The battlefield falls into a strange silence. Weapons lower. Blood still drips into the grass. The wind carries the scent of iron through the plain. The hostages stand alive upon the walls, and the truth spreads faster than any war cry ever could: the captain lies. The army hesitates, trapped between loyalty and doubt, while the dwarves close in like a tightening noose. Valerie stands among them. Not hidden, not trembling, not silent anymore. And for the first time, the soldiers of Kryon truly look at her — even if she is not who they believe her to be.
Most of the soldiers hadn't met the Princess. It was rare for a simple soldier to ever see any royalty. Even the coronated knights didn't get many chances. Besides knowing other nobles, the knights would only remember the most spoken figures of high society — which Valerie never was, despite her title.
Still, there is one knight who remembers her, with quiet, sorrowful care.
- Princess Valerie...?
Sir Raddick steps toward her, the name barely leaving his lips. Only as he draws closer does realization strike him. She is indeed the confined princess. Surprised to see her standing outside the castle walls, his thoughts waver with every step. It is her — the girl he once knew. Taller now. Her hair longer. A sudden authority in her posture, one he had once wished she possessed. Different, but still her.
The same cold, pale face.
The same half-empty eyes.
Yet he couldn't believe his sight. The little girl he'd known — trembling, unsure of herself — now stands with a presence that doesn't fit the frightened child he remembered. His hesitation is visible. A silent conflict written across his face.
Whether he should approach her.
Whether she is a captive, forced to play along with the dwarves.
Or whether it was her own plan — one of the brilliant strategies she never wished to show anyone.
Noticing his hesitation, Valerie reacts before it fractures her authority. She speaks first, her tone a polite order demanding truth.
- Sir Raddick. The men trust you. Speak the truth. Did you, or did you not, see the hostages dead?
She raises her hand toward him. The sea of eyes turns at once. Startled, he glances around before answering. His gaze locking fiercely with hers.
- The hostages appeared unharmed when we were taken to retrieve the princess.
- It was a trap! She is not–
- Soldiers of Kryon! Your captain's actions are not sanctioned — not even by his own brother. As you can see, the hostages remain alive and unharmed.
Raising her voice to cut Sir Camillo short, Valerie points at the walls. Then she turns her gaze to Baliot. He reacts at once, seizing Sir Camillo alongside nearby dwarves.
- Take him to the walls. Sir Raddick, accompany us please. Let's end this pointless war once and for all.
- Yes… Princess.
Silence blankets the plain as Sir Camillo is dragged away. Once proud and golden, now bloodied and desperate, he struggles and protests. Even with hands clamped over his mouth, his screams echo unanswered. No one speaks. His voice is the only sound daring to disturb the stillness.
Nearby soldiers approach Sir Raddick, ready to receive orders.
- Vice-Commander, assume command. I will resolve this matter.
- Yes, Sir.
Sir Neitles strikes his fist against his chest. A sign of respect. The soldiers and knights around him follow suit. Sir Raddick nods, and the army withdraws toward the camp.
Valerie and Sir Raddick walk side by side behind the escorted knight. The silence between them is heavy — deliberate. Neither dares meet the other's gaze this close.
The dwarves spread across the plain watch them closely as they cross the white path. Lord Igion awaits them at the walls, his expression sharp and unyielding.
- Lord Igion, I appologize for not trusting you the entire plan.
Valerie slightly lowers her head. The old dwarf deepens his glare upon her.
- It wasn't a matter of trust, Lord. At least not on my part.
He grunts. Cornelious steps forward.
- Lord Igion, Princess Valerie is right. If she had even talked about the possibility of her plan failing, we wouldn't go along with her.
The grey dwarf sighs. Resting his hammer upon his shoulder, he turns toward the gate.
- We will discuss this inside. There are too many eyes here.
The three Masters, still restraining the bloodied knight, lead the way. Valerie and Sir Raddick follow. The path to the fortress is no longer silent. Two low voices cut through Sir Camillo's furious protests.
- No wonder this bears Your Highness's mark. We were defeated the moment this journey began.
- There was no way of knowing I would be present, Sir. It was coincidence alone.
- A fortunate one, if I may say so.
- No war is ever fortunate, Sir.
- Your Highness spared many lives today. Human and dwarven alike.
- There would have been no need to spare them had the King sent a negotiator instead of a war-hungry captain.
Sir Raddick reaches for her shoulder, stopping her just before the doors.
- Princess–
She steps back and strikes his hand away without breaking her composure. Her hands remain clasped tightly before her waist. She lifts her chin, turning just enough to meet his eyes.
- Refrain from touching me, Sir. There is no time for this. Either you join us in deciding the fate of the captive, or he will be dealt with as the dwarves see fit. That is the sole reason I asked your presence.
Valerie turns and walks on.
Sir Raddick remains frozen, staring at her retreating figure, words failing him entirely.
Marion passes by him. Her murderous glare snaps him out of his trance. His legs finally respond, carrying him toward the door. He follows as Marion positions herself behind Valerie, guarding her rear. His gaze flicks briefly to Marion's left hand. Not relaxed. On guard. Ready to draw an arrow and open a hole through someone's forehead without hesitation.
The familiar entrance sends a shiver through him. The weight of dwarven authority still grips his chest, rigid and absolute. Valerie does not react to it. She stands beside Lord Igion as if she belongs there. Her posture precise, aligned with him rather than beneath him. No bows. No lowered heads. No visible acknowledgment of the power saturating the hall.
Sir Raddick studies her movements, wondering if she has finally found what she had always lacked: a place where she stands without restraint.