Lord Igion's composed gaze falters; the steady restraint in his eyes hardens into something narrow and sharp. Darian, on the other hand, cannot contain his fury. He clenches his fist and slams it on the table.
- Who dares commit such an atrocity?! Those heartless human bastards!
Petrov still kneels, trembling at Darian's words. Cornelious helps him to his feet and offers a steadying nod.
- A knight stands before the fortress walls... with his men—cavalry right behind him.
- Did he make any demmands?
Cornelious' voice is calm but laced with worry.
- He wishes to negociate...
- What kind negotiation is this?! They already killed our women.
- We should hear what they have to say, Darian.
- Hear them?! I'll gather our men and see their heads on our axes before I let another human speak!
Valerie's vision blurs — not from tears, but from the image clawing its way back into her mind. Red hair. A wall of bloody heads, lifeless and dripping.
She comes out from hidding. Shaking and drived by fear, she fights the panic wanting to rush out of her. "I am not thirdteen anymore. I need to face my fears head on."
- Wait!!!
The dwarves react instantly.
- A human! Protect the Lord!
Darian lunges before Lord Igion, one arm shielding him while the other clenches into a ready fist. His three bearded followers scramble to attack. Valerie backs away, heart pounding.
- Valerie!
Marion darts forward, blocking the dwarves with her arms spread.
- Please, wait. I don't want to hurt you, sirs.
- Is that a threat?!! Do you think we can't take a filthy human? Seize her!!
Their heavy boots thunder against the floor as they charge. But before they can reach the women, the air cracks with the sharp sound of steel.
Baliot emerges from the shadows, landing between them with a thud. His massive axe gleams under the sun light, the weight of it enough to send the three dwarves stumbling back. His glare is sharp, protective — primal.
The hall freezes.
- Baliot?! What do you think you're doing?
- Sir, please, calm down. I'm not here to fight. I want to help you.
Valerie steps forward, legs trembling, but her chin lifts. Darian frowns, muscles tense, ready to strike again — until Cornelious raises a hand, silently urging him to stop. Lord Igion's quiet gaze decides the matter.
- Baliot, step aside. Cornelious, Darian... stand down.
The dwarves obey reluctantly. Marion reaches for Valerie's arm, instinctively pulling her back.
- Lady Marion, it's okay.
Marion hesitates, eyes full of warning, but Valerie's steady look — a spark of conviction — makes her relent. She steps aside.
Lord Igion's gaze falls on the young woman.
- You're one of the captured humans, aren't you? How do you think you can help us?
- I... I–
Her voice quivers, but she forces herself to meet his stare. The old dwarf's presence is heavy — not cruel, but commanding, weathered by years of burden. Though he does not hate all humans, he hasn't met a trustworthy one in many years. He must protect his people — every dwarf depends on him. In times like these, trust is a luxury he cannot afford. That, more than hatred, fuels the hostility in his voice.
- Let me end this without more bloodshed... I can scare them away.
Lord Igion narrows his eyes.
- And why should we trust someone who betrays her own kind? How did you get here, girl? Who are you to stand before me and tell me what to do?
His voice hits her like a hammer. For a moment, her courage falters — but she holds her ground. "Negotiations are tough. However a princess doesn't back down."
A quiet fire ignites behind her eyes. She finally has a plan — now she only has to make him believe in it. Drawing a steady breath, she lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.
- I belong to the Kryon Bonesses family. I am one of the heirs of King Jullius Hernefesto Kryon Bonesses.
Silence fills up the room. Cornelious is the first coming back from the shock.
- An heir of the crown...?
King Jullius is known for his bad temper and like for bloodbaths. He rules harshly and greedly. The princess, Queen Raphysis daughter, is the only offical princess of the Kingdom.
- Bind her! We can use her as a hostage.
- Stop, Darian! Lord Igion will decide what will happen to her.
Lord Igion raise his hands, making the dwarf step back once more. Another moment of silence fall upon them. Valerie, keeping her compousure, makes herself heard.
- I can help you. I have a plan to save you from this. Please, sirs, believe me.
Master Igion looked her in the eyes for a brief moment — then smiled faintly.
- Let's greet our guests and then discuss what will come next.
From outside the fortress, the massive stone walls rise far higher than they first appear. The ancient dwarven ramparts stretch nearly fifty feet tall, wide enough for five dwarves to walk shoulder to shoulder along their tops. No matter the army, no matter the race that dared to face them, they have stood unbroken for centuries.
Forged from the strongest stone in the entire kingdom, each block was placed with dwarven precision and hammered into place with blows as heavy as a mountain's heart. Beyond the gate — solid, unyielding iron — even a small dragon could pass without shaking a single stone loose.
Encircling the fortress lies a vast trench, deep and deadly, lined with sharpened spikes at its bottom. The bridge that spans it — built from white stone, the same as the road leading to the gate — is narrow yet immovable, a silent testament to dwarven mastery.
The three Masters and the Lord stand together atop the wall above the gate. Valerie and Marion remain behind, restrained by the triplets.
Looking down, the Lord, slightly behind the Masters, admires the audacity of the humans. Among them, one man stands out — a knight clad in gleaming white armor adorned with gold, a sight far too regal for the blood that is sure to spill. His horse towers above the others, well-fed and monstrous compared to the gaunt mounts around it. Beside him, another man draws attention: scarred, seasoned, his very stance radiates experience. His armor, though scratched and dull, looks sturdy and dependable. Around them, a sea of soldiers stretches to the edge of the distant trees.
Darian steps forward, his thick brows shadowing his eyes, voice booming rough and deep... loud enough to be heard from a hundred meters away.
- Who dares to commit such an immoral act?!
- Release the captive women, and perhaps we'll let some of you live!!
The white knight gently strokes the severed head impaled near him, his pristine white glove staining red.
- Heartless bastards!!
Darian's fury seems to shake the ground itself. Baliot grunts heavily. Cornelious raises his arm, maintaining his composure, though his gaze alone is enough to chill the air.
- With whom do we have the unfortunate pleasure of negotiating?! State your name, insolent human.
- Royal Knight Sir Stroheim Camillo! Third son of House Camillo and current high member of the Battle Council. In the name of His Majesty, King Julius Hernefesto Kryon Bonesses, I demand the release of our women — without the need for violence.
The knight lifts a royal insignia toward the fortress walls, a smug smile curving his lips as he speaks his last words.
- And what guarantee do we have that you won't attack us the moment the hostages are safe?! We can't trust unworthy beings like you.
- These are His Majesty's orders! If you refuse to cooperate, we will resort to force...
Sir Camillo's eyes gleam with amusement. A soldier approaches, clad in lighter armor than the rest. The knight leans slightly down from his horse, listening to the man's hurried whisper — inaudible from atop the walls.
- We found an entrance on the opposite side of the fortress. Something's blocking it, but we'll clear it soon.
Camillo's brow furrows briefly, then smooths as he straightens once more.
- I, Sir Camillo, will give you some time to think.
Hearing the human's arrogant tone, Darian's blood boils, heat rushing to his cheeks.
- Hold your fury, Master Darian. We do need time to confer. Farewell, Sir Camillo.
The knights pull their reins and turn away, retreating with the thunder of hooves. Behind them, they leave their grisly trophies — and the red sea of pain they brought with them.
The dwarves return to the Deep Council chamber. Following their Lord, the three Masters take their seats at the great stone table. Valerie and Marion stand before them, watched closely by the three red-bearded guards.
- So, Princess, let us begin with introductions. My name is Igion Khardor. In Kharnic, the dwarven tongue, Khardor means Heart of Stone. I am the one who bears the highest rank among my kind. You may call me Lord Igion.
- Darian Thargrim, Master of the Wild. My name stands for Ancient Fury.
- Cornelious Durhald, Princess. It means Strong Guardian. I am the Master of the Fields.
- Baliot Brokdar - Son of the Hammers. Master of the Hammers.
- Princess Valerie Aurum Kryon Bonesses. It's a pleasure to meet you all.
Valerie bows gracefully before the dwarves. None of them return the gesture. Their gazes shift instead to the woman standing beside her. Lord Igion speaks first.
- And who stands beside you, Princess Valerie?
Valerie glances at the person beside her — nearly a stranger to her eyes."Marion... How should I introduce her!?"
- Mari—
- Marion will do just fine. I've no intention of telling you more.
Cornelious studies her with a calm but curious look.
- An elf, perhaps?
- Half-elf. She means no harm.
Baliot steps forward awkwardly, speaking in her defense. Marion's sharp glare cuts to him, but he only nods gently, uneasy.
- A princess and a forest half-blood... quite an unlikely pair. How did the two of you come to be here?
- You bastards beat us down and chained us in a basement!
Marion's furious eyes lock with Darian's half-hidden ones as she spits the words. Valerie's gaze follows hers — recognizing the dwarf who struck Marion, she tries to cool the rising tension.
- We weren't exactly brought here kindly. I got lost in the forest, and Ma—
- We are running out of time! We must discuss what to do next.
Darian's rough voice slices through her words like a blade, filling the chamber with uneasy silence. Valerie's mind spins."He gave us time..."
After a few moments, Cornelious speaks up.
- I agree. We need to decide. What are we going to do, Lord Igion?
- I must first hear what's in Princess Valerie's mind, Cornelious.
"...time... Why did he give us time...? Something is not right..." Still lost in her thoughts, she doesn't hear Lord Igion's words.
- Please speak, Princess.
Valerie's wild thoughts scatter at the sound of the old Lord's voice
- Oh—right. I... I know Sir Camillo. He isn't the most trustworthy man. I'm sure he's planning something.
The room grows heavier. "Sir Camillo is in charge of this mission... But he was not the only one there". Realizing her last words had made the air tense, Valerie forces herself back to the moment.
- Still... there's hope. If we follow their demands, maybe things will end peacefully.
- You expect us to trust you? A human? There's no way we're releasing our hostages!
- Please, stay calm, Darian. Let's hear her out.
The man seated upon the Forgehall Throne gives Valerie a solemn nod to continue.
- The man with Sir Camillo — I know him too. He's kind-hearted. He only obeys orders when they're just, and only resorts to violence when it's truly needed. If their mission is to retrieve the hostages without bloodshed, he'll stop anyone who tries to raise a blade against you.
"Sir Camillo knows that... and so does the King."
- And what if that gilded snake was lying? What if those aren't their orders?
His words strike something in Valerie's mind."The king knows his knights. He wouldn't send him unless this was meant to be a just rescue..."
Cornelious strokes his beard thoughtfully.
- Indeed, Darian's fury carries ancient wisdom this time. What if we compromise? We could release half the hostages now, and the rest once the knights withdraw beyond the river. What say you, my Lord?
- That doesn't sound like a bad plan.
- Are we really releasing them?! They'll strike the moment they're safe and then claim they had to fight to free the rest!
Darian and Cornelious let their animosity take the lead once more. The air fills with their overlapping voices.
- We can't risk a direct assault, Darian. If there's even a small chance this plan could work, we must try. For now, we cooperate — but on our terms.
- And just like that, we're giving away our leverage?! We still need them!
- Not even an hour ago, you said you didn't want the hostages working. Now suddenly, we "need" them?
- That doesn't matter now, Cornelious! He gave us time, we must use it! We can strike while they think we're surrendering. We can't just hand over what's ours—
- Enough! We will not hand over the humans. Something doesn't feel right. The earth itself hasn't been on our side lately.
"Time..."
- But, Lord—
The gentle gaze of Lord Igion hardens in the face of coming hardship. They all know what's at stake. An attack is certain — and any mistake could cost them everything. The knights care little for the lives of simple villagers; they've done worse before, even under this same king. Their only hope now is to uncover the humans' true plan — and fight back.
As the Masters argue, Valerie's heart races.
"He needs time... He gave us time because he needs it. I know what he's planning!!"
Three years ago...
Loneliness seeped into her like a fungus — quiet at first, then spreading, consuming everything it touched. It grew stronger with each day, each minute she spent staring at the silent walls of her room. The air felt heavier now, as if something once alive had been scraped out of the space and left it hollow.
The feeling of not belonging gnawed at her, an endless battle to stay kind, to stay sane. Her limits were tested again — this time, alone. But maybe being alone was safer. Maybe it hurt less that way.
The thought trembled through her mind, and the ache behind it was almost unbearable.
- Princess, it's time for your lesson.
The maid's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Valerie rose without a word. The woman followed a few steps behind as they walked down the long corridors of the castle — a place too flawless to be real, too cold to be kind.
Every door they passed carried echoes — faint, lingering traces of laughter that used to fill those halls. But now, only silence answered her. Every step felt like thorns breaking through the marble floor, reminding her of what was taken, what she could not get back.
She could not change that place. It was the castle that sought to change her — to shape her into something empty enough to survive its walls.
They entered as soon as they reached the door. No one was inside — as always. Her first lesson had cost her a week of pain each time she sat. "If you arrive ten minutes late, you are late. If you arrive exactly on time, you are still late."
Her study room looked different now — the corner awkwardly filled, as if someone had placed random objects there just to keep the emptiness away. A small table under the window held an empty glass jar, standing where a white sofa once did. The children's books were gone too. A third of the shelves stood bare.
Being there felt like walking past the locked door of her mother's old room — quiet, untouched, and unbearably hollow.
- Your Highness, the teacher has arrived.
The maid's voice dragged her back to the present. Valerie straightened, brushing invisible dust from her dress before bowing politely as the woman entered, followed by a tall man.
- Good afternoon, Miss Lasswyn. Sir. I look forward to today's lesson.
- Lower your head more. And mind your dress, it should not lift that high.
- Yes, Miss Lasswyn. I will be more careful next time.
- Fine. Today, I will not be the one teaching you. The King has ordered that you begin your studies in battle strategy. Sir Raddick will assist with that.
- Royal Knight Novick Raddick at your service, Princess.
The man bowed low before her.
- I am Valerie Aurum Kryon Bonesses. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Raddick.
With a gentle, practiced smile, Valerie took her seat. Miss Lasswyn settled in a corner with a cup of tea while the knight began his lesson. Valerie listened closely — her mind trained well under Miss Lasswyn's rigid discipline, where every mistake came with a punishment sharp enough to remember.
The lesson went smoothly. The books were easier than expected, almost intuitive. Every move, every counterattack felt obvious to her — yet useless in her isolated life. She would never don armor, never command an army. As Miss Lasswyn often reminded her:
"The only battles a princess can fight are those that raise her dignity — fought with polite, poisonous words at the right moment."
- The next book is about hostage situations. Please, read the first strategy aloud, Princess Valerie.
An old, brown-covered book landed on the table. The title, Saving the People, was almost erased by time. Valerie opened it carefully. The pages were stained and handwritten in a slanted, elegant script she had never seen before.
Before she could begin reading, a knock interrupted. Miss Lasswyn shot a glance at the knight, silently commanding him to open the door. He obeyed immediately.
- Sir Raddick! How's it going, brother? The brat giving you trouble?
- No, Sir. Everything is going well. She is very—
- Good, good. Thanks for covering for me. A captain has more important duties, after all...
His eyes drifted to Miss Lasswyn, lounging with her teacup, and his tone softened with smug familiarity.
- ...and more important company, it seems.
He approached her. Miss Lasswyn lifted her hand for him to kiss, and he did so without hesitation before sitting opposite her, the two sharing a quiet, knowing smile.
Valerie lowered her eyes to the book again, forcing herself to ignore their presence.
- We may continue, Your Highness. Please, go ahead and read the strategy.
- Very well. Saving the People, chapter one:
In case of hostage situations, the most important thing is the safety of our people. We must protect the hostages at all costs and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Confrontation may not be the best choice — the risk is too high, for the hostages' lives hang in the balance.
The best approach is as follows: while creating a distraction at the front, we deceive the enemy into believing we are careless and overconfident. Meanwhile, a small group infiltrates to rescue the captives unseen. No blood should be shed. Only if the hostages are unreachable, or in imminent danger, must we proceed to the next strategy in chapter two.
Her voice trembled faintly on the words "no blood should be shed," and she hesitated before closing the book.