Third Person – Throne Room of Castle Artois
The Duchess of Artois sat upon the high throne like a queen in all but name. Her posture was perfect, her expression a mask of noble serenity, but her eyes gleamed with quiet ambition. She had long dreamed of wielding true power in this grim duchy. Her husband's prolonged absences on campaign had given her taste of it. Soon, she told herself, that taste would become hers completely.
The heavy doors of the throne room burst open. A bloodied soldier staggered inside, armor dented and cloak torn. Before the Duchess could speak, a second messenger came running, nearly collapsing at the threshold. Guards moved to block him, but she raised a hand, allowing him forward.
The nobles and knights gathered in the hall tensed. Bad news traveled faster than arrows in Bretonnia.
"My lady Duchess," the first messenger gasped, dropping to one knee. "We have won… but at a terrible cost."
He recounted the ambush on the vampiric forces of Heinrich Kemmler. The undead host had been broken. The Count himself had been slain — or so they claimed. Yet the victory was pyrrhic. More than half the conscripted peasants and men-at-arms had been slaughtered or fled in terror. Rebuilding the army would take months.
The Duchess listened with feigned concern. "And what of Grail Knight Stovain? I do hope my husband's most trusted warrior still lives."
Her tone dripped with false worry. Several nobles exchanged glances. They knew the Duchess well enough to recognize the cold calculation behind her words. She cared little for anyone beyond her immediate circle of power.
"He lost an arm in battle against the Count, Your Grace," the messenger replied. "But the priests say he will heal in time."
A murmur of relief spread through the hall. Many believed the war was over. Only a few — including one exhausted soldier standing at the back — knew the truth. Fools, he thought bitterly. Artois cannot simply raise another army. The Beastmen still prowl the forests. The vampires will return.
The Duchess's gaze turned flat and cold as she addressed the kneeling knight. "Tell me everything, brave soldier. What grave matters has my husband become entangled in?"
Her voice carried no genuine emotion. Only strategy.
Gabriel's POV – Gates of Artois
Gabriel marched through the main gates at the head of his bloodied but victorious company. Word of their raid had already spread. Peasants cheered from the muddy streets, waving ragged banners and calling his name. For the first time in months, there was real hope in their voices.
"Sir Gabriel! The Beastmen slayer!"
He forced a small, charismatic smile and raised his hand in acknowledgment, though inside he felt little warmth. The outgoing young man from his past life would have basked in this. The Gabriel of today simply noted the political value of their adoration.
He ordered his men to stand down and celebrate their victory. "You've earned it. But be ready at first light tomorrow. There is still much work to do."
As they dispersed toward the barracks and nearby taverns, Gabriel's mind turned to the greater news spreading through the city: his father, Grail Knight Stovain, had helped defeat Heinrich Kemmler's undead army. Many claimed the Vampire Count was dead.
Gabriel doubted it.
His father was formidable, blessed by the Lady, but a true Vampire Count was an ancient monster. Such creatures rarely died easily. If Kemmler had fallen, it was likely a temporary setback rather than true victory. Artois remained vulnerable — squeezed between beastmen in the Forest of Arden and the lingering threat of the undead.
Today, however, was not about distant wars.
Today he would formally be announced as the champion and protector of the Duke's daughter — Princess Elizabeth of Couronne.
The idea still unsettled him. The name alone stirred half-buried memories of vanilla-scented rooms, desperate gunshots, and blood on his hands. He had tried to convince himself it was coincidence. Now, he was no longer sure.
Since childhood, his talent with a blade and natural leadership had marked him as exceptional. Artois produced many strong knights, but few capable commanders. That weakness had cost them dearly in recent years. As Elizabeth's champion, Gabriel would have real influence. He intended to use it to drive change — better training, stronger defenses, perhaps even economic reforms inspired by faint memories of his old world's business knowledge.
Whether the cold, calculating Princess would prove an ally or another source of betrayal remained to be seen.
Elizabeth's POV – Within the Castle
From a high window overlooking the courtyard, Elizabeth watched Gabriel's company return. Even from this distance, she could sense the aura around the young knight. He moved with purpose and confidence that went beyond typical Bretonnian martial skill.
Gabriel.
Her heart beat faster despite her carefully maintained composure. If this was truly the same man who had died trying to protect her… then the Lady of the Lake had a cruel sense of humor.
Her own magical studies had intensified. The Winds of Light and Life answered her more readily than most apprentices, granting her power that already drew uneasy glances from the priestesses. Combined with her sharp political mind — honed in both lives — she was becoming a force few could ignore.
A servant approached quietly. "My lady, the Duchess summons you to the throne room. News has arrived from the southern campaign."
Elizabeth nodded, smoothing her expression into one of serene poise. Inside, her thoughts raced.
Another victory soaked in blood. Another step deeper into this grim world.
She descended toward the throne room, wondering whether today would finally bring her face-to-face with the man fate seemed determined to bind her to once more.
Third Person – Throne Room
The Duchess listened to the full report with cold detachment. When the messengers finally withdrew, she turned to her closest advisors.
"Prepare for the ceremony tomorrow," she commanded. "My daughter will need a strong champion in these uncertain times. Grail Knight Stovain's son has proven himself capable. Let the announcement be made."
Outside, the people of Artois celebrated small victories while greater shadows gathered on the horizon. Beastmen howled in the forests. Undead stirred in distant crypts. And two souls from another world prepared, unknowingly, to meet again under the watchful gaze of the Lady of the Lake.