The Mage/Witch Regrets

Chapter 6: NORTHERN KINGDOM

Valleria's POV

A ruined kingdom welcomed us. I stood frozen in front of the high and thick gate with twisted thorns, grown or placed there to keep the monster from climbing over. Lined at the top were weary warriors in dented armor, their weapons are drawn and their eyes were sharp, guarding as if war could break out any second.

"The Prince have arrived! Open the gate!" One of the warriors above yelled. The gate groaned under its own weight, it is blackened by fire yet still standing like a stubborn relic of resistance. They instantly closed it after we all pass through.

I slowly get down the horse's carriage and scan the surroundings. The place looked like the aftermath of a storm, everything is a mess. Crumbled stone littered all over the ground, there are tents everywhere, and thick smokes by dead campfire.

As we approached, the knights stood in formation, their wrecked armor gleaming under the fading sun. One by one, they dropped to one knee, swords lowered in respect. “Welcome back, Your Highness. May the gods be praised for your safe and victorious return.”

Yuri stepped forward, and suddenly wrapped his right arm behind me, holding my waist with gentleness. “This is Princess Valleria Elaina Elheart.” He introduced, his voice echoing with quite authority. "She is no mere guest, she stood beside me through fire and storm. And from this day forward, she stands with us. She is my wife, and your Queen!"

A stunned silence swept through the knights, their eyes widend as they exchanged shocked glances. Their reaction mirrored mine, I hadn’t expected Yuri to introduce me right after we arrived.

Whispers stirred the air, quiet and uncertain, until a man who appeared to be the general stepped forward with firm conviction. “The Prince has chosen his Queen!” he acknowledged.

Realization sank in, and one by one, the knights knelt again, fists to their chests. “All hail Queen Valleria!” they shouted in unison.

I stepped forward, smiling softly. “It’s an honor to meet you all. From this day on, I’ll stand with you, to break the curse and restore peace to this land.”

“There are weapons, armor, medicine, blankets, food, and clothes in the carriages. General Hans, distribute the weapons and armor to our soldiers. Sir Creg, handle the food supply and budgeting. Miss Kaye, deliver the rest to the citizens. Prioritize the children and the sick.” Yuri ordered. Each one bowed in response and quickly moved to carry out their tasks.

"Your Majesty! Where's my son?!" an old man shouted, his voice breaking as he pushed through the crowd, tears already streaming down his weathered face.

"Prince... thank the heavens you're safe." an old woman whispered, her hands trembling as she clutched the prince's arm. "But... where is my husband?" Her voice cracked, her eyes is brimming with pain.

Yuri lowered his head, his voice heavy and broken. "They fought bravely... and gave everything so we could return. I am deeply sorry. I will carry their names with me until my last breath. They will never be forgotten."

The old man sank to the ground, his cries breaking the heavy silence, while knights quietly wiped away their tears. The old woman stood still, tears streaming as she nodded, trying to stay strong. “I understand. I know my husband fought well,” she whispered, voice trembling. “But tell me… did you kill the monster who took him from me?”

Yuri couldn’t meet her gaze. "I’m sorry, madame… the witch was too powerful. We tried, but we failed." His head remained bowed, shame and sorrow written all over his face.

I stepped forward, gently helping the old man to his feet as he continued to sob against my shoulder.

"Ma’am, Sir, it’s getting dark. Please, allow me to walk you home," I said softly. The old woman gave a small, broken nod.

"Yuri" I called out as we turned, "I’ll be right back." He simply nodded. As we walked away, I heard his firm voice rise, ordering the guards to stay alert and hold their positions.

The old folks led me to a crumbling building, its walls marked with deep cracks, ivy curling up to the roof like nature trying to reclaim it. The wooden door hung from a single hinge, groaning as it swung open, and the windows were nothing more than shattered glass and jagged holes. Still, in this desolate place, it was the most decent structure I had seen.

"Do you live here?" I asked as we stepped inside.

"We work here." the old woman said. "It’s where we treat the wounded."

I blinked in disbelief. "But you're too old to be treating people. In fact, you're the one who need to be treated."

The old man let out a dry chuckle. "There are people far worse off than us. We even consider ourselves lucky in this state."

The old woman gave a tired nod. "We’re short on hands, and injuries come every day. We need any help we can get just to survive."

Their responds left me speechless. They'd carried pain most of their lives, and yet they still chose to serve.

As we entered the main hall, the air grew heavy. Dozens of people lay on the cold hard floor. Some of them barely moving, and others are groaning in pain. A large campfire blazed at the center, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Around it, people moved urgently, fetching water, and tending wounds with blood-soaked cloth, while a few sat in silence, quietly sobbing.

"Clara! Zante!" a middle-aged woman with a faded bandana on his hair hurried toward us. "We heard about your family. We’re so sorry. Oh, Great Arcana, please grant us peace." Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away, forcing a weak smile.

"Please, rest tonight. We’ll take care of things down here." she offered gently.

"No, we will help," the old woman, Clara, refused with firmness despite the sorrow on her face. "Too many are wounded. The orcs have been attacking without pause lately, I'm sure they will strike tonight."

"Then let me take your place tonight, ma'am." I said as I stepped forward.

The woman with a bandana turned to me, her expression mixed with surprise and curiosity. "Wait… may I know who you are?" She asked, her gaze drifting from my face down to my dirt-stained feet.

I could feel the weight of her gaze. Thank goodness the prince gave me his jacket, without it, I would’ve looked even more like a wandering beggar.

"I'm Valleria." I said. "I came from the Southern Kingdom. I am your Queen."

Her eyes widened in shock. The old fellow beside me instinctively pulled their arms right away from me, staring at me as if struck by lightning. Oh crap… maybe that was too blunt?

"Oh my goodness… Please forgive us, Your Highness!" the three of them dropped to their knees. Their sudden movement caught the attention of everyone in the hall.

All eyes turned to me, wide with disbelief. Then, one by one, they all knelt, even the injured struggling to sit upright just to show their respect.

"All hail Queen Valleria!" they echoed in unison. I never expected such a reception, especially not here.

"We are more than honored by your presence, Your Majesty," the middle-aged woman said, bowing low. "Forgive our poor state, we have nothing worthy to offer. But if you're tired and want to rest Your Majesty, we have one decent room upstairs that’s still intact. This lowly servant will guide you personally."

I looked around at their kneeling figures, broken, tired, bleeding, yet full of devotion. My heart ached.

"All of you… please, stand up," I began, my voice steady yet warm. "Continue what you were doing. I didn’t come here to be treated like royalty, I came to help. I’d be much happier if you saw me not as your Queen, but as your friend."

A few people hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, until the woman with bandana shook her head softly. "We can’t do that, Your Majesty," she said. "You’re the first person our prince ever acknowledged as his wife. We will do everything we can to keep you warm and safe."

I looked into her eyes, touched by her sincerity. "What’s your name?"

"My name is Fey, Your Majesty. I’m in charge of this building."

"Fey," I said gently, reaching out and lifting her by the arm, "please stand. All of you, stand with me."

They slowly rose, watching me with a mix of awe and hesitation.

"I’m not here to rest," I said, voice breaking with emotion. "Let me be part of your fight. Let me carry some of that pain. I didn’t cross into this cursed land to be served but I came to serve. I came to help end this nightmare and to help you reclaim what was stolen from you."

There was a silence that felt almost sacred. Then one by one, heads began to nod. A few cracked smiles through their tears. And in that moment, as I saw their tired faces lift with new light, my heart, even just for a little while, felt full.

I gently wiped the tears from the old fellow's cheeks before they turned away to rest, their steps slow and heavy with exhaustion. "Fey, could you bring me a bowl of water, please?" I asked softly.

Without delay, she returned, with not only a clean bowl of water, but a pair of worn boots cradled in her arms.

"Our Queen shouldn’t be walking barefoot." she said, kneeling down to slip them onto my feet. Her fingers were steady and gentle as she tied the laces.

"Thank you, Fey." I whispered, touched by her kindness.

I made my way to the first patient lying in the right corner. He looked like a soldier, his armor battered and bloodstained, and his face were pale from blood loss. I knelt beside him, carefully peeling open his jacket. A deep, jagged wound slashed across his stomach, barely held together with old cloth. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes shut tight in pain but still conscious, while his teeth is clenched as he fought not to cry out.

As I checked his smaller wounds, I noticed a handkerchief gripped in his fist, it's a delicate, embroidered handkerchief. It was small, with faded pink stitching. It must belong to his family.

"You're safe now, sir." I whispered, placing my hand gently over his wound.

In an instant, a golden light burst from my palm, flooding the dim room like the first rays of dawn breaking through a storm. The light shimmered, and casting glowing patterns across the faces of the injured. Gasps echoed as the radiance bathed the soldier’s body, his wounds closed before my eyes, torn flesh knitting itself together with not even a scar left behind. Only the blood on his skin remained, a silent witness to what had just been undone.

He opened his eyes slowly, dazed, and stared down at his chest. His hands trembled as he touched the unbroken skin where pain once lived. Then, without a word, tears began to stream down his cheeks. He clutched the little handkerchief tighter, and broke into quiet sobs.

Behind me, a voice whispered. "A mage..."

The caretakers dropped to their knees. Some shouted with joy, others simply stood frozen, hands over their mouths, as if afraid this miracle would vanish if they dared to breathe too loudly.

And then, the words slipped from their trembling lips, passed from one to another like a sacred prayer...

"We are saved."

But they didn’t know…

That beyond the crumbling walls, in the shadow of the cursed forest, I felt an ancient dark aura stirred, something that felt the surge of my magic.

And it was hungry.