"I have always wanted to see the world," Lady Miyo said.
She remained seated by the lake, knees drawn close, arms wrapped around herself. The air still moved gently across the water, stirring small ripples, rustling the snow-tipped branches overhead. Nature carried on, indifferent.
"Its beauty and its awe," she continued softly. "People of different ancestry. Distinct... yet wonderful."
A faint smile crossed her face. Ikari noticed it immediately. He could tell she was easing.
"I have read of them in books," she went on, eyes distant. "But have never seen them. The glories of men. Tales of gallantry and heroics. Worlds beyond ours. Moreso, I often have these dreams of Lands of Summer. Where the world is warm and spring lasts."
She paused, releasing a slow breath.
"Instead, I am kept here to wither. Like a rose ready to bloom, but denied sunlight. Trapped within stone walls. Surrounded by pleasers and pretenders who care only because I am a Lady."
She sighed. Ikari watched her in silence.
The world she described was not the world he knew. His was small: Home. Mountain fields. Market roads. Back again. His father-the man he admired above all others. His mother-warmth given form. His little brother, always at his heels. That was it. He knew nothing of distant lands or glorious peoples. And yet, somehow, she sensed his thoughts.
"What is it like out there?" she asked.
The question caught him off guard. Ikari stared at the lake, then toward the outer walls in the distance. The world she imagined and the world he knew were not the same. At last, he spoke.
"You seem to speak of a different world, my lady."
She turned slightly toward him.
"The world outside these walls is... wild," he continued. "Every day is a struggle. A fight to live through another sunrise."
He gestured faintly toward the towering stone barriers.
"And That is why Lords build walls. To keep the danger away."
His voice lowered. "We who have less... we are left outside in the cold."
Miyo stared at him. For a moment, so did he. Then she looked away.
"Often," she said quietly, "I asked myself why my father chose you. A boy from the countryside, when there are so many men willing to have this."
Her lips curved faintly. "'How honorable it is to be the sword of the Heir,' they would say. But no one ever imagined it will be like this"
Ikari gave a small, awkward smile. "I was surprised myself."
She glanced back at him.
"The day the Dalmeer came to our home-" he said. "I always wanted to be a soldier, like my father. But I never dreamed so far."
He lowered his head. "But I do miss home."
He didn't need to look to know she was watching him. After a brief silence, she spoke again.
"I never asked of your name."
He lifted his eyes. "Ikari," he said, smiling.
She smiled too. Then quickly turned away.
The moment lingered-fragile, quiet. It shattered at once.
"There!"
The shout came from the bridge. Ikari turned sharply. Four Dalmeers were already crossing, moving fast. His body reacted before his mind did. They reached him in seconds. Hands seized his arms. Steel pressed against his back.
"Wha-!" Ikari started, but they were already binding his wrists.
Lady Miyo rose to her feet. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
One of the soldiers stepped toward her, palm raised.
"My Lady," he said, bowing slightly, "your father is looking for you."
Her eyes flashed. "Then release him," she snapped. "He is my guard."
The soldier did not meet her gaze. "I am following orders."
The bindings tightened around Ikari's wrists. He did not resist. He only looked at her. They turned him toward the bridge as they began the march back to the palace.
The soldiers brought them into a chamber Ikari had never entered before. High windows towered above, admitting pale daylight that fell across foreign carpets woven with intricate patterns. Tall pillars rose toward the ceiling, their surfaces carved with scenes of battles, harvests, and crowned figures long dead. The air was thick with the scent of cedar, warm and steady.
At the center stood a round table. Papers, scrolls, and half-drunk cups lay scattered across it, untouched. An iron chandelier hung above, heavy and still. Five of the six chairs around the table lay pulled back and unarranged, as though their occupants had risen in haste.
One man was seated when they entered.
Ikari assessed him quickly.
He leaned back in his chair, well dressed in finely sewn garments with long sleeves and a high collar. The embroidery was subtle but unmistakably expensive. He appeared physically imposing despite his relaxed posture, and when his eyes met Ikari's, there was no smile—only scrutiny.
Another man stood by the window.
Ikari could not see his face at first.
Then Lady Miyo spoke.
"Father," she said urgently. "Tell them to let him go."
The man at the window turned. Black hair, traditionally styled. A neatly groomed beard and mustache. He wore a grey robe, but beneath it Ikari glimpsed black armor—functional, worn, real. So this was Lord Droha. Lord of White Haven. Lady Miyo's father. He looked younger than Ikari had imagined. Ikari stood trembling between the two men.
"Father," Miyo pleaded again, stepping forward, "he did not do anything. Tell them to let him go."
Lord Droha did not answer her immediately.
Instead, he looked to the soldiers.
"Where did you find them?"
"Beside the lake, my Lord," one replied.
"He only followed me there," Miyo said quickly. "He was protecting me."
Lord Droha's gaze moved between them—measured, unreadable. Then he exhaled.
"Untie him."
The command was immediate. The soldiers loosened the bindings at once. Ikari's wrists burned as blood returned. Lord Droha turned his head slightly.
"Take her to her chambers," he said. "Kiri will attend to her."
Miyo stiffened. "Father—"
"Go," he said gently, but firmly.
Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be escorted out. Ikari watched her leave.
"Excuse us,"
Lord Droha said to the remaining soldiers.They bowed and exited.
Lord Droha then turned to the seated man and nodded. The man rose silently, gathered a few scrolls, and left without a word.
The chamber was suddenly very quiet.
Only Ikari and the Lord remained. Lord Droha studied him.
"What is your name, young blood?"
"Ikari, my Lord."
"Ikari," he repeated. "That does sound like a warrior's name."
He walked to the table and took a seat. "This is our first meeting, I presume?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"I hear you are from the mountainside."
"Yes, my Lord."
Droha nodded once. After a pause, he asked, "Do you miss home?"
"Every day," Ikari answered without thinking.
Droha's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yes, my Lord," Ikari added quickly. Droha leaned back.
"It is a sad thing," he said, "to leave home. To leave family." He traced a finger across an open scroll. "But the realm needed you."
He looked up. "What does it mean to be a Dalmeer?"
The question unsettled Ikari. He had asked himself the same thing ever since the armor had been placed upon him. Ever since he had been chosen—above men stronger, older, more experienced. He lowered his head.
"I do not know, my Lord."
Droha waited.
"But," Ikari continued, "what I do know is that they are the esteemed protectors of the noble houses of the realm."
"Yes," Droha said, "they are."
He rose. "And they do so with their lives. Seeking no praise. No glory. Only duty."
Droha moved to a smaller table near the wall and picked up a framed picture. He studied it for a long moment.
"Miyo," he said quietly. "My daughter." He did not turn.
"She is the Lady of White Haven. And my heir." Ikari remained silent.
"But she has never had it easy," Droha continued. "The gods have not been kind to her. It has left her… sore."
He set the picture down and turned. "That is why I chose you." Ikari lifted his gaze.
"She does not only need a guard," Droha said. "She needs a friend."
His voice softened, just slightly.
"As her father, and the Lord of the realm, I know I will not always be there. But if I see another put a smile on her face… I would be glad."
Ikari could only stare. He did not fully understand. But he bowed deeply.
"I will do as you have said, my Lord. It is my pledge."
Droha nodded. "Good. You may go."
Ikari turned toward the door.
"And Ikari," Droha added. Ikari stopped.
"Never let her go outside without a robe." This time, his face was stern.
"Yes, my Lord." Ikari slid the door open and stepped out.