Lady Freya made her way back to Stormwind Manor, her torn and bloody dress billowing behind her as she walked, sword in hand. As she approached the gates, the guards on duty stiffened, their hands moving instinctively to the hilts of their own weapons.

"State your business," one of the guards demanded, his voice firm and authoritative.

Lady Freya held her head high, her blue eyes flashing with determination. "I demand entry to Stormwind Manor," she declared, her voice ringing out clear and unwavering.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain of how to respond to the disheveled figure before them. Lady Freya's torn dress and blood-stained appearance were a far cry from the regal image they were accustomed to seeing.

"We cannot allow you entry in this state, my lady," the other guard replied, his tone apologetic but firm. "You must understand—"

"Let her in," a voice commanded. The guard turned and saw Lord Stormwind behind him.

The guards obeyed without hesitation, stepping aside to allow Lady Freya entry into Stormwind Manor. She strode past them with purposeful strides, her sword still clutched tightly in her hand.

"Lady Freya," Lord Stormwind's exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "What has happened to you?"

Lady Freya locked eyes with Lord Stormwind, her determination shining through. "There's no time for details," she declared urgently. "I require an immediate assembly with the lords, ladies, and knights."

"Certainly, but……" Lord Stormwind began, but Lady Freya swiftly interrupted him. "Do not fret, my lord," she said. "I will change into something more appropriate first."

Inside her room, Lady Freya took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. The woman who stared back at her was both a lady and a warrior, ready to confront the challenges ahead.

The dress she changed into was a deep sapphire blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light and shimmered like moonlight on water. The bodice was fitted, accentuating her slender figure, and the sleeves were long and flowing, ending in delicate lace cuffs. Around her waist, she fastened a silver belt, intricately designed with motifs of strength and courage. Her hair, now washed and brushed, was gathered into a simple yet elegant braid, cascading down her back.

Descending the staircase, Lady Freya found Lord Stormwind waiting for her. He offered her a respectful nod before leading her to the great hall, where the lords, ladies, and knights had already begun to assemble.

The room was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, but as Lady Freya entered, a hush fell over the assembly. All eyes turned to her, and she walked with purpose to the head of the room. The lords and ladies of Artur, clad in their finest attire, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The knights, standing at attention, watched her with respect.

Lady Freya took her place at the front of the room, facing the assembled nobility and warriors. She raised her chin, her blue eyes scanning the room.

As she scanned the room, her gaze settled on a familiar face. Sir Alden stood tall and resolute, his armor gleaming in the torchlight, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that mirrored her own determination.

She then turned to address the entire assembly. "Lords, ladies, and knights of Artur," she began, her voice clear and commanding, "I have called you here with urgency, for I have uncovered a grave threat to our realm."

She recounted her encounter with the barbarians, sparing no detail as she spoke of Kael's confession and the sinister machinations of the warlocks. As she spoke, the room remained silent, the weight of her words settling over the assembly like a dark cloud.

Lord Stormwind stepped forward, his expression grave. "This is troubling news indeed. Lady Freya, your bravery is an inspiration to us all.”

“I appreciate that, Lord Stormwind,” Lady Freya replied. “But I have a question for you and the rest of the lords and ladies.”

“What is it my lady” Lord Stormwind asked.

“My question is, why?” Lady Freya began. “The barbarians’ reasons are simple enough. They would make a fortune from all the treasure they could loot from your land. But warlocks have no interest in treasure. What do they want?”

Lord Stormwind's expression darkened as he considered Lady Freya's question. The room remained silent, tension hanging in the air as everyone awaited his response.

"The Disciples of Artur guard many magical artifacts," he began, his voice measured and serious. "But there is one in particular that would be of great interest to the warlocks—the Eye of Aradon."

A murmur rippled through the assembly, the name sparking recognition and unease among those gathered. Lady Freya's eyes narrowed, her curiosity piqued.

"The Eye of Aradon?" she asked. "What is it, and why would the warlocks want it?"

Lord Stormwind nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "The Eye of Aradon is an ancient and powerful artifact, said to hold the power to control the very elements themselves. It was created by the legendary sorcerer Aradon in the days of old, and it has been kept hidden and protected by the Disciples of Artur ever since. In the wrong hands, its power could be catastrophic."

Sir Alden, who had been listening intently, stepped forward. "We cannot allow the warlocks to gain control of such a powerful artifact. We must act swiftly and decisively."

Lord Stormwind nodded in agreement. "We need to secure the Eye of Aradon and fortify our defenses," he said.

Lady Freya's gaze hardened, her voice taking on the command of a chieftain's daughter. "We must do more than that, Lord Stormwind. As you all know, I once lived among the barbarians. While they lacked a code of chivalry, they did hold to their own sense of honor."

She began to walk around the room, the delicate silks of her gown rustling softly. All eyes followed her as she spoke. "But since the tribes have turned their backs on Igor, that honor has vanished. This means that the ladies and children of Artur are not safe. You cannot fight the barbarians on the battlefield and protect your homes at the same time."

Lady Freya paused, her gaze sweeping over the assembly, her voice carrying the weight of her words. "What do you suggest we do?" asked a nervous Lady Isolde.

"My Lady," Lady Freya said, offering Lady Isolde a respectful curtsy, "I may no longer bear a sword, but I have not forgotten the warrior spirit that once dwelled within me. I propose to train the ladies of Artur in the art of defense."

A murmur of surprise and curiosity swept through the room. The idea of ladies defending themselves was a departure from tradition.

Sir Alden regarded her with a thoughtful expression. "Lady Freya, while we appreciate your offer, the ladies have not been trained for battle. It would be a formidable task to prepare them in time."

Lady Freya nodded, her gaze unwavering. "I understand, Sir Alden, but I believe I have a solution that combines the elegance of our dance moves with the strength of a warrior's stance. It is a style that suits the ladies of Artur."

Approaching Sir Alden, Lady Freya extended her hand. "May I borrow your sword?" she requested. With a smile, Sir Alden handed her his sword.

With the blade in her grasp, Lady Freya commenced her demonstration. Her movements were a fusion of grace and purpose, akin to a meticulously choreographed dance intertwining with the pragmatism of self-defense. Each step was deliberate, each motion fluid, as her hands seamlessly transitioned between elegant gestures and decisive strikes.

The knights watched in astonishment as Lady Freya's fighting style took shape before their eyes. It was unlike anything they had seen, a fusion of elegance and strength that seemed tailor-made for the ladies of Artur.

Sir Alden's eyes widened with realization. "Lady Freya, you may have just given us the solution we need. We will train the ladies immediately."

Lady Freya's heart swelled with a sense of purpose. She had found a way to merge her past as a warrior with her present as a lady of Artur, and in doing so, she could empower the women of Artur to protect themselves.

As the training began, the ladies of Artur embraced Lady Freya's unique style with enthusiasm. The castle echoed with the sounds of their practice, a harmonious blend of grace and strength—a testament to their resilience and the unwavering spirit of Lady Freya.

Lady Freya's determination to empower the ladies of Artur with her unique fighting style had taken root, but there was one crucial element missing—weapons suitable for their grace and refinement. Traditional swords, designed for knights in armor, were far too heavy and unwieldy for the ladies to handle effectively.

In the heart of the castle, Lady Freya sought out the blacksmith—a burly, skilled craftsman known for forging the finest weapons for Artur's knights. He was amidst his work, the clang of metal on metal filling the air as sparks danced in the forge's fiery glow.

As Freya approached, the blacksmith looked up from his work, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight of a lady in the heart of the forge. "Lady Freya, what brings you here?" he asked, his voice gruff but respectful.

"I come with a request, Master Blacksmith," Lady Freya replied. "The ladies of Artur require weapons more suited to their grace and elegance. I need you to design swords that are lighter and more agile."

The blacksmith scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he considered the request. "Lighter swords for ladies, you say? It's a challenge, but I'm up for it.”

With that, the blacksmith set to work, and Lady Freya remained by his side, offering her insights and ideas as they embarked on the design process. They selected the finest materials, forging a blade that was slender and lightweight, yet sturdy and sharp. The hilt was adorned with intricate patterns of silver and gold, a testament to the elegance of Artur's ladies.

Finally, the day arrived when the first of the new swords was unveiled—a masterpiece of craftsmanship that embodied both strength and grace. Lady Freya held it in her hands, its balance perfect, and its form a testament to their shared vision.

The ladies gathered around, their eyes filled with excitement. Lady Freya addressed them, her voice filled with pride. "Ladies of Artur, we now have the weapons we need to protect ourselves and our loved ones. With these swords, we can defend our honor and uphold the values of Artur."

As the ladies received their new swords, their expressions were a mixture of gratitude and resolve. They knew that they had a long journey of training ahead, but they were determined to master this new form of combat that Lady Freya had introduced.

The castle echoed with the sounds of training, the clashing of blades, and the measured footsteps of ladies who had taken up the mantle of protectors. With their new, lighter swords in hand, they embodied the fusion of grace and strength that Lady Freya had envisioned—a testament to their unwavering spirit and their commitment to the values of Artur.