Chapter 1

It was a special occasion for the city of Neaubonne on that midsummer day. The raucous of thousands of elven citizens in drab attire filled the narrow cobblestone streets, while the unbearing heat of an unclouded sky clung to their skin like wet silk. Fabric streamers of red and purple tied to wooden window latches twirled in a light breeze, occasionally getting tangled in the clothing lines that hung high over walkways. Smells of roasted delicacies and rich spices wafted throughout the thick crowds, as citizens huddled around small vendor stalls, holding rusted coins and calling out for a chance of having a highly sought-after festival snack.

Upon the main street passed a parade of wooden carriages, intricate decals of famous battles and charms for safe travels delicately painted upon their sides. Royalty sat cosy within, only able to be seen through a single cross-hatched window upon the door, which was covered loosely by a curtain of white fabric. Centaurs clad in shiny armour that seemed more decorative than useful diligently pulled their rickety carriages towards the castle gates, wielding golden spears they would have no hesitation to use on those who got in the way.

The commoners watched as the carriages crossed the drawbridge one by one, disappearing behind the red stone walls of Neaubonne castle. Entering, anyone could believe they had stepped into an entirely different city. Stretching out to either side of the main pathway were nothing but multicoloured tents of all shapes and sizes, mostly in warm shades of reds and yellows, placed haphazardly and yet not too close to one another to feel cluttered. Throughout walked thousands of nobles and warriors, some dipping in and out of tents and others conversing in small groups. The faint sound of drums and a bone flute could be heard from far off in the distance, where the tournament grounds had been set up for the weeks to come. As the nobles cautiously peaked out of their carriages to take in the exquisite display of wealth, they wondered which festivities they wished to witness first.

Suddenly, a centaur halted his trek, rearing up and preparing his weapon as a young elven woman ran across the path. Looking up at him, she leaned away, adjusting the small golden circlet upon her head with one hand before taking off in a sprint. It was a close call, for if she had run across even a second later, there was no doubt she would have bumped into the centaur himself, and she did not have time to explain her frantic rush to some lesser noble and their steed.

Wrapping the excess fabric of her white dress as close to her lower thighs as possible, she whipped her head around, looking for a bright purple tent with iridescent painted markings. She wiped the long white blonde strands of hair from her face before continuing forwards, weaving through crowds of chattering noblewomen and dodging the sparks of a blacksmith's forge. She gave a passing glance over at the knights practising their swings, the archers notching their arrows as they aimed at targets, the musicians re-stringing their instruments, but continued forward in search of that one particular tent.

Finally, she caught sight of it, hidden among a crowd of yellows and reds. It was no doubt the right one, with a little gold spire upon the top, the only tent within the entire castle grounds to have such a feature. She hurried over with a grin, knocking into a few nobles and servants without caring to look back. Slowing down as she reached the entrance, she dropped the hem of her dress, wiping away any dirt she had accumulated to the best of her ability. And with a deep breath, she pulled back the entrance flap.

"Good day, Father." She spoke, poking her head in with a mischievous smirk. There, stood in the centre while surrounded by freshly sharpened swords and recently polished shields was King Miphael Vindierfil IV, a well-built and muscular man despite almost being in his mid-forties. Besides the white streaks that had started to show in his blonde pinned-up hair, and the small signs of crow's feet alongside the edges of his light-blue eyes, he still had the aura of a young vigorous man, and the mischievous grin of a child that he had no doubt passed on to his eldest daughter.

"My dear Amnestra! You should be in the stands watching the tournament, no?" He inquired, arms stiffly outstretched as the young squire, no older than 13 years of age, fumbled with latching a silver chest plate, engraved with the pattern of twisting vines and celeste flowers, the symbol of their royal dynasty.

"As of right now, it is just a few amateur knights sparing on the grounds," she took a step in, glancing down at the array of long swords propped up against the tent wall in a neat row from largest to smallest, "I wanted to come and wish you luck. Although, knowing you, you will not need it."

The King let out a hefty laugh, startling his young squire who dropped the chest plate upon the dirt ground with a loud clunk. His hands visibly shaking, he reached to pick it up, but King Miphael grabbed it first. Looking over at the boy with a gentle smile, he handed it to him, tousling the lad's mop of curly blonde hair before turning back to his daughter. "Is that because of my skill, or simply because I am King?"

Amnestra picked up the arming sword, carefully inspecting it with a furrowed brow, "Both, Father. Your skill is hard to match without doubt, but I am sure Uncle will go easy on you regardless." She answered honestly, biting the inside of her lip as she ran her hand lightly over the fuller of the blade.

"Amnestra," her father chastised, his voice deep, "As you should know, there is to be no magic used in these tournament battles. Including enchantments."

She looked up at him, squinting her eyes ever so slightly, "This blade has clearly not been well-sharpened. I simply wished to bring it to its true potential, something I would not have to do had the blacksmith done his job properly in the first place."

"The blade is exactly how I requested it." He stated in a snappish voice, "This is a tournament, not a real battle." He looked at her sternly despite her stubborn glare back. It took a few moments, but she eventually relented, sighing and returning the sword to its original position.

"Now tell me, how did your husband's hand-to-hand combat go? It was a shame I had to miss it to prepare for my own." King Miphael inquired, a smile returning to his face. But one did not return to Amnestra.

"It was no shame that you missed it, for it was an embarrassment of a fight," She let out an irritated sigh, her face wrinkling as she rubbed her temple, "The man can barely hold a sword correctly, let alone parry. I wished the entire time that I could have just jumped from my seat and ripped that sword from his hands and showed him how one really fights!"

"Well, as his wife, perhaps you can teach him what you know. Despite your gender, you're very skilled with a blade, and it would make me proud to see you pass that talent onto your sons one day."

He had said it to her so genuinely, so full of care, but the words made her stomach turn regardless. She took in steady breaths, focusing on letting the emotions flow over her like water instead of continuing to boil within her chest. She let out a quick smile. "Thank you Father. I should go back to the tournament grounds now."

"Of course," He smiled as she turned away to exit the tent, "One thing before you leave, Amnestra."

She turned back to see King Miphael's warm eyes, a slight smile upon his face. "I'm so happy to see you grow up into such a wonderful young lady. You make me proud to be your father."

Almost tearing up, she gave a warm smile in return, haloed by the light of the sun streaming in through the tent opening. "I love you too."

***

Shuffling through the packed stands, Amnestra returned to her seat, positioned between her mother and new husband. She took a quick sip of her wine as she gauged the combat that took place before her. Two eldest sons of lesser noble families, one dressed in red padding and another in green, were moderately skilled but nothing of extraordinary note. She gazed down at their footing, something it was clear the knight in green was less skilled at.

"You were gone for an awfully long time. I was about to send the knights out to search for you." her mother, Queen Kalyssa, who was seated to her left, leaned in to whisper.

"I had gone to wish Father luck in his upcoming competition. Is that still allowed for me?" She responded, taking another slow sip from her chalice of wine without taking her eyes off of the battle before them.

"It's disrespectful to the competing knights for the newly wed bride to leave the stands during a tournament. Even if it is to wish the King luck." her new husband, Prince Consort Emidarr, seated to her right, quietly stated, fidgeting with the new silver ring upon his left hand.

She glared at him through the sides of her eyes, crinkling her nose as she snarled, "And who asked you for your thoughts?"

The nails from a hand that suddenly gripped her wrist dug deep, enough that Amnestra worried about it drawing blood. Panicked, she turned to her left where she saw her mother's blue eyes stare daggers into her.

"I raised you better than to treat your husband with such disrespect." She snarled.

Ripping her arm away with a quick burst of force, Amnestra snarled back, "You have no right to tell me how to interact with my new husband."

"As your mother and as your Queen, I have every right. And if you don't start behaving this instant, I'll send you to be locked back in your room until the carriage comes to take you and Emidarr to your new home. Do you understand me?" She snapped as the two stared at one another with familiar animosity. Furrowing her brows, she knew her mother's threat was not an idle one. A few months back, when she had threatened to run from the castle upon learning of her arranged marriage, the Queen had done exactly that, with food served to her room so she could not even step out for dinners. She was only able to go out in the sun upon accepting the marriage, and kneeling down at her mother's feet for forgiveness. She knew that if she enraged the Queen like that once again, she would not be let off so lightly.

"Yes, Mother." She sighed, not even bothering to hide her annoyance as she turned back to the grounds as the two knights continued to spar. With a quick parry, the one clad in green tripped over his own feet, landing upon his back as the red knight aimed his sword to his chestplate. Amnestra let out a confident huff, for it was just as she had expected. The green knight's footwork had done him in.

Helping his opponent up, the two shook hands before turning to the cheering crowds with a bow. Leaving the competition grounds, she witnessed shining armour brighter than the rest step into view as the elves erupted with a cacophony of cheers and claps. Her father, with his barbute helm and distinguishable purple padding, turned to face the spectators, sword raised as he took in the applause. Amnestra clapped as well, grinning brightly as she met her father's eyes.

Across the grounds entered his opponent, his younger brother Prince Altlar Vindierfil III. With armour as equally well polished, within the centre of his chestplate was engraved his own family crest, a cherrf stag with a full set of antlers rearing up, head tilted towards the sky. Fastened to the sides of his barbute helmet were two small cherrf antlers, dyed black to match his dark coloured padding. A few thin strands of blonde hair hung down from the bottom of his helmet, the same shade as his elder brother's, with icy blue eyes that peered straight into one's soul. Amnestra remembered how she used to be so scared of her uncle. finding him intimidating before she grew up and realised he was just very quiet and soft-spoken man.

The two approached one another and shook hands upon the field with nods and smiles, before turning to face the people. King Miphael stepped forward, raising a hand to the sky to quiet the chaotic roar.

"I dedicate this victory to my daughter Princess Amnestra Vindierfil!" He called out, looking directly at her with a smile, "May her new marriage be long and prosperous!"

The people cheered and clapped, and although she felt a sharp pang within her heart, Amnestra beamed brightly. 'He only meant well.' she told herself, slowing her clapping as her uncle raised his hand to speak.

"And I dedicate this victory to my lovely wife, Lady Naestra, who I have been married to for 20 years to this very day." With a slight smile, he gestured towards her as she sat in the stands, holding a small bouquet of red roses as vibrant as the flush that had begun to spread across her face.

Another eruption of cheers echoed through as the men took up their positions. King Miphael adjusted his grip upon his sword as he stepped cautiously, finding the right footing. On the other hand, Prince Altlar spun his longsword with a cheeky smirk, far more confident in his skills to the point of being noticeably cocky. Circling one another, the tension rose as neither made a move, eying their opponent with great focus.

And then, within a split moment Altlar lunged forward, taking a few quick swings in short succession. Miphael countered quickly, blocking the first couple of strikes before twisting to the side to avoid the final blow. The two began to circle again, cautious but rigid in their stances.

Miphael was the next one to make a move, lunging forward for a quick attack, but suddenly retreated to defence upon the parry. Amnestra could hear her mother take in a quick gasp, clutching the arm of her seat.

"Something's not right," she mumbled, "I think I'm having a vision."

Amnestra let out an irritated sigh. While it was possible that her mother was indeed having a vision of what might be to come, this was also something she had stated at every tournament for as long as she could remember, and has not once been right about.

"Relax dear Mother," the second eldest princess, Gatharia, clasped the Queen's hand with a reassuring smile, "Father will be alright, he's the King after all."

Amnestra rolled her eyes, focusing her stare upon the tournament. Gatharia, younger than her by only a couple years, was far more patient and compassionate than someone her age would usually be. She could watch a snail compete in a marathon and never give up encouraging it until it crossed the finish line. It made no sense to dislike someone so kind, and yet Amnestra could not help but feel annoyance rise within her every time her sister opened her mouth.

The clang of metal rang out yet again, the two parting ways to circle one another. King Miphael stepped forward to make his attack, but Prince Altlar countered with a quick swing, close enough to go just under the helm of the King.

Stumbling back, Miphael paused before his sword slipped from his grasp. Altar straightened up, lowering his sword as the King suddenly dropped to the ground. The Prince took a couple steps back as blood began to pool around his defeated opponent.

The crowd began to roar with confusion and screams. Queen Kalyssa stood with one quick motion, gripping onto the wooden bannister with white knuckles as she stared ahead at the scene before them. Amnetra froze, her jaw slacked as her brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

A tight grip around her arm yanked her from her seat. "Come with me, now." Her mother demanded, pulling her along as she motioned to her other daughters to follow. Amnestra could not bear to pull her eyes from her father's motionless body, as squires and doctors rushed forward, panic in their eyes.

All she could see was a blur of yellows and reds as she was dragged through the crowds, screams and loud sobs erupting from all around her. They circled the outside of the fighting arena towards a large white tent, surrounded by doctors and pages. The Queen let go of her daughter's arm as she stormed forward, only to be halted by the King's young squire.

"Your majesty, the doctor said-"

"Is he inside?" She demanded. The boy with wide eyes slightly nodded, before being pushed aside, but before she could take another step, a knight blocked her path.

"Your majesty, I'm afraid you must wait outside." He reprimanded. With a huff, she stepped back, contemplating on what to do next.

"Is Father okay?" Princess Ennali, the youngest of them at only 7 years of age, quietly asked as she tugged on her mother's forest green dress, tears welling up in her eyes. With her eyes lowered to the ground, the Queen bent down to hug her smallest daughter, quickly bringing in the others for a hug as well. But Amnestra did not move.

Confusion warped her mind as the thin tendrils of fear began to spread and take hold, freezing her in place as her body began to slightly shake. However it was quickly replaced by rage upon seeing a shining knight approach from the corner of her eye. Helmet in his hands, her uncle took slow steps forward, gazing down at the ground emotionless. As he looked up at her, she could see the tiny dots of blood across his nose and mouth, as well as the front of the helmet he held.

The doctor exited with clasped hands, looking over to the Queen and her daughters first. With his head lowered, he took in a deep breath before he began. "Your majesties, I regret to inform you that the King has passed away."

The Queen collapsed onto the ground with wailing sobs, Gatharia trying to help her mother as Ennali simply stood and cried out. But Amnestra didn't move, didn't cry out or falter. She turned to face her uncle, tears welling up in her eyes as her fists clenched.

"You bastard- " She began, taking a step forward before being quickly blocked by two soldiers, hands on their swords and a determination in their eyes as if they would dare take a blade to a princess.

"What are you doing?!" She yelled. "That man MURDERED the KING! Arrest him, NOW!"

"Amnestra, please…" her mother softly begged as she tugged at the hem of her daughter's dress. Looking down at her pitiful mother, she could see her eyes had already become red and puffy, her lips trembling.

The clattering of metal caught her attention as she looked up to see the knights from before now kneeling in front of Altlar, joined by a few other knights who had approached. She could see her mother also lower her head, the doctor, even the squires following suit. And then the words rang out.

"ALL HAIL THE KING!"