Astrid’s reputation had begun to spread like wildfire. Lords and common folk alike whispered tales of the young Fenwick woman who wielded the Blade of Kings, a mysterious figure intent on restoring her family’s lost kingdom. But as she gained more allies, she also attracted the attention of those who saw her ambition as a threat. The shadow of opposition grew thicker, though she was yet unaware of how close danger had crept.
With Lord Harren and Lord Alistair’s alliances secured, Astrid now set her sights on the next piece of the kingdom—Lord Branton’s lands, a fertile region with strong resources and prosperous trade routes. Branton, however, was known to be cunning and deeply skeptical, a lord who played his hand close to his chest and rarely trusted strangers. Winning him over would require more than demonstrations of strength.
As she traveled to Branton’s estate, Astrid weighed her options. This time, brute force would not serve her purpose. Branton was too shrewd for that, and his loyalty could only be won through careful negotiation. She knew she had to show him that an alliance with the Fenwick name would not only be beneficial but essential for his own power.
When she arrived at Branton’s estate, she was greeted with cold formality. His guards were well-armed, their watchful eyes lingering on the Blade of Kings. She could feel the tension as she was led through the grand halls, each step echoing in the silence. Finally, she was shown into Lord Branton’s study, a room filled with books, maps, and symbols of wealth.
Branton was a tall, lean man with a calculating gaze that seemed to pierce straight through her. His smile was thin, barely reaching his eyes as he studied her, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“A Fenwick in my home,” he mused. “I must admit, I never thought I’d see the day.”
Astrid inclined her head, meeting his gaze. “I come with a proposal, one that would benefit both of us. I am here to restore unity to these lands, and with your support, we could achieve a balance of power that would secure your position.”
Branton let out a soft chuckle, though there was no warmth in it. “Restoring unity, is it? And why should I believe you can accomplish such a grand ambition?”
“Because I already have,” Astrid replied confidently. “Lord Harren and Lord Alistair have joined me. They see the value in rebuilding what was lost, and together, we are stronger than any single lord ruling over fragmented lands.”
Branton raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “An impressive start, perhaps, but alliances are fickle things. What happens when ambition drives your allies to turn on you?”
“Then I’ll face that challenge when it comes,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “But with each lord who joins, we build something greater. A legacy that benefits not just a single name, but everyone who calls these lands home.”
He regarded her in silence for a moment, his gaze flickering to the Blade of Kings. “You speak well, Fenwick, but I am a man of practicality. I do not make alliances based on lofty ideals.”
“Then let’s talk about your needs,” Astrid offered. “Your lands are prosperous, but they are vulnerable. Should war reach your gates, would you have enough support to defend what you’ve built?”
Branton’s jaw tightened slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. She knew she had struck a nerve. The region was relatively peaceful, but rumors of unrest had begun to circulate. With the shifting alliances and Astrid’s growing influence, it was only a matter of time before others would seek to challenge his authority.
“And you believe you can offer me that support?” he asked, his tone skeptical.
“I can,” Astrid replied. “Join me, and you will have allies in Lord Harren, Lord Alistair, and the loyal forces I am gathering. Together, we are stronger than any threat that might arise.”
Branton leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. “Interesting words. But words are not enough. If you truly wish to secure my loyalty, you will need to prove your worth.”
Astrid braced herself, ready for another test. “What do you ask of me?”
“There is a band of mercenaries who have been causing trouble along my trade routes,” Branton explained. “They call themselves the Crimson Band, a ruthless group who respects only coin and strength. I have tried to drive them out, but they are resourceful, always reappearing in another location.”
Astrid nodded, listening closely.
“Rid me of this problem,” he continued. “Bring me proof that the Crimson Band has been disbanded for good, and I will consider your offer.”
Astrid took a steadying breath, nodding her agreement. “Consider it done.”
Branton smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Then go, Lady Fenwick. Show me that you are as capable as you claim.”
With that, Astrid left Branton’s estate, her mind already forming a plan. The Crimson Band’s reputation was well-known; they were brutal and relentless, a thorn in the side of anyone who tried to keep order in these lands. She would have to be clever, using strategy over brute force, to dismantle them.
She rode toward the area where the Crimson Band had last been spotted, taking note of the terrain and seeking out any signs of movement. The countryside was vast, filled with hidden valleys and narrow trails, perfect for an elusive band of mercenaries.
After several days of tracking, Astrid found them encamped near a cliffside, their fires casting flickering shadows against the rocks. She watched them from a distance, studying their numbers and movements. The camp was well-organized, with sentries stationed around its perimeter. Charging in headfirst would be suicide.
Instead, she waited until nightfall, using the cover of darkness to move closer. She had noticed a pattern in the sentries’ movements and timed her approach carefully, slipping past the outer guards and moving toward the heart of the camp. Her plan was simple: sow confusion among the mercenaries, disrupt their chain of command, and force them to scatter.
As she moved silently through the camp, she began setting small fires at strategic points, each one sparking a ripple of panic among the mercenaries. Shouts echoed through the camp as the fires spread, confusion taking hold. The mercenaries scrambled to contain the flames, their focus fractured.
In the chaos, Astrid spotted the leader of the Crimson Band—a tall, imposing man with a scar running down his cheek, barking orders in an attempt to regain control. She slipped through the shadows, drawing close enough to confront him.
“Looking for someone?” she called, her voice cutting through the noise.
The leader turned, his gaze hardening as he saw her. “And who might you be?”
“I’m the one who’s putting an end to your band of thieves,” she replied, lifting the Blade of Kings.
The leader sneered, drawing his own weapon. “Big words for someone so young. You’re alone here. This will be over quickly.”
They clashed, his strikes brutal and heavy, but Astrid matched each blow with precision and agility. The Blade of Kings felt like an extension of her arm, guiding her as she moved. Despite his strength, the leader began to falter, his confidence waning as he realized her skill.
With a final, swift strike, Astrid disarmed him, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. She held the Blade of Kings to his throat, her voice calm but firm. “Your reign of terror ends here. Leave now, or face the consequences.”
The leader glared at her, his pride wounded. But he knew he had been defeated. With a reluctant nod, he signaled to his men, and the Crimson Band began to scatter, their power broken.
As dawn approached, Astrid returned to Branton’s estate with proof of her success. She presented him with the leader’s insignia, a small, tarnished emblem that bore the mark of the Crimson Band.
Branton examined it, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he looked up at her, a faint smile on his lips. “It seems you are as capable as you claim, Astrid Fenwick. You have earned my respect, and, as promised, my loyalty.”
Astrid inclined her head, concealing her relief. Another alliance had been secured, but she knew that each step only brought her closer to the true challenges that lay ahead.
As she left Branton’s estate, the Blade of Kings at her side, she felt a surge of determination. Her journey was far from over, but with each victory, she drew closer to reclaiming her family’s legacy.
She mounted her horse and rode into the morning light, ready for whatever awaited her on the path ahead. The kingdom was beginning to take notice, and soon, those who had once dismissed the Fenwick name would learn to fear it once more.