The season when all things revive and the long winter slumber ends. Birds sang, and the fields were green. It was spring.

Helia cast off the cumbersome crown and cape when her coronation concluded. Della, the new kingdom’s head maid, hurried after her, awkwardly cradling the discarded regalia.

“Summon everyone immediately. We’re holding a meeting,” Helia ordered.

“At once, Your Majesty,” Della replied.

At Della’s subtle gesture, the maids scattered, each tasked with locating someone within the palace. Fortunately, as the coronation had just ended, everyone remained in the royal residence.

The new vassals of the new kingdom quickly gathered in the grand council chamber at Helia’s summons.

“What’s the matter, Your Majesty?”

Ikael, who had been intercepted on his way home, asked as he confirmed everyone’s presence. Helia glared at him as if to say, How could you not know?, and declared:

“We’re advancing to Bailey immediately.”

“Right now?”

Ikael leapt in surprise. The others were equally shocked, and the council chamber erupted in murmurs. Helia, unfazed by Ikael’s overreaction, continued coldly.

“Didn’t you propose a sudden strike on the capital?“

“But, Your Majesty, today is your coronation! There’s a mountain of tasks to celebrate the founding—”

“Exactly. You’ll stay behind to announce the founding and strengthen diplomatic ties with neighboring nations.“

“Wait—just me? Surely you’re not planning to lead the charge yourself?“

“I am. After all, it’s the fall of that Bailey.”

Ikael stood frozen, his mouth agape in disbelief.

“Your Majesty, you can’t even wield a sword!“

“It’s fine. Lord Nattritz and Hernie will stay by my side at all times.”

Hernie was a nameless orphan Helia had found wandering the streets near Bailey while still residing in a nearby estate. Her intense violet eyes, reminiscent of Lette’s, had caught Helia’s attention. That unusual feature had been both a blessing and a curse for Hernie. Abandoned by her family and pelted with stones by others who feared her power, she had lived as a vagrant, fleeing from place to place.

At the time, Helia had been deliberately wandering outside searching for witches. Her limited sphere of activity had only led her to discover Lette, but she reasoned that if she encountered more people, she might find others. Despite the rarity of witches, her instincts proved correct when she found Hernie.

Helia personally took care of Hernie. At first, the girl was terrified of Helia, who had recognized her as a witch. But after hearing about the new kingdom Helia envisioned, she couldn’t help but follow her. Even though Helia wasn’t kind to her, Hernie treated her like a savior.

When Lette tested Hernie’s abilities, the girl demonstrated extraordinary proficiency in white magic, particularly defensive spells. Lette surmised that her harsh life of constant pursuit had honed these abilities. Watching Hernie barely fend off her attack spells, Lette clicked her tongue in frustration and admiration.

Lette had taken Hernie and Vivian to Nattritz for training to prepare for this very day. Though she lamented not leaving someone to guard Helia during her journey, it was all in the past.

“But the Duke of Nattritz only just recovered his strength yesterday…“

“Then will you stay behind, Your Grace?“

“Surely you know I’d never let Your Majesty go alone.“

Ruben’s firm reply silenced Ikael’s protests. Helia shot Ikael a triumphant look, confident she’d won the argument.

“No more objections. Now is the perfect time to strike.”

***

News of the national proclamation ceremony would soon reach Xeroth. He would likely find it outrageous but also assume that the new kingdom would be preoccupied. Exploiting that false sense of security was crucial.

“The campaign is already decided. Prepare the troops, Lord Nattritz,“ Helia commanded.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,“ Ruben responded, placing one hand over his chest and bowing deeply.

Helia nodded and directed Lette to prepare for the advance as well. Everyone had anticipated a swift deployment, so all basic preparations were already in place.

Amid cheers from her people, Helia set out. If they marched through the night, Reaching Bailey would take two days. Vivian and Hernie’s healing magic quickly alleviated fatigue. Their spells left one feeling more refreshed than even a deep sleep. Soldiers marveled at the witches’ magic as if it were a divine blessing. Watching people grow more accepting of witches filled Helia with satisfaction.

After news spread that Lette was a witch, a few witches sought her out. Their numbers were small, a sign that magic was fading, as evidenced by the absence of new sorcerers. It was unclear whether witches had always been this rare or if their numbers had recently dwindled, as no accurate census had ever been conducted. The rarity of magic, however, had its advantages: the kingdom could monopolize its power, and no one dared to underestimate its capabilities. Helia had gladly promised the witches positions of significance. At present, they were guarding the royal palace of Carden. Helia had no qualms about including her key personnel in the campaign—her rear was well-protected.

Two evenings later, Helia’s army arrived at Bailey without incident. Civilians stepped aside in fear, startled by the marching cavalry and infantry. Their frightened eyes betrayed their unease at what might unfold. Helia, however, paid them no attention, her gaze fixed forward. Knights and vassals calmed the people in her stead.

The castle gates were firmly shut, a defensive measure that worked in Helia’s favor.

“Lette,“ Helia called.

As if waiting for this moment, Lette raised her hand. The sky darkened, and a massive fireball descended upon the castle. The explosion was followed by the sounds of crumbling structures and terrified screams echoing into the night.

When the chaos subsided, Ruben signaled to his soldiers, who rushed to break down the gates. Helia entered the castle under the protection of Vivian and Hernie, with Ruben providing cover. Inside, pandemonium reigned. Bodies of soldiers lay strewn about, having been unable to counter the unfamiliar attacks. Survivors who had hidden themselves stared at Helia and her knights with terror in their eyes.

Some foolishly threw themselves at the invaders, knowing their deaths were inevitable. A few fell to Lette’s attacks, while others who avoided her range managed to clash swords with Helia’s knights. However, the knights of Carden, bolstered by Vivian’s protective magic, were unstoppable. Bailey’s soldiers could not even approach Helia’s shadow.

The destruction extended to the royal palace itself. Only the Sun Palace remained relatively intact; everything else was in ruins. Even the Rose Palace, where Helia had once spent much of her time, had lost its former splendor. Yet she spared it no glance.

“Straight to the main palace,“ Helia ordered.

Leaving the aftermath to her knights, she proceeded toward the central palace with her escort of Ruben, Lette, and Hernie. Her steps were graceful and unhurried, no different from when she had roamed the castle freely. She hardly seemed like a conqueror.

Ruben opened the door to the main palace. It was deserted, the occupants having fled. Helia walked through the empty halls, her pace unbroken.

They reached the royal chambers without encountering resistance. The wide-open doors revealed an empty room, but Helia knew the secret. Without hesitation, she approached a corner of the chamber.

“There’s a door here,“ she said.

Ruben pulled back the carpet, revealing faint outlines of a trapdoor on the marble floor. Lacking a handle, there was no obvious way to open it. Ruben moved to wedge his sword into the seam, but Lette acted faster, casting a spell.

The heavy marble slab floated as if weightless before disintegrating into fine dust. Without a word, Lette began descending the revealed staircase.

“Not coming?“ she asked, glancing back.

No matter how often they saw it, Lette’s dark magic never ceased to amaze. Even Vivian and Hernie, both witches themselves, marveled at its potency. Awestruck, the group quickly followed her down the stairs. The passage was dark, but Hernie conjured a small, orb-like light, illuminating the way as if carrying a torch.

Helia knew the tunnel wasn’t long. Her grandfather had shown it to her when she was very young. He might have expected her to become Bailey’s third monarch one day, barring unforeseen circumstances. But she had not inherited the throne, and Bailey would end with its third generation.

She felt no guilt or regret. This was how it was meant to be. Even without her, Bailey would have fallen. A weak ruler could not sustain a kingdom.