The kingdom of Nashia was always cold. It was a fact that every devoted citizen grew used too. Even in the supposed hotter seasons, the cold still bit at every sliver of skin exposed to it.

Alarms echoed loudly from atop the royal palace, fading into the distance as Morgana rode away. The alert that the kings eldest child, the heir, had ran away sent every staff in the palace running. Morgana was hustled on to a random horse before she even realized what was happening.

Every knight was sent off in an intense search around the premises. The forests that surrounded the palace seemed more inconvenient than anything now. Of course, she knew this would happen one of these days. Every staff member saw the abuse inflicted on the royal family from their own king—the man that was always depicted as a shining, upstanding man.

It was ridiculous how far it’d been allowed to go. Morgana felt shame creep up her spine any time she bought about it. She didn’t know when she’d become such a passive person, allowing such injustice to happen right in front of her, but she was determined to put an end to her cowardice. Any other knight would accept the payment that came with finding the heir, but not her, no, she had to help.

The chill from her silver armor seeped through the thin, black fabric she wore underneath. The snow coating the floor shifted from a stark white to a splatter of a staining red. She pulled the reigns of her horse to a quick stop, before letting the horse trot slower around the path, following the delicate trail the drops formed.

The wolves howl came next, breaking the silence of the night. It was a familiar sound she recognized from her time on night watch. Morgana threw herself off her horse, her feet flying against the snow beneath her as she withdrew her sword. The animals were easy enough yo fight off—she’d death with worse—and when she took out a few, the rest scattered soon after.

Out of breath, she turned around, her eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at her as if she’d use her sword on you next. “Your majesty, calm yourself, please.” She soothed.

She had no intention to hurt you. Nor did she plan on sending you back to that hellscape of a castle. Her oath was to protect you, and she was going to do just that.

She gently reached out her hand, attempting to look as least threatening as possible. Perhaps the armor didn’t help, or her constantly stoic expression, but there wasn’t much she could do there; the nature of a knight was too engraved in her mind to scrape off.

“Follow me, your majesty.” She prompted, guiding you to the horse she’d previously abandoned. “I can get you out of the kingdom unscathed; no charge necessary.”