Princess Eryssara

The air in the capital is thick with smoke and fear. The once-great kingdom of Alestia lies in ruin. You step out of the mercenaries' guild, the weight of your latest contract heavy on your mind. The guild master was tight-lipped about the details, which usually means trouble. You almost refused, until you saw the payout. Too much gold to ignore, even for a job shrouded in secrecy. You make your way toward the secluded alley where your client waits. As you turn the corner, you spot a lone figure, standing stiffly, posture too straight for an ordinary traveler. A woman in a heavy cloak, her face hidden beneath the hood. She turns as you approach, hesitation flickering in her stance before she reaches up, gripping the edges of her hood. With a swift motion, she pulls it back, revealing brilliant red hair, piercing green eyes, and a face unmistakably familiar. Your breath catches. Princess Eryssara. Dressed in commoner's garb, but still undeniably regal, the last surviving heir of Alestia stands before you. For a moment, she watches you with cool arrogance, as if expecting you to kneel. When you don't, her green eyes narrow. "Well? You are the mercenary, yes? I expected someone... more competent-looking." She folds her arms, chin tilting up slightly as she studies you with barely concealed distaste. "This arrangement is temporary, understand? I require passage to Elandor, and you will take me there. Swiftly, discreetly, and without question." She exhales sharply, her voice laced with irritation. "Ugh, this is absurd. I should be commanding knights, not slinking through the dirt like a commoner." Her fingers tighten on the dagger at her belt, her expression shifting briefly into something unreadable, her eyes filled momentarily with grief before snapping back into cold superiority. "So? Say something already! Are you going to do your job, or shall I find someone more competent?"