When Dareios Falls

The palace gates had never looked more welcoming. Kaerith guided her weary horse through the familiar archway, its hooves echoing against the cobblestones. Home. Finally.

As she approached the royal stables, she spotted a familiar figure waiting near the mounting block.

Mira, her attendant, was not looking harried as usual. Instead, a mischievous smile played across her face, the knowing grin friends shared when they had delicious secrets to spill.

"Your Highness," Mira said with a curtsy, though her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.

"I felt your approach about an hour ago—you must have been riding hard. Welcome home."

Kaerith dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy. The familiar warmth of their bond settled back into place after almost a month of distance.

"It's good to see you cheerful, Mira. That smile could light up the entire palace." Kaerith teased. 

"Oh, you have no idea the things I've witnessed while you were away," Mira said, practically bouncing on her feet as she picked Kearith's pack.

"Lady Jaleh was caught stealing from her mother-in-law's jewelry box.... And then there was the incident with Lord Ramin's nephew and the kitchen maid, which caused quite the scandal and—"

Mira stopped abruptly, her face falling as memory struck. "Oh!, I nearly forgot—His Majesty requests your immediate presence in the throne hall. 'The moment you arrived', he said."

Kaerith paused, a bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"Immediately? Not even time to wash the road dust from my face?" she asked, the weariness of the journey merging into her voice.

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness. He was quite insistent," Mira said apologetically, then brightened. "But I can have a bath prepared for afterward?"

Before Kaerith could respond, a familiar voice cut through the courtyard air.

"Ah, there's our returning hero." Her brother appeared from the direction of the gardens, impeccably dressed as always.

"I trust the road treated you well, sister?"

Mira's expression immediately shifted to mock annoyance.

"Your Highness," she said to him with exaggerated formality, "some of us were having a delightful conversation before you arrived to interrupt with your... presence."

"My sincerest apologies, Mira," he replied with an elegant bow that somehow managed to be both respectful and mocking.

"I shall endeavor to exist more quietly in the future," he teased.

"See that you do," Mira huffed, gathering Kaerith's belongings with theatrical indignation.

"Your Highness," she said, bowing to Kaerith, her tone warming again,

"I'll take these to your chambers and prepare a bath and... some wine. Something strong," she said, winking at Kaerith.

With that, she swept away, muttering something under her breath about "princes who interrupt perfectly good gossip."

They watched her go, then began walking through the palace corridors in comfortable silence.

As they crossed the central courtyard, voices drifted from the rose garden.

Her step-sisters sat beneath the pergola, their elaborate gowns spread around them like flower petals, embroidery hoops in their hands. Parisa, the elder at nineteen, looked up as Kaerith passed.

"Sister dear, you've returned," she called out sweetly, though her eyes took in Kaerith's travel-worn appearance with obvious distaste.

"How... rustic you look. Was your little excursion successful?"

"Quite," Kaerith replied, slowing her steps to a slow halt.

"I do hope you didn't have to get your hands too dirty," added Yasamin, the younger at seventeen, her voice dripping with false concern.

"Court life requires such delicate sensibilities, after all."

Kaerith smiled thinly. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Well, do try to make yourself presentable before you see Father," Parisa continued, eyes mocking Kaerith's appearance.

"First impressions matter so much in diplomacy."

Before Kaerith could respond, her brother stepped forward with an elegant smile.

"And you have solved how many of the kingdom's problems with your needlework?" he asked smoothly, looking playfully confused. 

Kaerith snorted, "Sorry," she said, concealing her laughter.

The step-sisters' smiles disappeared. Yasamin opened her mouth as if to respond, then shut it.

"Ladies," he said with an elegant bow.

"Don't let us keep you from your... needlework." he continued.

As they walked away, Parisa's voice carried after them: "Some of us contribute to the kingdom's beauty rather than its violence."

-----------------------------------

"Fascinating perspective from someone whose greatest achievement is threading silk," he murmured to Kaerith, his voice pitched just low enough that the comment wouldn't carry back to the garden.

"Poorly, I might add," a mocking, concerned look on his face.

Kaerith stifled a laugh. The observation was cruel but accurate, and after days of genuine danger, their step-sisters' petty barbs felt almost quaint.

The familiar sounds and scents of home—polished stone, burning candles, distant kitchen preparations—should have been soothing. Instead, they only emphasized how little rest she'd been allowed.

As they approached the throne hall, the sound of armored footsteps grew louder from a side corridor. The Elite Guards were coming closer, their metal plates chiming softly with each step as they spoke in low tones.

'Probably coming from the throne room,' Kaerith thought.

They halted. "Prince Keyan, Princess Kaerith," Captain Theron greeted. The other three soldiers behind him saluted.

"Captain?"Kaerith inclined her head in acknowledgment as she and her brother strolled by.

"Welcome home." He added.

"Remarkably dedicated, our Elite Guard," her brother remarked when they were ahead.

"Such... thorough attention to duty. I imagine they're quite vigilant about protecting what matters most to the crown." he continued.

"They take their responsibilities seriously." Not understanding her brother's gibberish.

"I'm sure they do." His tone was perfectly innocent, but she caught the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Especially when it comes to matters of... personal security," he continued, smiling coyly.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

The doors of the throne hall stood open before them, golden light spilling into the corridor. Voices drifted from within—her father's deep tones mixing with those of his advisors. The court was still in session, then. Of course it was.

"Ready?" her brother asked quietly.

Kaerith straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Always."

The throne hall was impressive even by royal standards—soaring ceilings, stained glass windows that cast colorful patterns across the marble floor, and the great throne itself, carved from a single piece of black stone.

Her father sat upon it, still wearing his crown despite the late hour. Around him, a dozen court members stood in small clusters, their conversations dying as the siblings approached.

"Father," her brother said, offering an elegant bow. "I trust the day has treated you well?"

King Mazdak looked up, his expression neutral but tinged with displeasure.

"Son. I wasn't expecting you."

"I thought I might provide moral support for our returning hero," Keyan replied smoothly, gesturing to Kaerith. "Surely that's permissible?"

Their father's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Of course. Take a seat."

Her brother moved to one of the chairs arranged along the hall's edge, settling himself with practiced grace. His presence was both comforting and concerning—he rarely attended formal audiences unless he sensed trouble brewing.

"Daughter," King Mazdak said, his attention turning to Kaerith. "Your report."

She stepped forward, very aware of the watching eyes around her. Lord Commander Aldwin stood to her father's right, his weathered face unreadable.

Treasury Minister Hadrian clutched a leather portfolio, clearly ready to discuss financial implications. Several other court members had positioned themselves within earshot.

"The mission to Greiholld was successful, Your Majesty," she began, her voice carrying clearly through the hall. "I gained access to the diplomatic proceedings as planned."

"And King Aldric's intentions?" This from Lord Commander Aldwin, his military mind cutting straight to the point.

"He refused all offers of alliance or support," Kaerith reported.

"Quite publicly, and with apparent sincerity. His exact words were that Vaelthorne would fight its own battle."

Murmurs rippled through the assembled courtiers.

Treasury Minister Hadrian leaned forward. "Refused support? Are we certain this isn't some elaborate deception?"

"The reactions in the hall suggested genuine surprise," Kaerith continued.

"Several foreign dignitaries appeared genuinely concerned and shocked by his statement. If it was theater, it was remarkably convincing."

"What of his evidence?" her father asked, his fingers drumming against the throne's armrest. "You mentioned he had proof of our military preparations."

"Extensive documentation. Captured correspondence, prisoner testimony, detailed intelligence about supply lines and troop movements." Kaerith kept her voice steady, professional.

"Either his spies are extraordinarily competent, or our security has significant gaps."

Lord Commander Aldwin's face darkened.

"I'll want a full briefing on those details," her father said calmly

"Of course, my lord." Commander Aldwin replied

Lady Morwyn, the court's senior diplomatic advisor, stepped forward. "And your assessment of King Aldric himself? Your Highness?"

Kaerith hesitated for just a moment, remembering those green eyes finding hers through the gallery screens.

"Confident. Unusually so, for someone facing such overwhelming odds. Either he's hiding significant advantages, or..."

"Or?" her father prompted.

"Or he genuinely believes he'll win this own." Kaerith continued.

The hall fell silent. Finally, Lord Hadrian spoke up: "The financial implications of maintaining our current military posture indefinitely..."

"Are manageable," King Mazdak cut him off sharply. "What of the other kingdoms present? Any potential new threats or opportunities?"

"King Varezhan of Thaloré was present," Kaerith reported. "He seemed... particularly invested in Aldric's decision. Made a rather dramatic display after the formal session ended."

"What kind of display?" This from Lady Morwyn, her diplomatic instincts engaged.

"Intimidation. The Council had to intervene." Kaerith answered

Her father leaned forward, interest sharpening his features.

"Varezhan has always been hotheaded." Her father said.

Kaerith could see it; he knew something about Varezhan. His eyes held that weird glint. 

"Anything else?" He asked.

Kaerith provided the remaining minor details—the Kings and nobles that were present and the general mood of the assembly.

Her father and his advisors then shifted their focus from Greiholld to their own kingdom, peppering her with questions about their military readiness—troop numbers, recent recruits, defensive preparations, and whether she believed their forces were ready for what lay ahead.

Finally, after nearly an hour of interrogation, King Mazdak leaned back in his throne.

"Excellent work," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction.

"This information will prove invaluable in our planning. Go—get some rest"

"Of course, Father."

She bowed and turned to leave, her brother falling into step beside her. As they exited the throne hall, she could hear the voices behind them resuming, already moving on to other matters.