The Princess and her Guard

The night is quiet, a small breeze blowing through the land, upturning loose gravel and russet grass.

The stories have been coming in daily. The death toll and the numbers of enemy soldiers crossing their border only continues to increase excessively.

This is what Eliana ponders on as she sits on her balcony, watching the wisps of clouds shift over the harvest moon. The bright hue washes over the sky and paints her father’s dark castle maroon.

The small tower in which her quarters reside, are scorched along the outer walls. The worn-down palace is surrounded by a barren wasteland that expands for miles outside the small village at its base. Eliana remembers when it was once lush and bountiful. When she would pick berries with her mother all day. Now the grass lay in clumps, the bushes burned or dried up. A majority of the trees are chopped down and the fields that the farmers once plowed are now unfertile.

“Princess Eliana, you should really come inside.”

She turns, her wavy, golden hair slipping from her shoulder and swaying across her back. She smiles softly toward her elderly handmaiden.

“Selma, it is a nice night tonight. I have not been able to enjoy such an evening in quite a long time.” She moves over to Selma, her pale blue dress swaying around her. “This war has taken so much from not only us, but the whole country.”

The handmaid softens her dark gaze, lowering her shoulders. “My Lady, you are secure within these walls.”

A rough knock echoes throughout the bedchamber and Selma shuffles over to answer. A young, burly man clad in armor barely fits in her doorframe.

“My Lady, the king requests your presence.”

“Thank you,” a small smile crosses her lips.

The soldier bows and disappears into the shadows of the corridor.

Eliana finds her father in his study. This is where he is for the majority of his day. His shoulders are sagging and his once perfectly dark mane is now greying.

This war will take Eliana’s lineage from her if they do not find a way to counter King Krite and his sons.

“Father,” she announces as she moves to his side.

King Daniel Georgian glances up from the parchment spread out in front of him. They consist of maps and old battle plans etched into the crumpled material. There are two soldiers, high ranking generals, that stand next to her father. They bow before quietly leaving.

He stretches his back, wincing, “I have important news to tell you.”

Normally Eliana is invited to the planning for the battles. Being the highest regarded confidant of the King gives her the opportunity to have a say in almost all matters. “What is it father?”

“This war has taken a lot out of me. Krite has already destroyed half of our country.” Her father’s voice is rough and gravelly. This carnage has lasted for years. Since her mother passed.

Eliana places a hand gently on the King’s arm. “Drein is strong. We will overcome this, father, I know it.”

“The country of Climont that Krite rules might be smaller, but their soldiers are trained from a young age, specifically for war. There is no room for weakness. If I allow this war to go on much longer, all of our citizens will be out of a home, or massacred.” His hands are tight against the table, his brow furrowed.

Eliana ponders for a moment. “What are we to do?”