The capital was vast, its streets like veins running through a living organism, pulsing with life, magic, and ambition. Ellie had hoped to lose herself in the crowded markets, to fade into anonymity, but instead, she had found herself drawn deeper into the labyrinth of power. Her name, whispered in the halls of the guild and on the streets alike, now floated on the lips of the kingdom’s highest.

It wasn’t long before the summons came.

A letter sealed with the royal crest, delivered by an impeccably dressed servant, its contents written in the gilded, flowing script of a court official. Ellie stared at it for a long time, the parchment resting on the table before her.

The weight of it felt far heavier than the paper itself. She knew, after the events in Greymire, that she couldn’t escape attention forever. But this—a formal invitation to a royal banquet—was far beyond what she had feared.

“They want me there,” Ellie muttered, her fingers tracing the royal seal. “Why?”

The answer came easily enough. Every powerful faction in the kingdom wanted a claim on her now. A woman of immense, and supposedly untapped, power. A weapon. An ally. A threat to be managed. The nobles, the court mages, the generals—they all wanted something from her.

She sighed, sinking into the chair, staring at the letter as though it might vanish if she wished hard enough. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

Ellie jumped to her feet, her pulse quickening. The servant entered, bowing with an exaggerated formality that only deepened her unease. “The royal carriage awaits, my lady. It is time.”

“Time for what?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

The servant only smiled, unbothered by the question. “His Majesty does not like to be kept waiting.”

Ellie nodded mutely, pulling herself together as best she could. Her heart raced as she followed the servant out, the weight of the situation settling deeper into her bones with every step.

The carriage that awaited her outside gleamed in the late afternoon light, gilded with gold, the royal insignia etched into its side like a brand. The door opened with a soft creak, and Ellie hesitated for just a moment before climbing inside. The servant followed, closing the door with a click that felt final.

As the horses began to pull the carriage forward, Ellie stared out the window, watching the city blur past. Her thoughts spun. The capital had always seemed overwhelming with its size, noise, and ceaseless motion. But now, it felt more than that—it felt alive, a web of ambition and danger, and she was caught in its threads.

The carriage crossed a wide stone bridge, its arches rising high over a shimmering river. Beyond the water, the royal palace loomed ahead. Its towers reached impossibly high into the sky, banners snapping in the wind. The air felt thicker as they neared, charged with magic.

Her stomach twisted. What was she walking into?

The palace guard, dressed in armor polished to a mirror-like shine, saluted sharply as the carriage passed through the towering gates. The wheels rolled over smooth marble stones, and Ellie could hear the faint hum of voices in the distance—courtly conversations, laughter, the soft clink of goblets.

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She was led through a maze of corridors, each more elaborate than the last, until finally, the grand doors of the banquet hall stood before her. The servant gave a brief nod, as though to wish her luck.

With a groaning creak, the doors swung open.

The hall inside was awash with light, chandeliers sparkling like stars overhead. Nobles, mages, and warriors filled the space, their eyes turning as one to the doorway the moment Ellie stepped inside. Her breath caught in her throat.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, too low for her to hear. But she could feel the weight of their gazes, each one assessing, calculating what she might mean to them.

At the far end of the hall, seated atop a raised dais, was Lorthraine’s royal family. The king, flanked by advisors and court mages, watched her with a gaze that was both curious and calculating. Beside him, the queen regarded Ellie with cool indifference. But the crown prince—his eyes sparkled with a kind of amusement that set her on edge.

“Lady Ellie,” the king’s voice boomed, cutting through the whispers. “We are honored by your presence.”

Ellie swallowed and inclined her head, trying to mimic the graceful gestures she had seen others use. She moved forward, her limbs stiff, her heart hammering in her chest. Conversations resumed in hushed tones as she walked, the murmur of her name following her like a shadow.

When she reached the long banquet table, she was shown to a seat near the head, surrounded by nobles and officials. The low murmur of conversation continued, though it shifted subtly in her direction.

“Lady Ellie, your handling of the Greymire mercenaries was nothing short of genius,” remarked a woman to her right, draped in rich silks and glittering jewels.

Ellie froze, the woman’s words hitting her like a slap. Genius? She remembered the chaos, the sheer accident of her success. “I… try to stay adaptable.”

“Adaptable, yes.” The woman nodded approvingly, as though Ellie had imparted some deep wisdom. “That’s exactly what we need more of—tactical brilliance. I must say, your ability to command such… unpredictable forces speaks volumes.”

Ellie felt her cheeks flush. Unpredictable forces? They were lucky accidents, all of them.

On the other side of the table, a man in a mage’s cloak leaned in, his silver hair shimmering in the candlelight. His eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on her. “I heard you dispatched a rogue sorcerer with ease in the lower tunnels. That must’ve been quite the duel. What was your strategy?”

Ellie’s throat tightened. The duel. She remembered it well—the blind panic, the clumsy use of magic that had somehow worked in her favor. She hadn’t known what she was doing. “I… reacted to the situation,” she said, hoping the answer was vague enough to pass.

The mage chuckled. “A true master indeed. To react so quickly under pressure, it’s a rare skill. I imagine that’s why the guild from the capital sought you out, hmm?”

Ellie gave a weak nod, her heart racing. Every word she spoke seemed to pull her deeper into a web of lies. They saw a hero, a genius in her where there was none. How long could she keep this up?

The conversation flowed around her, the nobles talking of court politics, battles fought and yet to come. But Ellie barely heard them. Every time someone addressed her, it was the same—thinly veiled compliments, each one probing for something more.

A nobleman across the table, his eyes sharp, spoke up. “What do you make of the growing unrest in the northern provinces? Some say a revolt is inevitable.”

Ellie blinked, unprepared for the question. She had no idea. She hadn’t even heard about the unrest. “I’m… not privy to all the details yet.”

The nobleman nodded thoughtfully, as if her non-answer had confirmed some hidden insight. “Of course. Your strategic focus must remain elsewhere. But when the time comes, we’ll need your wisdom on the matter.”

Ellie gave another stiff nod, her hands tightening in her lap. What did they all want from her? They were pulling her into their games, into a dance of politics she didn’t know how to navigate. Every word, every glance carried weight she didn’t understand.

As the evening dragged on, Ellie’s discomfort only grew. The nobles spoke to her with reverence, but beneath their smiles, she could feel the tension. They wanted something from her—an alliance, an advantage, a weapon to wield. And as she sat there, trapped among them, a terrible realization settled over her.

She was no longer free. She was a piece in their game.