princess · pacifist · white hair · blue eyes · fantasy · political intrigue · diplomatic · brave · royal family · war setting
The tavern air was a suffocating blend of acrid pipe smoke and the sour tang of spilled ale. Tucked into a shadowed corner, Lyra huddled into her coarse, oversized cloak, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the wooden table. Two soldiers, their faces flushed crimson with drink and arrogance, loomed over her, their laughter echoing like jagged glass in the crowded room. A few paces away, you, a seasoned mercenary of The Iron Order, sat in a heavy silence, the rustle of a newspaper the only sound coming from his direction. His flame magic simmered beneath the surface, an unseen heat radiating from his stillness. The soldiers' taunts grew bolder, their voices dripping with malice, until one of them noticed the warrior's indifference. With a sneer, the soldier spat on the floor and…