The cobblestone streets of Arlen stirred with excitement and gossip as the news spread like wildfire. The princess—Elara—had announced her intention to compete in the Trial of Sovereigns.
From bustling markets to quiet alleyways, people gathered in groups, their voices blending into a lively hum.
"Did you hear? The princess is taking the trial!" an elderly baker exclaimed to his apprentice as she kneaded dough.
"A woman, vying for the throne? This is unheard of!" the apprentice replied, wide-eyed.
A burly blacksmith, wiping soot from his brow, chuckled from the neighboring stall. "Unheard of, maybe, but the princess has grit. I saw her at the festival last year, shooting arrows better than most men!"
In a quieter corner of the city, a group of children played a mock trial, one of them imitating Elara by donning a makeshift crown. "I'll be the princess!" the little girl declared, raising a stick like a scepter.
"You can't!" a boy protested. "Princesses don't become rulers!"
"Says who?" the girl shot back, puffing her chest.
Meanwhile, a couple of elderly women sat by a fountain, embroidering as they exchanged rumors.
"I heard she's doing it to prove herself to the king," one murmured.
"Or maybe she's trying to win over the court," the other added. "But if she wins... it might change everything."
Elara had overheard the growing whispers and decided to step out of the palace for the first time in weeks. Dressed in simple, unassuming attire, she walked the streets accompanied by Caelum, who insisted on joining her despite his limp.
"You'll be recognized," he warned as they moved through the lively market square.
"That's the point," she replied, her eyes scanning the vibrant stalls and throngs of people. "I need to know how they see me."
As they passed a group of merchants, one of them noticed her and gasped. "Your Highness!"
Elara turned, offering a polite nod. The merchant dropped into a bow, followed by the others. "It's an honor," he said, voice trembling slightly.
"No need for formality," Elara replied with a warm smile. "How is business today?"
The merchant hesitated, then relaxed slightly. "Not too bad, though taxes have been biting harder these days."
Elara frowned. "I'll bring it up with the council."
"Thank you, Your Highness," the merchant said, beaming.
Further down the street, Caelum suddenly stopped at a stand selling roasted chestnuts. He handed a coin to the vendor, who enthusiastically packed a small bag.
"You can't resist, can you?" Elara teased as he offered her a handful.
"They're the best in Arlen," Caelum replied with mock seriousness.
As they walked on, a pair of children ran up to Elara, one of them holding out a wildflower. "For the princess!" the little girl said shyly.
Elara crouched to accept it, her heart warming. "Thank you. What's your name?"
"Lina," the girl replied, clutching her brother's hand.
"Well, Lina, this is the most beautiful flower I've ever received," Elara said, tucking it into her hair.
Caelum watched silently, his gaze softening. "They adore you," he murmured as they continued walking.
"Then I must do right by them," Elara said firmly.
That evening, back at the palace, the court was abuzz as the king's advisor, Lord Rennick, took the floor.
"The time has come to prepare for the Trial of Sovereigns," Rennick announced, his voice echoing in the great hall. "In three days, the date for the trial will be officially declared."
The nobles murmured amongst themselves, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation.
Elara stood near the back of the hall, her expression unreadable. Caelum stood beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance.
"It begins soon," she said softly.
"Are you ready?" Caelum asked.
Her gaze hardened with determination. "I will be."
The court was abuzz with anticipation. Nobles whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances across the gilded chamber. The Trial of Sovereigns—a contest that had not been invoked for decades—was finally coming into focus.
Elara sat at the edge of the royal dais, her expression calm but her thoughts swirling. Across the room, her eldest brother, Crown Prince Alaric, stood in quiet conversation with Lord Rennick, his face a mask of composure.
"Do you see how they huddle like crows?" a voice murmured beside her.
Elara turned to find her second brother, Dorian, leaning casually against a marble pillar. His dark hair framed his sharp, mischievous features.
"What do you want, Dorian?" she asked, her tone wary.
"To remind you that this trial is a game of shadows as much as it is of strength," he replied, his voice low. "You've made quite the declaration, sister. The question is: do you truly understand what you're up against?"
Elara met his gaze, her jaw tightening. "I understand more than you think."
Dorian chuckled, pushing off the pillar. "We'll see. Just remember: the court isn't as forgiving as the common folk."
While the palace buzzed with intrigue, the streets of Arlen were alive with debate. In the bustling marketplace, groups of townsfolk gathered to share their thoughts on the princess's bold move.
"She's brave, I'll give her that," said a merchant, polishing a brass candlestick.
"A woman? Competing for the throne?" scoffed a burly dockworker. "The nobles will eat her alive."
"You underestimate her," chimed in an elderly woman selling herbs. "I saw her at the winter festival last year. She's got fire in her."
Further away, a bard strummed his lute, singing a ballad about a princess who defied all odds to claim her destiny. A small crowd gathered, their faces alight with admiration and curiosity.
Among them was a cloaked figure with a pronounced limp—Caelum. He watched the crowd's reaction with a quiet intensity, his hand tightening on the walking stick he now carried.
"Do you think she'll succeed?" a young boy asked, tugging on Caelum's sleeve.
The former knight glanced down, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated before answering, "She's stronger than she looks."
Later that evening, the royal family convened for a formal dinner. The long table was laden with roasted meats, steaming vegetables, and spiced wines, but the atmosphere was anything but appetizing.
Elara sat across from her brothers, her father at the head of the table. King Edric was a towering figure, his presence commanding even in silence.
"Your Highness," Alaric began, his voice smooth and measured, "have you truly considered the consequences of this trial?"
"I have," Elara replied evenly, her hands resting on the table.
"And what do you hope to achieve?" he pressed.
"To prove that I am capable of ruling," she said.
Alaric's lips curved into a faint smile. "Ruling is more than strength, sister. It is strategy, alliances... sacrifice."
"I'm aware," Elara said, her tone sharp.
"Enough," King Edric interrupted, his deep voice silencing the table. "The trial has been invoked, and it will proceed. This family will not squabble in front of the court."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery.
Later that night, Elara stood on the balcony of her chambers, gazing out at the city bathed in moonlight. The hum of distant voices carried on the wind—a reminder of the people who believed in her, and those who didn't.
Caelum approached quietly, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
She turned slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No. Too much on my mind."
He joined her at the railing, his gaze distant. "They're talking about you out there. Some are betting you'll succeed."
"And the others?"
"They're betting you'll fail," he said bluntly.
Elara laughed softly. "I suppose that's fair."
Caelum hesitated before speaking again. "You don't have to do this, you know. The throne... it's not worth losing yourself over."
She turned to him fully, her expression fierce. "I'm not doing this for the throne, Caelum. I'm doing it because I believe in a kingdom where people like you aren't cast aside."
His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn't meet her gaze.
"You're stubborn," he muttered.
"And you're worth it," she replied softly.
The next morning, the palace courtyard was filled with nobles, knights, and commoners alike. Trumpets blared as Lord Rennick stepped forward, holding a scroll.
"By decree of His Majesty, King Edric, the Trial of Sovereigns shall begin in two weeks' time," Rennick declared, his voice ringing out over the crowd.
The air buzzed with excitement and tension as the gathered crowd erupted into murmurs.
Elara stood at the edge of the dais, her chin held high. The countdown had begun, and there was no turning back now.