Two hours ago, at the Rasputin tower...
The gentle gaze of Lord Igion hardens in the face of coming hardship. They all know what's at stake. An attack is certain — and any mistake could cost them everything. The knights care little for the lives of simple villagers as they've done worse before, even under this same king. Their only hope now is to uncover the humans' true plan — and fight back.
As the Masters argue, Valerie's heart races.
"He needs time... He gave us time because he needs it. I know what he's planning!!"
- What? We can't do th—
- I know what he is planning.
Her voice cuts through the room before she even realizes she's spoken.
Darian, clearly irritated, exhales sharply before answering her.
- And why, exactly, should we take your word for anything? For all we know, you're still on their side. Maybe you're just waiting for them to come fetch you back to your shiny little castle.
Valerie flinches. Her palms grow damp at the mere idea of returning. She forces herself to take a step forward.
- If that were what I wanted, I wouldn't have told you I'm a princess. I wouldn't have given you the perfect hostage on a silver plate.
Darian scoffs.
- Please. You humans think too highly of yourselves. A "princess" means nothing here. Especially a fake one. You probably thought your little title would scare us.
"Fake princess..."
His words stab her deeper than he knows. She didn't choose any of it — not her birth, not the palace, not the chains that came with it. But denying it felt like denying her mother's hope. Her mother had believed the king would be a good father and Valerie a loved princess.
Valerie steadies her voice.
- Master Darian... I have done nothing to prove your suspicions true. And I do not intend to start now. I only wish to help. I came here alone.
He waves a dismissive hand.
- If you want to help, then sit down. Look pretty. And let the actual thinking be done by someone with a brain.
Marion's eyes flash. She lunges at him before anyone can blink, her fist flying straight toward his hairy nose. It halts only because his reflexes stop it mid-air.
- YOU DISGUSTING RAT! Say that again and I'll tear those filthy whiskers off your face!
- Enough!
Lord Igion's voice slices through the chaos.
- Darian, that was uncalled for. That is not how we handle disagreements. And Marion you are a guest here — control yourself. Both of you.
Marion steps back, breathing hard. Valerie places a gentle hand on her shoulder, urging her to hold. Cornelious lets out a long, weary sigh as he watches the scene settle. He clears his throat.
- Lord Igion, if I may... Darian is right about one thing. We can't simply trust her. Using her the way he suggested may be our best chance at getting out of this alive.
- That's not true! It won't work!
Valerie brushes the front of her dress, steadying herself as the conversation slips out of her grasp. Lord Igion's stern gaze falls on her, sharp and impatient.
- Speak your mind, princess.
- I... I am not really important to them.
Darian immediately barks out.
- Ha! I knew it. She's not even a princess! You three — grab them. Both of them. Take them to the cells.
His triplets move instantly. Two seize Marion, covering her mouth as she thrashes wildly, while the third grips Valerie more cautiously. Both girls struggle, though Marion far more violently.
- No—wait—
A loud CLANG silences everything. Lord Igion's hammer slams into the table, leaving a deep crack. The old dwarf stands rigid, fists trembling with contained fury. His voice erupts low and rough, like grinding stone.
- Quiet!! You—release her. Master Darian, I will tell you once more. Control your temper, or you will step outside to cool your head. Princess, please. Sit with us.
Hands withdraw from the girls. Valerie inhales shakily, though she tries to hide it. Her voice refuses to come out at first. Lord Igion's unblinking stare only tightens her throat. She smooths her dress again — a reflex, a comfort, the only thing that helps her feel composed. A princess must look presentable to be believed. For her, it is also a reminder to let her courage speak. Marion pulls the chair for her. Slowly, she sits, back rigid, posture too straight.
- Princess... explain yourself.
She meets Marion's gaze. Marion nods encouragingly.
Valerie closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath — then finally speaks.
- If I may... I am not the princess you think I am. The queen's daughter—
- How can a princess don't be the king and queen's daughter?
Ignoring his Lord's warning, Darian interrupts again — and is immediately silenced by a low, dangerous grunt from the old dwarf. The oldest dwarves tend to be more restrained with their anger than the others. They feel it deeply in the blood running through their veins, but they learn to master it. Lord Igion is meant to set the example — to teach the younger ones that wisdom comes only from restraint, from years spent tempering one's fire. Even so, Darian is testing his patience.
Letting it pass once more, the Lord turns his gaze back to Valerie and nods for her to continue.
- I am the king's daughter, yes... but my mother is not the queen. I am not Princess Claudette Anes.
Cornelious's brow folds.
- It can't be... I heard the rumors. The slave... the one who died in the fire?
His words strike her like a blow. The air thickens, her lungs tightening painfully. Her mother — that wound has never truly healed. And perhaps never will. "Slave... Why must she always be remembered by her worst? It wasn't her fault. Life was cruel to outsiders. She never chose that fate... She was a wonderful mother..."