A Fragile Alliance

The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and despair. Deep beneath the Britannia Palace, in a hidden dungeon illuminated only by flickering torchlight, prisoners groaned in agony. The dim light cast long, ominous shadows on the damp stone walls, where chains hung like silent sentinels of suffering.

Maria stood in the centre of the chamber, her regal presence contrasting sharply with the grim surroundings. Her crimson gown, embroidered with golden threads, seemed out of place in this hellish environment. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of cold determination.

A man clad in dark leather armour approached her, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty, they refuse to speak. But I assure you, I will make them talk soon enough." His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of menace.