CHAPTER 12: ELYNDOR WOMEN

Clang..... clang

Swords clanged in the royal training yard as Princess Nyella Elyndor faced Ser Devic Thorne, the Knight Commander of the Phoenix Guard.

To watch them spar was a sight for sore eyes and one many would love to witness.

Nyella moved so swiftly. She was agile and unpredictable. Her footwork was flawless. She would flip, duck, twist, and then counter with precision. This is a result of years of relentless training. She wore no heavy armor today, only a thin leather tunic over her tight trousers.

Ser Devic, on the other hand, had been shaped by battle. He was very tall and good-looking with his strong arms. He wielded a massive spear named Iron Mercy. This spear was huge, almost too big to use, but in his hands, it moved like it had the same mind as the wielder

The Princess lunged. Their blades clashed. He blocked her strike, only to find her spinning low beneath him, and slicing toward his legs.

He jumped back just in time, smiling. "You’re getting faster, Princess," he said while catching his breath.

"Faster than you?" she teased him.

"Not yet. But you’ll give me bruises before this day ends."

They clashed again and the fight continued.

Though he had the strength, she had the speed. Devic knew if she ever fought someone her own size, any other soldier, even most knights, she’d defeat them before they could even land a hit.

But still, he had the edge. Barely.

And then... "Your Highness," a voice called from the edge of the training grounds.

Nyella and Ser Devic froze in the middle of their fight.

It was Sira, her loyal personal guard. Sira had been with Nyella since childhood and even trained with her. One can say they were built like men.

Nyella lowered her sword and turned. "What did you find out?" she asked immediately, still catching her breath.

Sira hesitated, glanced at Devic, then back at the Princess. "They... They discussed your marriage."

Nyella’s face didn’t change. "I knew they would," she muttered. Her jaw clenched slightly. "Did they name anyone?"

"No official names, Your Highness," Sira replied carefully.

Before the Princess could respond, Ser Devic sheathed his blade and stepped forward. Then with a low voice, he said, "Come on... we all know who they intend to offer your hand to."

He met Nyella’s eyes. "Vaelen Vanýr. Son of Lord Vanýr."

A flicker of rage flashed across her face.

"Vaelen?" she hissed. "That bastard? I would rather die than be married to him."

Her hands did tremble slightly, but in fury.

She turned back to Sira.

"Is that all? Did they say more?"

Sira exhaled slowly.

"Oh! I almost forgot. The council... the King... they’ve declared war. War against the Sandborns."

Nyella blinked once. Twice. Then slowly... a smile curled across her lips, the smile of someone who had long waited for those words.

"Good," she said softly. "It’s about time."

She looked away toward the sun and spoke again, more to herself than anyone else. "My father rarely resists the council, but when it comes to me... he never disappoints."

Sira stepped closer with a more concerned look.

"Still... the marriage proposal is gaining weight. Some lords backed House Vanýr on that. They say it would strengthen the throne, especially now that war is upon us."

Nyellalenched her jaw tighter and hardened her grip on her sword’s handle "Let them speak and scheme all they want."

She looked at Sira squarely.

"I will handle the marriage talks myself. And I promise you, if Vaelen Vanýr ever tries to touch the crown through me, he will bleed for it."

There was tension in the air. Sira said nothing. Devic raised a brow, amused but unsurprised. "What I like about you, Princessss, you do not conform to what displeases you regardless of the rule," he said.

She turned back and smiled at him. Then said. "I believe that the rules are wrong and that, I’d fight when I rule this kingdom. Thank you for the duel, Ser Devic. You beat me again."

He grinned. "And I hope I continue to beat you, cause with how we’re ending won’t be long till you finally land a real strike and knock this old knight to the ground."

"That day is coming ser," she said with a smirk. "Sooner than you think."

"..."

"..."

Nyella marched straight to the Queen’s chambers, directly from the training grounds. She didn’t stop to greet the guards in the corridors, nor did she care that her hair was slightly tousled from training nd that her armor was still dirty. Her mind was troubled with what she had just heard about the council members.

She didn’t even knock, just pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

Queen Serenya Elyndor was seated by the window which was her favorite spot. She was sipping tea as she dressed in a soft lavender robe. She was always quiet and graceful, but everyone in the realm knew better than to mistake that for weakness.

She looked up and smiled gently. "What made my beautiful daughter rush into her mother’s chambers still wearing armor?" she asked with her usual grace as she set her cup down. "What’s troubling you, my child?"

Nyella exhaled deeply and threw herself into the chair. "Did you hear about the council meeting?" she asked, while pulling off her gloves. "Did you hear what they’re planning?"

Serenya’s gaze didn’t change. "Of course I heard," she said, as if it were nothing more than a servant’s gossip. "Is that what has been troubling you my dear?"

"They were serious this time, Mother," Nyella said, trying to stay calm but her voice was filled with frustration. "They want to marry me off... and of all people, they mentioned Vaelen."

Serenya gave a soft laugh. "Vaelen Vanýr?" she said, leaning back. "That boy wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you even if someone drew him a map."

Nyella wasn’t laughing. "Mother, it’s not funny. They’re not joking. The council thinks it’s a smart move. A marriage to secure peace between our House and theirs. You know what that means, don’t you? It means surrender. It means giving them power, through me."

"I know exactly what it means," Serenya said. "And it’s not going to happen. Not while I still breathe. House Vanýr has been clawing at our gates for years. Marrying you to one of them would be like handing them the keys to the kingdom."

Nyella looked at her mother and became a little calmer now. "So what do we do? I don’t want anyone to use me like this. As a pawn."

Serenya stood up, walked to her, and placed a hand gently on Nyella’s cheek. "Oh, my fierce lioness. You’re not a pawn. You are a queen in the making. And queens don’t panic, they plan."

Nyella smiled weakly. "So you have a plan?"

Serenya returned to her seat and began pouring a second cup of tea. "Of course I do. I’ve known about the whispers of this match for months. I was waiting to see when they’d grow bold enough to say it aloud. Now that they have, it means they’re desperate. That’s their weakness. And we will use it."

"How?" Nyella asked.

"By reminding them who I am," Serenya said with gleaming eyes. "They may wear fine robes and discuss the nation’s affairs but none of them move without wondering if I’m five steps ahead of them. And I always am. You, my dear, will keep doing what you do best, train, lead, and speak boldly. And leave the rest to me."

"But what if they push harder?" Nyella asked. "What if they try to force the King’s hand?"

Serenya leaned forward. "Then I will break their fingers one by one, and make sure the King sees why he married me. They fear me for a reason, Nyella. Voryn Vanýr knows that. That’s why he’s never dared to confront me directly. Because he knows I don’t play politics, I win wars before they even start."

Nyella’s eyes sparkled with admiration and relief. "Okay, Mother. I’ll do what you say."

Serenya smiled. "Good. Now take off that armor. Sit down and drink something warm. Let the wolves howl all they want outside these walls. They forget, this kingdom was not built by soft hands or scared hearts. It was built by Elyndor blood. And Elyndor women don’t break."