A messenger horse galloped swiftly through the trees, kicking up dirt and leaves as it followed the path through the oakwood forest. Birds, squirrels and other small animals made way for the steed as it passed, heedless of anything else but its riders’ directions. Whenever it felt a tug on one side of its bridle, it instinctively changed to that direction, trusting its master’s orders and knowing a delectable reward of fresh carrots awaited a successful journey.

The rider was a young man wearing a standard issue Lycian soldier’s helmet and chestplate, the former of which annoyingly obscuring most of his sight and leaving only his lower face visible, and the latter adorned with a crest of the Ilia emblem: a spear adorned with pegasus wings. Sheathed at his side was a small iron sword — for bandits and nothing else — while a satchel was strapped to his opposite hip. Inside contained his charge, a message intended for the royalty of Castle Ostia from the Knights Union of Ilia. His journey had been long and tireless, with only the provisions contained within the horse’s saddlebags to keep him fed and hydrated.

Finally, the path turned to reveal a large point of light through the trees. Smiling to himself, the rider lightly kicked his horse’s side. The horse obediently picked up speed, rushing past the trees and breaking through the treeline. The rider pulled back on the reins, signaling the horse to stop, which it did with a flourish as it kicked its front legs into the air. The rider spared a glance back into the forest before turning forward to behold a distant sight.

Castle Ostia stood tall and proud against the lush green landscape, its towers like swords pointed skyward, ready for battle. The castle was famed for being impenetrable, all thanks to its expertly built architecture, made with superior defenses in mind above all else. Very little glamor adorned its outer surface, flaunting instead a drab brick exterior that would make the gaudiest of nobles faint. It was perfectly suited to the tastes of the current marquess.

High above, the sun shined brilliantly down on the earth. Its position indicated the time to be sometime before noon. The messenger smiled and nodded, proud of himself for having made great time on his journey.

He directed his horse to move again, which it did. They sprinted across the grassy plains, traversed small foothills, and a few more woodland clusters before making their way into the castle town itself. They slowed their pace, mindful of the bustling commoners going about their business. The rider managed to pick up a few words of exchange as he passed through the marketplace, ones which made his mouth fall a little.

“Lord Hector is nothing but an oaf. Practically a cur!

“Why did Lord Uther have to pass away?”

“No way can someone so young and reckless lead the entire Lycian League.”

The rider put the comments out of his mind as he rode up the path leading to the castle. Kicking up a mist of dirt and rocks, he guided his horse around the side of the castle to where the stables were. His horse would need a good rest and plenty of food before they left with a return message from Lord Hector to the Union.

Someone was already there when he approached. A young, purple-haired girl was tending to a pegasus stallion at the far end of the stables. Her garb consisted of a purple royal dress with lighter purple sleeves and white slippers while a necklace adorned with a green gemstone graced her neck. The messenger smiled, instantly recognizing who she was.

The girl held a brush in one hand, combing it through the pegasus’ mane while lightly stroking his snout with her other hand. She didn’t notice him approaching until he’d already dismounted his horse and was opening an adjacent stall to let him in.

“Oh, hello there,” she said, her gentle smile uplifting to his weary soul. “Who might you be?”

The messenger guided his horse into the stall and shut the door before turning to face her and kneeling. “Lady Florina, it is an honor.” He retrieved the item from his satchel — a scroll — and presented it to her. “I come bearing a message from the Knights Union of Ilia to Marquess Ostia. May I entrust you to deliver this to him?”

Florina put a hand to her mouth, slight concern crossing her features. “The Knights Union? Could it be from one of my sisters?” She accepted the scroll with a nod. “Thank you. I will deliver this to Lord Hector at once.”

The messenger nodded before fetching a bucket full of carrots set by the stall. He picked one out and held it up for his steed, which took it immediately and began chewing.

Florina turned to her pegasus and placed a gentle kiss on his snout. “Bye Huey. Be good, okay?”

The pegasus gave a low grunt in response. Florina smiled and turned to head back to the castle proper.

Florina entered the castle and began making her way to Lord Hector’s office, figuring he was likely currently busy going over the paperwork dealing with Ostia’s annexation of the Caelin territory.

She passed through hallways that, while not terribly spartan, lacked some of the embellishments that defined other castles in the Lycian League. Banners displaying the Lycian emblem — a blazing sword — adorned the walls while plush red and gold carpets decorated the floor, but there wasn’t much else to decorate the halls. She had explored every inch of the castle in her single year living here and even the actual rooms lacked a great sense of flair and decorum. The most lavish room in the whole castle was the master bedroom, and even then, that had more to do with the mere presence of all the exquisite furniture than how elaborately decorated any of it was.

Compared to Florina’s previous experience living in Ilia, Castle Ostia was an improvement to the harsh winter conditions that defined the place of her birth but was still a step down from the pinnacle of royal living. Even her time spent living in Castle Caelin as one of Lady Lyndis’ retainers was more extravagant than this, though not by much.

She passed by several guards and maids along the way, all of whom bowed before her as she passed. Florina couldn’t help but blush a little each and every time they did this. Another aspect of royal living she’d had to get used to was being treated with more reverence than she’d ever gotten back in Ilia. The timid little girl she was back in her youth would have snapped under the attention she now received as Lady Florina of Castle Ostia, but she’d grown up so much since then. She still felt a little uncomfortable, but not enough that she couldn’t suck it up and keep her head held high.

As Florina came nearer to Lord Hector’s office, her attention turned to the parchment held in her hand, mind awash at the possible contents contained within. It coming from the Knights Union immediately brought to mind thoughts of her sisters. She hadn’t said anything to them since they attended her and Lord Hector’s wedding one year ago, but the messenger said the scroll was specifically for Lord Hector, so it couldn’t be her sisters wanting to chat a friendly word.

It had to be official business, she figured; nothing that concerned her directly. It might not even be from her sisters, but rather, their superiors in the Union.

Just before she turned a corner leading to her destination, she stopped by a window overlooking the castle courtyard. Colorful, exotic flowers lined each and every pathway while tall trees at every corner and in the center provided plenty of shade for visitors. Various birds fluttered among the trees, singing melodious birdsong that brought a serene smile to Florina’s face. If there was one aspect of royal living that Florina truly loved above anything else, it was having a lovely hideaway she could retreat to for relieving mounting stress or whenever she just wanted some fresh air along with beautiful scenery to relish in.

She was half tempted to delay her errand to take a stroll through the garden but knew urgent business was a higher priority. She took the last few steps to reach the door to Hector’s office. Angered mutterings sounded from within. Florina briefly considered waiting until later to deliver the scroll for fear of only adding to Hector’s workload at a bad time. She decided against it, however, believing a better course of action would be to remain by his side for emotional support. That’s what a good wife would do, after all.

She reached up and gently tapped the oaken surface. No response came. Confused at first, a small, self-deprecating grimace crossed her face when she realized her mistake. She knocked again, this time a little louder.

“Come in!” came the gruff reply.

Florina opened the door. Directly across from her was the scowling face of her husband. He sat at his oaken desk dressed in his royal blue robes, a quill in one hand and a roll of parchment in front of him. His blue hair was disheveled as if he’d run a hand through it several times. He glared icy daggers down at the parchment, his entire face twisted into utter contempt. He put the quill down onto the parchment, held it there for a moment, then threw it onto the desk with a small cry of anguish.

Florina’s mouth fell into a frown as she watched Hector bury his face in his hands. He didn’t sob, rather, began making soft, exasperated sighs. It wasn’t the first time Florina had seen him like this. Hector had never tried to hide his admittedly lackluster skills in mathematics and logistics, preferring to have his axe in hand rather than a quill. He was completely out of his element now that he was Marquess, and it was eating at him.

But that’s why she was here, to support him.

Florina made her way into the room and walked around to his side. She placed a comforting hand on his back while clasping her other hand around his own. “Is everything okay, Lord Hector?” she asked softly.

Hector lifted his head, taking a deep, relaxing breath. He looked into her eyes. “We’ve been over this already, dear,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You don’t need to act so formally around me now that we’re married. Just call me Hector if you’re not going to call me ‘dear’.”

Florina frowned, shifting her gaze downward. “Um, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Hector sighed but smiled. “It’s okay.” His eyes tracked down to the scroll. “What’s that?”

“A royal messenger just arrived with it,” Florina answered, handing it to Hector. “It’s from the Knights Union of Ilia.”

Hector raised an eyebrow. “Is it now?” He took a moment to break the wax seal, unfurling the scroll and holding it for them both to read. They read its contents together, their faces growing increasingly worried as they went on.

Dear allies of Ilia,

This message is the result of a collective decision by the Knights’ Union of Ilia to seek out aid from allied countries. All other avenues have been deemed insufficient or unreliable to aid Ilia and its peoples from our current crisis. In the past, we have relied on the generosity of the kind-hearted to solve issues of a similar caliber, but now we find ourselves needing to directly seek aid.

The weather in Ilia has been particularly harsh this winter, and as a result, we’ve lost many of our crops. Enough so that we estimate we won’t have enough to feed a good portion of our population for at least a whole month. To that end, we’re putting out a call for aid after reviewing our options at length and with utmost consideration. We have very little money to offer, but we are hoping negotiations can be made to provide discounted fees for our many talented mercenary companies should our call be answered.

Food enough to feed five hundred people for a month’s time is as much as we need. A representative company of the Knights Union will await donors in the city of Remi. Free lodging will be provided for those who come bringing aid.

We offer our sincerest thanks in advance.

The rest of this message is being written by Fiora, commander of the 5th Wing of Ilia’s Pegasus Knights.

Greetings, Lord Hector, I hope you and my little sister are enjoying married life. As stated above, Ilia is putting out a call for aid. I’m adding this personal addendum to your copy of the message at the behest of my fellow commanders. Please know that I take no pleasure in using my personal connection with you like this. We really are desperate for aid, and my loyalty to Ilia has outweighed my morality just long enough to write this. I am sorry. All the same, we hope to receive aid from Lycia. We all would be most grateful.

Sincerely,

The Knights Union of Ilia

“Oh my,” Florina breathed.

Hector set the scroll down on the desk, his face turning contemplative. The action surprised Florina. Just like his big brother Uther, Hector preferred to make quick decisions, believing too much time spent pondering over details was time wasted when the best course of action was staring one right in the face. She would’ve expected him to have an answer the instant he finished reading; seeing him actually take the time to think had to mean this issue was especially important to him. She wondered if that had to do with Fiora’s addendum.

“What do we do, Lo– er, I mean, Hector?” she asked, silently cursing herself for not remembering Hector’s words just a minute ago.

“We’re going to send aid to Ilia, don’t think otherwise,” he replied, his voice firm and resolute. His eyes closed and he folded his hands under his chin. “I’m just not sure how right now.”

Florina was confused for a moment before realization dawned on her. “You mean… the riots?”

Hector stood up from the chair, his red cape sweeping over him as he turned to the double windows behind the desk, taking care not to get it caught on the edge of the chair. Outside was a magnificent view of the castle town. The people below were like ants, bustling about their daily lives.

He narrowed his eyes, but not in contempt. His gaze was akin to that of an artist studying an unfinished piece, trying to figure out the best possible actions to take to achieve the desired finished result. “No one thinks I’m fit to be Marquess. I want nothing more than to prove them wrong, to prove that I can be as good as Uther was. Throwing aid to another country before Lycia, even an allied one, likely won’t sit well with the populace, fickle as they tend to be. I’m not afraid of a revolt, but....” He trailed off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If I could find a way to give Ilia aid without depleting Lycia’s own resources, then there’d be no problem. I just need to think of one.”

A grateful smile split Florina’s mouth before her face also turned contemplative and she began pondering a solution herself. The most obvious would be that another allied country sent aid, thereby lifting the weight off of Hector’s shoulders. The only other country likely to give Ilia aid was Etruria, as Sacae didn’t have a centralized government, and relations between Bern and the rest of Elibe had grown strained over the past couple of years with King Desmond’s mounting distrust and anxiety. But they couldn’t know for sure that Etruria would send aid, and it wouldn’t sit right with the two of them to leave the matter to someone else if they figured out a solution themselves.

The next best solution would be to make a third-hand deal with another country, to petition them to aid Ilia on the promise of future compensation. But again, the only other country likely to agree to such a deal was Etruria, and thinking about it some more, Florina realized it wouldn’t do well for Lycia’s image if its ultimate leader was petitioning Etruria to aid another country on its behalf. They already had to be careful enough with how the public perceived Hector’s rule over Ostia and the entire Lycian League by extension, what with the countless foreign spies based in the city. Making such a move could possibly convince foreign leaders that Lycia’s own resources were rapidly depleting, which wouldn’t be good for foreign relations.

Florina blinked as an idea came to her. Memories of an event she’d all but put behind her dredged up from the back of her mind. A period of about three days wherein she’d been plucked from Elibe and cast into another world alongside a plethora of alien beings, some human, others she couldn’t imagine in her wildest dreams. One of whom had spoken of pegasi who could control weather and ponies with magic capable of growing crops quicker than any human, coming from a world which was even now accessible to her.

“Hector?” she said.

He turned from the window to her. “Hmm?”

“I... have an idea.”

Florina's royal attire is based on this artwork.