Queen Calista commanded the throne with regal elegance in the grand hall of the Palace of Astelind. The flickering torchlight illuminated her majestic presence, radiating wisdom, compassion, and strength. Her heart-shaped visage, with piercing blue eyes like sapphires, spoke of sharp intellect and gentle spirit.
She was draped in a stunning golden gown, intricately embroidered and embellished with gemstones. A diamond-encrusted diadem rested upon her dark hair, and a golden collar adorned with a magnificent sapphire highlighted her radiant essence. Her long sleeves, split at the shoulders, showcased elegant armlets, shimmering like stars.
Cinch at the waist, a golden belt featured a lion's head buckle, symbolizing her inner courage. Exquisite sandals adorned her feet, completing her enchanting appearance as she captivated all who entered her presence.
At the forefront of the entourage stood Zatchet, his gaze fixed on the Queen. He bowed deeply, his hands clasped in a show of utmost respect. "Your Majesty," he declared, his voice steady yet urgent. "We bring greetings from the sanctuary, as well as news that poses a grave threat to the survival of our Kingdom."
The Queen nodded graciously, her majestic presence radiating authority as her eyes sparkled with keen interest. "Rise, Zatchet," she commanded, her voice smooth and inviting. "We may speak further; I give you permission."
The delegation, clad in richly embroidered garments, rose from their kneeling positions, their expressions solemn and tense. Zatchet stepped forward, his boots echoing against the polished marble floor of the grand hall, the high, vaulted ceilings amplifying the weight of his words. "The sanctuary has been infiltrated by a spy," he began, his tone urgent and filled with gravity. "She sought to uncover our defense systems and has been captured, Your Majesty. In her confession, she revealed both her origin and her mission."
Zatchet paused, letting the gravity of his words settle over the assembly like a heavy shroud. "The sanctuary has been compromised," he continued, his voice rising with intensity. "A deadly threat approaches; an army marches to obliterate our stronghold."
Queen Calista sharpened her gaze, determination etching itself across her regal features. "Report the army size," she ordered, her demeanor unwavering.
"An estimated 8,000 troops," Zatchet replied, his brow furrowed with concern. "They carry the standard of the notorious Bonebeards Mercenary. Their commander, the ruthless Lord Roldan, leads them."
Queen Calista's eyes narrowed a spark of fury igniting within her. "What proof do you have of this?" she asked, piercing him with her gaze.
With unwavering confidence, Zatchet declared, "I've seen their banners myself, Your Majesty. Their scouts have already breached our eastern borders."
A heavy silence enveloped the room, thick with foreboding, as grave realizations settled in the hearts of those present. Each person was acutely aware of the impending storm that threatened their very existence.
Lord Menas, a trusted adviser, stepped forward from the shadows, his presence commanding immediate attention. His steady and resolute voice broke the palpable tension in the room. "We must prepare for the worst," he urged urgently. "Mercenaries have no qualms about terrorizing innocent civilians. We must mobilize our army, Your Majesty. But we should also consider... other options."
Zatchet, a man known for his pragmatic approach, shook his head slowly, his brow furrowed in concern. "But at what cost, my lord? Their loyalty is fleeting, like the flicker of a dying flame."
Lord Menas pressed on, keen to probe deeper into the situation. "And what are their demands?"
Zatchet responded, his voice tinged with wariness, "None have been made, my lord. But their reputation precedes them. They are brutal and merciless; they'll show no quarter."
Just then, the fluttering wings of a bird caught the sunlight in a dazzling display. A pigeon descended on the windowsill, its feathers glistening like polished silver in the afternoon light.
The breathless young messenger, flushed from his mad dash, rushed in to retrieve the pliable parchment tied to the leg with a slender, frayed thread. He burst into the throne room anxiously, addressing the gathered lords and ladies with fervent urgency. "Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, unfurling the scroll before the assembled court. "There is news from the Sanctuary!"
Queen Calista leaned forward, her green eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Speak," she urged, her heart racing with fear and hope.
"To Her Majesty Queen Calista," he read aloud, "Victory is ours! The defenses held strong against the onslaught. The Bonebeards mercenaries have been defeated in battle, and their lieutenant, Theron, now lies captive along with the top officers and the remnants of their forces. Our troops have secured the surrounding lands, ensuring the mercenaries cannot regroup or escape. Sanctuary Commander Greylock."
"O praise the Ancients!" Lady Brynna exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion. "The Sanctuary is safe, and the threat has been vanquished!"
Queen Calista turned somber as she surveyed her advisors. "Summon the royal heralds. Spread the news throughout the kingdom. Our people must know of this decisive victory," she commanded, her voice strong and clear.
As the words soaked into the air, the palace erupted into exuberant cheers and applause, the atmosphere electric with relief and jubilation, a certain unease lingering beneath the surface. The young messenger continued, his tone shifting to one of somber gravity. "The attack has been repelled, but at great cost. The gates were breached."
An alarm rippled through the room like fire. "What are the casualties?" Lord Menas asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
The messenger met his gaze with a heavy expression. "Heavy. Thousands have fallen on both sides."
Zatchet's voice sliced through the tension. "What about Sir Silas?"
The messenger hesitated, the silence stretching uncomfortably. "He was killed in action," he finally revealed, the words weighing heavily on his lips.
Lord Menas inhaled sharply, a mix of shock and sorrow washing over him. "An impressive victory won in the blood of valiant men," he whispered, the gravity of the loss settling on his shoulders.
Queen Calista, her spirit undeterred by the tragedy, gave an immediate order. "Summon the war council. We must discuss our next course of action."
General Stodge responded without delay, urgency lacing his voice. "They are already assembled, Your Majesty. They await your presence."
"Double the number of our scouts in the borderlands," commanded Queen Calista with a fierce intensity, her gaze sweeping across the assembly. "I want our eyes and ears everywhere, vigilant and watchful."
Lady Brynna, standing elegantly beside the royal throne, nodded in understanding. "And, Your Majesty, what are your thoughts on Lieutenant Theron?" she inquired, her brow slightly furrowed with concern.
A flicker of steely resolve as her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Bring the prisoners to the Capital," she replied, her voice filled with gravity. "I must get to the root of the matter."
Lord Kreel, his brow furrowed with worry, posed a critical question. "And what of the reconstruction of the Sanctuary, Your Majesty? How shall we proceed?"
Queen Calista pondered, and her expression softened with determination. "Gather the materials immediately. We shall rebuild stronger and wiser than before," she declared, a spark of hope igniting her eyes.
With the immediate crisis now averted and peace cautiously restored across the land, the Queen shifted her focus, intent on fortifying her realm against potential threats in the future. Her piercing gaze then fell upon the Chancellor, known for his shrewdness.
"Prepare a delegation to negotiate with neighboring tribes," she instructed firmly. "We need to secure alliances to safeguard against any future aggressions. See to it, Lord Menas."