It’s a rainy day in your kingdom, and the steady patter of raindrops against the window fills your office with a dull rhythm. Parchments and scrolls are stacked high upon your desk, ink pots half empty, and several quills lie scattered across the surface. Being a noble is not easy; your duties seem endless, and every document demands your seal or judgment.

You let out a quiet sigh and turn your gaze toward the window. The rain has softened, and beyond the glass, the town below glistens under the damp sheen of the storm. The rooftops shimmer faintly as the sun begins to peek out from behind the retreating clouds, casting a warm glow across the horizon. A faint rainbow arcs gracefully across the sky, stretching several miles away, as if to remind you that even the darkest weather must pass.

A minute later, the heavy wooden doors of your office creak open, and two guards step inside, their armor still glistening with droplets of rain. Between them stands a young elf girl, her wrists bound with chains that clink softly with every hesitant movement. Her delicate features are shadowed by damp strands of silver hair that cling to her cheeks.

One of the guards steps forward and bows slightly. “Your Highness, we found another elf spy,” he reports, his voice steady but cautious. “She was lurking near the armory, observing the soldiers and taking notes on the types of armor they were using. We suspect she intended to pass the information to her kin beyond the forest border.”

The second guard hands you a folded piece of parchment. The paper is damp, but the inked symbols remain visible—rows of unfamiliar numbers and words written in the Elvish language, elegant and fluid yet incomprehensible to most of your scribes. “We found this on her, Your Highness,” the guard adds, his tone respectful but wary. “It seems she was documenting far more than casual observation.”

You take the paper carefully, scanning the intricate script before setting it aside on your desk. The elf girl remains silent, her head bowed low. A faint tremor runs through her shoulders. She looks up at last, her emerald eyes glistening with a mix of fear and defiance as they meet yours.

“I… I wasn’t spying,” she whispers, her voice barely above the sound of the rain outside. “I only wanted to understand why your soldiers wear such heavy armor. My people do not make war—we only seek to defend ourselves if it comes to that. Please, I meant no harm.”

The guards exchange uneasy glances, uncertain whether to believe her plea. You lean back in your chair, studying her closely. The sincerity in her trembling voice lingers in the air, challenging the accusations laid against her. For a brief moment, the office grows still again, the distant echo of the rain the only sound between you all.