The woman’s eyes fly wide. My hand instinctively moves to my dagger as she runs to Alessia, throwing herself at her feet.
“Oh, thank the gods! Heaven must have known your coronation was near. Our prayers are answered!”
My gut churns with guilt as I drop my hand back at my side. I should have known this woman posed no threat to Alessia; she’s the aging leader of a small starving village, forgotten on the outskirts of her kingdom. She’s looking for help, not violence. All the money, magic crystals, and food we have wouldn’t solve their problems long enough to be a solution. I nod to Daelia, and she relaxes her stance as well.
“What happened here?” Alessia asks. “I sent word to your rulers weeks ago, but I heard nothing back, and now I happen upon your village in this state. This is very unlike the Krasta I was told about in my youth.”
The woman stands up, taking Alessia’s hands in her own. A few tears run down her face as she smiles joyously at her savior.
“It has been a pitiful time for our nation these last few years. The terminal medical diagnosis of their only heir has devastated our royal family. Their son is only eighteen years old. For the last three years, the royals have been in upheaval about whom to appoint as their successor. The family lines of our aristocrats have been infighting for months, and a civil war broke out in the capital city. The fighting has gone on for over a year now. No one faction is winning over another, and our merchants are dying in the crossfire. If we don't find a way to sell our goods, our village is doomed to die, and the capital city will starve along with us.”
“Do you not have a military? Where are they in all of this?” Alessia demands.
“We were such a peaceful nation for so long, and with so little money, it made no sense to build a large military. We only had as many guards as could protect the royal family itself. The security forces in the capital city are overwhelmed as they try to quell the violence and protect the last of the royal line.”
Alessia balls her hands into fists. If I’d been standing next to her, I would take a step back right about now. Her face contorts into the deadliest of cold frowns.
“I see. Your royals have failed you. What is your name?”
“Ophelia,” the woman replies, bowing her head respectfully.
“Ophelia, meet my eyes,” Alessia commands.
I watch as Ophelia trembles before Alessia, her weakened body clearly on the verge of giving out. Alessia reaches out to gently hold her by the shoulders, her eyes flashing dangerously.
“I swear upon my honor, as the leader of my nation, that I will not let your village or anyone in Krasta starve the way your leaders have. This is an unjust reaction to a petty problem that has had devastating effects on your people. As the leader of your allied nation, I will provide you with the means necessary to reclaim your health, stability, and security, even if your rulers stand in my way.”
Ophelia’s lip trembles as she clasps her hands together, chanting, “Thank you! Thank you, Queen of Celestia! May the gods bless your holy path!”
“There is no need to thank me. Bring me your sick and your weary,” Alessia commands.
Ophelia runs off, shouting for a couple of women in the village. Alessia gestures for Daelia and me to join her, and we return to her side. I’m not going to lie; seeing Alessia so openly passionate in public for the first time has me feeling things I never thought I’d feel for a woman. Her voice has deepened ever so slightly, and the electricity crackling in her eyes rivals that of lightning. If she saw the ruler of Krasta now, she’d strike them dead before they could blink. She holds her shoulders back and her head high, staring into the oblivion Krasta’s rulers have created.
“This is pathetic. The people should have their rulers executed for this,” Alessia growls. “This is treason of the highest degree. Rulers have a duty to serve their people. This is selfish beyond measure.”
“The Holy Mother would be trembling with righteous fury,” Daelia agrees, her face darkening. “This is madness. Even the gods may shake their fists from the heavens at such asinine behavior.”
I have no room to talk on this matter, seeing as I did not grow up royal, but even I find my gut curdling in disgust at the sight of royal neglect. I may not have chosen the path of royalty, and I may not desire to lead an entire nation, but I would never stoop so low as to prioritize my own petty problems over the suffering of my own citizens. It doesn’t take much effort to make a choice, sideline personal problems, and prioritize the well-being of the citizens. A simple vote would have taken care of Krasta’s problems, or a random drawing, even.
Instead, I’m seeing children withering away before my very eyes. It’s worse than disgusting.
Ophelia comes running with a small group of women behind her. Most of them carry a young child in their arms, and a couple of them are carrying seriously ill adults on makeshift stretchers. The sick and injured that can still carry themselves trudge along behind them, their movements so fatigued and unsteady that I have a miniature heart attack every time one of them sways.
Sure enough, a woman missteps only a few feet away from us, and I’m diving to catch her before I can blink. I’m horrified to feel how light she is in my arms; she’s taller than Alessia. She should at least pose a challenge to carry, but having her draped over my arms feels no more strenuous than carrying a stack of laundry.
“Thank you,” the woman rasps.
Her cheekbones are so prominent, and her shoulders so bony, I could mistake her for an animated corpse. Her skin is even grayer than the wendigos’. Her eyes flutter closed only moments after she speaks, and I have to look at the rise and fall of her chest to remind myself she didn’t just die in my arms.
“Alessia…we need to call in aid. Right away,” I say.
“I know. Our visit won’t be nearly as long as planned,” she says, her face stone cold. “We will be returning to ask the aid of the Holy Mother as soon as possible.”
“I have no doubt she will help us,” Daelia says, her face a little pale as she sets down an unconscious eight-year-old. “The gods have not forsaken this place yet, even if the rulers have. We will bring them the nourishment they need to recover, as well as the supplies they need to farm again.”
“Do we have any laborers we can spare?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, all ours are busy on important city projects, and I’m not the type of ruler to enslave monsters to use as laborers,” Alessia says.
