The room was darkly lit by the soft glow of enchanted candles, their flickering light casting shifting shadows across the walls.
Papers were spread across Rowena's desk, maps marked with strategic notations, documents detailing supplies, and plans for her people's survival.
Even if her people were broken and weakened to take part in quests, she wanted to find some alternatives for them to survive as they recover.
She had spent the past few days drowning herself in work, refusing to sit idly despite her kingdom lying in ruins.
Everyone—Igrid, Isola, even the consorts—had insisted she rest, that she should focus on the child growing inside her rather than burden herself with matters of state. But she could not sit still, not when there were so many lives depending on her and enemies possibly waiting to finish them off.
