Elara
The day the armor was finished, the entire castle seemed to be suspended in anticipation. I had worked tirelessly, my hands sometimes trembling under the weight of the task's importance. The armor was magnificent. A blend of polished metal and finely crafted details, adorned with symbolic patterns representing the greatness of the kingdom. The shoulder pieces were reinforced with sculpted griffin shapes, mythical and majestic creatures, symbols of the kingdom's protection. Elegant lines ran across the cuirass, drawing arabesques that evoked nobility and resilience. On the breastplate, I had engraved an ancient quote: "In war, honor is not only in victory, but in the courage to face the impossible."
When the king arrived to try it on, a heavy silence fell in the room. He approached the armor, looking at it with an approving gaze. A shiver ran down my spine when he placed his hand on the metal. It seemed to already change under the influence of this work I had shaped. The king's heaviness, his tyrannical nature, seemed to dissipate, as if the armor was not only a symbol of strength but also a catalyst for personal transformation.
"You've succeeded," he finally said, his voice touched. "It is more beautiful than anything I had imagined."
I lowered my gaze, a discreet smile forming on my lips. "It is you who inspired me, Sire. You showed me what this armor needed to signify."
He looked at me for a moment, a spark in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. He seemed to want to say something more but refrained. Then he turned toward the advisors waiting in the room. "Let the preparation begin. War awaits us. We must face the enemy, and nothing can divert us from this goal."
The advisors hurried to leave, taking orders and papers with them. The king headed for the exit, but before leaving the room, he turned toward me one last time.
"Thank you, Elara. You've done more than create armor. You've reminded me of what I defend. Perhaps it is still time to make amends..."
These words left me thoughtful. I knew the king, despite his harshness, was a man haunted by his past choices, by the lives he had destroyed. I wondered if the redemption he sought was truly possible, if I could really help him regain some humanity amid the demands of power and war.
The next day, the king left for the front, taking with him not only the armor I had forged but also a silent secret between us, an intangible bond that seemed to have woven itself through our exchanges. He left me behind, at the castle, with the hope that the war would be brief and that he would return a changed man, perhaps even a man capable of finding peace. But deep down, I knew that war was rarely short, and that the king would face choices that would change him forever.
I found myself both relieved and worried. My role in this kingdom was changing, but was I ready to face the consequences? My fate was now tied to the king's, and every decision he made would echo in my own life.
Days passed in a whirlwind of tension. Messages came from the front, increasingly urgent, increasingly alarming. The battles were fierce. Duke Darven, with his large army, resisted fiercely, and losses were heavy on both sides. The messages spoke not only of victories or defeats but of the human suffering unfolding, the violence and war that destroyed everything in its path.
A month passed before I received a particular messenger. Instead of bringing news of battle, he carried a letter sealed by the king himself. My heart tightened upon seeing it. I broke the seal and unfolded the letter, my hands trembling.
"Elara," the letter began, "The fighting rages on, and I find myself caught in a struggle greater than I had imagined. Each day, I see the faces of the men I command, men who fight for me. But one question haunts me, Elara. Who am I to lead them? What am I beyond this throne I have carried for so long? Sometimes, I doubt that I can be the king this kingdom deserves."
I read and reread these words, my heart aching. I knew the king was on the edge.