(Narrator Pov)
The road had been quiet for too long.
The first flame landed without warning, shattering against stone and bursting into fire beneath the front escort. Horses screamed as the line broke, and before the chaos could settle, arrows tore through the trees. "Ambush!" a soldier roared. These were real bandits—rough leather, dirty blades, faces half-covered in cloth—but their timing was too precise, too synchronized.
General Acer reacted instantly. "Cloaks! Split formation!"
Seven black cloaks were thrown over armor in one fluid motion, including Eri. The fabric swallowed her silhouette, the gold of her rank vanishing beneath shadow. Seven mounted figures rode out—seven possible queens—and they scattered in different directions, hooves pounding against dirt, drawing the attackers apart. Confusion spread through the enemy line.
"Which one?!" one of the bandits shouted.
Good.
That was the point.
Eri rode hard through smoke and dust—until she heard it.
A horse shrieked in pain.
She turned.
Elara's mount jerked violently as an arrow buried itself deep into its chest. The animal collapsed mid-stride, throwing Elara forward as the world seemed to slow. She hit the ground hard, rolling once before the dirt swallowed her.
"Your Majesty, move!" Acer shouted. "We'll handle it!"
Protocol demanded retreat.
Protect the crown.
The princess of Vesperia was secondary.
Protocol demanded escape.
The queen must survive.
Eri ignored it.
She pulled the reins sharply and rode back through the smoke as arrows cut past her—one tearing through her cloak, another striking the ground inches from her horse. She dismounted before the animal had fully stopped, steel already drawn.
A bandit lunged.
Eri cut him down cleanly.
No wasted motion.
"Elara!"
Elara pushed herself up, breath uneven but steady. "I'm fine," she managed.
Another attacker charged, but Eri moved before he could reach them. Her blade drove through his ribs, twisted, then withdrew in one efficient motion. She caught Elara's wrist, pulled her forward, and mounted in one fluid movement, hauling her up behind her.
"Hold tight."
Elara's arms wrapped around her instinctively as the horse surged forward, cloaks tangling in the wind. Behind them, Acer and the guards clashed steel against steel, the deception pulling some attackers away—but not all.
An arrow flew.
This one struck true.
It pierced the horse's flank.
The animal staggered, then collapsed beneath them.
The ground came fast.
Eri twisted mid-fall, turning her body to take the impact first so Elara wouldn't. They hit the dirt together, the force driving the air from her lungs in a violent rush. For a moment, there was nothing—no sound, no breath—just a sharp ringing and the taste of dust.
Eri rolled, cloak dragging through the dirt, and pushed herself up onto one knee.
"Elara."
Elara coughed but forced herself upright. "I can stand."
Good.
Nearby, the horse still breathed—fast, shallow, struggling. An arrow was buried deep in its chest, blood spreading dark against its coat as the sounds of distant fighting echoed through the trees.
Eri approached slowly and knelt beside it, placing her palm against its neck. Its breathing was uneven, pained.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Not hesitation.
Recognition.
Then she gripped the arrow and drove it in.
One clean motion.
The horse stilled.
Silence followed.
"Thank you," she said quietly—not to anyone else, but to the animal.
Elara watched.
Not horrified.
But shaken.
This was not cruelty.
This was mercy without sentiment.
Eri rose, cloak torn, hands streaked with dust and blood. "We move."
No tremor in her voice.
No visible fracture.
She took Elara's hand again—firm, steady—and pulled her toward the trees as the forest swallowed them in shadow. Behind them, steel rang and Acer shouted commands, one of Eri's men falling while another dragged him back into formation.
The deception had bought time.
But it had cost blood.
And this—
was not random banditry.
Someone had expected her.
Someone had prepared.
Someone believed smoke and fire would be enough to erase a queen.
They were wrong.