The sun hung low, but the morning light already spilled into the chamber in golden streaks. Tall windows framed the calm waters of the bay. A heavy carpet, patterned with sea motifs, lay across the floor, and in its center stood Belara. Not in regal finery, but a simple dark blue dress. She didn’t need a crown to make it clear who ruled here.

  To her left stood the diplomat Jhalen—though the princess saw him more as her personal advisor. He held a small ornate box in his clasped hands, its lid firmly shut.

  Before her stood three princes, each with a different stance and gaze. Malgorn stood straight and tense. Qelmar shifted casually on his feet, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Kelen was calm, his arms resting by his sides. Of the three, he spoke the least—but watched and listened the most.

  Belara studied them in silence, expressionless, a stark contrast to yesterday’s warmth. Then she spoke:

  “You’ve all come to the tournament I arranged. By royal standards, I’m of age to marry, but my parents gave me the freedom to choose.”

  She looked directly at Qelmar, who offered a slight, knowing smile.

  “We’ve never met. Only stories reached me—most of them distorted, incomplete. So, I want to see who you really are. And I plan to test you.” Her smile sharpened, nearly sly.

  “Tournaments are no mystery to you. But I’m guessing you expected flashy duels, horses, and gleaming steel. Yet that wouldn’t show me your heart.” She let the words settle in the air.

  “So, I made my own rules. No spectators. No pomp. No loud heroics. I’ll be measuring different qualities.”

  “I’ll briefly explain the three trials. They won’t be what you expect. If they don’t suit you, you’re free to leave. But then you’ll forfeit the prize—which I’ll reveal soon.”

  The princes remained silent. Though Belara was the youngest in the room, none dared interrupt.

  “The first trial is a two-day journey. Each of you will be given a group of seven children, around ten years old. Your task is to lead them safely to the destination—without a guide, only a map. There’s one village along the way where you’ll spend the night. But know this: those little devils will test your patience with bickering, whims, sudden sprints and endless energy. You’ll need all the patience you have. Whoever reaches the goal first wins this round.

  But be warned: any use of physical force immediately invalidates the trial. No second chances. That rule is absolute.”

  “In the end, it’s the children who will report how you led them. Their word will stand against yours. And I already know who I’ll believe. The real victory lies in leading without shouting, without violence—yet with authority.”

  Kelen listened, tension flickering in his eyes.This isn’t a test for a ruler,he thought.She can’t compare governing to managing a horde of ten-year-olds.But he knew this wasn’t the moment to argue. Still, a seed of resistance took root.

  Jhalen, ever observant, watched the princes closely. He already knew what was coming, but their reactions revealed everything.

  When Belara finished, the hall fell quiet. The Zerborask prince looked ready to explode but managed to hold it in. The prince from Tassas let out a short laugh, almost eager.

  Malgorn, however, scowled. A thought troubled him. “What if you give me the worst of them? I expected equal footing. If I get more difficult children, it won’t be fair.”

  “Each of you will have the same group,” Belara assured him calmly, a hint of amusement in her tone. “You’ll take turns.”

  “And what if I go last?” Malgorn pressed. “The kids will be exhausted. That’s hardly equal.”

  “So you’re afraid a bunch of ten-year-olds might cost you the win?” Belara nodded with mock seriousness, though inside, she was enjoying this far too much.

  Malgorn growled but didn’t argue further.

  “Don’t worry,” she continued, still amused. “No blazing deserts or avalanche-prone mountains. Just a forest path, one river crossing, and a goal before the second sunset. No wolves, no bandits. And between each journey, a day of rest—for the children. They’re well-trained. They’ll manage just fine. The question is—can you lead them?”

  “Each group will spend ten hours in the village,”she added, her tone turning more matter-of-fact.“That’s a fixed time—for evening rest, sleep, and morning preparations. No one’s allowed to leave early. It’s about fairness. We can’t have someone gaining an edge just because they got up after six hours of sleep and hit the road at dawn. The rule applies to everyone. If you arrive earlier, you can leave earlier—but only after your ten hours are up.”

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  Qelmar chuckled and shot a jab at Malgorn. “If you wear that armor of yours, you’ll slow them down more than they’ll slow you.”

  Malgorn’s temper flared again. “I’m not complaining. I’m asking for fairness.”

  “The rules are the same for everyone,” Belara said firmly. “But the path won’t be easy. And that’s part of the trial too—accepting the unusual. Adapting to unfamiliar rules.”

  Qelmar smiled, something in his eyes catching Belara’s attention. “Belara,” he said simply.

  The name startled her—no title, no ceremony. Jhalen quietly reminded him of etiquette.

  Still, she was pleased. She liked being called by name, even if Qelmar hadn’t meant it strategically. Of the three, she found herself liking him most. He wasn’t a pompous brute like Malgorn, nor a quiet boy like Kelen. And those cheekbones... that grin... they were getting under her skin.Dangerously likable,she thought. Too often, her gaze drifted to his lips. Not a good sign.

  Qelmar went on. “I must admit, I’m starting to enjoy your tournament more and more. Thank you for sparing me the armor and the need to trip Malgorn with a lance.” His tone was light, with a teasing dig at his short-tempered rival.

  Belara felt her heart skip. She wasn’t used to such open charm—especially not from someone who stirred a physical reaction in her. She forced herself to maintain composure.I hope he goes first,she thought.I need a break from him. He clouds my thinking. Damn those lips, that smile...

  Summoning her most serious voice, she said, “Thank you. I’m glad you look forward to the trials. I was afraid you might reject them.” Though her mind whispered:Why is this happening to me? I need to stay careful. But I don’t hate his company... not at all.

  Of the five in the room, only Kelen remained unreadable. While Jhalen’s expressions changed with the moment, the prince of Terres seemed indifferent. But the opposite was true. He just hid it well.

  Kelen showed nothing—but Qelmar’s casual flirtation grated on him. He didn’t see him as a tournament rival anymore—but as a personal one. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the truth was clear: the princess intrigued him. Not just her beauty—though she was stunning—but her calm authority, her quiet confidence, the sharp wit in every word. The more she spoke, the more he wanted to talk to her. Yet it felt like Qelmar was stealing all her attention.

  “The second trial,” Belara continued, “will test your judgment. You’ll be given a dispute involving three defendants. You must determine who’s guilty. You’ll receive limited information, a chance to question, and a time limit.”

  Malgorn scoffed. “You can’t learn much from questioning. Best way’s to squeeze each of them a bit. Then you know who’s lying. But I’ll follow your rules and still win.”

  Only Kelen frowned, but said nothing.What do I know about verdicts?he wondered.I’ve grown in the shadow of my father’s decisions. I watched—never acted. Now I’m to choose truth from lies, strength from weakness? I’m not ready... I’m barely more than a boy.

  “The third trial will resemble a classic tournament—a game. A strategy board game I’ve designed for this occasion. Each of you will command an army. You’ll either defeat your rivals or seize a bandit stronghold and defend it for a set number of turns. I won’t have an army, but I’ll roll a dice at key moments. Fortune may smile on you—or betray you.”

  Qelmar laughed quietly. “And that’s fair?” His tone made it clear he didn’t really mind. He was far more focused on Belara. “But if your hand deals me defeat, I’ll take it gladly.” He locked eyes with her, and she felt herself unravel.By the drunken gull,she cursed inwardly.He just won’t stop. And there’s still so much to say...

  To escape Qelmar’s pull, she turned to the others. “Each trial will have a winner. Whoever wins the most, wins the tournament. If there’s a tie, I have a final challenge prepared. And now... the prize.”

  Jhalen opened the box. On dark velvet rested a golden pearl the size of a ripe cherry.

  “This,” Belara said, gesturing to it, “is the Pearl of Tal Namaréa. Its value... considerable. Sell it, and you could buy an estate and live in luxury. But to me, it holds deep meaning. A fisherman pulled it from the sea the moment I was born. He believed it was no coincidence. He said it belonged to me—and it has, ever since.

  But more importantly, it’s a symbol. People associate it with me. By giving it to the victor, I give a piece of myself.”

  Silence followed.

  “You now know everything. Does anyone wish to leave?”

  Still silence. Belara asked each of them.

  “Prince Malgorn?”

  “I’ll stay. I still think the trials are... foolish, but the prize is worthy. I repeat my demand: equal conditions.”

  She didn’t bother with more debate. Her rules were clear: if you disagree, the ship home is waiting.

  “Prince Qelmar?”

  “Not for a moment, lovely princess. I look forward to the challenge.” He winked.

  “Prince Kelen?”

  “I came this far. I’ll stay. Perhaps the pearl will bring light to my father’s troubled mind.”

  Belara nodded. “Very well. Each trial takes three days. Since you’ll be using the same group of children, you’ll take turns. Those not leading the children will serve as judges. And in your free time, I’ll try to be present—to get to know you better.”

  She smiled faintly. “Once the board game ends, the tournament is over. Then only one task remains: choosing the winner. This concludes our briefing.” Her eyes moved to the door. “I’d like to invite you to accompany me for a short walk. If you’d rather rest, that’s fine—we’ll meet again at dinner, where I’ll share the schedule and your task rotation. I’ll also show you the ship we’re most proud of—?The Nimble Queen“

  She said it with pride and moved toward the door. Qelmar followed instantly. Kelen joined quietly, as if it were the natural choice. Malgorn hesitated. Something sour flickered in his stance, as though weighing whether any of this was worth the trouble. But he realized refusing would only weaken his standing—so with a grunt, he followed.

  The path through the market was filled with curious eyes and quick hands. But worst of all were nimble fingers that cared little for royal colors. If anything, the gleam of majesty drew them closer—even though the penalty for theft was harsh.