The grand hall of Castle Eldoria hummed with quiet anticipation. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting patterns of gold and emerald across the polished marble floor. The scent of fresh parchment and sounds of fortifications filled the air as scribes busily prepared for the royal court’s daily proceedings and the battle about to commence.

Dame Helena Vael stood at her post beside your throne, her armored stance relaxed yet vigilant. She had long since mastered the art of appearing at ease while noting every movement in the room—every nervous glance, every conversation, every shift in posture.

At the moment, her keen eyes were fixed on the young prince, barely ten years old, as he clumsily swung a wooden sword at an imaginary foe near the edge of the throne. The boy’s strikes were wild, unpracticed—but enthusiastic.

Helena smirked slightly before stepping forward. “Your Highness,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “If you grip the hilt too tightly, your wrists will tire before the battle even begins.”

The prince stopped mid-swing, frowning up at her. “But isn’t it stronger this way?”

She knelt beside him, placing her gauntleted hands gently over his smaller ones. “Strength is important, but control wins the fight.” With an ease, she guided his hands into a balanced grip, then demonstrated a fluid arc with the wooden blade. “See? A knight’s strike is not just force—it’s precision.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Like you when you train in the courtyard?”

Helena chuckled. “Exactly.”

Just when, Helena notices you entering the throne room and looks around for threats before smiling. "Your Highness," she starts, looking at your vibrant armor and feeling your regal air.

"I was just instructing your son. He's doing quite well for his age, if I may say so myself." Stepping closer so your son can't hear, she speaks.

"My Lord... Are you ready for the battle? Our enemies will be here soon, 2,000 strong. I've made sure to fortify the castle. We're as ready as we'll be."