The Etrurian castle of Misul is as grand as the history books and classical paintings show: towering sandstone pillars with intricately carved flowers and a statue of Etruria's founding hero, Saint Elimine. This is the first time I have seen such artistry, capturing every fold in her cloak, the dimples in her cheeks. She appears ready to break out of her stone with a light magic spell. I can't even imagine the grandness of the actual Etrurian capital, Aquileia.

With the permission of two Bern paladins at the entrance, I fly through the archway with painted images of warring knights and dragons. Trifinne halts at the throne room's threshold, both of us pausing at the sight of King Zephiel. He appears like one of the heroic statues with an ornate sword hilt and sculptural facial features. Blood drips off his sword onto a valkyrie's purple cloak and dress. Her Excalibur tome is torn and left near General Narcian's feet.

'The great Etrurian Sorcery General, Lady Cecilia, felled by a single strike!' General Narcian drives his heel into the magic tome, reducing it to a bloody mush, 'none of you stand a chance against our great king!'

'General Cecilia!' Princess Guinevere rushes out to the lifeless woman staining the royal carpet beneath her. She kneels down and weeps for the Etrurian general. The princess' green irises sear into the king's, 'Brother, what you are doing is criminal! You are forcing people into submission with violence!'

'Only a sheltered girl believes that violence isn't the world's default state. I'm merely harnessing it to achieve liberation,' King Zephiel grumbles as two soldiers drag the princess away from General Cecilia, 'not only for Bern, but all of Elibe.'

At that moment, Princess Guinevere and I meet eyes. Her wavy forelocks are smudged with General Cecilia's blood. I sense the same thought crossing our minds: is this truly 'liberation'?

'You!' King Zephiel turns his attention to me. I have only ever seen the king sitting on his throne during assemblies, silently observing as General Murdock delivers announcements. Never have I been close enough to see the border between his goatee and skin, let alone spoken to him, 'I take that you are my sister's bodyguard?'

'Y-Yes, Your Majesty,' I feel like a clown when I bow right to the floor. The bloodshot whites of the king's eyes remind me of a madman, psychotic with resentment and rage, nothing like the benevolent prince Lord Murdock had described during politics seminars.

'Take her back to Bern. Don't mess up like you did when she escaped your sight,' King Zephiel waves me away before addressing the princess, 'I will only forgive you this time because you are my sister. But not again.'

Without answering the king, Princess Guinevere joins my side, whispering as she holds my arm for support, 'we must go, Miledy... Quickly.'

In a clearing safe from the battlefield, I reconfigure Trifinne's saddle to better accommodate the princess for a long flight. Not even the fresh scent of chestnuts and grass can remove the image of General Cecilia's battered body on the carpet. The princess' small frame heaves under her dress, staring at the ground as though we are still in the throne room.

'I... I'm glad you're safe, Princess.' I want to ask about her reasons for fleeing to the Lycian border with Ellen, her connection to the Etrurian Sorcery General, whether the speculation about her betrayal of our homeland is true, but those curiosities must wait. Now, my job is to calm her so we can return to Bern. I extend my hand to support her onto the wyvern, 'we'll talk more once we're home.'

'No!' She slaps my arm away. Her skin is shiny with tears and sweat, 'you will take me back to General Roy or leave without me!'

'To the enemy?!' The rumours of Princess Guinevere's defection are true! 'But why?!'

'You saw the indignity with which the king and General Narcian treated their victims.' Unlike the king, the princess' eyes are steadfast and kind, qualities that captured travelling poets' imaginations, 'surely, while crossing the continent, you have seen the villages destroyed by Bern's imperial ambitions!'

I had not fully believed Heath's story about the Bern army's cruelty. Yet now, the dreadful cycle of Bern's history is apparent: our army is legitimising violence for the whims of a tyrannical king! Before, it was King Desmond who ordered the assassination of his own son. Now, it is King Zephiel trying to engulf the entire continent in war. The princess' negotiation attempts with General Roy are not borne from weakness or naivety, but profound fear for Bern's future.

'I have no choice but to comply,' I swallow my saliva, bracing myself to fly straight into our foes, 'but why did you leave Bern without consulting me?'

'I feared that dragging you into these negotiation attempts with the Lycian army and Etruria would ruin your reputation. You are from a family of Bern knights.' Princess Guinevere jolts at the loudening march of soldiers nearby, 'your mother, Lady Lurja, is Bern's legendary tactician.'

'What made my mother legendary was that she thought for herself and pledged her loyalty to honourable individuals, not a vague, corruptible entity like the "Bern state". Otherwise, she would have colluded with King Desmond,' I reach out again to lift Princess Guinevere onto Trifinne. My feet grip onto the wyvern's sides, 'and so, Princess Guinevere, I have pledged my loyalty to you!'

We shoot into the sky like the arrows flying from ballistae, speeding over a vast ocean. From a distance, the enemy's flags appear like flakes of ash. Panic rises in my chest when the Lycian and Etrurian crests come into view. I wince as an archer on their side loads his arrow at me.

'GENERAL ROY!' Princess Guinevere shrieks, 'EVERYONE! PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN!'

A red-haired boy leading his crew flings out his arm. The archer aiming at me lowers his bow. The Pegasi and horses among them shrink back when Trifinne lands before General Roy.

'I am the princess' bodyguard,' I explain, 'my loyalty is to her. My wyvern and I are at your service.'

Suddenly, I recall the sensation of Gale's hands cradling mine as he delivered Zeiss' message. Will I ever be allowed to open that letter? My eyes are fixed on the boy in a royal blue cape.

'She could be lying!' A member of the Lycian Alliance shouts. There's nowhere to hide: if General Roy deems me an enemy, the mob will surround and kill me in an instant. A small band of fighters— cavaliers, Pegasus knights, archers, mages — all march behind the young lord with bright red hair. They are not the Etrurian government's dumb puppets as Lord Murdock described. Most of them do not appear linked to any army, just contracted mercenaries or even stray thieves. How have they emerged victorious in their battles so far, simply by coalescing behind General Roy?

'General Cecilia is alive but severely injured,' Princess Guinevere pleas, 'Miledy witnessed it too and came to my assistance.'

'Very well, Miledy...' General Roy's voice is deep and commanding for someone so young, 'you may stay on our side to guard the princess.'

'Yes, General Roy.' Gazing up at the Etrurian crest, the one I now fight under, I ask myself: Mother, will you forgive me?