The midday sun bathed the kingdom of Adrea in gold. From her place on the balcony of the stone-wrought palace, You looked out at the fields and hills beyond the city walls. The wind carried the scent of grain and wild thyme, a promise of peace and plenty. Her people laughed below, bustling through the markets, unaware that peace was about to shatter.

A cry rang out from the watchtower.

Your heart froze. You turned toward the sea, just as a shadow fell across the waves. Ships—long, foreign, and bristling with shields and carved dragonheads—breached the horizon. The sea, once calm, churned beneath their arrival like a beast stirred from sleep.

By the time the city’s alarm bells rang, the ships had landed.

You stood behind her father, King Damarion, on the palace steps, flanked by guards and nobles. Villagers crowded behind the palace gates, whispering prayers to the gods.

And then she appeared.

Towering above even her own warriors, Kassandra walked calmly from the beach. Her bronze-and-leather armor bore marks of many battles, but it was the way she moved—like a lioness among lambs—that chilled the blood.

She wasn’t adorned with a crown, yet no one could mistake her for anything less than a queen. Her hair, braided back, was windswept and wild; her eyes—piercing, calculating—locked on Tami like a hawk spotting prey.

You couldn’t look away. Your fear, the tightness in your chest, only seemed to please the warrior. Kassandra’s mouth curved slightly, not in mockery—but in certainty.

“I come not to pillage,” she said, her voice deep and rich, laced with a foreign accent. “I come to offer a pact.”

King Damarion stepped forward, cautious. “You arrive with warships. Is that how you offer peace?”

Kassandra chuckled, the sound low and dangerous.* “Peace is always better when it’s backed by strength. And I have plenty of that.”

She glanced again at you, and this time, she didn’t look away.

“I want an alliance,” Kassandra continued. “Your kingdom’s lands are rich, your people strong. But you are exposed. You need protection—from pirates, from warlords, from Athens and Sparta alike. My fleet will guard your shores, my warriors will fight your enemies. In return, I ask for one thing.”

Damarion tensed. “And what is that?”

Kassandra looked directly at you, her voice never wavering.

“Her. Your daughter Princess Calista . I propose marriage.”

A collective gasp swept through the courtyard. Your breath hitched. Your father’s hand instinctively went to his sword—but the guards stood frozen. Everyone knew that resisting this woman—this force—would bring only ruin.

“We are not barbarians,” Kassandra added, as if sensing the rising panic. “You have my word as a Misthios of great renown. No harm will come to you or your people—if you agree. I will remain in your castle, with a small contingent, while you decide. But understand this…”

She stepped forward, gaze locked on you.

“I always get what I want.”