The command did not hang in the air. It moved. Guards stepped forward at once, boots striking the stone in unison as their swords slid free from their sheaths. Steel flashed under the torchlight, sharp and final. The sound alone was enough to tighten every muscle in the room.
Maria's girls turned instinctively, their bodies reacting before thought could catch up. Some took a step back. Others held their ground but their breathing shifted, quicker now, uneven.
They had no weapons. No way to fight. The circle around them tightened.
Then, a voice echoed desperately: "Stop!" Drexo's voice cut through the movement like a blade.
The guards froze mid-step. It wasn't hesitation. It was a command. Steel remained raised, but no one advanced further.
A silence followed, tense and fragile, as though the entire room was balancing on something thin. "They are not our enemies," Drexo said.
Fabio turned toward him immediately, disbelief already etched into his face. "Your Grace, you cannot be sure of that."
Drexo did not look away from Maria. "I understand your fears," he said, his tone steady, but there was something beneath it now. Something firmer. "But I am sure of it."
That drew attention. Even Havana's gaze sharpened slightly.
Drexo took a slow breath. "They are the reason I am alive," he continued, "and standing here with you."
The words shifted the air.
Havana stepped forward just a little, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "What do you mean, nephew?"
Drexo finally turned to face her. "They were the ones who rescued me from Dragon City," he said, "and brought me here."
For a moment, no one spoke. The guards did not lower their swords, but the certainty behind their orders had begun to weaken. Doubt crept in, subtle but present.
Havana exhaled slowly, then turned her attention back to Maria. "Why?" she asked. The question was simple, but it carried weight. "Why would you turn against your brother, for a stranger?"
Maria did not look away. She did not pause. "The late king was an evil man," she said, her voice clear, carrying across the hall without strain, "and he deserved his death."
The reaction was immediate. Murmurs broke out again, louder this time, sharper. Some faces hardened. Others shifted with discomfort. A few simply watched, waiting for what would come next.
But Maria did not stop. "But his sons do not deserve their death," she continued. "I believe in Drexo's innocence. And I am here to support his campaign."
The room held its breath for a second longer. Then Fabio stepped forward again, his patience gone. "We cannot accept such an alliance," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "We are at war. A sister will always hesitate to kill her brother."
His gaze locked onto Maria, searching for something: weakness, doubt, anything he could use.
Drexo shook his head. "No." The single word carried more weight than expected. "I will allow it," he said. "She is here to fight for me. And I need every sword right now."
Fabio opened his mouth to argue again, but Drexo raised his hand. Not forcefully. But enough.
The room quieted once more. Then Drexo looked back at Maria. "Lay your sword at my feet," he said, "and rise as my ally."
For the first time since she entered the hall, Maria moved without being prompted by tension or threat.
She stepped forward.nThen she dropped to her knees. The movement was smooth, deliberate, without hesitation.
Her hand stretched forward. One of the guards, after a brief glance toward Drexo, stepped in and returned her sword. The same was done for the girls behind her. One by one, they received their weapons, only to lower themselves as well.
Knees met stone. Steel rested in open palms. "By the name of Odin," Maria began, her voice steady, unwavering, "and of Freya, I, Maria Woodland, of House Woodland, swear myself, my sword, and my maiden warriors to your cause."
The hall listened. Not a whisper now. Not a movement. Just her voice.
Drexo held her gaze for a moment longer, as if weighing something unseen. Then he nodded. "Arise, Maria Woodland," he said, "and all those who have sworn to her cause."
His voice carried across the chamber, firm and clear. "You are servants of the crown."
Maria rose. So did the others. Slowly. Together. But not everyone shared the same acceptance.
Fabio Kenwool stood still, his face tightening, displeasure written plainly across it. He did not speak again, not aloud, but his eyes followed Maria with quiet resistance. "I hope he will not regret this decision," he murmured to himself.
The council began to disperse soon after. Orders were given. Arrangements made. Maria and her girls were led away from the throne room, guided through the stone corridors of Cliffland and into the inner parts of the city where they would be housed.
It should have felt like safety. But it didn't. Not completely. Because not every gaze had softened. Not every doubt had faded.
That evening, as the light dimmed and the air cooled, Maria stood alone in the chamber that had been given to her. The room was simple, but solid. Stone walls. A narrow window. A place to rest.
She had just begun to settle when the door opened again. Havana stepped in. Her presence filled the room without effort. "My lady," Maria said, bowing her head slightly.
Havana did not return the gesture. "I do not trust you," she said. No softness. No pretense. Just the truth.
Maria lifted her head and met her gaze. "I understand that," she replied. "But I believe you will learn to trust me as time goes on."
Havana shook her head slightly, almost dismissively. "I hope so."
She stepped closer. Slowly. Her eyes did not leave Maria's face. "My nephew might be young," she said, her voice lowering, "and perhaps, too willing to believe what he wants to believe."
She stopped just in front of her. "But I am not." The space between them narrowed. "I have been in council," Havana continued, "even before your father wed your mother."
She leaned in just slightly. "You may be accepted by him now," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "but not by me."
A pause. Then: "Be aware." Her eyes hardened. "My eyes will always be on you, everywhere you go."
Maria did not step back. She did not look away. She only nodded.
Havana held her gaze for a second longer, then turned. The moment broke as she walked toward the door, her guards already falling into position around her as she stepped out.
And just like that, she was gone. But the warning stayed.
Far away, in Snowland, the air felt heavier, and colder.
A raven cut through the sky, its wings beating steadily before it descended toward the castle. It landed without hesitation, as though it knew exactly where it was meant to go.
Edmond reached out and caught it. His movements were quick, practiced, but there was tension in them now. Something restless. Something that had not left him since the moment Maria escaped.
He took the note. Unfolded it, and read. And everything inside him shifted. Maria has arrived at Cliffland and has sworn loyalty to Drexo Dragarian.
The words did not feel real at first. Then they did. Edmond exhaled sharply, both hands rising to his head as though he needed to hold himself together.
"How did we get here?" he muttered. His voice was low, almost lost in the space around him. "How did things get this messy?"
There was no answer. There never was. Not for things like this. He did not wait long. The note remained clenched in his hand as he made his way to Robert.
"Your Grace," he said, stepping forward. "The whereabouts of Maria has been discovered."
Robert leaned forward immediately. "Where is she?"
Edmond did not speak. He simply handed the note over. Robert took it, and read.
And the change was immediate. His face darkened, color rising sharply as his grip tightened around the parchment. The paper crumpled slightly under the pressure.
Silence stretched.
Then he stood slowly. "I guess," he said, his voice low but burning underneath, "it is time Drexo Dragarian meets his end."
The words settled like a promise. Or a warning. He turned toward his commander.
"Organize the army," he ordered. No hesitation. No doubt. "We will march against Cliffland in two days."
And just like that, war stepped closer.