Gary stood near the castle’s high gate as dawn’s first light spread across the sky. A cool breeze brushed against the worn stone walls, carrying the promise of another busy day. In the courtyard, small groups of people prepared for their tasks: guards checked their weapons, stable hands watered the horses, and a few travelers lined up to speak with the palace staff. Each sight reminded Gary of how fragile Arya still was. The kingdom’s progress felt real yet incomplete, threatened on all sides by mercenaries, traitors, and the memory of Rodrik’s looming power.

He took a slow breath, then turned to Sir Alden, who was standing at his side. “We need to plan carefully,” Gary said. “The guild needs more knights on the southern road, but we also have to keep the farmland safe. And some nobles are still stalling with their promises.”

Alden nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve spoken to our few remaining knights. We have enough men to bolster the merchant routes for a short while, but it means fewer patrols in the far villages. If trouble stirs there, it might take time for us to respond.”

Gary thought of the fresh news from the guild: that a band of armed raiders had attacked caravans. People suspected these raiders might be mercenaries working for Rodrik or acting alone to profit from chaos. Either way, it spelled danger for the kingdom’s trade. Without safe routes, supplies would dry up, and no amount of farmland repairs or noble pledges could fix that. They had to keep trade flowing.

“Let’s send three knights and a small band of local recruits,” Gary said at last. “They’ll join the guild’s guards on the southern road. Meanwhile, the rest of our knights can keep training militias in the farmland. We can’t protect everything, but we’ll do what we can.”

Alden agreed. “I’ll see to it. We have some villagers from the outskirts who arrived a few days ago, hoping to find work. They might serve well as temporary guards once they’re trained.”

Gary felt a spark of gratitude for the everyday folks willing to defend their land. “Use them wisely,” he said. “And make sure they follow our code. We don’t need reckless vigilantes.”

They parted ways. Alden moved off to brief the knights, while Gary headed to the interior of the castle, weaving through narrow corridors that smelled of cold stone and old torch smoke. A servant directed him to a small office room where Jenny was already hard at work. She sat at a cluttered table, scanning letters and scribbling notes on a long sheet of parchment.

She glanced up as Gary entered. “Good morning,” she said. “We just got word from the steward of Baroness Clara. She’s shipping some supplies to the city—bags of seeds and a little gold to help fix roads. It’s not huge, but it’s a start.”

Gary smiled. “At least someone is delivering on their promises. What about the others?”

Jenny’s expression shifted. “Lord Elliot claimed in another letter that his finances are tied up in important repairs on his own lands. Sir Hugo, as we know, is under watch because we suspect he invented that bandit tale. A few minor nobles haven’t bothered to reply at all. It looks like we might need to send personal envoys to remind them of their pledges.”

Gary sank into a chair. “Or I can go myself. They might stall less if they see me standing in their halls, asking for answers.”

Jenny tapped her quill against the table. “You can’t be in two places at once, though. The guild still needs you to confirm the new guard plan. And if there’s an attack on farmland, you’ll want to be near the capital to respond.”

He let out a slow breath. “I’ll think of something. Maybe we can split up. You visit certain estates, and I’ll handle the rest from here.”

Jenny nodded. “That might work. But I’m no knight. If a noble decides to be hostile, it could get messy. Then again, I’m also the one who’s handled trade deals, so they might take me more seriously.”

Gary reached for a half-finished map on the table, scanning the areas each noble controlled. “All right. We’ll decide which estates need direct visits and which ones can be reminded by messenger. Meanwhile, the trade routes have to stay open. The more goods that flow in, the easier it’ll be to feed our people and pay our defenders.”

As they talked, a light knock sounded at the door. A messenger poked his head in. “Your Majesty, Lady Jenny, there’s a merchant in the courtyard claiming urgent news from the border. Says it can’t wait.”

Gary exchanged a quick glance with Jenny. They both stood, gathering their notes and stepping out. The corridor led them toward the courtyard, where they spotted a middle-aged merchant wearing a dusty cloak. His face looked drawn, and he clutched a leather satchel that showed signs of a long journey.

“Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing. “I come from a town near the eastern border. A group of heavily armed riders was seen crossing the hills. They wore no clear emblem, but their armor looked expensive. A few folks believe they might be Rodrik’s higher-paid mercenaries.”

Gary felt a twist in his gut. “Have they attacked anyone?”

The merchant shook his head. “Not yet. They seemed to be scouting, looking at the terrain. The townspeople are worried they’ll strike soon—or that they’re gathering information for a bigger push.”

Jenny folded her arms, concern etched on her face. “How many riders did you see?”

The merchant swallowed. “Twelve or fifteen, maybe more. They moved swiftly, like they knew the area well. My friend and I decided to warn the capital right away.”

Gary thanked him, urging him to rest in the courtyard and accept some food and water. Then he and Jenny stepped to the side, speaking in hushed voices.

“This is even worse,” Gary said. “We already have trouble along the southern road, and now possibly the eastern border. Rodrik or some warlord might be testing us from multiple directions.”

Jenny pressed her lips together. “We can’t cover everything. Our troops are too few. We either spread them out too thin or focus on one area and risk losing another.”

Gary looked around at the bustling courtyard, where a handful of knights and volunteers talked or trained in small groups. He realized how few they truly were. If a large mercenary force came, Arya might be overwhelmed in days.

He clenched his fists. “We must rally more support. Some nobles are sitting on resources that could change this situation. If we don’t push them harder, they’ll never act.”

Jenny caught his tone and nodded. “Then I’ll set off for some of those estates right away. I can take a small escort, present the facts, and make it clear that if they don’t help, they risk losing everything to these mercenaries.”

Gary’s eyes flicked to the busy yard once more. “Yes, do that. Meanwhile, I’ll handle the guild plan and see if we can form a bigger militia in the eastern region. We’ll need local folk to keep an eye on those riders. If we learn more about their numbers or purpose, we can react faster.”

They parted ways. Jenny gathered a trio of capable riders, including one of the lesser knights who understood the area’s layout. Before long, they saddled their horses and left by the main gate, aiming to visit at least two noble estates by nightfall. Gary watched them go, worry tightening in his chest. He trusted Jenny, but he also knew that traveling with so few guards was risky. Still, time was short, and Arya’s needs were great.

Turning to the task at hand, he found Sir Alden again. They quickly drafted a plan to send a small group of knights and volunteers to the eastern area, instructing them to gather more information on the suspicious riders. At the same time, they would reassure the local villagers that the crown was aware of the threat. Gary also penned a short letter to be delivered to the heads of two neighboring kingdoms, hoping they might share intelligence if they had sightings of similar armed riders near their own borders.

By mid-afternoon, Gary felt the strain of constant decisions pressing down on him. His stomach growled in protest; he realized he had not eaten more than a slice of bread that morning. Quickly, he snatched a few bites of roasted vegetables from the castle kitchen and then returned to the main hall. There, he met with the merchant guild’s chief liaison, a cautious woman named Farina, who wore a practical coat and carried a ledger at all times.

Farina updated him on the southern routes. Attacks had quieted, but tension remained. The guild was prepared to cover half the cost of more guards if Arya could offer the other half, or at least contribute enough men to secure the road day and night. Gary agreed, though his funds were still tight. With a weary expression, he told her about the eastern border situation, which made Farina’s face darken.

“If the east also sees conflict, merchants might avoid passing through at all,” she warned. “This could hurt all of us.”

“I know,” Gary replied. “That’s why we’re doing everything possible to hold the line.”

As Farina left, Sir Alden returned with news that the small militia force for the eastern region had departed. Gary nodded, relieved that at least something was being done. Still, he yearned for better odds—more knights, stronger walls, bigger reserves of weapons. But the kingdom remained battered from years of neglect and poor leadership before his time. Rebuilding it took more than a few weeks, especially with Rodrik’s ambition looming over them all.

Evening fell slowly, painting the sky in mild shades of pink and orange. Gary walked the courtyard, watching as the knights drilled with makeshift wooden swords. Some new recruits practiced basic moves, guided by older soldiers who corrected their stances. Although they lacked polished armor and fancy equipment, Gary saw determination in their eyes. He nodded approvingly at their efforts.

Just then, a tired rider appeared at the gate, dismounting with shaky legs. A guard hurried up to check on him. Gary recognized the man’s face—a young messenger who had left the city just a day ago with letters to various lords. He clutched a scrap of parchment, panting as if he had ridden hard.

“Your Majesty,” the messenger gasped. “I have a response from Lord Elliot. He refused to meet me in person. Gave me this note instead.”

Gary took the note, reading it by torchlight. Elliot’s words were polite on the surface, but they dripped with excuses. He claimed he still lacked funds to spare and that his own fields needed the seeds and coin. He ended by expressing “hope that the kingdom would understand.”

Gary crumpled the note in frustration. “More excuses. Meanwhile, we could have used his aid to secure farmland or buy more weapons. This can’t go on.”

The messenger bit his lip. “Shall I ride elsewhere, sir?”

Gary shook his head gently. “Rest for now. We’ll decide tomorrow.”

He forced himself to stay calm. Pacing in anger would solve nothing. He had to find a way to make these nobles realize that helping was in their best interest. Otherwise, Arya would face threats alone, and if the kingdom fell, the nobles’ wealth would crumble with it.

In the last light of dusk, Gary made his way up to the old battlements, climbing stone steps worn by countless feet over the years. From there, he looked out over the darkening landscape. Tiny lights from scattered farms blinked in the distance. He wondered how many of those homes feared the unknown riders or the next wave of bandits. He had promised to protect them, yet his resources were so limited.

He pictured Jenny, on the road to some noble’s estate, calmly explaining Arya’s dire situation. He hoped the lords would listen. If not, confrontation might be the only choice. The kingdom needed unity, not endless delays.

Behind him, a cool wind swept over the battlements, ruffling his hair. The sense of urgency pulsed in his thoughts. Rodrik’s name lingered like a threat beyond the horizon. Trade routes remained fragile. Farm villages teetered between hope and despair. Though the weight of each problem was heavy, Gary felt a small spark of resolve glow within. Each step they had taken—training militias, placing guards on roads, pressing nobles—proved that Arya would not bow easily. They might be outmatched, but they were not helpless.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the night air. Tomorrow would bring new letters, new arrivals, and maybe fresh obstacles. But if he stayed steady, and if Jenny and Alden kept doing their part, they could piece by piece push back against the chaos. With that slender thread of hope, Gary turned from the battlements and descended the stairs, ready to plan the next day’s moves.

Below, the castle courtyard drifted into near-darkness, torches lighting only small circles. A few guards stood watch, spears in hand, their faces lit by orange firelight. Gary nodded to them, silently thanking them for their diligence. He passed inside, letting the thick walls muffle the wind’s sigh. The path ahead was uncertain, but as long as Arya’s defenders did not falter, there was still a chance to forge a brighter dawn for the kingdom—a land once proud, now inching back from the brink.