Falls
"The trap snaps shut—but who is caught within?"
The captive's garments, visible beneath the rough sacking, spoke of noble birth. Her slender silhouette, glimpsed from afar, bore a passing resemblance to the Princess herself.
"Behold, you craven royal dogs! This is the true face of the monarchy you so blindly defend! Your precious Princess fled to save her own skin!"
Horrols thrust an accusing finger toward the bound girl, his voice carrying across the battlefield.
"Is this the royalty for whom you would sacrifice your lives? Is this the justice that supposedly dwells in Valdina?"
"RAAAAH!"
The rebels roared in savage unison. Crude epithets filled the air—witch, cur, vermin—a cacophony of hatred crashing against the castle walls.
"Her Highness the Princess has fled?"
"Captured by rebels while trying to escape? She abandoned us to save herself?"
"Now that I think of it... I don't recall seeing Her Highness among those who climbed to the walls..."
Within the castle, the common folk fell into chaos at the rebels' proclamations.
They were neither soldiers nor nobles—ordinary citizens barred from approaching the ramparts. They could only hear, not see, what transpired above.
"What do we do? If even the Princess has abandoned us, what hope remains for this castle? Those rebels will slaughter us all!"
Unable to witness the truth, their anxiety swelled with each thunderous shout from beyond the walls.
But upon the ramparts themselves, bewilderment reigned.
"What nonsense are the rebels spouting? They claim to have captured Her Highness?"
But Her Highness stands right here before us...
Count Montega's gaze darted between the distant rebel camp and the Princess standing mere feet away.
At that moment, Medea stepped forward and raised her voice—a sound so resonant and commanding it seemed impossible it could issue from so young a woman.
"Do not be deceived! I, Medea de Valdina, stand before you! Tell me—whom exactly have you captured?"
"As a daughter of Valdina's royal blood, I will never abandon my people and flee!"
She stood tall, facing the rebel host without flinching.
Her proud declaration echoed across both encampments, stirring murmurs of confusion and hope.
"Ha! You claim you won't flee? Lies! You've planted some decoy to fool the gullible masses! Treacherous Valdina royals!"
Horrols, convinced she was bluffing, strode triumphantly toward his captive.
"Behold! The true Princess stands here!"
With a dramatic flourish, he tore away the sacking—intending to expose his prize before the world.
The rough gray cloth fell away.
Pink hair spilled free, dancing in the wind.
The instant Duchess Catherine glimpsed the girl—swaying like a reed, barely conscious—a scream tore from her throat.
"AAAAAH! BIRNA!"
Even at such a distance, how could a mother fail to recognize her own daughter?
The realization struck her like a physical blow: the captive was not Medea, but Birna—her only child.
Catherine collapsed.
"Catherine! Wake up!"
Even as the Regent caught his fainting wife, his own mind reeled with shock.
Why is Birna there? How is this possible?
What in God's name has happened?!
His daughter should have been safe at the ducal estate. Why had she ventured so far? And what had become of the knight he'd dispatched to deal with Medea?
While the Regent drowned in confusion and mounting terror, Samon lunged forward and bellowed at Horrols:
"Silence! You seek to destabilize this kingdom with your schemes! I'll have your treacherous tongues cut out! Guards—take their heads!"
Father, we must silence them before the truth spreads.
His desperate gambit was clear: prevent anyone from discovering that the"fleeing Princess" was actually the daughter of House Claudio.
But Medea had no intention of allowing Samon's efforts to succeed.
A faint smile crossed her lips before she called out in a voice that carried to every corner of the battlefield:
"The girl you hold captive is not the Princess of Valdina! She is Birna Claudio—my cousin, daughter of the Regent himself!"
"MEDEA!"
The Regent's roar was desperate, frantic—the cry of a man watching his world crumble.
Prime Minister Sissair spoke up, his tone one of measured confusion.
"Your Grace, did you not claim the rebels were hunting the Princess? If we wish to recover Lady Birna swiftly and safely, we must make clear that the girl they hold is not their intended target."
The very pretense the Regent had constructed against Medea now boomeranged back upon him with devastating precision.
The logic was irrefutable.
The Regent could only stare at Sissair with murderous fury, utterly powerless to respond.
"You who cannot even recognize me presume to speak of royal corruption? Tell me—from whence do you derive your justification?"
Medea's challenge rang through the sky.
No answer came.
Her soft laughter rippled outward, and soon the soldiers upon the walls joined her—a wave of mocking mirth directed at the rebels below.
"Who exactly are you holding hostage while crying revolution?"
The rebel ranks stirred with shock and confusion as word spread that their captive was not the Princess at all, but the Regent's own daughter.
"What? She's not the Princess?"
Horrols' head whipped between the woman standing proudly on the wall and the girl beside him. Similar builds, perhaps—but the hair was wrong. This was not the silver that marked Valdina's royal blood.
"You should have verified her identity beforehand!"
He drove his fist into his subordinate's face.
"Chief, she was hooded from the moment she arrived! I assumed she was the Princess because a knight bearing House Claudio's crest delivered her!"
"That knight—where is he now?!"
Horrols searched frantically, but the man had vanished.
That knight—Zeta, in truth—had long since discarded the Claudio armor and slipped back into the castle unnoticed.
"Damn it all! Someone switched the Princess. We've been infiltrated!"
Horrols' rage erupted, but he could not afford to falter now. Maintaining momentum mattered more than hunting for spies.
"This changes nothing! Your royal house has drained our blood for generations! What were you doing while so many of us rose up in desperation? We will not rest until this corrupt dynasty falls!"
He brandished his sword, whipping it through the air with theatrical fury.
"Brothers! I stand here as one of Valdina's people, fighting for our future! Will we entrust our precious lives to a warmongering King?"
"RAAAAH—!"
The rebels' spirits surged anew at his rallying cry.
At that moment, footsteps sounded behind Horrols.
He turned with relief to see a tall young man approaching—helmet, armor, weapons at the ready.
"Theo! Perfect timing! You saw what they did—they planted a decoy to make fools of us!"
But Theo did not respond. His gaze lifted, blank and distant, toward the white walls above.
There stood the Princess, facing them.
And beside her—a small, brown-haired girl.
Saya...
"Theo, does your revolution hold more value than the life of your own flesh and blood? I await your answer—delivered by your own hand."
Though framed as a question, it had been nothing less than a savage ultimatum: abandon the rebellion, or watch Saya die.
And now the moment of reckoning had arrived.
The Princess's words echoed in his skull—her assertion that this uprising was nothing but a scheme by the Regent and Horrols to fill their own coffers. Doubt gnawed at the foundations of everything he believed.
Theo bit down hard on his lip.
The letter had contained her precise demands. Those stark, elegant characters coiled around him now like a noose tightening with each breath.
Even from such a distance, the Princess's presence seized him utterly, devouring his reason.
The copper taste of blood seeped across his tongue.
He could not surrender the revolution to which he had devoted his youth. But neither could he sacrifice his sister—the other half of his soul.
At that instant, a knight materialized behind Saya.
Light flashed near her throat.
Theo's eyes flew wide.
A blade—catching the sunlight. A razor edge poised to pierce his frail sister's neck in a heartbeat.
"I..."
His gaze locked on the distant walls.
A silent scream tore through him.
He knew it was impossible, yet somehow—impossibly—he felt the Princess's eyes meet his.
There was nowhere left to run. Despair crushed him like a rat cornered in a dead end.
His body convulsed as though struck by lightning.
"Theo? Are you listening to me?"
"Use that clever head of yours—if those imperials press their advantage now—"
Blood erupted.
When the trembling finally ceased, Theo moved.
Horrols' head struck the ground before he could finish his sentence.
"Ugh—!"
"He's dead! He's dead!"
"What? Who's dead?"
Before the shock could spread, Theo—teeth bared, eyes wild—hoisted the chieftain's severed head and roared:
"The rebellion is finished! Regent Claudio—your conspiracy stands exposed! This false uprising ends here and now!"
The young man's blood-chilling cry echoed across the sky.
And upon the walls, silver hair gleaming in the fading light, Princess Medea watched the final piece of her design fall into place.
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