Emberfall. The war of endless fire.

After years of fighting, weakened by the senselessness, we soon found ourselves at the mercy of an old threat.

The flames of the House of Mor’gul consumed our lands, our homes, our people. Still, none of us were willing to share a banner. So we fought them divided, suspending the end.

We needed to believe in each other again, and we did. When the Sentinels were born, we had a choice to fight amongst ourselves or stand as one.

Not only did these Sentinels strengthen our resolve, but the brotherhood itself. Headed by their creator, his Majesty the King of Crosst, you all wielded these newly forged weapons and turned the tide under one call.

Through your victory, you accepted my King’s invitation to an alliance and thus these lands have never proved stronger.

We owe so much to this union.

Let us honor the debt by renewing our pledge to uphold our Loch Nyr Alliance.

Moira smiled as she put a period at the end of her writing. This was her fifth time writing this speech but she was still excited to review and edit.

Then the office door flew open as a gust of wind entered. Moira shivered, quickly trying to keep the notes and scrolls from flying off. Out of the freezing current, Steward Hollis limped inside.

“Are you planning on reviewing the inventory anytime soon or should we wait till you’re done in your latest diary entry?”

Hollis threw his cold, moist cloak at Moira.

“Sorry, Master Hollis. I was just-”

“Quiet. It’s far too early to hear your excuses.”

Moira already finished reviewing inventory and had prepared a few lists on the desk directly in front of her Master.

He limped away towards his favorite chair next to the fire. He lit a small piece of parchment to begin smoking his thin pipe.

Moira quickly shook the dew off her Master’s cloak and hung it on a rack. She then immediately pulled out a piece of parchment and inked a quill in anticipation.

The old Master sighed as he adjusted himself deeper into the soft chair.

“My schedule is as follows: The mail is to be-”

Moira pretended to write. In truth, she had already gotten ahead of the schedule and dealt with most of the formalities. However, she still knew better than to display a rushed work ethic.

“-I want it served with a nice rye. From our good stores, not the cheap tavern-”

Moira was instead preoccupied with her excitement for this year's summit because, unlike previous years, she was formally invited. Not only was she going to attend, but she was also set to speak in support of the Loch Nyr Alliance. She was both thrilled and mortified to stand alongside the King to help spread his message of prosperous innovation.

“Something is wrong with my cane.”

Moira stopped miming.

“Sorry?”

“My cane. Did you touch my cane again?”

“I’m sorry, Master, but I haven’t done anything to it.”

Moira just realized how it never really left her Master’s grasp.

He grumbled.

“Then who did?”

“I could not know, Master. I-”

He growled as he waved her silent.

“Stupid, girl. Never knows a thing.”

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Hollis sighed, rubbing his head.

“Which reminds me. Make a note for this afternoon to begin writing your speech.”

Moira’s eyes lit up. She pulled out what she had prepared so far.

“Yes, Master. I’ve actually written the beginnings of a fifth draft.”

“What?”

“I believe I can truly capture the audience’s attention in the first few lines before explaining a few points in support of-”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Hollis raised his head, making Moira flinch.

Hollis groaned a bit as he lifted himself off the chair. He fumed with each limp he took towards the desk. Moira bowed her head, slowly releasing her grip on the parchment.

“I just...”

Her master snatched it from her. Moira began to shake a bit as Hollis quickly skimmed through her work.

“Is this how you’ve been wasting my time?”

“You told me to-”

“When did I ask you to infringe upon my work?”

“You said…m-my speech.”

“Your speech? Listen closely you shameless parasite.”

“I am the King’s Steward. I carry out his will and I will handle these matters while you dream of being anything but entitled!”

Hollis crumpled up her writing and tossed it into the fireplace.

Let this be the last time you insult my position as the King's right hand. Am I clear?"

Moira kept her head down.

"Yes, Master."

Moira slowly got back behind the desk and wiped away any tears. That was when she suddenly felt a chill in the air.

Hollis was on the verge of planting himself in his chair again before being surprised at the presence of Prince Lukas.

“Your Royal Highness,” said Hollis.

Lukas was wearing his armor and had a sword in hand. His eyes were sharply focused on the Steward.

Hollis raised his brittle body back up.

“Can I help y-?”

“No.”

Lukas remained still though his hand shook a bit as he gripped his sword tightly. He eventually took a deep breath and looked around at all the scrolls and notes on the shelves. Moira noticed his soft grin that quickly turned to a stern frown. He then looked at her, but she was trying not to make eye contact.

“She won’t be writing her own speech?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why?”

Hollis glared at Moira who tried not to meet his eyes either.

“It’s well known that a Princess lacks certain… qualifications. It’s best to leave this to a professional.”

“You believe she's incompetent?”

Hollis began to chuckle under his breath before noticing Lukas's unchanged expression.

“Well aside from her lack of skill, you’ve no doubt heard the endless problems women create when they require a leave of absence during their womanly inconveniences, and how they complain about the difficulties performing in a man’s place of work.”

The Steward scoffed at Moira.

“Just another headache in my countless number of responsibilities.”

Hollis smiled at Lukas, but the Prince continued to follow the many rows of scrolls and documents all written with particularly beautiful handwriting.

“That doesn’t sound like my sister,” said Lukas.

“Well she may not have been that way in your immediate presence but-”

“She tends to commit herself to her work without end… or rather your work.”

Moira held her breath so as to not be the only audible sound in that moment of silence.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Hollis.

“She has been here day after day, never absent from her duties in this office. Looking after the Kingdom’s bureaucracy whenever you’re caught up in opiate-induced sleep or suffer gimp inconveniences.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“She even seems to handle your trade fairly well.”

“Enough of this.”

“She might even excel at it.”

“I said enough!”

Hollis and Lukas stood no more than a few inches apart as they stared each other down.

Moira stood perfectly still, believing she could blend into the background. She was shocked to notice Lukas staring at her so she quickly looked away.

“All this and my sister has never once made a complaint.”

Hollis brushed what little hair he had left on his scalp and firmly grasped his cane.

“The King himself stated it was among my duties to protect his Kingdom from any potential or ongoing scandal.”

Hollis glared into Lukas’s eyes which widened momentarily.

“You should know this.”

Lukas bowed his head. He slowly sheathed his sword before grinning at the old man.

“It's funny that you often step out of line and still need the cane.”

Moira could hear her master quietly growl.

“I’ll be sure to bring up everything we’ve discussed at my audience with His Royal Majesty,” said Hollis.

The Steward looked at Moira. He sighed before bowing towards her.

“To your duties… Princess,” he said.

Moira returned a bow as she quickly took the mail. She shuffled away, never turning her back towards her Master.

Lukas shot one last look at the old man.

Hollis still had a prominent scowl as he bowed to the Prince as well.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Lukas walked away and followed his sister.

In the freezing mud, Moira trudged through as fast as she could without running.

“Why do you do this?”

Instinctively, Moira stopped and fumbled with the mail as she curtsied towards the Prince.

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“Letting him speak to you like you’re his morning shit. How long has this been going on?”

Moira wanted to continue walking but knew better than to be so rude towards her betters.

“He has no right,” he said.

“He's my Master.”

“He’s below you. You are a Princess of the House of Crosst. You should command respect.”

Moira knew she could have done better. She could try not to anger her Master so much or stop being so careless. She was grateful to be noticed by the Prince but found his advice to be flawed. She knew her place and would continue to disappoint if she did what he suggested. She just needed to regain her momentum and fulfill her duties properly.

“Thank you for the kind words, your Royal Highness.”

Moira looked through the mail. She found it shameful that she hadn’t considered if any mail had been sent to the Prince.

She sorted through a parcel she was planning on handing over to the Sisters of the Green, a letter of resignation that needed to be reviewed by one of the Knights, and a list of deliveries made to the Alchemist’s workshop. That's when she suddenly found a small piece of parchment not signed by her or the Steward.

It wasn’t sealed, much less folded and it seemed to be addressed to Lukas. Confused, Moira flipped the note around and noticed the handwriting of her old mentor, Prince Jorgen.

“Is there anything in there for me?” asked Lukas.

Moira read over the note a few times before holding it up.

“Oh come on. You already read it. What’s it say?”

Written in harsh ink were the words:

“Attack imminent. Trust no one.”