"We are all set." The leader held position in front of the seven other knights wearing dark clothing, their masked faces reflecting the faint, gray silver of the breaking dawn.
Aefia stood near the center of the clearing, her arms folded. The soft, sleepy warmth from two hours prior had completely vanished, replaced by a cold focus. The sarcastic smirk she had worn in the tent was nowhere to be seen; her garnet eyes were sharp, scanning the squad with absolute precision.
"The wind is carrying north," Aefia said, her voice dropping into a low, metallic rasp that easily cut through the early morning chill. "You move in three minutes. Do not engage unless backed into a corner, and remember—your only job is to raise enough hell on the third floor to make Kazimir think the sky is falling. Just cause destructions, stall the ministers, that is your job. If I find out any of you tried to play hero, I will execute you myself before Kazimir even gets the chance."
"Understood, Your Highness," the leader answered without a second's hesitation, giving a crisp, iron salute before motioning for his squad to fall back into the treeline. Within seconds, the eight figures melted into the thick gray mist, silent as ghosts.
Aefia turned on her heel, her boots crunching against the frosty grass as she marched toward the main assembly grounds. The entire campsite was already in a state of controlled chaos. Tents were being struck, heavy iron supply crates were slammed shut and loaded onto haul wagons, and the heavy stomping of armored infantry echoed across the valley floor.
Lords Vane and Count Malakor stood near the central command post, surrounded by panicked aides holding armfuls of diplomatic scrolls. The moment Vane spotted Aefia approaching, he scrambled forward, his face pale beneath the morning light.
"Y-Your Imperial Highness!" Vane stammered, bowing frantically. "The baggage trains are packed, but the ministers are deeply concerned about the lack of heavy artillery escorts for our retreat back to the capital—"
"You aren't retreating," Aefia interrupted, not even slowing her stride as she passed him. "You are returning to the Smod Empire to prepare the annexation paperwork. Every lord, minister, and non-combatant official leaves this campsite within twenty minutes. If I see a single silk robe near this valley when the sun clears the ridge, I will consider it treason."
Count Malakor opened his mouth to protest, but one cold glance from Aefia's garnet eyes snapped his jaw shut.
"Move," she commanded flatly.
The two lords bowed in terrified unison, practically tripping over their own cloaks as they rushed off to herd the remaining diplomats onto the outgoing carriages.
With the political overhead cleared out, Aefia stepped up onto the wooden supply platform overlooking the assembled vanguard. Hundreds of iron-clad knights stood in rigid formation, the low rumble of their collective breathing filling the cold morning air.
"Listen closely," Aefia's voice rang out, clear and sharp across the ranks. "We are splitting the remaining vanguard into three primary assault divisions. Division One will hold the perimeter along the northern ridge to intercept any retreating Mides garrisons. Division Two will remain in reserve under your Captain, ready to advance on the main courtyard the second the southern wall gives way."
She paused, her eyes shifting toward the far side of the platform where Helio stood, fully strapped into his dark shoulder gauntlet, his hand resting casually over the hilt of his sword.
"Division Three," Aefia continued, her tone tightening just a fraction, "will march directly south toward the lower mountain pass. Your target is the southern border village housing the twin magic crystal reservoirs."
A low murmur rippled through the front ranks of the knights. Everyone knew the reservoirs were the heart of Mides' barrier system—and the most heavily fortified secondary objective in the region.
Aefia stepped down from the platform, walking straight toward Helio. The sharp, authoritative commander persona didn't slip, but the space between them instantly felt quieter as she stopped a foot away from him.
"You take Division Three," she said softly, looking up at him. "The southern reservoir powers their backup defensive grid. If Kazimir realizes the main keep is falling, he will try to trigger the secondary feedback to blow the valley. You need to secure those crystal vaults before he even gets the chance to send a courier."
Helio looked down at her, his green eyes steady, though a lingering shadow of worry flickered beneath his calm expression. "Securing the vaults is a two-hour march. Which means I won't be standing in that courtyard when you walk through the front gate."
"I don't need you standing in the courtyard," Aefia replied, a tiny, almost imperceptible tilt touching the corner of her lips. "I need you to dismantle his safety net. I will handle the King. You make sure he has nowhere left to run."
Helio let out a quiet, resigned exhale, bowing his head slightly. "It thought you were going to proceed the way you had planned, but you don't fail to surprise everyone. Alright, I will do as you say."
He leaned down to softly kiss her forehead, holding it there for a second before pulling back.
"Duly noted," she murmured, stepping back and clasping her hands behind her spine. "Now move your division out. I will meet you at the throne room doors when this is over."
"You better," Helio said quietly. He turned toward the waiting third division, raising his hand to give the signal to march. "Division Three! Forward march!"
As the heavy boots of the southern detachment began their rhythmic trudge down the mountain path, Aefia watched Helio's tall frame disappear into the morning haze. She took a deep, steadying breath of the sharp autumn air, reaching down to adjust the leather grip of her dagger.
The campsite behind her was nearly empty now, stripped down to bare dirt and iron. Dawn was breaking, painting the sky in violent shades of crimson and cold gold.
She gripped Spectrum and Obsidian at her sides, looking at the palace not so far out.
She let out a sigh, then walked the opposite direction into the forest.
***
Inside the grand council chamber of Mides, the thick scent of stale tobacco, melted tallow, and cold sweat hung heavy in the air. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass arched windows, illuminating five elderly ministers huddled around a massive mahogany table strewn with unread scrolls, military reports, and half-empty goblets of wine.
"He expects us to simply manage the garrison while he locks himself in his quarters?!" A minister slammed his fist onto the polished wood, his face flushed with a mixture of rage and terror. "He threw the entire political administration to us like scrap meat to hounds! The imperial army is sitting right outside our valley, and His Majesty is entirely unreachable!"
"Watch your tongue," another rasped, rubbing his tired eyes. His frail fingers trembled against the edge of his scroll. "The King is... unwell. The imperial girl did something to him before she broke out of the subterranean cells. You saw the state he was in yesterday—feverish, coughing blood, ranting about her blood burning his veins."
"That 'imperial girl' is the Crown Princess of Smod!" A lord hissed, leaning forward across the table, his knuckles white. "She is a prized prisoner running loose inside our borders! Do you have any idea what happens if she rallies the vanguard? She isn't just some political bargaining chip anymore; she's a walking catastrophe! We should have executed her the moment she was brought in from the frontier!"
"And risk the full, unbridled wrath of the Empress?" Another interjected, letting out a bitter, dry laugh. "Don't be a fool. King Kazimir kept her alive because he wanted her power. But look where that ambition got us! He dumped the entire war state onto our shoulders while he nurses a mysterious fever."
"The most terrifying part isn't even her escape," one whispered, his voice dropping so low the other ministers had to lean in to hear him over the crackle of the hearth. "Have you forgotten how King Kazimir claimed the throne in the first place? He publicly executed the late King—his own father—in the square. And he did it using that imperial girl, who used her magic as an illusion of her own execution. I still haven't been able to get that scene out if my mind."
"What if it was a lie to frame her and justify holding her in the deep dungeons? King Kazimir was quite over keeping her as a price, and even treating her with cruelty," someone muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "It could be a narrative to paint her as a treacherous foreign rogue so the public wouldn't question her imprisonment. But if she is alive... if she is out there right now..."
"If she is out there," another cut in sharply, "then that lie becomes our death warrant. If the public and the imperial court believe she was forced to work with the present King to murder the late King, she won't just take Mides—she will butcher every single official who stood by and watched! And honestly... I don't even know what to say anymore... Ugh!"
"We need to negotiate with the imperial vanguard directly," a powerful lord insisted frantically, sweeping a stack of parchment onto the floor. "Bypass King Kazimir entirely! We offer them trade routes, border concessions, anything—"
Crack!
The massive double doors of the council chamber exploded inward with a deafening bang. Splintered oak flew across the room as five ministers shrieked, tumbling backward out of their heavy chairs.
Before the echo of the shattered wood could fade, eight figures clad in dark, crestless clothing glided into the room like striking vipers. Their faces were concealed beneath tight black fabric, their blades drawn and gleaming cold under the chandelier light.
"W-What is the meaning of this?!" A minister shrieked, crawling backward until his back hit the cold stone wall. "Guards! Royal Guard—"
A dark-clad assassin stepped forward, the heel of his boot coming down hard against his chest, pinning the minister to the floor with effortless pressure. The flat of a broad dagger pressed lightly against Vane's throat, instantly cutting off his scream.
"Silence," the leader of the squad commanded, his voice muffled behind his mask, devoid of any warmth. "You are moving. Now."
Without another word, the assassins hauled the five trembling lords to their feet, binding their wrists tightly with rough rope. They shoved the ministers out of the wrecked chamber and paraded them down the grand marble corridors of the keep. The hallways were eerily quiet—the usual patrols of Mides guards were completely absent, leaving only bloodstains on the carpets and shattered glass along the window sills.
The ministers were forced down the grand staircase and dragged into the heart of the palace: the grand throne room.
With violent shoves, the assassins forced all eight men down onto their knees in the center of the polished floor, binding their legs together in a tight, humiliating cluster. The ministers groaned, trembling violently as they stared up at the empty golden throne.
"Why are you doing this?!" The powerful lord wept, his knees bruising against the stone. "If it's gold you want—"
The heavy iron doors at the rear of the throne room swung open with slow, deliberate grace.
Footsteps echoed softly through the cavernous hall—the crisp, measured click of heels against polished marble.
The Crown Princess of the Smod Empire.
She wore the pristine white shirt and tailored black trousers from her prison stay, but draped over her shoulders was an immaculate, gold-embroidered purple vest and a sharp black suit coat. A rich purple cape flowed behind her, catching the low morning light, while a deep red tie sat neatly against the collar of her shirt. At her hips hung Spectrum and Obsidian, their scabbards resting quietly against her sides.
She looked neither exhausted nor haggard; she walked with the absolute, chilling air of a monarch visiting her own estate.
The eight masked assassins immediately dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in unison as they lined up along both sides of the aisle, forming an honor guard for her approach.
Aefia didn't glance at them. Her garnet eyes remained fixed on the eight bound ministers shivering on the floor.
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she closed the distance, her hands casually resting over the hilts of her blades.
"My, my," Aefia murmured, her tone light, and dripping with quiet irony. "Look at the high and mighty council of Mides. Sitting on the floor like discarded baggage. I believe you gentlemen were just discussing my execution?"
The boldest among them swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone. "Y-Your Highness... please... King Kazimir forced our hands! We had no part in—"
Before Aefia could respond, the side doors of the throne room burst open with a loud clatter.
The ministers flinched, expecting an imperial strike team. Instead, a Mides royal guard—clad in the full silver-and-blue armor of the local garrison—stumbled into the hall. But he didn't draw his sword. He didn't even look at the bound ministers.
Instead, the guard dropped heavily onto one knee right in front of Aefia, pressing his helmet against the floor in total submission.
"Your Imperial Highness!" the guard reported, his voice echoing loudly off the vaulted ceiling. "Division Three under His Grace Helio has successfully secured the southern territory! The secondary crystal vault has been secured and the local garrisons have surrendered without condition."
The eight ministers gasped, their eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated shock. The southern territory... fell in a single morning?
"Furthermore," the guard continued, "the cargo transport carrying the secondary magic crystals from the second reservoir has just arrived at the lower courtyard. The artifact you explicitly requested has been retrieved from the vault, undamaged. The southern territory of Mides is now officially under the administration of the Smod Empire."
The room fell into a suffocating, absolute silence.
Aefia simply gave a single nod, her garnet eyes flashing with a cool, satisfied clarity.
"Very good," she said, turning her heel toward the side exit without giving the terrified ministers another glance. "Lead the way."
Stepping in precise rhythm with the bowing guard, she walked out of the throne room, leaving the lords of Mides tied up in the dark. Their gazes followed towards the dias where the Mides throne stayed untouched.
"At this point... I think God has chosen to side with her for all the heretic that the Mides family has been playing at." One lord whispered.