Queen Shala's ride to Magda took her from the lush green valleys of Hira into a world of harsh beauty. The snow-capped mountains rose sharp against the sky, roads carved through rock and ice. Magda wasn't as beautiful as her home—no blooming fields or gentle rivers—but it was militarized to the core. Everything felt strong steady ready for attack. Buildings were made of thick gray stone walls reinforced with iron bands roofs sloped to shake off heavy snow. Every person she passed carried a weapon: men with broad axes strapped to their backs women with swords at their hips even children practicing with small hammers and the old folks leaning on spears like walking sticks. Everyone was ready for anything because in Magda you had to be.
Magda was a nation that was greatly disadvantaged because despite having terrain that put them above the rest incase of a war, they were also in the middle of great and more powerful nations, Hira to the south, Jingis to the north , Macedonia and Sumer to the west and Tartarus, Son and Qing to the east, incase an all out war broke out, they were at the middle and an alliance amongst all the nations surrounding them would spell disaster for them. They therefore had to be ready for anything despite the luck in their hands which was terrain advantage and lack of peace between the nations that surrounded them.
Right in the middle of the big city stood a huge cemetery. Rows and rows of stone markers stretching far guarded day and night by solemn warriors. It was somber protected like a sacred heart reminding everyone of the cost of survival.
When Queen Shala's group reached the city gates they were received by the king's guards—no king here just the general's men. Tall huge figures woolen and leather armor with metallic parts that gave space between joints for better mobility , they were tall and bulky as if they were bred for battle. The guard leader a grizzled man with scars across his face stepped forward and offered her a silk handkerchief. She hadn't even noticed the tears in her eyes.
"Your Majesty you look sad," he said gruffly but kind. "What's wrong?"
Shala took the handkerchief dabbing her cheeks. "I miss my husband that's all. He's unwell back home."
The guards nodded respectful and led her group deeper into the city. Everything changed though when they reached the palace—or what passed for one. It wasn't palatial like Hira's no delicate towers or silk banners. This was a castle pure and simple: thick walls high towers arrow slits everywhere looking ready for war at any moment. She could see multiple warriors with bows and arrows walk at the top tirelessly, it's as if they all anticipated war and were ready for it.
Waiting at the entrance was the general himself. He looked different from yesterday's initial harsh treaty mood—enthusiastic almost warm. His huge frame filled the doorway white armor clean and polished. He welcomed her with open arms a real smile breaking through that stern face.
"Queen Shala welcome to Magda," he boomed voice deep but gentle. "Come we've prepared a comfortable room for you to rest after the journey." He turned to his guards snapping orders and they hurried to take her things.
As they walked inside stealing glances at each other a bit too long. His dark eyes lingering on her graceful form her gaze tracing the strong lines of his shoulders. They both thought it was just admiration nothing more.
But it went overboard quick. During the welcome tour the general suggested they walk the lands to discuss daily life and trade. Somehow they kept drifting away from the whole escort—Hira soldiers on one side Magda guards on the other. The two leaders chatting about crops and training snow leopards and fertile fields. Laughter came easy words flowed.
At one point on a quiet ridge overlooking the city they stopped. Stole a glance too long hearts beating faster. They leaned in almost kissed lips inches apart breath warm in the cold air. But the escort caught up boots crunching on snow and they stepped back quick faces flushed pretending nothing happened.
The Magda guards were keen though—eyes sharp on their old rivals. Every time the queen and general disappeared for a bit the soldiers would grip weapons tighter. If Hira men drew swords to stretch or adjust Magda axes were half-out ready to attack in a heartbeat. Tension hung like frost but no one sparked it.
Later that afternoon Shala met the general's wife. She was impressive—beautiful with long dark hair braided with metal rings and taller than average Hira women even taller than some men back home. Soft features high cheekbones kind smile but four different weapons strapped on: two daggers a short sword and a small axe ready for war. Despite that she was warm hospitable pouring hot tea and offering warm furs.
They chatted and laughed about husbands and duties. The wife sympathized reaching out to touch Shala's hand. "Taking over royal duties with a sick husband… it must be heavy. No wonder you've looked saddened all day."
Shala nodded swallowing hard. "It is. I don't know how I'd be without him."
The wife smiled soft but fierce. "I'm so bonded to mine. If anything separated us I'd cry so hard the mountains would hear. He's my everything."
Guilt twisted in Shala's chest sharp and unexpected. She forced a smile changing the subject.
Part of the visit included the Magdian Wall—massive structure snaking through the mountains being built stronger every year. The general led the way proud but cautious.
"Here," he said pointing to one section scarred with old burns. "This part protected us from the Chingis army. Held them back for months."
Another part was booby-trapped like madness—hidden pits spikes rolling logs. "From the Tartarian warriors," he explained. They looked from a safe distance—only three soldiers trained to master where every single trap was could go up the narrow tower to attack slinging arrows or rocks. Strong catapults sat loaded with tins of stones ready to fire crushing anything below.
Then the third part—the one facing Hira. It was the most well-built thickest stone reinforced towers everywhere.
They joked about it at first light laughs about old battles. But Shala's smile faded tears coming again. "I'm sorry," she whispered voice breaking. "For all the wars before my husband and I came to power. So many lost…"
The general's face softened. He took her hand gently lifting it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Thank you for being part of the peace Your Majesty. Those wars left us vulnerable—after a few years we couldn't handle losing more people. Your treaty saved lives on both sides."
His touch lingered warm through her glove. She didn't pull away.
By 3pm it was time to leave. Magda soldiers escorted them out riding until a safe distance where borders blurred. Goodbyes were said polite but loaded. Shala mounted her horse glancing back one last time at the general standing tall against his castle.
The ride home felt longer colder. Guilt mixed with that strange pull in her chest. Magda faded behind snow starting to fall soft and silent.