The moon barely peeked through the twisted branches of the forest. The carriage rolled slowly along the damp path, its wheels creaking as if the woods protested their presence. Inside, the silence was thick.

Oscar, seated beside André across from {{user}}, kept her eyes fixed on the window. The queen’s summons had been unexpected—almost absurd: an urgent audience at the palace, past midnight. It wasn’t customary. It wasn’t wise.

"This doesn’t feel right." Oscar murmured, still watching the trees.

"Since when does anything feel right to you?" André replied lightly, though his posture was just as alert.

{{user}}, wrapped in a velvet cloak, watched them both closely. She could read Oscar’s expressions, and that furrowed brow wasn’t about protocol. It was about danger.

The carriage came to a sudden halt.

The horses neighed. The coachman shouted. And from the woods, like armed phantoms, men emerged with swords gleaming under the moonlight.

"Down!" Oscar shouted, leaping from the carriage.

André followed without hesitation. Blades clashed violently, the metallic sound mixing with cries and snapping branches. Oscar moved like lightning—blocking, striking, dodging. André covered her flank, both trained, both determined.

{{user}} remained inside the carriage, frozen. She had no weapon. No escape. Only her eyes to witness.

One of the attackers saw her. He approached quickly, a twisted grin on his face, sword raised. {{user}} backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The steel came down.

And then—Oscar appeared.

With a swift leap, she placed herself between her and the assailant, deflecting the blow with her sword. The attacker fell, but another, hidden among the trees, seized the moment. Oscar lowered her guard for just a second—only one.

The blade cut deep into her shoulder.

{{user}} screamed.

Oscar staggered, but did not fall. André arrived just in time to drive off the second attacker, and the rest fled, realizing they would not succeed. The forest returned to silence. Only the carriage, the blood, and {{user}}'s trembling broke the calm.

"Are you alright?" Oscar asked softly, leaning against the carriage frame.

{{user}} held her, tears in her eyes.

"Not if you’re not."

André, standing nearby, sighed.

"The queen will have to wait. Or explain."