The Crowned Captive
Master of the Guard

Before long, she was dressed in tailored black trousers and a fitted burgundy tunic, the embroidered dragon breathing flames of orange and yellow. Her dagger was sheathed at one thigh, the short sword on the other, and Lorenna carefully braided her hair around her tiara once more. As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was reminded of just how much her life had changed in such a short time. Instead of a grubby and malnourished young woman, a hard day away from begging or selling herself on the streets, a princess stared back. There was a fullness to her body, a warmth to her face that she had never had when fending for herself. Her movements were smooth and lithe, unlike that of a human at all anymore. She truly looked like an heir to the throne.

As they walked around the castle, through the gardens to where barricades and turrets and the like were being built, she held her head high. Nobody whispered under their breath as she walked by anymore. Instead, they scurried from her path or bowed hastily at her passing. When they arrived at her destination, all it took was a simple clearing of her throat for everyone to do the same. The master of the guard, a grey-skinned half-orc by the name of Berrin, was the first to greet her. She ignored the clammy and too-warm feel of his skin as he clasped her forearm but silently wondered if it was nervousness or just him. As they walked between the construction, he explained their process of building.

“Those Rebels think us stupid, yer ’ighness. They expect us to think they’ll come from the forest again now they know their way in. Well, our best magic wielders and the like are there now, setting up all sorts of traps to ’amper their progress whilst we build our defences at every other entrance. Not so dumb now, are we?” He spoke as they walked, chest puffed out with pride. Morana looked on curiously, wondering exactly how the defences were going to be best used to aid them but trusting Rowan to know that much. As she looked back at him, he nodded silently, as if to affirm it was going well.

“I am impressed. I trust you will oversee the building well. May I ask, Lord Berrin, where your accent is from? It is most peculiar,” she replied. It was true, the only other place she had heard such an accent was when Robyn had had full control over his mind.

The half-orc had the grace at least to look uncomfortable with the line of questioning, something Morana hadn’t expected with the gusto he had shown so far. “I grew up in the west, yer Highness,” he began, trying to lessen the lilt of his words. When she did not answer and he realised she was not happy with that as an answer alone, he continued. “The Rebels ran thick in the area, it’s true. I was raised amongst ’em, but I never fought for ’em, on me life. I left when I was still young, barely three decades on.”

“You would know them well enough, then? What makes you think that after two attempts at stealthy infiltration, they will not try the same with a third? Their attempts may have been stopped, but each time they were a hairsbreadth from attaining their goal. I don’t see their current intent being a mass casualty, even though they obviously aren’t opposed to spilling blood. No, they are going to expend as few men as possible until they either have me in their grasps, or I am dead. Only then will the attack outright.”

Berrin looked at her for a long moment as she watched the men and women assemble the wooden structures, a look of worry and apprehension on his face. She wondered how they would move the turrets in the end, knowing they would all be useless sitting in the same spot. After a moment of being lost in her thoughts, she turned, smiling slightly to herself to see Berrin still standing uncomfortably, unable to reply, and Rowan grinning from behind him. Her eyes rested on the orc, and she waited.

“Yer may ’ave a point, yer ’ighness, but we can’t guarantee it. They have been foiled twice, so why not come at us with all their force? Only a fool does the same thing over and over and expects to win.”

Morana snorted at the words. “The first time they came, they sent in one man. One man incapacitated fourteen guards in a matter of minutes, then took his time carving up the rest. If he had not been quite so arrogant, there would likely have been fifteen dead and a princess missing. The second time, they sent eighteen men total, their leader included. Rowan killed eleven through stealth and sheer luck, and the rest took at least three men apiece to take down. Seventy-three died in total. Thirty-nine innocent men, women and children were slaughtered like pigs regardless of if they were servants or low-born lords or visiting guests. Thirty-four guards perished. There were no more than a handful of survivors, and two of them are standing with you now.

“I know it is difficult to listen to someone with less experience in the art of war than you, so listen as a survivor instead. Unless all in the Rebellion are elite warriors unlike any we can train, they are suffering the loss of fifteen of their best. They aren’t going to sacrifice a legion on top of that to capture me. If he wants me in his grasp, he is going to resort to trickery and stealth. He is either going to use someone close to me to lure me out, or he is going to use someone close to me to put a dagger through my heart and end this game.”

Even Rowan looked at her uncomfortably now, but she knew he saw the truth in her words. If Draigh was true with his intent to either capture or kill her in one attempt on his next visit, then there was only one sure way to do it. When the next attack came, there would be either one person captured, or one person dead. Draigh himself would not step foot inside the castle walls again until he came to claim it, lest he could not leave again. He would not expend more warriors for someone as powerless as her. No, he was going to bide his time and strike when victory was all but guaranteed.

“Build the supports, but have your men trained to fight in close proximity. Train them within the castle walls, and make sure they know the layout of the halls and any passageways hidden between them. Make sure they know if their princess tells them to kill, they will, no matter who stands in front of them. And make sure the mages know to spell the inside of the castle just as much as the outside; if they can break through wards that the gods created, they can break through whatever extra they are putting out there now,” Rowan said when it was obvious that Berrin had no words left to give.

At that, Morana nodded her goodbyes to the master and left, eager to talk to someone who could give her more conversation than that.