A Kingdom in the Shadows

The scent of burning incense filled Lord Magnus Rowen's study, curling through the dim candlelight as he sat at his desk, fingers tapping against the polished wood. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting flickering shadows on the towering bookshelves. He had spent years cultivating his influence, making allies out of enemies, turning whispers into weapons. And now, the time was near.

The kingdom was ripe for the taking.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, smirking as he glanced at the parchment spread before him—documents detailing military supply routes, the strength of the royal guard, and most importantly, the weaknesses within the court. The King was not an old man, but his time on the throne had softened him. He ruled with justice and fairness, but fairness was weakness in the hands of fools. Magnus had watched the court grovel before Aldric for too long, and soon, he would turn those same nobles into his own pawns.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he commanded.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped in, clad in dark armor—Captain Bram Whitmore, one of Magnus' most trusted men. His loyalty had been bought with gold and promises of power, and he had proven useful time and time again.

"My Lord," Bram greeted with a low bow. "The nobles grow restless. They fear the King favors the wild princess too much."

Magnus chuckled, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Good. Let them fester in their dissatisfaction." He set the goblet down and folded his hands. "And the mercenaries?"

"They're ready. We've positioned them outside the western border, just as you ordered. A few more weeks, and they'll be in place for the final strike."

Magnus nodded. Everything was moving according to plan. But before he could execute his coup, there was one obstacle left—Sir Lucian Valemont.

The King's golden knight.

Lucian had always been a thorn in his side, ever since the man was a boy. Raised in the palace after his father's untimely death, Lucian had grown into an untouchable force of discipline and strength. If Magnus was to take the throne, he needed Lucian gone.

Perhaps permanently.

---

Meanwhile, in the Royal Training Grounds...

Lucian swung his sword in a precise arc, the steel clashing against his opponent's blade. Sweat dripped down his brow as he parried, then lunged, knocking his sparring partner off balance. The young knight stumbled backward, panting.

"Again," Lucian ordered.

"My Lord, I think I've had enough—"

"Again."

The knight groaned but obeyed, gripping his sword tightly as he charged. Lucian deflected his strike with ease, stepping to the side before twisting the blade from the knight's hands and pointing the tip at his throat.

"Dead."

The young knight huffed in frustration, but Lucian only sheathed his sword, offering him a hand. "Strength is not enough. You must anticipate your enemy's moves before they make them."

The knight took his hand, nodding. "Yes, Sir."

Lucian turned, wiping his face with a cloth. His mind had been restless all morning, and it wasn't just because of training.

It was because of her.

Princess Evangeline.

It had been days since the grand ball, and yet, he could still see her standing there in that ridiculous gown, stumbling through their dance like an untamed storm. She was nothing like the noblewomen of the court, yet there was something infuriatingly captivating about her.

"Thinking about the princess again?" Tobias' voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lucian frowned as Tobias leaned against the fence, a smirk on his face.

"I don't have time for your nonsense," Lucian muttered, drinking from his waterskin.

"Oh, come now," Tobias teased. "You've been brooding ever since you danced with her. Admit it, she's under your skin."

Lucian didn't answer, which only made Tobias chuckle.

"Ah, love is a cruel thing."

"I do not love her," Lucian snapped.

Tobias snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."

Before Lucian could retort, a loud commotion near the gardens caught their attention.

---

The Royal Garden – A Scene of Chaos

Eva sat on the edge of the fountain, arms crossed, glaring at the noblewoman in front of her.

"I don't see the problem," Eva said.

The woman, Lady Rosalind of House Whitmore, looked positively scandalized. "You—you threw a tomato at my brother!"

Eva huffed. "He deserved it."

The court murmured in horror. The incident had begun when Sir Geoffrey Whitmore, an arrogant noble, had made the mistake of commenting on Eva's "unrefined" ways. In response, Eva had plucked a tomato from a nearby basket and flung it at his face with impeccable aim.

Unfortunately, half the court had been present to witness it.

Lucian arrived just in time to see Lady Rosalind fuming and Eva looking pleased with herself. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"

"Your princess is a menace!" Lady Rosalind shrieked.

Eva stood, hands on her hips. "It's just a tomato. It's not like I challenged him to a duel."

Lucian exhaled slowly, already feeling the headache forming.

"I will handle this," he assured Lady Rosalind, who huffed before stomping away.

Once they were alone, Lucian turned to Eva. "What were you thinking?"

"He called me a wild horse that needed to be tamed," Eva said, crossing her arms. "I think I showed him what a wild horse can do."

Lucian gave her a pointed look, but she only smirked.

"You're impossible," he muttered.

"And you're boring," she shot back.

Lucian shook his head, walking away before he said something he'd regret. He had bigger problems to worry about than Eva's antics.

Like the growing shadow looming over the kingdom.

---

Back in Magnus' Study...

Magnus listened as Bram finished his report on the court's latest scandals. He chuckled to himself.

The kingdom was already beginning to crumble at its edges.

Soon, all he had to do was push.