The Sin Eater Chronicles

Into the sudden hush stepped a man whose bearing radiated martial confidence. He wore a surcoat of vibrant emerald fabric, emblazoned with the image of a charging stallion—emblematic of Halgaresh's famed cavalry. His dark hair was cropped short, and he carried himself with straight-backed poise that spoke of countless hours in the saddle. Just behind him, three attendants similarly dressed in green stood at attention, all with an air of purposeful discipline.

Aiyara recognized him immediately: Prince Orin of Halgaresh, the first son of King Jathar. She had heard rumors of his equestrian prowess, how he commanded regiments of the Halgaresh cavalry that patrolled the wide grasslands bordering their kingdom. Halgaresh was well-known for breeding strong, swift horses, prized across the continent for war or labor. She recalled that her father had once entertained the idea of forging a close alliance with Halgaresh to combine sea power with land-based cavalry.

Orin approached the dais, executing a courteous bow. His posture was so controlled that it bordered on theatrical. The crowd, sensing an official declaration about to unfold, pressed closer or craned their necks to watch. Conversations died down in a wave of anticipation.

"Your Highness," Orin began, his voice carrying easily in the courtyard. "I am Prince Orin of Halgaresh, firstborn to the Emerald Plains. I stand before you, not merely as a suitor seeking your hand, but as a representative of my people's might." He swept a hand over his chest, tapping the stallion emblem. "We are a land famed for our horses, our cavalry, our unwavering strength. I offer you—should you accept my intention—an unbreakable bond between Halgaresh and Masan."

Aiyara studied his expression. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, exuding confidence that felt almost performative. She waited a beat before replying, aware that half the courtyard held its breath. "Prince Orin, we are honored by your presence. May I ask what you envision such a bond would look like?"

Orin's grin widened, revealing gleaming teeth. "Your mother and father sail west, do they not? That leaves Masan without the majority of its naval forces. While your city thrives on maritime prowess, might there not be threats from inland? Halgaresh's cavalry could secure your borders, deter raiders, and, if necessary, swiftly quell any uprisings. I also know from rumor that the new continent could harbor unknown dangers. My father is willing to dispatch regiments to accompany or follow your settlers if you so decree. In return, of course, Halgaresh seeks favorable trade routes through Masan's seaports. Our horses carried across the sea could be invaluable for a new colony."

He paused dramatically, letting the proposition echo. Aiyara resisted the urge to arch an eyebrow at his assured tone. "It's a compelling offer," she said politely. "Our expeditionary forces might indeed benefit from cavalry. Still, the path to establishing a new settlement is not purely about martial might. It requires cooperation, infrastructure, diplomacy with any potential neighbors—assuming we find any. We don't conquer; we settle. How does Halgaresh view that approach?"

Orin waved a hand dismissively. "We do not conquer, either. But we are no strangers to conflict. One must be prepared to defend what is claimed, especially in unexplored lands. Surely you wouldn't want to risk your colonists being overrun by… savage beasts." He said the last two words with a sneer that sent a mild shudder down Aiyara's spine.

Savage beasts? She suppressed a flicker of irritation. Some outsiders still viewed all unfamiliar peoples or creatures as threats. But she schooled her features into neutrality. "The perspective of Halgaresh is noted," she replied. "I admire your readiness to protect, but in Masan, we also believe in forging alliances with those who might inhabit new territories, rather than assuming they're hostile."

Orin inclined his head. "Certainly, Princess. Should there be peaceful inhabitants, we'll adapt. But one must be prepared for the worst. That is the essence of Halgaresh's spirit—strength and readiness. You, of all people, deserve a consort who can promise unwavering security."

At that point, a subtle commotion rippled among the watchers. A few dwarves, standing at the rear of the gathering, muttered to one another, possibly unimpressed by Orin's forceful tone. An elven envoy eyed him skeptically. The Church's bishop exchanged knowing glances with Father Caldris, as though weighing how Orin's speech aligned with their own objectives. Meanwhile, some Masani nobles nodded in cautious approval—having a strong cavalry might indeed shore up any vulnerabilities once half the fleet departed.

Aiyara forced herself to remain diplomatic, though she felt an undercurrent of unease. "Thank you, Prince Orin. Your offer is generous, and I will certainly consider it." She dipped her chin in polite dismissal. "You may remain in Masan to enjoy the festival and await my ultimate decision."

He bowed low, a satisfied spark in his eyes. "I look forward to our further discussions." Then, with a dramatic swirl of his emerald cloak, he stepped away to join his attendants, who had watched the exchange with intense focus. The entire courtyard buzzed in his wake.

Kida leaned in, voice low. "You know he's not the only one with a proposal like that."

Aiyara sighed. "Yes, but he's the first. And it sets the tone. If many see me as vulnerable without Mother's fleet, I can expect more talk of armies, mercenaries, or protective forces. They assume I can't defend Masan on my own."

Kida placed a reassuring hand on Aiyara's shoulder. "We know that's not entirely true. But, from the outside, it's a logical assumption. Stay strong—this night is all about hearing them out and preserving your right to choose."

The princess nodded, steeling herself for the next suitor. Still, a small coil of frustration tightened in her gut. The notion that foreigners thought her kingdom helpless in her mother's absence irked her. She stood a little straighter, determined not to show the slightest sign of self-doubt.

Sure enough, the second suitor approached.