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August 27, 645
Nevassa, Daein

A mighty roan stallion with a young woman on his back galloped through the street. If one were to get close enough, they would be able to see the determination and anger in the lady’s eyes. A steel sword was strapped to her back. She was pursuing a group of cavalry, they were all clothed in blood red armor, while her own armor was jet black.

Daein had lost the war. King Ashnard was dead, and he hadn’t married or produced any heirs. Of course, the new Crimean queen wasn’t going to be in charge of both countries. Begnion controlled more land than anyone else, so why not add more to their empire? Nyra knew she had no right to argue. She was just a lowly soldier. General Petrine had always said she had the potential to be much more, but she, too, was now dead. And Begnion wouldn’t care anyway. But Nyra, being the hothead she was, wasn’t going to take this without a fight. She was going to show those red clad snobs who they were dealing with. And they would either kill her or throw her in jail for the rest of her life, but she didn’t care.

She pulled back on the horse’s reins, causing him to skid to a stop, neigh, and rear. The Begnion cavalry appeared to be reporting to the halberdier ahead of them: an average sized man with dark purple hair. His armor was the distinctive red, with an olive green scarf. And he had an air of authority about him. No doubt about it, this was who the apostle had put in charge.

One of the soldiers turned and spoke to the halberdier. “General Jarod, there’s a Daein cavalier here.”

“I thought we told all of them to stay away while we get the paperwork settled.” Jarod huffed. “Go away. The war’s over. You lost.” Nyra stared at him, anger burning in her eyes. He smirked. “Such a fierce look for a little recruit!”

“I’ll have you know that I am NOT a recruit. I was trained by, and served under, Petrine of the Four Riders.”

“Ah, Petrine...she was a fiery one. But the key word is was. Go home, lass. We can’t have any Daein stragglers hanging around. Even if you did know that witch of a woman.”

“Is that fancy lance just for show? It looks brand new. Did the apostle take a pampered noble, put him in armor, and call him general?” Nyra taunted. “I will not go home. If you want me to, you’ll have to force me.”

Several Begnion soldiers raised their weapons. Jarod gave them the “stand down” gesture. “I will deal with this myself.” He grabbed his lance and gave it a twirl. “Try me!”

The crowd scattered. Nyra brought her horse into a charge, blade drawn, as Jarod stood his ground. The steel sword clanged against the steel greatlance. The Begnion soldiers were rooting for their general, as was expected. Nyra managed to spot some Daein townspeople out of the corner of her eye. Most looked like they were just wondering what was going on, but she thought a few of them appeared to be impressed with her. As they should. Nobody else had the gumption to stand up to Begnion.

This Jarod guy...who was he? She had never heard of him, and he had looked like he hadn’t seen much actual combat until she actually saw him fight. That jumping skill was unreal. He had to be clearing twice her height! And with a heavy weapon that should weigh him down! As impressive as it was, he was still her enemy. She concentrated on attempting to block his blows while slashing at him with her sword.

“NYRA!”

The familiar voice came from the group of townspeople. In one swift movement, Nyra stabbed Jarod in the shoulder, had her horse trample him to the ground, and turned. The crowd parted to let her mother through. Her mother, a frail skinny thing, had a piece of paper in her hands and was glaring at the scene in front of her. Behind her was an ancient looking woman who Nyra had never seen before, and a man she recognized as Lukall, a Daein noble.

“Everyone, your attention please!” Lukall announced. “There’s been a recent development! Or a twenty-eight year old development, depending on how you look at it.” Nyra blinked. She was twenty-eight...

Lukall proceeded to walk forward and look at Jarod, who was collapsed on the ground with several wounds. “He’s just out cold.” He said to the two women with him. “He won’t be able to protest now, but he will if we’re not quick enough. Lady Jaclyn, bring me the document.”

Nyra’s mother handed the paper to Lukall. He turned to Nyra, and she reached for it. Lukall pulled it away. “Not so fast. The information in this document...will come as a shock to you. Fair warning.” Then he allowed Nyra to take it and unfold it.

The paper was a birth certificate. Under name, in slightly faded writing, was Nyra Terricks Daein. That was a bit odd, Nyra’s mother was a noblewoman, but usually only royals had a second surname that they shared with their country. Place of birth was Nevassa, gender was female...under father, written in the same faded script, yet clear as day, was Ashnard Terricks Daein.

“Breathe, girl!” Lukall waved a hand in front of Nyra’s face. At the same moment, Jarod coughed behind her and attempted to get up. Nyra whipped around and plunged her sword into his forehead. His eyes glazed over, and his final breath was a faint sputter.

The old woman and Nyra’s mother both had the same blank expressions. She turned to them. “...But you always told me my father had died before I was born...how...”

“Oh, is that what she told you?” The old woman hobbled forward. “...Pardon me, you don’t know me. My name is Melina. I delivered you...you can see my signature here.” She pointed at the bottom of the document, where the parents’ and midwife’s signatures went. The line for the father’s signature was blank.

There was still quite the crowd gathered. Lukall took the birth certificate and held it in the air. “Citizens of Daein, we have a successor! I give you Queen Nyra!”

A few of the Begnion soldiers, and even some of the Daein townspeople, had to look at the birth certificate with their own eyes to believe it. One Begnion soldier bowed his head to Nyra. “We will return to Begnion at once, Your Majesty. General Jarod will be laid to rest in his own homeland...”