Gary woke at dawn to the faint sound of hooves clopping in the courtyard. He pushed aside the thin blanket on his small bed and rubbed his eyes. Already, thoughts raced through his mind: the deal with the nobles, the need to fix roads, the threat of Rodrik’s scouts prowling near the borders. Yet there was no time for him to lie around worrying. If Arya was to stand, he had to act.

He dressed in a simple tunic and pulled on sturdy boots. A morning chill crept in through cracks in the stone walls. The palace was old and worn, and the large windows in the hallways did little to keep out the cold air. A few torches still burned in the brackets along the walls, casting flickering light over the worn floors.

He found Sir Alden in the corridor leading toward the great hall. The knight bowed when he saw Gary, then straightened, wincing at a stiffness in his shoulder. He had sparred with new recruits the evening before, and it seemed the effort had left him sore.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Alden said, though his voice was soft.

“Morning,” Gary replied. “How are our preparations going?”

Alden lifted a small roll of parchment. “I have news from the blacksmith. He has finished five new spears and two short swords. That’s all he could manage with the metal we have. Also, the merchant guild sent word that they are ready to place hired guards on the southern roads, but they want to see our own men stationed there as well, for support.”

Gary rubbed his chin. “We will need to figure out how many knights can spare time for that. Our men are already spread thin, but if we don’t help the guild, the roads may still be unsafe.”

Alden agreed. “Yes, sir. Also, a few of the nobles who promised to send resources have not yet done so. Maybe the messages are simply delayed, but we should keep an eye on them.”

Gary let out a slow breath. “All right. I’ll speak with Jenny. She might have ideas on how to push them politely without causing offense.”

Together, they walked into the great hall, which was empty except for a couple of servants sweeping. The benches from the recent meeting still lined the walls, though the space felt much bigger now that the noble guests were gone. Gary stepped up to the large table near the front, scanning the scattered papers: lists of promised goods, guard schedules, and rough maps of farmland areas. Sir Alden placed his parchment there as well.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Jenny entered, wearing a plain cloak over her simple attire. She carried a small bag that rattled with the sound of papers and quills. Her gaze moved from Alden to Gary, and she gave them a subdued smile.

“I have some fresh news,” she said. “A farmer from the western region arrived at the gates early this morning. He says he saw men in dark armor moving through a nearby forest. They did not attack the village, but they seemed to be mapping the area. He fears these might be Rodrik’s scouts again.”

Gary’s stomach tightened. “That means we might be facing more raids soon. We can’t wait around and hope they do nothing. We should secure that area at once.”

Sir Alden nodded. “I can send a small patrol there, but remember, we must also place guards on the southern roads with the guild. We have only so many men to spare. We need more people, or we risk stretching ourselves too thin.”

Jenny stepped closer to the table. “We do have local volunteers in some villages. Maybe we can organize them into a small militia, supported by one or two knights. That would free up some of our core forces.”

Gary recalled the good results in the border village where villagers had begun training under two knights. “Yes, let’s do that. We’ll provide them with spears, basic instructions, and maybe an experienced knight or two to guide them. It might not be perfect, but it’s better than leaving them helpless.”

Jenny skimmed through the papers, pulling out a rough map of the western area. “We’ll mark which villages need immediate help. Alden, can you find enough knights who can travel there this week?”

Alden tapped his bandaged knuckles on the table. “Yes, though I’ll have to juggle schedules. Some of our men are already in the southern zone, others are recovering from that border fight. But I’ll manage.”

Gary felt a faint sense of relief that at least they had a plan, but a new worry gnawed at him. “And the nobles? Did they send any of the promised funds or supplies yet?”

Jenny frowned. “We’ve received small deliveries from Baroness Clara—grain seeds and some cloth for tents. But Lord Elliot, Sir Hugo, and a few others have sent nothing so far.”

Sir Alden let out a low sigh. “Could they be stalling? They might want to see if you’ll fail before they commit real resources.”

Gary’s jaw set. “I won’t let them play games while the kingdom burns. I’ll write to them today, reminding them of their promise. If that doesn’t work, I might have to visit them in person. They must realize we are serious.”

Jenny placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Let’s try letters first, but I agree. We can’t let them ignore us. All of Arya suffers if they hold back their support.”

They divided tasks: Alden would organize a patrol for the western villages, Jenny would draft letters to the stubborn nobles, and Gary would speak with the blacksmith about forging more weapons if any new metal arrived. After a brief discussion, they each went to carry out their duties.

By mid-morning, Gary stood in the small courtyard beside the blacksmith’s forge, watching as the smith hammered a red-hot bar of metal into shape. Sparks flew with each strike, and the heat made the air shimmer. Gary squinted against the brightness. When the smith paused to cool the bar in a trough of water, steam hissed, creating a small cloud that drifted upward.

Royce, the blacksmith, wiped sweat from his forehead and turned to Gary. “Your Majesty,” he said in a respectful tone, though he looked weary. “I’ve nearly used up our decent metal. Unless more ore comes in soon, I’ll be stuck repairing old gear. I can’t make many new swords out of scraps.”

Gary frowned. “We’re trying to open up routes to the north, where we hope to get better iron. Until that happens, do the best you can with repairs. Let me know if you need anything else, even if it’s more hands to help with small tasks.”

Royce grunted a half-laugh. “Extra help would be nice. But skilled smiths are few these days, and I can’t train people overnight. Still, I’ll take an extra pair of arms if you can spare them.”

Gary promised to see what he could do. As he headed back toward the main part of the castle, he passed the stables, where the stable boy was brushing a mare. The boy looked up and gave a quick bow. Gary paused to pat the horse’s neck. The mare snorted softly, seeming calm.

He couldn’t help thinking how this was once the site of many fine horses, a proud cavalry that had roamed the kingdom. Now, they were down to a handful of decent mounts. Everything had shrunk along with the kingdom’s fortunes. But he had to believe they could rise again.

He found Jenny in the hall, seated at a small desk someone had set up near the wall. Her cloak was draped over the back of the chair, and she wrote steadily on a piece of parchment, pausing only to dip her quill in ink.

“You’re already sending those letters?” Gary asked gently, careful not to startle her.

She nodded without looking up. “Yes. I’m keeping the tone respectful but firm. They need to know we expect them to follow through, or there will be… consequences.”

Gary slid a glance at the text. He saw a few lines that read:

We trust in your commitment to Arya’s protection. We kindly ask that you send the pledged funds or goods within the next week. The crown depends on your promised aid…

He gave an approving nod. “Good. That should remind them. Some might try to wriggle out of it, but at least they’ll think twice.”

Jenny sealed an envelope with a small drop of wax, then pressed a plain seal onto it. “I’ll give these to the messenger riders at once. We need to keep the pressure on.”

They continued to work through midday. Gary met briefly with Sir Alden and a few knights to finalize the patrol to the western villages. They picked three knights who would travel with a small cart of spears. A group of village men, once trained, could form the backbone of a local watch. If Rodrik’s scouts moved in, the villagers would be ready to sound an alarm or fight back if needed.

Late in the afternoon, a messenger arrived from the merchant guild. The woman was dressed in a short, practical coat and carried a saddlebag. She announced that the guild planned to set up small guard posts along the southern trade road in three days. However, they insisted on having at least one knight from Arya at each post, to show the crown’s approval. Without that, the merchants feared local outlaws would still challenge them.

Gary and Jenny discussed the matter at length. They had so few knights, yet this alliance was vital for trade. In the end, they agreed to free up at least two knights for the southern road. Though it meant fewer knights in the city, it was a risk they had to take. The messenger left satisfied, promising to inform the guild that Arya would do its part.

Evening fell, and the sky outside turned pink and orange. The castle’s courtyard glowed with the last light of the sun. Gary, Sir Alden, and Jenny gathered around a wooden table in the main hall for a simple meal of roasted vegetables, bread, and some watered-down wine. The strain of the day’s work showed in their tired faces.

Sir Alden dabbed his forehead with a cloth. “We’re making progress, but every step seems to uncover another gap in our defenses. I worry we won’t be able to plug all the holes before Rodrik or some bandits slip through.”

Jenny set down her cup with a light clink. “I share that worry. The roads are still weak spots. We’re only just beginning to place guards. And if the nobles who promised help do not deliver soon, we might be stuck.”

Gary gazed at the worn wooden table, seeing the many scuffs and scratches from years of use. It felt symbolic of Arya—a place with a long history, now beaten by time. But the table still served its purpose, and so would the kingdom if they kept at it.

“I can’t pretend we’re safe yet,” he said. “But we are taking real steps. We have small squads training villagers. The guild is setting guard posts. The nobles who do pay up will let us fix roads. If we can keep it all going, maybe we can stand against Rodrik.”

Alden folded his arms. “If he attacks with a large army, I don’t know if we have enough to hold him off. But maybe he will wait. If he sees we’re getting stronger, he may think twice about an open fight.”

Jenny looked at Gary. “The best way to avoid war might be to show that we can defend ourselves. Bullies pick easy targets. If we’re not easy, maybe Rodrik will seek other land instead.”

Gary felt a mixture of relief and fear. “Let’s hope so. Either way, we’ll be ready. We have no choice.”

They ate in thoughtful silence. Outside, a night breeze stirred the courtyard, rustling the withered vines that clung to the old stone walls. A sense of both weariness and resolve filled the hall.

Once their plates were cleared, Gary rose. “I want to walk the grounds before I turn in. I need to see how things look at this hour.”

Jenny stood as well, gathering her notes. “I have to finish one more letter. Then I’ll retire for the night.”

Sir Alden gave a respectful nod. “I’ll organize the final details for the western patrol before dawn. Sleep well, both of you.”

Gary left the hall, stepping into the courtyard under the dim glow of a few torches set in iron posts. He passed a couple of guards who bowed as he went by. Their armor, though dented, shone in the torchlight, a small sign of pride. He crossed toward the gates, looking at the old walls rising into the night sky. The stones were dark, some places crumbling, but still they formed a barrier against any outside threat.

At the gate, he peered through the small opening. Beyond lay the open land, fields that faded into darkness. Somewhere out there, villagers might be closing up their homes, worried about bandits. Farther on, perhaps Rodrik’s men prowled the edges of the realm. Still, Gary felt a spark of hope. They were not sitting idle anymore. They were moving, doing what they could with the little they had.

He turned back into the courtyard, letting the gate guards resume their watch. As he walked toward his chambers, he heard the forge’s faint clank—Royce must still be working, hammering away by lantern light. That steady ring of metal on metal reminded Gary that not all battles were fought on the field. The kingdom’s struggle was a daily grind, forging new paths, forging new bonds.

Reaching his door, he paused to look up at the stars. Then he stepped inside, letting the day’s strain fall from his shoulders as best he could. Tomorrow, he would push onward once again. More letters, more talks, more patrols. A slow, uphill climb. But as long as they did not stop climbing, there was a chance for Arya’s rebirth. And that hope would have to be enough for now.