A mysterious dimensional Gate materialized outside the royal capital at dawn, throwing the entire kingdom council into chaotic emergency debate.
Senior lords, knight commanders, and royal archmages argued loudly across the table while morning light filtered through glass.
"The dimensional rift appeared in the valley and remains stable," the Knight Captain reported, slamming a steel gauntlet against the stone table.
"The dimensional rift appeared in the valley and remains stable... but nothing has crawled out yet."
His weathered face showed deep creases from decades of border skirmishes against hostile beast tribes and rebel northern factions.
"Then deploy an elite vanguard immediately," the royal Swordmaster urged with a casual smirk, leaning back in his chair with his hands resting on his broadsword pommel.
"Deploy an elite vanguard before monsters organize a coordinated assault against our outer walls!"
The royal Swordmaster leaned back in his chair, resting calloused hands casually upon his wide broadsword pommel.
His eyes scanned the hesitant ministers, radiating supreme confidence born from surviving fifty deadly dungeon expeditions.
"Marching blindly into an uncalibrated rift invites total slaughter," the Grand Magic Master countered with a disdainful sniff, adjusting his silk spectacles.
"Erratic ambient mana destroys careless squads within seconds."
The Grand Magic Master adjusted his silk spectacles, pointing an ink-stained finger at parchment charts detailing violent magical fluctuations.
His ancient voice carried the quiet weight of academic authority, silencing several nervous noble lords seated along the perimeter.
"Speak with practical clarity, Archmage," the King commanded without raising his voice, tapping an ornate golden ring against the velvet armrest.
"State the minimum strength requirement for any prospective raid party."
His sharp gaze cut through political posturing, demanding decisive military solutions before panic spread among the capital commoners.
"Nobody below four Shards enters the breach," the Magic Master stated flatly, glaring at the impatient commanders across the table.
"Anything less turns a tactical vanguard into a doomed funeral."
The Magic Master rested both hands upon his carved wooden staff, glaring at the impatient commanders across the table.
His strict standard excluded more than ninety percent of the kingdom's active knights from participating in the dangerous initial breach.
Princess Didi sat quietly at her father's right hand, listening to the bitter arguments that dragged on since dawn.
Her fingers traced delicate patterns of sparkling frost across the dark obsidian surface of the grand council table.
'That marks the fourth time they said slaughter today... yet none of these politicians entered a dungeon this year.'
Behind her chair stood Gazel, her loyal royal protector who guarded her life faithfully for ten continuous years.
The scar-faced veteran kept his armored hand rested lightly on his war axe, watching every minister with unwavering vigilance.
Gazel watched Didi grow from a spirited child into a peerless magical prodigy, knowing her true strength better than anyone.
His stoic presence provided a comforting wall of quiet loyalty amid the treacherous political currents of the royal palace.
The veteran warrior bore countless scars across his broad shoulders from defending the young princess during previous assassination attempts.
His unwavering devotion to Didi surpassed any loyalty he owed to the squabbling noble lords arguing around the table.
"Treating every unknown breach like a hopeless abyss produces weak soldiers," the Swordmaster scoffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his muscular arms.
"They never taste genuine combat experience in youth."
"Gambling with royal academy talent builds graveyards," the Magic Master shot back with venomous disdain, tapping his runic wooden staff against the floor.
"Deploy your own reckless pupils if you crave glorious bloodshed."
The Magic Master shot back with venomous disdain, tapping his runic wooden staff against the floor.
"Silence your bickering before this council descends into pointless personal feuds!" the King roared, slamming his pewter goblet down with sudden, echoing finality.
The King commanded with icy royal dignity, slamming his goblet onto the table with sharp and sudden finality.
The tense hall fell silent at once, as every noble lord bowed his head beneath the monarch's chilling glare.
Didi leaned forward in her velvet seat, seizing the brief lull in conversation to voice her long-held personal ambition.
"I want the vanguard team," she announced firmly, leaning forward in her velvet seat with a fierce, quiet intensity. "I'm going in."
A sudden silence dropped over the council chamber, leaving every noble minister and military commander motionless in breathless astonishment.
The Knight Captain turned sharply toward her, his furrowed brows knitting into an expression of immediate, fierce disapproval.
"Your Highness..." the Knight Captain stammered with a worried frown. "That is entirely out of the question."
"Why?" Didi challenged, raising her chin with a sharp, defiant glare. "I possess greater magical prowess than half your veteran officers."
"You hold three Shards, Princess," the Grand Magic Master intervened, pointing his ink-stained finger at the mana fluctuation chart.
"Three pure frost Shards are an extraordinary achievement for someone your age, but the entry threshold past the spatial distortion barrier is four."
"Any awakened combatant below four Shards will suffer immediate pathway collapse the second they cross the atmospheric threshold."
Didi narrowed her eyes, resting her hands flat against the table as delicate frost branched beneath her fingers.
"Gazel holds four Shards to anchor the perimeter," she argued back, delicate frost branching beneath her planted fingers.
"And my frost needle condenses mana twice as densely as standard military ice spells."
"Paired with a defensive vanguard formation, my piercing range can neutralize the anomaly before the ambient pressure overcomes my core."
The Swordmaster shook his head with quiet respect, softening his rugged tone as he addressed the determined young princess before him.
"Theoretical density cannot compensate for the raw structural strain of a four-Shard barrier, Your Highness," the Swordmaster cautioned with respectful gravity.
"Academy duels have rules and safety nets. Inside an uncalibrated rift... one tactical hesitation brings sudden death."
"No instructors call a halt in there. Zero healers stand ready to save you when danger strikes."
The King raised a hand, ending the debate before either minister could raise another objection.
"The crown does not gamble the royal succession on an untested three-Shard prodigy, Didi," the King cut in, his tone brooking no argument.
"Until your fourth Shard awakens and your core stabilizes under sustained military pressure, you remain outside the breach."
Didi rested her palms flat upon the icy frost patterns, feeling bitter resentment burn quietly within her proud chest.
'They praise my three Shards during ceremonies... but treat me like fragile decorative furniture the moment real danger appears.'
She cultivated three pure frost Shards through ruthless discipline, yet these aged lords refused to acknowledge her genuine combat readiness.
The lingering memory of her late mother's proud legacy urged her to shatter the gilded cage that confined her true potential.
Her royal tutors praised her flawless spellcasting in sheltered courtyards, but shielded her from any true danger or practical hardship.
She hungered for the harsh test of genuine combat, where royal blood granted zero unfair privileges or hollow ceremonial victories.
An influential noble lord at the far end of the council table cleared his throat, proposing a commercial solution.
"If deploying royal troops carries political risk, Your Majesty," an influential noble lord purred smoothly. "We purchase private swords from a Great Family."
"The Great Families maintain private armies of ruthless veterans. One of them will gladly clear this rift for gold."
The Knight Captain grimaced at the suggestion, disliking the prospect of granting influential aristocratic houses leverage over the crown.
"Noble clans never bleed without demanding political blood in return," the Knight Captain grimaced with disgust. "Opening that door invites endless future extortion."
"The eastern margrave has been petitioning for territorial jurisdiction for over six months," the Grand Magic Master noted quietly.
"Their vanguard captains are experienced killers who have cleared three regional rifts without requesting royal reinforcement."
"Their primary strike squad is led by Kenny," Didi cut in with dripping contempt, her lip curling in disgust.
"He is an arrogant five-Shard brute who relies on raw physical intimidation rather than tactical discipline."
"Handing that rift to that arrogant butcher guarantees unnecessary civilian casualties along the surrounding farmsteads."
"Let their pride bleed in the dark, Didi," the King answered, his eyes resting upon the strategy maps.
"The crown requires a secured perimeter, not a moral lecture on the character of provincial mercenaries."
"Great noble houses possess endless vaults of gold. Offering silver coins will never motivate their elite vanguard squads."
His piercing eyes traveled slowly along the table, holding the gaze of every senior minister with chilling royal authority.
"Contact the Flint family at once. Inform their patriarch I approved the eastern mining concession requested last winter."
Surprise flickered across several ministerial faces, revealing that a private bargain existed long before the dimensional rift opened at dawn.
The Flint clan held vast territories in the eastern mountains, commanding dozens of ruthless four-Shard spellblades and brutal mercenary companies.
By trading valuable mineral rights, the crown secured expendable elite vanguard forces without risking the standing royal garrison.
"What did they ask for, Father...?" Didi asked, her voice tight with suspicion.
"Something I refused to grant them previously," the King muttered, rising from his throne with an unreadable expression.
"Until this dangerous Gate forced a reassessment of our strategic priorities."
The King rose from the throne, signaling an abrupt conclusion to the emergency council session as royal guards opened doors.
The ministers bowed low in unison, gathering their strategy maps and parchment scrolls before filing out into the corridor.
Didi remained seated beside Gazel, watching the grand doors close behind the departing figure of her royal father.
Her guard stepped beside her chair, resting a steady, armored hand upon the carved wood with quiet fraternal reassurance.
"They rely on cutthroats who treat bloodshed like a marketplace," Gazel rumbled in a low growl, his scarred hand tightening upon the battle axe strap.
"Instead of trusting the true defenders of this realm."
"The Flints will send their butchers to harvest cores," Didi whispered, blue frost crackling across her knuckles. "They won't care who gets caught in the crossfire."
Gazel spoke with quiet conviction, his weathered hand tightening upon the battle axe strap across his chest.
He shared her deep disdain for aristocratic sellswords who plundered ancient ruins while leaving innocent frontier villages to burn.
Didi clenched her fists until pale blue frost crackled along her knuckles, igniting a fierce resolve in her spirit.
She refused to remain an idle spectator while greedy aristocrats claimed glory and power right outside the capital walls.
"That clan won't mobilize their armored vanguard until tomorrow afternoon," she said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial smirk.
"That leaves an entire window where the outer perimeter remains under routine city watch supervision rather than private lockdown."
Gazel leaned closer, his battle-hardened brow furrowing as he weighed the tactical risks of her proposal.
"If the King discovers you approached an active breach, my neck will answer to the executioner's block, Your Highness," Gazel warned, though a faint, fond grin cracked his weathered cheek.
"My father will be busy negotiating border concessions with the Great Families until midnight," Didi countered with a wicked, triumphant half-smile.
"We ride out through the southern postern gate before the watch change at dawn, taking six loyal retainers in uncrested travel cloaks."
"A simple reconnaissance of the outer barrier," Gazel chuckled, rubbing his bearded chin. "Nothing more than a quick look."
"Just an inspection of the boundary frequency," she agreed with a conspiratorial wink, turning toward the high arched windows that overlooked the southern road.
"If the distortion field truly requires four Shards, I want to measure that threshold with my own senses before their butcher captains arrive."
She touched the hilt of her ceremonial frost rapier, eager to prove her worth beyond the gilded safety of the palace walls.
Gazel placed his armored gauntlet over his heart, nodding in solemn agreement as the frost melted quietly from the sill.
The royal court believed their political bargaining was concluded, blind to the dangerous confrontation awaiting both the princess and the provincial mercenaries at first light.