Martina stepped out of the orphanage, her heart light from the children's laughter still echoing in her ears. "There you go, dear—here's the book you asked for," she had said moments earlier, handing it to a wide-eyed girl. "It was so nice seeing you all again, but I have to go now. Sadly... Bye, everyone!" She waved fondly as the children crowded the doorway, their small hands fluttering in farewell.
"Such sweet children," Martina murmured to herself, a smile lingering as she strolled down the sun-dappled path. Lost in thought, she didn't notice the figure ahead until it was too late. She bumped straight into a tall woman, stumbling back with a gasp.
"Watch where you're going, young lady," the woman said, her voice steady and low, like gravel underfoot.
"Oh dear! I'm really sorry, miss—I wasn't paying attention," Martina replied, brushing off her elegant skirts and looking up. The stranger had shoulder-length blood-red hair and pitch-black eyes that seemed to pierce right through her.
The woman paused, studying Martina's face. Recognition flickered in her gaze. She straightened to her full height—towering at 6'1"—and nodded slowly. "Aren't you the princess of the Kingdom of Riverbend?"
Martina laughed softly, not at all surprised. "Ah, yes, you're right. I would've been shocked if you didn't know me—everyone in Riverbend knows the royal family."
Vetra crossed her arms, her black eyes glinting with faint amusement. "So I was right. King Victor's daughter, Martina."
Martina tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her lemon-yellow eyes. "Yes, that's me. And who might you be?"
"Vetra," the woman replied simply, her voice calm and measured. "A retired soldier from the Kingdom of Shadowfen."
Martina's eyes widened in shock. Shadowfen was one of Riverbend's greatest enemies, their shadowed armies a constant threat along the borders. "Shadowfen..." she echoed, a note of wary concern threading through her words.
Vetra raised a hand, her expression unchanging. "Yes, but you don't need to worry. I quit their army some time ago. Truth be told, I only joined as a warrior for the money."
Relief washed over Martina, easing the tension from her shoulders. "It's good to hear you no longer serve the enemy. But what brings you to Riverbend? It's quite a journey from Shadowfen."
Vetra shrugged, glancing toward the distant horizon. "I've been wandering between kingdoms, hoping to find work."
Martina's face brightened. "I see—so you need a job!"
"Uh... yes," Vetra admitted, a rare hint of hesitation in her serious demeanor.
"Of course!" Martina exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I was just thinking I need an assistant."
Vetra arched an eyebrow. "An assistant? I suppose I could manage that."
Martina's gaze flicked appreciatively over Vetra's muscular frame, the strength evident even beneath her masculine tunic and boots. "You're quite muscular too—though that makes sense, given your warrior background."
Vetra nodded firmly, her pitch-black eyes steady. "Right—I can also serve as a bodyguard if needed."
Martina beamed, her white hair catching the fading sunlight. "Of course! I can't wait to introduce you to Father!"
Without hesitation, Martina led Vetra through the bustling streets of Riverbend toward the grand castle. By the time they arrived, twilight had deepened into night, torches flickering along the stone walls like watchful eyes.
"Father! I'm back," Martina called brightly as she swept into the throne room. King Victor sat upon his ornate throne, his face etched with deep worry and concern. Shadows danced across his regal features, amplifying the tension in the air.
"Martina!" Victor rose abruptly, his voice booming with a mix of relief and stern reprimand. "What did I say about roaming the kingdom this late?" The words hung heavy, laced with the unspoken fear of threats lurking beyond the castle gates.
"I'm really sorry, Father," Martina replied, her optimistic tone softening with genuine remorse. "I understand your concern, but I met this woman near the orphanage. She needs a job, so I thought she could work here in the castle."
Victor's brow furrowed deeper, his kingly authority sharpening. "Martina, dear—you can't just bring anyone into the castle!" His gaze hardened, the weight of royal security pressing upon him.
From the shadows of the entrance, Vetra stepped forward, her tall frame commanding the room. "I am not just 'anyone,'" she declared coolly, positioning herself beside Martina like a steadfast shield.
The throne room fell silent. Victor's eyes narrowed as Vetra bowed with precise respect. "My sincerest greetings, King Victor," she said, her voice unwavering.
Victor leaned forward, intrigue cutting through his suspicion. "Greetings. Might I have your introduction?"
Vetra met his stare without flinching. "My name is Vetra. I am 25 years old, and... Iserved as a soldierin the Kingdom of Shadowfen."
A stunned hush gripped the chamber, the revelation igniting drama like a spark in dry tinder—Shadowfen, the name alone evoking betrayal and ancient rivalries.
The word "Shadowfen" hung in the air like a thunderclap. King Victor shot to his feet, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. At 6'0" with short white hair and piercing brown eyes, the 44-year-old ruler cut an imposing figure, his face twisting in fury.
"I see—you're from Shadowfen," he growled. "Guards! Executeher this instant!"
Two armored guards burst forward, forcing Vetra to her knees. One pressed a gleaming sword against her neck, the blade cold against her skin. Vetra's mild muscular build—honed by insane strength rather than bulk—tensed subtly beneath her tunic, her frame unyielding despite the threat.
Guard 1 sneered. "Try anything clever, and this sword will slice through your neck in a heartbeat."
Vetra's lips curved into a defiant smirk. "What a way to treat a guest, Your Majesty," she drawled, her calm tone laced with deliberate provocation.
Martina stood frozen nearby, her slim figure rigid with anxiety. She analyzed the escalating chaos, fear flickering in her lemon-yellow eyes, but stepped forward to defuse it. "Please, everyone—calm down! Father, you're misunderstanding. Vetra was an ex-soldier in Shadowfen. She has no ties to them anymore!"
Victor whirled on his daughter, sword still drawn. "You can't trust those people so easily, Martina! She could backstab us without a second thought!"
"But Father, she—"
Vetra cut in, her voice low, calm, and lethally serious. "Says the one who wages wars and conquers kingdoms by force. Do you have any idea how many children, innocents, and even your own soldiers die in all this? You higher-ups sit back, sipping tea, while the poor bleed for your deeds."
Victor's face reddened. "SHUT UP!" he bellowed, glaring daggers at her. "You know nothing of our kingdom. People from your land are easily manipulated by fools!"
Vetra's black eyes gleamed with mocking sarcasm. "I'm misinformed?" she echoed, her tone dripping disdain. "The subjects here are the ones fed lies to cover your dirty deeds. But no reason to lie now, is there?"
Martina's heart raced, disbelief widening her eyes at the blistering exchange. Victor sneered. "What an attitude—no wonder you're from Shadowfen."
Before Vetra could retort, Martina intervened, her voice pleading and soft. "Father, please calm down. Vetra seems like a good person at heart... please..." Sorrow brimmed in her gaze, unshed tears glistening.
Victor paused, guilt flickering as he saw his daughter's distress. He might have gone too far. With a heavy sigh, he sheathed his sword and sank back onto the throne, arms crossed in thought.
Martina pressed gently. "Father... please, stop this now..."
He opened his eyes, softening at her plea. "Guards, release her. She'll serve as my daughter's assistant and bodyguard from now on."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Guard 2 barked. The blades lifted from Vetra's neck, and the guards retreated.
Martina's face lit up. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around Victor in a delighted hug. "Thank you so much, Dad—you're the best!"
A rare, gentle smile touched his lips. "Anything for my lovely daughter."
From a distance, Vetra watched the heartwarming scene, her serious expression cracking with faint shock. This woman she'd just met had defended her fiercely—something hard to digest.
——