A Ballad of the Crown

Vigil

The carriage swayed gently as it made its way through the rugged terrain, its wheels carving a path through the uneven landscape. Inside, Queen Berenice sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the small, dimly lit lantern that swayed gently with the carriage's motion. Lord Wren sat opposite her, his demeanor calm and composed, as if the darkness outside held no sway over him.

Berenice's fingers absently traced the embroidery on the carriage's curtain, a pattern of intertwined vines and blossoms. Despite the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels, Berenice felt an unsettling tension gnawing at her. Her senses were on edge, an inexplicable feeling that someone—or something—was watching her. She tried to focus on the task ahead, but the sensation persisted, a constant prickling at the back of her mind.

"Your Majesty, you seem lost in thought," Wren said, his voice smooth but carrying an undertone of scrutiny. He glanced out of the window, his expression unreadable.

Berenice forced a small smile. "Just adjusting to the quiet. It's strange not to have the usual courtly noise around."

Wren nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. "It is a different world out here. A more immediate one."

Berenice sighed and shifted in her seat. "Tell me, Lord Wren, how are preparations for the wedding coming along? I know Lady Eris will be arriving soon. How do you think she'll adjust to the court life?"

Wren's gaze sharpened. "Lady Eris is adept at navigating complex situations. I imagine she'll handle it with her usual grace. But as for the preparations, they proceed well. There's much to be done, but it will all fall into place."

Berenice nodded, her attention wavering. She stared out of the window into the darkness, a shiver running down her spine as she felt an eerie sensation. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

The journey stretched on, and the dense trees and darkened skies gave way to the sprawling camp of the front lines. As the carriage approached, the camp was shrouded in shadow, the soldiers busily preparing defenses and fortifications for any potential attacks.

Upon arriving, the queen disembarked from the carriage and made her way to her tent. The camp was in disarray, with soldiers focused on their duties, their eyes trained on the periphery. No one paid much attention to the queen's arrival amidst the chaos of the night. Her tent was already set up, a small, but well-appointed shelter away from the main camp. 

Berenice entered her tent and noticed maps and parchment spread out on a table. She picked up one of the letters and scanned its contents, her expression darkening. "What is this?" she demanded, her tone laced with frustration. Wren, who had been observing her with an air of calm nonchalance, stepped forward. 

"Your Majesty, these are essential reports and correspondence that need your attention. While your presence here is vital for morale and strategy, these documents ensure that the kingdom's governance remains uninterrupted. I assure you, the arrangements are meant to streamline your duties rather than diminish them." 

Berenice's jaw tightened as she set the letter down. "I came here to lead, to inspire, to fight alongside my soldiers. I did not anticipate being swamped with paperwork while they prepare for battle." 

Wren's expression remained composed, his voice smooth and measured. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Leadership involves a delicate balance of responsibilities. The paperwork is a necessary part of ensuring that the broader strategic picture remains clear. I will make every effort to limit your involvement in these matters, but it is crucial for the kingdom's stability." 

Berenice exhaled sharply, her frustration palpable. "Very well. But make certain that my time is spent where it's most needed—on the battlefield."

"Of course your Majesty. If I may, I'd like to take my leave now. Perhaps you'd like to relax a bit before the night settles in. A warm meal has been prepared."

Berenice nodded gratefully. "That sounds perfect."

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Dinner was a quiet affair, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the tent's canvas walls. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, but the atmosphere was far from comforting. Wren moved with practiced ease, serving the meal with a smooth, almost mechanical grace. 

"The preparations for the wedding are progressing well," Wren began, his tone polite yet slightly detached. "Lady Eris is expected to arrive in a fortnight. The arrangements for the ceremony are nearly complete; it will be a grand affair, fitting for the union of two such prominent houses."

Berenice took a bite of her meal, trying to engage in the conversation despite the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her. "And the arrangements for the reception? Are there any particular concerns I should be aware of?"

Wren nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering with a hint of something unreadable. "The reception will be held in the Great Hall, with a guest list comprising the most influential figures from across the kingdom. There are, of course, some logistical challenges—ensuring all the nobles are seated according to their rank, coordinating the entertainment, and so on. But these matters are under control."

"And Lady Eris's arrival?" Berenice asked, her voice carrying an edge of impatience. "Is there any news about her travel plans?"

Wren's smile was polite but did not reach his eyes. "Lady Eris will be well-protected during her journey, as you would expect. There have been no reports of disruptions or threats."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Berenice struggled to maintain her focus. Every now and then, her gaze would flicker back to the shadows of the tent, the feeling of being watched a constant, disquieting presence. The food, though well-prepared, seemed to lose its appeal as her thoughts remained preoccupied with the odd sense of unease that clung to her like a second skin.

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The camp settled into an uneasy quiet as Queen Berenice prepared for bed. Her thoughts churned with the complexities of her future marriage to Lady Eris. She hopes the union would prove beneficial, that it would bring stability and strength to Herithyia. 

She lay in her cot, staring at the canvas ceiling of her tent, trying to push away the disquiet that gnawed at her. Every creak of the tent or distant murmur from outside seemed amplified in the silence, heightening her sense of vulnerability. 

Suddenly, the calm of the night was shattered by shouts and the clamor of hurried footsteps. The peaceful quiet was replaced by the chaos of an attack. Berenice's heart raced as she bolted upright, instinctively reaching for her sword. Before she could fully react, the tent flap was thrust open, and a shadowy figure burst in, brandishing a sword.

Instinct took over. Berenice sidestepped the enemy's clumsy strike, narrowly avoiding a deadly blow. But she wasn't fast enough to evade all danger. The enemy's sword cut through her defenses, leaving a deep gash across her stomach. She flinched, bracing for the searing pain, but to her surprise, the pain was muted—a dull throb rather than the intense agony she had expected.

Lord Wren burst into the tent, his expression grim but focused. "Your Highness!" he shouted as he engaged the attacker, his blade flashing in the dim light. Berenice, clutching her wounded abdomen, grabbed her sword, ready to defend herself if required.

She forced herself to focus, blinking back the darkness around her vision. Two Herithyian soldiers stormed into the tent, joining the fray and bolstering their defense. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, but she kept her focus on the immediate threats. When one of the soldiers faltered, Berenice rushed in to aid him, her wound forgotten in the surge of combat.

The battle outside began to wane as the enemy soldiers, realizing they were outnumbered and outmatched, started to retreat. The cries of conflict slowly faded, replaced by the sounds of regrouping and relief among the camp's defenders. The soldier she had helped, breathless and grateful, offered a hasty thanks, but before Berenice could respond, her vision blurred. Exhaustion, coupled with her wound, overwhelmed her.

As she swayed, darkness closed in on her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she felt was a sense of disorientation and the fading murmurs of the camp before everything went black.