The Royal Guard

The following morning, the sun streamed through the tall windows of the royal dining hall, casting warm golden light across the polished oak table. Princess Elara sat beside her younger sister, Cora, both of them dressed in light summer gowns – Elara's a soft blue that matched her eyes, Cora's a pale green embroidered with silver threads. Across from them, Crown Prince Darion cut an imposing figure in a deep burgundy doublet, his golden circlet glinting in the sunlight.

King Aldric, at the head of the table, wore robes of rich forest green, the color of Solaria's vast woodlands. The lines on his face seemed deeper this morning, testament to the worries weighing on the kingdom. Queen Lyra, resplendent in a gown of lavender silk, rested a comforting hand on her husband's arm as servants bustled about, laying out the morning meal.

The table was laden with an array of dishes that spoke to Solaria's agricultural bounty – or at least, what remained of it. Fresh bread, still warm from the ovens, sat beside bowls of summer berries. Platters held delicate pastries filled with herb-scented cheese, while pitchers of cool mint-infused water offered refreshment in the growing heat of the day.

As Elara reached for a slice of bread, her mind wandered to the events of the previous day – the village fair, the unrest she had witnessed, and most of all, her enigmatic encounter with the green-eyed stranger. She was so lost in thought that she barely registered Darion's voice until he repeated himself, an edge of impatience in his tone.

"Elara, are you even listening? I said, it's high time you learned to defend yourself properly."

Elara blinked, focusing on her brother's stern face. "I'm sorry, what?"

Darion sighed, setting down his fork with a soft clink. "Your little adventure to the village yesterday. It was foolish and dangerous. What if someone had recognized you? What if you had been caught in that near-riot?"

"I was perfectly safe," Elara protested, though a small part of her acknowledged the truth in his words.

"This time, perhaps," Darion countered. "But these are uncertain days, sister. The mood of the people is... volatile. You need to be prepared."

King Aldric nodded gravely. "Darion has a point, Elara. While I admire your desire to understand our people, we must also consider your safety."

Elara opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by her mother's gentle voice. "Darling, please. None of us could bear it if anything happened to you. A few self-defense lessons would ease all our minds."

Looking around the table at the concerned faces of her family, Elara felt her resistance crumble. "Very well," she conceded. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to learn a few basics."

Darion's face split into a triumphant grin. "Excellent. I've already spoken to Captain Reyna. She'll begin your training this afternoon."

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of polite conversation and worried glances. As the meal concluded, Elara found herself both dreading and curious about the afternoon to come.

* * *

The training yard echoed with the clash of steel on steel and the grunts of exertion from practicing guards. Elara stood at the edge of the yard, feeling decidedly out of place in the simple tunic and breeches Mira had helped her change into. She tugged nervously at the leather vest that felt stiff and confining compared to her usual gowns.

"Princess Elara," a crisp voice called out. Elara turned to see a tall woman striding towards her, her posture radiating confidence and authority. Captain Reyna of the Royal Guard was an imposing figure, with close-cropped black hair and piercing dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing. A long scar ran down the left side of her face, a testament to battles fought and won.

"Captain," Elara greeted her, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. "I appreciate you taking the time to train me."

Reyna's expression softened slightly. "It's my honor and duty, Your Highness. Now, let's see what we're working with. Have you had any combat training before?"

Elara shook her head. "Nothing formal. I've watched the guards practice, of course, but..."

"But watching and doing are very different things," Reyna finished for her. "No matter. We all start somewhere. First, let's work on your stance."

What followed was the most physically demanding afternoon of Elara's life. Captain Reyna was a patient but exacting instructor, drilling Elara on basic footwork, blocks, and strikes until the princess's arms ached and her legs trembled with fatigue.

"Good," Reyna said as Elara successfully deflected a slow strike from a padded practice sword. "You're quick on your feet, which is an advantage. Remember, in a real fight, your goal isn't to trade blows – it's to create an opening to escape."

Elara nodded, panting slightly. "I understand. But... is all this really necessary? Surely diplomacy and understanding are better tools than violence."

Reyna's expression turned serious. "In an ideal world, perhaps. But we don't live in an ideal world, Princess. Sometimes, knowing how to fight is what allows you to choose peace."

As the afternoon wore on, Elara found herself struggling not just physically, but emotionally. Every instinct rebelled against the idea of causing harm, even in self-defense. Yet she couldn't deny the growing confidence she felt as she mastered each new technique.

"Alright," Reyna said as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. "One last exercise. I want you to try and land a hit on me."

Elara's eyes widened. "But... I couldn't possibly..."

Reyna's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Don't worry, Princess. I can take it. Come on, show me what you've learned."

Taking a deep breath, Elara settled into the ready stance she had practiced all afternoon. She circled Reyna cautiously, looking for an opening. The captain stood relaxed, her guard seemingly open, but Elara knew better than to trust appearances.

Gathering her courage, Elara lunged forward, aiming a strike at Reyna's midsection. The captain deflected it easily, but Elara pressed on, remembering the combinations they had drilled. She feinted left, then spun right, her practice sword whistling through the air.

For a moment, she thought she might actually succeed. Then the world tilted sideways as Reyna smoothly sidestepped, hooked a foot behind Elara's ankle, and sent her sprawling to the ground.

Elara lay there for a moment, winded and discouraged. But as she caught her breath, she realized something – she wasn't hurt. The fall had been controlled, designed to teach rather than harm. And despite her failure to land a hit, she felt a spark of pride at how far she had come in just one afternoon.

Reyna extended a hand, helping Elara to her feet. "Well done, Princess. You've got good instincts. With practice, you could become quite formidable."

Elara brushed the dust from her clothes, a mix of emotions swirling within her. "Thank you, Captain. I... I'm not sure how I feel about all this, but I can see its value."

Reyna nodded understanding. "It's not an easy thing, learning to fight when your nature calls for peace. But remember, the strongest tree is the one that bends with the wind rather than breaking. Flexibility in mind and body – that's the key to true strength."

As they made their way back towards the palace, Elara's muscles aching but her spirit somewhat buoyed, a commotion near the main gates caught their attention. A group of riders was thundering into the courtyard, their horses lathered with sweat, their faces grim.

"Report!" Reyna barked, her demeanor instantly shifting from instructor to commander.

One of the riders, a young man with a bloody gash across his cheek, stumbled from his horse. "Captain," he gasped. "We were attacked... on the eastern road. Bandits, but... not like any I've seen before. They had... strange powers. Fires that burned cold, shadows that moved on their own."

Elara felt a chill run down her spine, remembering the words of the green-eyed stranger at the fair. The old magics are stirring...

Reyna's face had turned to stone. "How many casualties?"

The guard swallowed hard. "Three dead, ma'am. Five more wounded. And... they took Sergeant Callum."

A ripple of shock went through the gathered crowd. Sergeant Callum was one of the most respected members of the Royal Guard, a veteran of countless battles.

"Took him?" Reyna's voice was dangerously quiet. "You mean they captured him?"

The young guard nodded miserably. "They... they left this." He held out a scrap of parchment, its edges singed and stained with what looked horribly like blood.

Reyna snatched the parchment, her eyes scanning its contents. With each word, her expression grew darker. Finally, she looked up, her gaze falling on Elara.

"Princess," she said, her voice tight with barely contained fury. "I believe you should come with me. Your father needs to see this immediately."

As Elara followed Reyna towards the palace, her mind raced. What could be written on that parchment that would cause such alarm? The peace of the afternoon's training session evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of dread.

Minutes later after arriving the palace, princess Elara stood in the castle courtyard, her heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The events of the day – the ominous message delivered by the wounded guard, the hushed conversations between her father and Captain Reyna behind closed doors – had left her feeling both restless and determined.