped back into the corridor, the sounds of everyday guard life receded behind the closing door.
"That went well," Gareth murmured, relief tempered by the knowledge that they faced a long battle. "These small steps all accumulate. By the time the rebels make their move, the guard might be fully aligned with us."
Rena walked slowly, her limbs heavy from the mental strain. "One can hope. And by then, we may have enough proof to unmask Ryndel, Cessine, and Bemeth, plus whoever else they recruit. If we do this carefully, we can bring them to justice without sowing chaos across the realm."
She pictured again the conspirators meeting by lamplight, so certain the monarchy would collapse. No—she would not let that happen. She might be young, her father might be ill, but the monarchy lived through the will and faith of its people, and she intended to nurture that faith until King Darius could regain his throne with undisputed authority.
As they headed back toward Halene's domain, the overhead light dimmed slightly, a sign that clouds outside might be gathering thicker. The image felt apt: storms threatened, but storms could be weathered. Rena pressed forward, heartbeats steadying, for she was no longer an orphaned herbalist cowering from courtly intrigue. She had chosen to wield her gifts—both healing and compassion—to shield Silverstrand. And she would see it through, conspirators and whispers be damned, until the dawn of a more certain future broke over the kingdom.