The copper sun of Lusaris had begun to set behind the distant domes of the palace, and the small oil lamps were starting to flicker to life, one by one, on the doorsteps of the wooden houses in the poor quarters known as "The Back." The children of the neighbourhood were playing as usual in the mud – barefoot, clothes torn, but their laughter filled the narrow alleys.
Suddenly, the children noticed something unusual.
A small wooden cart, pulled not by horses but pushed by two large men in ordinary clothes, though their muscles betrayed their military training. Behind the cart were six other soldiers , not in uniform, but wearing long grey robes with short swords hidden beneath their cloaks. They walked quietly, but their eyes scanned every window, every alley, every rooftop.
Among them were two girls and a woman
Lyana walked as if trying not to touch the ground. She was thirteen, but looked younger with her slender, still-developing body. Her hair, jet black and very long, reaching her waist, was now tied in a simple braid that draped over her left shoulder—she looked not like a princess, but like any other commoner.
Her face was pale , but not sickly pale – rather the paleness of a small moon among the stars of the sky. Her eyes were large, dark honey in colour , glinting in the dim lamplight as if searching for something – or someone. Her nose was small, her lips thin, and they were often pressed together with a seriousness that did not suit her age.
Her clothes today were not the silk and purple she wore in the palace. She wore a simple grey dress of coarse fabric, long to her ankles, with wide sleeves. Over it, a black woollen headscarf hid half her face, and a grey shawl was wrapped around her neck.
Her hands were very soft , white, as if they had never worked a day in her life. And her way of walking was not the walk of the poor – she lifted her feet as if afraid of the mud, while the neighbourhood children waded through it without a care.
She carried a large wicker basket on her right arm, filled with small loaves of bread, cheese, and a handful of dates.
The woman beside her spoke up:
"My princess, did you have to do it yourself? You could have asked anyone to do it."
She looked at her.
"Don't call me Princess here, Lena, and I have to do it myself."
Then she moved, followed by Lena and the other girl.
Lena walked like a guardian shadow. Lena was not a soldier, but the princess's nursemaid since birth. She was about fifty years old, a short, plump woman with a round face and rosy cheeks. Her hair was completely grey, gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head.
Her clothes were simpler than the princess's: a faded blue cotton dress, a white apron with old stains, and thick leather shoes. She carried a smaller basket also filled with dates and cheese.
But her eyes... Lena's eyes were not the eyes of a kind old woman. They scanned every person who approached, every running child, every opening window. Her right hand was always close to her right pocket – where she hid a small sharp knife .
Lena was a mother, a guard, and a spy all at once. She was the only person in the kingdom who could scold the princess without fear of punishment.
On Lyana's other side walked Mara . Mara was Lena's only daughter , and had grown up in the palace with Lyana, almost like a sister to her. She was also thirteen years old, but she looked completely different from the princess.
Mara was slightly shorter than Lyana, with a more filled-out body. Her hair was light brown , curly and thick, tied in a high ponytail at the back of her head. Her face was covered in light freckles across her nose and cheeks, giving her a youthful and lively appearance. Her eyes were light green , quick-moving, gleaming with intelligence and caution.
Her clothes were exactly like Lyana's – a simple grey dress, a black headscarf, a grey shawl. But she looked more comfortable in them than the princess did. Her hands were not as soft as Lyana's – there was a slight roughness in her palms from helping her mother with household chores.
Her way of walking was also different. While Lyana lifted her feet as if afraid of the mud, Mara waded through it confidently , like any girl raised in modest surroundings. She carried a third, smaller basket , filled with dried apples and nuts.
Her relationship with Lyana : Mara was not an ordinary servant. She was Lyana's childhood companion , her close friend, and sometimes the voice of reason who dared to say "no" to the princess when she overstepped boundaries. In the palace, Mara slept in the room next to Lyana's, ate with her, studied with her. But the difference between them was always clear: Lyana was a princess, and Mara was the nursemaid's daughter. Despite that, Lyana never treated her as a servant
The six soldiers with them were not ordinary soldiers. They were from the King's Personal Guard – the elite of the king's elite. The king himself had chosen them to protect his daughter.
But tonight they were disguised:
No armour , only grey or brown robes.
No long swords , only short swords hidden beneath their cloaks.
No helmets , only woollen caps partially hiding their faces.
Their leader, Sorin , was a man in his forties, his face covered with old scars. He led the group in silence, giving quick hand signals: "Stop. Move. Safe alley. Dangerous alley."
The other five soldiers positioned themselves around the girls: two in front, two behind, one on the right rooftop, and another disappearing into a side alley. None of the residents of "The Back" knew that these "simple men" was dangerous .
Then Lyana stopped in front of a group of children