The encounter with Isolde and the subtle, measured probing from Caius that followed only solidified Lyra's conviction. Whether ancient or modern, the world ran on the same cold principles: power, resources and influence. Her family viewed her as a burden in the modern world, a stain on their lineage just like how Lyra had been treated inside the palace walls. There's no difference but let them, she would forge her own path and perhaps, in doing so, salvage this pitiful self from its sadness.
The knights were her first chess pieces, now armed, slightly emboldened and showing signs of promising loyalty but tools were only useful if you had something to build with.
The next step was clear: resources.
For days, Lyra hid in the quiet, forgotten parts of the palace library. She ran her fingers over dusty scrolls, old ledgers, and ancient maps while sunlight filtered through tall, narrow windows. Occasionally, the quiet was broken by the soft rustle of footsteps, Marta who would arrive with a tray of snacks and a worried glance. Lyra would nod absently in thanks, barely looking up while her attention drawn instead to ink-faded annotations and crumbling parchment.
"You have to at least take a break, my lady,"
"I'm fine, Marta. You can go back now…"
She returned to the same weathered map she had studied some nights ago, the one with the strange mark etched deep into the eastern mountains. Her fingers hovered over it, tracing the faded ink and that night, she could've sworn she saw a faint shimmer ripple across its surface, subtle and fleeting as though the parchment had pulsed with something ancient and alive.
She hadn't imagined it. She knew the feel of magic when it brushed past her senses, however faint. But no matter how long she studied the lines now, the shimmer never returned. Still, it gnawed at her, a silent pull, beckoning her back to that forgotten place marked only as Ironfall.
She cross-referenced it obsessively, consulting land deeds, mining records and even old folklore. Ironfall had once been a prosperous mining site, abandoned centuries ago after a rockfall, a plague and a waning interest from her ancestors. But the records hinted a rich, untapped ore veins that's still lying dormant beneath the stone.
Her modern mind trained in feasibility, logistics and risk management saw not curses or ghosts but opportunity.
"Hmm, I don't mind encountering ghosts since I can probably use divinity," she murmured, tapping her chin thoughtfully with the quill in her hand. "Still, it'll be troublesome if I go alone…"
She paused, then added, "I should probably ask the emperor for permission," before shaking her head.
The palace needed steel not only to reforge its decaying defense but to command the respect of those who had long since dismissed it. A self-sufficient supply of iron could transform everything from renovation of the palace to its economy.
"Should I ask, Martha? Or maybe that knight Kael?"
One crisp morning, Lyra summoned Kael. He arrived promptly, posture straighter and uniform clean. Then he bowed not a casual gesture now but one laced with respect.
"My lady, you called for me?"
Lyra sat at a wide oak table where a detailed map of the eastern mountains spread before her. Fingers lightly pressed to the parchment as she traced the faded markings with quiet purpose. "Sir Kael, I've been reviewing the old records. This location, Ironfall, it once produced rare ore of considerable value."
Kael leaned in, his brow furrowing. "My lady, you may address me more comfortably," he said, then added with a cautious tone, "But Ironfall has been abandoned for decades. The terrain is unforgiving, and the locals whisper of curses. Few who went there did not return."
"Superstition? Or something more tangible?"
"A bit of both, my lady," he admitted, his tone careful. "The paths are treacherous especially as winter deepens. There are stories where whispers of creatures in the woods, travelers vanishing without a trace but more than anything, it's fear that's been passed down, embroidered into legend over the years."
Lyra nodded. "I believe the ore is still there. Enough to supply the palace and perhaps more. I intend to send an expedition to confirm the site and assess its feasibility."
Kael was stunned. "My lady… such a task would be dangerous. It would need seasoned men, preparations and time. His Majesty would never approve such a venture."
"You don't have to worry about that," Lyra replied evenly. "I will fund it, but I require your best men, those who are discreet, loyal and competent and I want you to lead them."
He hesitated, then slowly bowed, deeper this time. "As my lady commands. We'll begin preparations immediately."
As he turned to leave, Lyra spoke again. "You will not go alone. I will accompany you. But first, I have to seek His Majesty's official sanction for my presence."
Kael turned, visibly startled. "My lady, that is unthinkable! The dangers—"
"All the more reason I must see it firsthand. My presence will give weight to the expedition and I need to understand what we're dealing with. Go and prepare what I asked you, we will leave as early as possible."
"It's not like I have something to do in here…" Lyra added without giving a glance to Kael who's now even more flustered than before upon hearing her.
Kael opened his mouth to protest but the unwavering resolve in her gaze silenced him. "Very well. I will arrange an audience immediately, my lady. Then, please excuse me." He gave a respectful bow and turned to leave. As he stepped into the hallway, he passed several maids burdened with laundry while his thoughts still lingering on Lyra. The formality of her words echoed in his mind—"His Majesty" instead of "Father." She used to say it with such warmth. Now, it was distant and cold. Something in her had shifted and Kael, though loyal, couldn't help but wonder what else had changed.
The following afternoon, Lyra stood in His Majesty's study, flanked by Marta who's tense and wide-eyed, and Kael who looked as grim as ever.
"I'm told you have an unusual request," the emperor said, barely looking up from his scrolls.
Lyra stepped forward with her voice clear and composed, exuded quiet authority. "Your Majesty, I request your permission to accompany Kael on an expedition to Ironfall. A week is all I need."
The emperor's hand froze mid-air, goblet forgotten. "You wish to go? You? A child? Into the mountains?"
Before him stood Lyra, composed in a deep forest green gown, simple in design but finely tailored to fit her slender frame. The high collar and long sleeves gave her a modest, almost austere appearance, but the braided sash at her waist hinted at quiet determination.
"Yes, Your Majesty. It is essential to check the conditions myself."
There was a long pause.
His gaze locked onto her, no longer bored but sharp, almost unsettled. The girl he had once dismissed now stood before him like a resolute officer delivering a report and it shook him more than he cared to admit.
"Do you even understand what lies in Ironfall? Return to your palace and I'll pretend I didn't hear anything that foolish."
"I will still go," Lyra said, her voice steady and unwavering, "even if you forbid me, Your Majesty." Her fearless gaze struck Martha so hard she nearly crumpled to the floor.
Even Elms, the emperor's trusted right hand, blinked in surprise, his eyes flickering between Lyra and the emperor.
"Is that so? You would defy me?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a cold formality that cut deeper than any affection ever could. The fact she avoided the word 'Father' left a hollow ache twisting inside him, a painful reminder of the distance growing between them.
At last, he sighed. "Very well. You have my sanction. But you—" his gaze shifted to Kael, who stood with the disciplined poise of a seasoned knight, "—are fully responsible for her safety. Go now. I have matters of attend."
As they turned to leave, Elms, the emperor's aide, stepped forward with his tight expression. "Your Majesty, might I suggest more guards, an experienced scout perhaps—"
"She has my sanction, Elms," the emperor said, waving him off.
But Elms did not forget that's why that evening, he approached a hooded figure waiting in the shadows of the barracks, the palace's chief scout. "Follow them and remain unseen. Protect her if needed and make sure to report only to me."
The scout nodded and vanished.
By morning, the palace buzzed with whispers.
"The little lady is leaving?"
"To Ironfall? That cursed place?"
"I heard she requested the expedition herself."
"They say she marched straight to His Majesty with the map in hand, bold as ever."
"The emperor approved it?"
In the East Wing, maids stopped sweeping and whispered behind shiny doors. "Isn't Ironfall abandoned after the collapse? Why would she go there?"
"And I heard it's now a nest of monsters."
"What can a small girl like her do?"
In the West Wing where foreign envoys often lingered, one of the stewards muttered, "Lady Lyra always was peculiar… but this? This is something else entirely."
"She's been reading those old ledgers again," came the knowing voice of a senior scribe in the North Wing's archives. "If she's found something buried there, it might not be folly."
Meanwhile, in the kitchens nestled deep in the South Wing, a cook stirred stew with an absent gaze. "She always was quiet after her return. But this, leaving the palace in winter? That takes fire."
Some spoke with skepticism and others with reluctant admiration. And still others, behind closed doors, with unease.
"She's either mad… or planning something bigger than we can see."
Throughout every corner of the palace—servants, scribes, nobles and knights alike—one thing was clear: Lyra Crestwood was no longer the quiet shadow she once was.
No longer did she spend her mornings visiting the emperor, entertaining the two princes or sharing playful moments with the youngest princess, where she had always been ignored. Instead, her focus had shifted to something far more important, something that could genuinely benefit the palace itself.
She was moving. And the empire, whether it realized it or not, had begun to shift around her.
Marta's fingers twitched as she adjusted Lyra's cloak one final time. Though she tried to mask it, unease shadowed her every movement. She was deeply unsettled by the thought of Lyra traveling with a servant she barely knew, an older girl, nearly eight years her senior, assigned to assist on the road. Still, duty bound her to the palace. Someone had to remain behind to keep watch in Lyra's absence.
"Please take care of yourself, my lady," Marta said worriedly.
"I will," Lyra replied calmly as she looked at the carriages.
"Please take care of Her Highness, Lina. I'm counting on you, okay?" Marta added, tapping Lyra's shoulder while Lina just gave a smile and nodded.
Then the gates creaked open. Lyra and Lina stepped into the carriage, politely refusing Kael's offered hand yet he said nothing and pulled back his hand, frowning slightly before mounting his horse beside the carriage. Behind him, Borin and Finn fell into line, their faces serious under shining helmets.
The first gambit had been made. The pieces were in motion and the game had begun.
Unseen, a silent shadow followed, the emperor's daughter had taken the first step, but the road ahead would not be walked alone.