The night had grown late when Azfaran summoned Maeron to a small meeting room in Eirindale's Palace. The only light that dared to challenge the darkness of the room came from the flickering lantern hanging from the ceiling. Before a map and rolled-up scrolls of strategy, the young king sat upright, his face full of contemplation.
"I want you to lead this mission, Maeron," Azfaran said, his voice slow yet firm. His gaze pierced through, ignoring any doubt that might grow in the heart of anyone who was handed such a responsibility.
Maeron did not respond immediately. She stared into Azfaran's eyes, searching for a gap that would allow her to ask why her of all people. But she knew, once trust had been given, there was no room for hesitation.
"Alright, I accept your command. But this Reizha mission... do we truly need to go through with it?" Maeron asked.
"Reizha. The Princess of Iskhalin. She has become a symbol of the nobility's ignorance and cruelty, blocking any chance of change. We need to shake them, Maeron. Not through assassination, but through abduction," Azfaran said.
Maeron took a deep breath. "We will challenge all of Iskhalin. This is not a simple mission."
"No. This is the beginning of the storm that will engulf everything built on pride," Azfaran replied.
The following morning, Maeron gathered twelve of the chosen people—both men and women. Most of them were spies and scouts who had infiltrated Iskhalin's borders for months. They sat in a circle under a quiet tent, the only sound being the whisper of the mountain wind, bearing witness to their secret meeting.
"Reizha's villa is located in the southeastern hills, not far from the Silent Stone Garden. It's not heavily guarded, since she is not a military leader," Maeron explained. "But we must proceed with caution. This princess is clever and filled with intrigue. We need to capture her without causing a major disturbance."
A woman in a black cloak nodded. "We've already built connections with some of the servants there. A few of them are growing tired of her treatment. This princess is not just arrogant—she's been responsible for many deaths with her slander."
"How many inside can we trust?" Maeron asked.
"Six. Three of them are personal attendants who are in her room every day. They will help clear the path and hold off the guards if needed," came the response.
Maeron looked at them all one by one. "We move tomorrow night. No killing unless absolutely necessary. And no one must see us coming."
The journey to the villa took two days. Maeron led the group through the dense pine forest, moving silently and skillfully to avoid Iskhalin's patrol posts. They were shadows in the night, with only the soft sound of their footsteps on the damp earth to mark their passage.
On the second night, they camped in a rocky alcove that overlooked the hills where Reizha's villa stood. The faint glow of torches flickered in the distance, and through the mist, the silhouette of the villa loomed like an arrogant shadow hanging on the cliff's edge.
Maeron spoke softly to her team. "Tomorrow night, we slip in through the back terrace, just after two. One of the servants will open the way. The rest of you will hold off the front guards with the illusion that Reizha is gravely ill. I want all of you to stay focused. Reizha must not be harmed. But if she resists with violence, we have no choice."
The following day, as the night grew darker and the shadows thicker, Maeron led her team towards the designated position. Before they took another step, she gave her final instructions. The air was thick with tension as they stood behind the large boulders that separated them from the villa.
"This mission is not just about speed," Maeron spoke quietly but firmly. "We will use the darkness to slip through, but we must also divert attention. One of you will create a distraction near the front of the villa. Walk toward the guard post and make some noise. A series of sounds, just enough to make it seem like something is happening near the front garden. That will pull their attention, long enough for us to enter through the back."
One of the younger men, a scout who had been with the team for some time, nodded. "We've studied the reports. We know the guards at the front post are sometimes lackadaisical. We'll use that gap."
Maeron fixed her gaze on him. "Remember, this is not about injuring anyone, but about making sure they don't focus on us. The distraction needs to be convincing enough that they leave the post without suspicion. You'll draw their attention, not create chaos."
With that, the group continued their journey towards the back of the villa with measured steps. One by one, they disappeared into the shadows of the night. Within minutes, their plan would unfold.
One of the scouts, a young man with sharp eyes, asked, "What if the alarm is raised?"
"We have a retreat route south toward Serenhal. But we will not fail," Maeron answered, her tone unwavering.
The night of the raid arrived. The sky was covered by thick clouds, hiding the moonlight. The six sympathetic servants were already in place. One of them, an elderly woman named Bushra, waited in the back kitchen with the door slightly ajar.
Maeron and two others slipped inside. They moved quickly but quietly through the cold marble corridors. Bushra gave them a signal, then pointed to a spiral staircase leading to the upper chambers.
At the top, three attendants had prepared a sleeping potion in Reizha's drink, but the princess had yet to consume it. She sat on a red velvet sofa, brushing her hair in front of a large mirror, unaware that her fate was about to change forever.
Maeron quickly opened the door. Two of her female soldiers rushed in first, quickly binding Reizha's hands.
"What is this?! Who are you? Traitors! Stop! I—I'll scream!" Reizha shouted.
But Bushra quickly covered her mouth with a cloth.
"We don't want to hurt you, Your Highness," Maeron whispered. "But you're coming with us tonight."
Reizha thrashed and cried, shouting insults, even threatening them. But the servants stood silent, some even holding back smiles as they saw the once-feared princess reduced to nothing, powerless before the very people she had once tormented.
"You all...! I'll have you executed! I will make sure... every one of you will be hanged at the city gates!" she screamed, but her threats drowned in the cover of night.
The journey back to Eirindale was not easy. Reizha complained constantly, demanding rest every hour, whining about hunger, and asking for her personal attendants, who were no longer with her.
"This is torture! You treat a princess like an animal! Do you not know who I am?!" she wailed.
Maeron remained calm, but inside, she was sickened by the princess's arrogance.
"You know, we have our reasons for doing this," Maeron replied one night as they rested in a cave.
"Reasons? Are you jealous? Because I'm above you? Because you have no royal blood?" Reizha spat.
"No," Maeron said, her gaze fixed on the small fire in the circle of stones. "Because you think royal blood gives you the right to kill innocent people simply because they dislike the color of your dress. You've slandered many, including men who didn't like you, until they were sentenced to death."
Reizha fell silent for a moment, but only for a second.
"Common people like you always judge, because you have no idea how difficult it is to be me."
Maeron turned to look at her, her eyes cold. "We know. Because our relatives became your victims."
There were no more words between them that night. Only the sound of Reizha's frustrated sighs and her soft whimpers as she drifted off to sleep, her face twisted with anger.
By the fourth dawn, as the gates of Eirindale came into view in the distance, Reizha was exhausted. Her clothes were ragged, her hair disheveled, and her voice lacked the defiance it once carried.
Maeron gave orders for the guards to open the secret path to the holding chambers. There was no cheer of victory. Only silence. For tonight, victory did not come from a bloody battle, but from the courage to kidnap the symbol of the rotting luxury from within.
In the underground cell where Reizha would be kept temporarily, Azfaran was already waiting. He looked at the young woman before him. Yesterday, she had been the symbol of beauty in Iskhalin, the pride of a kingdom. But now, standing before him was someone too fragile to hide behind her title.
"You do not deserve to touch this land," Reizha murmured, her voice quiet and bitter. "You think you've won?"
Azfaran stepped closer.
"I don't need to win. I just need a peaceful world and I want the world to know who you truly are."
And with that, the prison door slowly closed, locking the beginning of a great change in Isvalon.