Maria sat on her modest timber throne within her Kingdom of Cloth, overlooking man's foolishness. She was alone and aloof to worldly desires, estranged from this mortal plane. She looked down only to see millions of ants slaving away for a single fleeting chance to escape this mortal coil while she stood high above the clouds, free from such mundane considerations. She was the singularity, perfect and supreme, the one hope for this troubled land.

Or so she deluded herself, trying to escape the apparent play unfolding before her. She wished she could only stay as a simple spectator to this farce, but the actors had other plans. They played and prodded with words, weaving truths and lies into sentences that disturbed the hearts of men as if facts were but heresy to be denounced. Honestly, she wished to be anywhere but here. She took no pleasure in watching children bicker.

The biggest of those fools stood before her, a grin on his face. She wished she could grind his face with the heel of her boot, but that would be too high a reward for the likes of him. He stood in front of everyone like the story's main character, yet was nothing but fodder while his arrogance would bring his downfall. He was the Count’s son.

Maria paid no attention to his insignificance; rather, she concerned herself with this uninvited guest. Rumours had it that this Duke's son was cold and calculative; he would only make a move if he was sure of his victory. This trait was regarded so highly by the Duke that he considered making him the heir over his older and much more accomplished siblings, which resulted in tension within his household.

The Duke's motives were clear, and so were his son's. Only a predator can rise within an ambush of tigers to rule them all. The son would use this opportunity to prop himself up before the Duke while diminishing the Count's prestige in the same breath, maybe even seizing the opportunity to replace him as the castle’s caretaker. Truly two birds with one stone.

Something didn't feel right, however. Even if the Count's son was an irredeemable fool, he shouldn't be stupid enough to bring his father's downfall, right? She frowned, looking at this pathetic excuse of a human being. She felt revolted at the thought that they were the same species until she noticed that peculiar woman standing in the tent’s corner, unnoticed.

Her beauty and radiance shone through, overpowering even the most sublime masterpieces by renowned artists, yet she seemed to blend in the background amidst a flock of sweaty men. Maria had only noticed her in passing, and as soon as her gaze left her delicate features, all memories of her threatened to flee from her mind. She would have forgotten that fairy's whole existence if it wasn't for an alarming sense of dread and a mighty roar echoing in her mind.

She stood rooted in place upon her wooden throne, tightly gripping the armrests until her fingers were deeply ingrained in the wood’s hard surface. Sweat poured down her back like a waterfall while a scream was stuck in her throat. It took every ounce of self-control for her not to draw her weapon. Despite her numerous years on the battlefield, this was the first time fear had overwhelmed her this much. The only other person who evoked such helplessness was her father.

She discreetly glanced at this dreadful creature, unsure of how to proceed. Maria prided herself on her decisiveness, but this time, she trusted her instincts. Nobody in this camp was a match for that beast. She took a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself down, but this caught the Duke's son's attention.

“Why are you sighing, my lady?” the man said. “Is our discussion displeasing you?”

This "discussion" was nothing more than the dukedom throwing its weight around, trying to find any fault to oust the Count from his duty. Obviously, the Count wouldn't take this lying down. He argued that despite the scale of the stampede, human casualties were kept to a minimum due to his leadership. Maria agreed with him, but it wasn't her place to take sides. Only Her Highness had that right, but since she hadn't returned as of late, Maria could only delay the verdict until her return.

"I grow tired of children fighting over a morsel of meat when the kitchen is on fire. It is unbecoming of nobility," she said as she rose. "Whatever agreement is reached here—if you could even reach an agreement—is pointless. You!" she turned to the Duke's son, "You seem to think that the Count is in charge here, but you couldn't be more wrong. Everything is the will of Her Highness, the Princess. You are wasting your time. Now. I must take my leave, for I have a war to fight. The Princess will appreciate whatever aid you can contribute to our cause and will reward you accordingly, but if you are merely here to sow discord, be careful not to fall on your own sword."

“Is that a threat?” the young man asked while still maintaining his smile.

“Merely a piece of advice you can disregard at your leisure.” She took steps towards the exit but was stopped by two burly guards with heavy armour. “Oh,” she said, amused. “Are you done with the false pretense?”

“Not at all. I simply wish to know if the Princess could grace us with her presence so that we could hear her stance on the matter.”

“She’s busy, now move aside.”

"Tch, tch," the young man said. "Disregarding her duty and leaving camp for days with no news. I'm afraid she cannot avoid taking responsibility for this failure."

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Maria frowned. This man obviously came prepared. The Princess's absence was known only to some of the camp's most senior officials. They had spies within their midst. She wondered if this was related to the ambush they had suffered up north. She felt a slight pang of anger rise within her heart at this betrayal but soon extinguished it. The situation at hand was what mattered; the rest could be dealt with at a later date.

“Step aside," she said with a tone that froze the entire room. Her eyes were devoid of light as she looked at the meat bags blocking her path. "I'm giving you one last chance to acknowledge who you should truly serve before I start breaking some bones."

“What do you mean by that, pray tell?” the young man said, not even trying to hide the smile plastered on his face. “Are you thinking of resorting to violence within this military camp?”

His intentions were clear. He would try to use military laws to strip her of her authority. She knew all this but couldn't care less. However, before she could leap into action, the young man added, "Rumours of the lady's hotheadedness turned out to be true, after all."

She didn't deign to grace the young lord with her gaze, opting to stare into the eyes of the guards blocking her path, crushing their spirits with her overwhelming presence. However, she didn't forget to keep an eye on the mysterious Lady in the corner.

“Oh no,” she replied with an emotionless mask adorning her beautiful visage. “I am still quite calm at the moment. You wouldn’t like me when I’m being hot-headed. I just have one thing that the young lord needs to hear.”

“Oh, please do tell,” the young man said, his interest piqued.

"KNOW YOUR PLACE!" she said with a voice so strong and authoritative that even the tent's walls recoiled from her presence. Her oppressive aura permeated the room, making some of the most feeble officials faint from the mere sight of her. Barring her path, the knights recoiled in terror as if Death was waiting for them to offer their necks.

She held her majestic spear in one hand, pointing toward the sky while silver lightning crackled, dancing in arcs that travelled from the soles of her delicate feet to the sharp point of her spear. Radiant light sprung from the depths of her eyes when she turned to face this dregs of a human being who would put personal profit over loyalty. Her eyes were clear and majestic as if the dirt before them couldn’t even enter her sight.

“Is the Duke rebelling, or are you?" she asked, pointing her deadly weapon toward this pathetic being's neck. "Is your head too heavy for you? I wouldn't mind lightening your load."

Despite the apparent euphemism, no trace of humour could be seen. She was deadly serious. The young man gulped nervously. This wasn't how he had expected this to go down. He was sure the Lady wouldn't dare make him his enemy, considering who his father was and the army he brought with him. She was obviously at a disadvantage, so why would she do this? Was she mad?

He failed to realize that Maria refused to be taken advantage of, even if it would lead to her downfall. Besides, the young man's arrival was unexpected. Time was limited. The beasts wouldn't wait for her to deal with these matters carefully. She had a duty to lead her men to victory. She couldn't waste any more time with this fool.

So, she chose the most direct approach. Although she seemed reckless and impulsive on the outside, she was truly a cold-blooded woman. She wouldn't hesitate to cut her flesh if she could shatter their bones. The blade of her spear inched closer to the man's neck with each passing moment, yet no word escaped his mouth. He was struck by the terror of the woman before him, and so were his men. They were so taken aback that they failed to protect their liege from the lone woman surrounded on all sides.

Maria wouldn’t really decapitate that man however much she wanted to. The aftermath would be too much of a pain to deal with. She would even have to ask her father for help, something she especially didn’t want to do. Her only option was to threaten him into backing down and abandoning his plan. She knew her odds of success were slim with this gamble, but this was the best plan she could devise in the short time she had.

It wasn't that she was incapable of scheming; she simply despised the notion. She valued honour and loyalty. Everything she did was open and aboveboard, and she prided herself on that. What would schemes amount to when she could crush them all with pure strength?

Although she despised them, she wouldn't be inflexible either. If it was only about herself, she wouldn't care, but she had her cousin to consider. She wouldn't mind bending her principles for her sake. She was but human, imperfect in her very nature. The flow of history was merciless; it could crush everything within its torrents. To stay unbending before heaven's might took an incredible amount of willpower, which she had in spades, but she sometimes found herself lacking.

She glanced at the woman in the corner but found that she had mysteriously disappeared within the commotion. However much she scanned the tent, she saw no trace of her presence as if she were but a ghost in the night. She frowned at the thought that she had let such a dangerous woman loose in the camp.

The young lord caught hold of the turmoil within her heart and used this chance to escape her spear's reach. Now surrounded by his well-armed guards, the man’s arrogance overflowed. He barked orders, compelling his men to attack her, swarming her with their superior numbers.

The knights weren't fools. They knew that despite outnumbering her, she was still far out of their reach. Besides, this was the Count's tent and he was no weak man. He wouldn't mind offending the Duke for this woman. They hesitated momentarily, but the young man's veiled threats compelled them to act.

Maria frowned at the man's pathetic display of false courage while also pitying the men who had to serve such a lord. This, however, wouldn't stop her from cutting them down like vegetables if they forgot their place and crossed blades with her. Before the battle could erupt, however, an authoritative voice was heard towering over the cacophony.

"What's the meaning of this!?" a woman said as she entered the tent. Her armour was caked with dirt, and her hair was dishevelled from the continuous days spent on the road without rest. She was the Princess, Christina Aleria Dragneel. Despite all this, her beauty and nobility shone through, preventing the men from committing a mistake they couldn't recover from.

“Lower your weapons, you blasted fools! You too, Maria! I just came back, and what do I see? The front line is in disarray with no one in charge! Richard tried his best to fill in for you but he's no commander. The line is on the verge of collapse, and the men are dying. I hope you all have an explanation for this?"

The young man tried to open his mouth, but Christina was faster. She walked briskly on the floor, her boots sinking into the ground with each decisive step, denoting her anger, before she punched the young man squarely in the jaw. He was so taken aback that he failed to dodge and slumped to the ground, dizzied by the blow.

"I haven't allowed you to speak!" she barked, but before she could berate the men even more, a radiant burst of light shone from the forest's depths before reaching into the sky. An intense gale flew between the trees, toppling the weaker ones and ending its journey within the camp. The wind was so fierce that it ripped the tent's anchors clean off the ground. The sturdy cloth took flight within the storm, laying its inhabitants bare before the elements.

All hostilities ceased when the light blinded them. They stood rooted in place, dazed by its magnificence. A single pillar of dazzling light rose toward the heavens. Christina could feel its heat on her skin, even from so far away, yet there was no smoke. Despite the heat, there was no fire. Despite what all her senses told her, she couldn't believe her eyes.

What’s happening, she thought. Is the world ending?