Gary stood by a tall, cracked window inside the palace. A faint breeze drifted in, carrying the smell of wet earth and old stone. He rested one hand on the worn sill and gazed at the courtyard below. Even from here, he could see bits of broken cobblestone and dead plants in the corners. In the far distance, the castle walls seemed tired, like an old man stooped over from years of struggle. Once, this kingdom had been proud. Now, it felt like a shadow of its former self.

He was the new king, but he did not feel grand. A plain sash was draped across his tunic, worn during his rushed coronation a week ago. That day, there had been no grand fanfare, just a brief ceremony led by three knights and a handful of onlookers. The court's treasury was nearly empty, and few people trusted that a new leader could fix their problems. Yet Gary had said yes when asked to take the throne, partly because he wanted to help, and partly because there was no one else. The old king had died with no direct heir, leaving Gary-some distant relative-the only choice.

He let out a quiet sigh. "I wonder," he whispered, "how much time do we have before everything falls apart?"

A mild knock at the door broke his thoughts. A guard in simple armor, battered from years of use, stepped in and bowed. "Your Majesty, the merchant's sister is here to speak with you. She says it's urgent."

Gary forced a polite smile. "Yes, of course. Let her in."

Soon, a slender woman with sharp eyes and a calm smile walked in. She wore a practical dress, a light green shawl around her shoulders, and carried a small bag of papers. This was Jenny, known among traders for her quick mind and knack for striking good deals. She had come to the palace a few days ago, offering to help the kingdom secure new trade routes and resources.

"Your Majesty," Jenny said with a slight nod. "I have some findings."

Gary gestured toward a small table in the center of the room. It was dusty, like almost everything else in the castle. "Please, come sit."

They settled into chairs that creaked under the slightest movement. The table's surface showed many scratches-remnants of better days, perhaps from lavish feasts or important councils.

Jenny spread her notes out. She spoke in a low voice, not wanting to draw attention from anyone lurking in the halls. "We're in trouble," she said bluntly. "The farms near the south are not producing well. The mines in the west are nearly empty. And I hear that Rodrik, the king from across the border, is looking for ways to expand his influence."

Gary leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I feared as much. But do you think he will try to take over?"

She hesitated. "I have heard rumors. People say Rodrik wants to unite the continent under his banner. Arya is in a weak state now, making us an easy target."

Gary glanced over at the broken window again. Outside, a few guards roamed the courtyard, their faces set in a stern expression. "I can't let that happen," he said at last. "This kingdom is all these people have. If we lose it, what becomes of them?"

Jenny's mouth set into a firm line. "Then we must act. I know of trade routes that haven't been used in years. If we open them and protect merchant caravans, we can bring in fresh goods. Maybe we can restock the treasury over time. But you must also deal with some of the nobles who still hold wealth. They have grown idle or greedy, and they might not agree to help."

Gary nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to rely on them, but we do need funds. We need alliances. This can't be done alone."

A sudden clamor from the courtyard made them both look up. Outside, a stable boy and a guard were trying to corral a spooked horse. The horse neighed and nearly knocked over a water barrel, soaking part of the ground. The guard yelled at the stable boy, who shrank back in fear. Gary sighed. Such chaos felt normal these days, yet it still unsettled him.

Jenny carefully gathered her notes and placed them back in her bag. "I'll try to speak with some of my contacts. They might be willing to give the kingdom a loan or at least trade at fair rates. But I'll need your official seal on a few agreements."

Gary stood, his wooden chair scraping against the floor. "You have my permission. Whatever we can do to keep Arya afloat, I will back your efforts."

Jenny bowed her head, then walked out. Gary watched her go, feeling a faint flicker of hope. She seemed capable, more so than many of the nobles he had met. Perhaps she could help turn things around.

He decided to look through the palace halls, to get a sense of life inside these walls. The corridor outside his chamber was dimly lit by torches set into iron brackets on the stone walls. Bare patches of floor revealed chipped tiles, and bits of tattered tapestry hung in places, the rest having been sold or lost. Each step he took echoed in the quiet hall.

Two guards at the far end stood at attention when they saw him. Their armor was mismatched, with dented breastplates and scuffed helmets. Gary gave them a nod as he passed. One guard, older and with a gray beard, offered a polite smile. Gary paused. "How do you fare?" he asked, keeping his tone gentle.

The guard bowed. "We do well, Your Majesty. Times are rough, but we still have our duty."

Gary appreciated the loyalty in his voice, though he also saw the weariness in the guard's eyes. "Thank you. Arya needs you," he said, placing a hand on the guard's shoulder. Then he moved on.

Outside, the sky was overcast, making the stone courtyard seem even duller. Gary noticed that the statue of a past king-maybe a famous ancestor-stood near a cracked fountain. The statue's face was eroded by wind and time, and the fountain had no water. Weeds poked through the cobblestones around its base.

He crossed to the opposite wing, passing a small set of steps that led down to the cellars. A musty smell rose from below, and he decided he did not want to explore that area alone. Instead, he entered the old throne room. The large wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open. Sunlight from a high window revealed dust motes dancing in the air. At the far end, the throne itself rested on a slightly raised platform. Once trimmed with gold, now much of the gilding had flaked off, leaving dull patches of wood and metal.

Gary walked up to it and placed a hand on the armrest. The seat felt cold. He remembered his coronation, how he had sat here feeling more anxious than proud. He let out a slow breath. "I must do better," he whispered to the empty room.

A flicker of movement drew his eye. From behind a pillar, a small figure in shabby clothes emerged. It was a page boy, trembling slightly. He held a worn scroll. "Pardon me, Your Majesty," the boy mumbled, stepping forward and bowing low. "I have news."

Gary motioned for him to speak. The boy unrolled the scroll, struggling to read the cramped letters. "It's from one of the border villages, sir. They say soldiers in dark armor have been spotted. They fly no flag, but the villagers fear they might serve Rodrik."

Gary's chest tightened. "How close are they?"

The boy swallowed. "Not far, Your Majesty. They roam the outskirts, watching. The villagers ask for guards to keep them safe."

Gary felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold throne room. "Thank you," he said, taking the scroll. "Go find the captain of the guards. Tell him I need a meeting right away."

The boy bowed again and scurried off. Gary glanced at the scribbled message. The last lines urged urgent aid, adding that the village's farmland was vital to Arya. If those men caused trouble, the people might flee, and the harvest would be lost.

His thoughts turned to Jenny. He hoped she could arrange new trade deals soon, because if they started losing farmland as well, the kingdom would starve. Gary closed his eyes for a moment, recalling how quickly desperation could rise in a place already hungry for hope.

He left the throne room and headed to one of the council chambers near the east side of the castle. The hallway was long and dim, with one set of windows shuttered because the glass was broken. Overhead, cobwebs hung in corners like gray drapes. Gary tried not to think about how neglected everything was. He had to focus.

When he reached the council room, he found a handful of noblemen already waiting. They looked bored, as if they had been dragged from their private affairs and forced to attend. Some wore fine coats, though the cloth looked a bit old. Perhaps even they felt the strain of the kingdom's failing economy.

Standing behind them was the captain of the guards, a tall man in chainmail named Sir Alden. He bowed slightly when Gary entered. "Your Majesty, I heard the news. A threat at the border?"

Gary nodded. "Yes. We must send a few knights at once to confirm the reports and protect the villagers."

A middle-aged noble with thinning hair scowled. "But we don't have men to spare, or the coin to fund them. We're stretched thin as it is."

Gary's eyes hardened. "Then we will be stretched. If we lose farmland, we lose everything. I will not leave our people defenseless."

Sir Alden cleared his throat. "I can gather a small group of loyal knights. We'll ride out by dawn, if that pleases you."

Gary nodded. "Do it. We cannot wait for Rodrik, or any other threat, to choke us out."

He glanced at the row of nobles, some of whom exchanged nervous looks. He knew they feared draining resources, but he also knew that waiting would only make things worse. He wanted to make it clear: Arya would stand, or it would fall, but it would not roll over for a tyrant.

Leaving them to their murmurs, Gary headed back toward his chamber. Along the way, he passed a window overlooking the courtyard again. The spooked horse from earlier was now calm, nibbling on hay while the stable boy patted its neck. The guard who had been yelling before was gone, perhaps called to other duties. Gary felt a small glimmer of relief. At least some troubles were short-lived.

But deeper problems loomed, and the kingdom's fate rested on thin threads. As he walked, he silently prayed that Jenny's trade plans would succeed-and that his own choices would not lead Arya to ruin. One step at a time, he told himself. For now, that was all he could do.