The news of the king being wounded had spread quickly in just a day.
By the time it reached the palace gates, the sun had already begun to set. Everyone was in panic. Even the nobles looked uneasy and were muttering among themselves as they took their seats around the council table.
Princess Nyella entered quietly. She walked to the head of the table where her father used to sit. Her hand trembled slightly as she rested it on the polished armrest. For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, finally, her voice broke the silence.
"You must have all heard by now. Our King, my father, was wounded in battle."
Everyone in the room murmured. She continued.
"The first wave of the battle was victorious. But then, with an unfortunate ambush, my father was struck. He is alive, but he’s still being attended to. The soldiers who saw him fall... are being discouraged. And the number of deserters is growing by the hour."
Lord Vanýr rose first.
"It is a tragedy indeed, Your Highness," he said. "But this is no time for mourning. We must act immediately. If word spreads that the King is incapacitated, we will lose this war before the next horn is blown."
Nyella looked up at him. "And what would you have me do?"
"An order should be given," Lord Vanýr said firmly. "Every deserter must be executed on sight. That will stop the others from running."
Nyella’s eyes widened. "You want me to kill our own people? People who are only afraid? You think fear should be punished with death?"
"They are not simply afraid," Vanýr replied back. "They are cowards abandoning their duty. If we allow one to run today, ten will run tomorrow. And soon, Princess, you’ll be standing alone on the battlefield with the crown in your hand and no one to defend it."
The room went quiet. Everyone felt what he had said, it made sense.
Nyella shook her head. "I will not give such an order."
But then another voice rose, this time, it was Lady Breya Voltren.
"My Princess," she said, "You know I stand with you. But perhaps... Lord Vanýr is right. Sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones that must be made. We cannot win a war with sympathy. The soldiers need to feel the presence of the crown, not only its kindness, but its strength."
Nyella looked around the room. "So that’s what you all want? You want to rule through fear? Threaten our own soldiers into obedience?"
"They need to believe," Lady Breya said softly. "And right now, their belief is crumbling."
The tension was unbearable. Then Nyella stepped forward.
"I’ll go," she said.
Everyone turned and fixed their eyes on her.
"What?"
Nyella continued. "If the soldiers are losing faith, then I will give them something to believe in. I will ride to the front lines myself."
The room exploded.
"You will do no such thing!" someone shouted.
"Out of the question!"
"Reckless!"
"Princess, please think..."
Nyella raised her hand, silencing them.
"I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you. I will lead them. I’ll show them that their princess is not afraid. I’ll show them that even if the King cannot rise, the royal house still stands with them."
"You’re putting yourself in danger!" Lady Breya said. "The King is already wounded. If anything happens to you... The throne will fall. The kingdom will be exposed. Don’t you understand what you’re risking?"
Nyella looked at her, and for the first time, her voice trembled. "I do. I know exactly what I’m risking. But I also know what I’m fighting for."
"We have no other option," she said firmly, though she was trembling with the weight of her decision. "I have to go. The Sandborns outnumber us. If our soldiers don’t see someone from the royal family standing with them, they’ll give up. And if they give up... we lose everything."
Heads turned as Lord Daryn came forward and spoke for the first time. "Then we need to change the game. If we can’t outmatch the Sandborns with skill, we’ll do it with numbers. Let’s begin recruiting personal troops, guards, and every able-bodied man from the villages. We’ll call on the entire kingdom to stand together. That alone could triple our army."
He turned to the princess. "The sight of you leading commoners and soldiers side by side? That would shake even the Sandborns."
Lord Vanýr quickly nodded in agreement. "Exactly. If you lead the people, the army, and the villagers, they will rally behind you. The King may be wounded, but you’re still here. And that counts."
But Nyella stood still.
"No," she said. "I can’t. I can’t stand to see my people, ordinary commoners, whom the laws didn’t allow to wield a sword, go into the battleground with no experience. No, I can’t do that. I... I can’t be the one who sends them to die."
"Your Highness," Lady Breya said, her voice soft but firm. "If we don’t act now, we will all die. Even those very same villagers you want to protect. There’s no such thing as safety anymore, not in times like these. You either fight for your life... or lose it."
Nyella looked down at her trembling hands. She knew they were right, even though every part of her wanted to go against it but she had no choice. After a while, she whispered, "Send the order."
The council bowed their heads. The decision was made.
Later that evening, Princess Nyella rode out alone. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Her guards tried to follow, but she refused them.
She rode straight to Varnmoor.
As she reached the edge of the village, a loud noise met her ears. She heard people crying, shouting, and screaming.
She urged her horse faster.
In the center of the village, chaos had broken out. Soldiers were grabbing boys, young ones, barely fifteen, and tying their hands. Some were already dragging them toward wagons. A few villagers tried to resist, only to be shoved to the ground. Mothers cried. Fathers stood helplessly. And there, right in the middle of it all, were Aeron and Ronan.
Nyella couldn’t believe her eyes. She jumped down from her horse and pushed through the crowd.
"Stop this!" she shouted.
Everyone froze. Soldiers turned to face her. "Your Highness!" one of them stuttered. "We were given orders..."
"And I am giving you a new one!" she barked "Release them. Now."
The soldier looked at his comrades. "But... Princess, we were told to gather fighters..."
"I said release them!" she snapped. "Or would you rather explain to the court why you disobeyed a direct command from your future Queen?"
The soldiers hesitated no more. They let go of Aeron, Ronan, and the others. Some backed away. Others bowed deeply.
Aeron was shocked at what he had seen and heard. He couldn’t believe it. "My princess," they called her.