Amira of Ironclad Empire

Past...

Somewhere in Seoul, Korea

As Amira stepped out of Claude's office, the sting from his slap still radiated across her cheek, a harsh reminder of his dominance. Each step through the grand lobby amplified the echo of her turmoil, the space around her feeling as cold and unwelcoming as the man she had just left behind.

Emerging into the harsh daylight, Amira's eyes squinted against the brightness, seeking solace from her pain. There, waiting with an air of expectant concern, was Alexios. His presence was a stark contrast to the oppressive environment she had escaped. The worry on his face gave way to relief as he caught sight of her.

Alexios closed the distance with quick steps, his expression softening. "Amira," he called gently, using the name that resonated with a part of her she barely understood. His hand reached out, bridging the physical space between them and bridging the chasm of her fragmented memories.

Without needing to speak, he guided her to a nearby bench, a quiet spot away from the prying eyes of the world. He carefully pulled an ice pack from his bag—a small, thoughtful act of preparedness. He wrapped it in his handkerchief and gently pressed it against her cheek, the coolness a soothing balm against the physical and emotional bruises.

"This will help with the swelling," he said, his voice low and comforting. Amira didn't respond; she was lost in thought, the cool press of the ice pack bringing a momentary escape from her pain.

"You shouldn't have to endure this, Amira—no, Katherine..." Alexios said quietly, his voice laced with a blend of anger and care. Amira looked at him, her eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and a dawning realization that perhaps not everyone in her life meant to use her or control her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, his gaze steady. "I'm here to help you, Amira. Not just with this," he motioned to the ice pack, "but with everything."

The two of them left the premises, and there was a heavy silence between them. As they walked toward Alexios's car, Amira's cheek still ached from Claude's abuse, and her mind buzzed with the aftermath of his cold words. She felt exposed under the bright sun.

Halfway to the car, she sensed something—or someone—watching. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted two men in dark suits lingering by the entrance of the building, their eyes fixed intently on her. Recognition crawled up her spine: they were Claude's men. Her heartbeat quickened.

Alexios opened the passenger door, urging her to get in. "Hurry," he said, noticing the tension in her eyes.

She slid in and slammed the door behind her. Alexios started the engine, and they pulled into traffic. But it wasn't long before a black sedan appeared in the rearview mirror, following at a measured distance.

"They're tailing us," Amira said softly, dread tingeing her voice.

Alexios nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I was afraid of this. Don't worry, I'll try to lose them."

He took a few abrupt turns down side streets in an attempt to shake their pursuers, but the sedan kept pace, accelerating whenever Alexios did. Adrenaline pumped through Amira's veins. She felt that old, familiar fear—the same terror she'd carried in Claude's presence—creeping in.

A sudden spike of panic shot through her, and instinctively, she reached for that hidden power within her. She remembered how, during her time with Alexios in Korea, she had veiled their presence whenever Claude's men drew too close. It had been effortless—a silent flick of her will to ensure they went unnoticed.

Now, she closed her eyes, her heart hammering. She didn't speak, didn't even whisper an incantation. She simply willed them to vanish. The air shimmered, her power responding to her fear and determination. The world outside the car seemed to ripple momentarily.

Alexios glanced in the mirror. His pursuers' sedan swerved, braking abruptly as though they had lost sight of their target. Confusion was evident on the men's faces through the windshield. Suddenly disoriented, they hesitated, scanning the street in vain.

"How did you—?" Alexios began, his eyes darting to Amira.

She shook her head, feeling a wave of exhaustion. "I... I'm not sure," she answered truthfully.

Her veil had enveloped them, rendering them effectively invisible to the assassins. Alexios took advantage of their confusion, speeding away down a side road. By the time the men recovered, the car was long gone.

Once they reached his apartment complex, Alexios parked in an underground garage. He let out a long, shaky breath. "You saved us," he said, still not entirely believing what had happened.

Amira managed a faint smile. "I just... remembered something I did before. I don't even know how."

Together, they made their way upstairs. Once inside, Alexios's apartment felt like an oasis, calm and removed from the chaos outside. Still, Amira's heart thudded painfully in her chest. Part of her marveled at her ability to protect them, while another part balked at how she had done it so easily.

After sitting her down on the soft couch, Alexios placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've been through so much, Katherine—or Amira," he corrected gently, drawing her from her racing thoughts. "I want to help you find your way out of this. Please, let me help you."

Driven by an impulse of trust, and perhaps desperation for an anchor, she found herself asking, "Then… can we get married?" The question, borne out of a yearning for something permanent and protective, surprised them both.

His initial surprise gave way to understanding, and after a brief pause, he nodded. "If that's what you want, I'm here. Completely," he affirmed.

That evening, under the soft glow of a chapel's dim lights, they exchanged vows in a simple ceremony that felt both surreal and intensely real. Holding Alexios's hand, feeling the solid warmth of his grip, Amira found a measure of peace. It was a promise—a tether to something good and true in a life that had offered her little of either.

Present Day

The memory receded, and Amira found herself back in the present, standing on the sidelines of the training field. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, fitted with a leather corset that allowed her the freedom to move without restriction. Her hair was tied up, tucked away neatly as she observed the knights practicing Aikido and Krav Maga. Their movements were fluid and graceful, but something caught her attention—there was a growing presence nearby. Auras, unfamiliar and distant, signaled the approach of people she didn't recognize.

Her heart jumped slightly, the old instinct to hide flaring up again. Memories of her soul or body on how she had cast that veil to shield herself and Alexios rose unbidden in her mind. Had she just done the same for her knights without even realizing it? The memory was fuzzy and she couldn't even remember Alexios, yet the power's result was undeniable.

She couldn't recall the exact moment the veil had taken shape around the knights, only that it had—just as it had before. Was it because of her lineage? Or was it something deeper, a vestige of her suppressed abilities surging forward?

She shook off the uneasy questions as she let her focus return to the present. The knights, oblivious to their near-invisibility, paused to look at her curiously. Amira offered them a faint smile and let the veil drop completely, allowing them to be seen again.

"All clear," she called. One of them smirked. "That was quick," he teased. "What just happened? Did we vanish or something?"

Amira gave a soft laugh, though her heart still pounded with residual nerves. "You didn't vanish. But you weren't seen."

Moments later, the Xylos delegates rounded the corner. One of them, a tall man with a sharp jawline, cleared his throat. "Ah pardon me, we need your assistance, Lady Knight. We're looking for the Silver Crow's captain. We want to discuss something directly with him regarding the situation in the Northern region now."

Caught off guard by the formal request, Amira hesitated, noticing their uncertainty in addressing her. After all, she was wearing practical training attire rather than ornate armor—nothing like the typical "knight" they might have expected.

She took a small step forward. "Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked politely.

The delegates exchanged cautious glances before one of them spoke. "We were hoping to speak with Sir Cedric Grayhall, the Captain of the Silver Crow Knights. We assumed he would be here—"

Amira repressed a chuckle at their misinterpretation. Cedric, standing nearby, picked up on the moment of confusion and grinned, deciding to indulge in a bit of fun.

"Ah, well," Cedric interjected, "this is Lady Amira." He paused, mischief dancing in his eyes. "She's been with us for some time now—newly appointed as a knight and an exceptional one at that."

The delegates studied Amira uncertainly. "Lady Amira... so, you're really a knight?" one asked, sounding half-incredulous.

Amira detected the faint undertone of mockery. A polite but firm smile curved her lips. "I am," she said, then decided it was time for a small correction. "But please—call me Dame Amira. I'm a knight, after all."

The delegates exchanged embarrassed looks, adjusting their stance to reflect a bit more respect. "D-Dame Amira," one repeated, trying the title out.

Cedric seized the opportunity to fan the flames of friendly competition.

"We've heard you'd like to test our knights' skills to observe if we are capable of subjugating monsters. If you're up for it, Dame Amira is more than willing to give you a demonstration."

The men from Xylos glanced around, eventually nodding. "Very well," said one, stepping forward. "Let's see if what we've heard about the Silver Crow is true."

Amira quietly moved into position, tying off the last of her hair to ensure it stayed out of her face. Cedric looked at the five senior knights from Xylos, all of whom readied themselves with disciplined precision. "It's five against one," he said lightly. "Let's see how well Dame Amira holds up."

The Xylos knights attacked in unison, each trying to exploit a different angle. Their teamwork was impressive—except it wasn't enough. Amira slipped among them like a breeze, her reflexes honed by repeated battles and her harrowing past. Every strike was deftly parried or redirected. Blades whistled by her, missing by mere hairs. One knight lunged for her face, only for her to duck beneath his arm, her ponytail brushing his blade.

"Well," Cedric said with an irrepressible grin, "none of you even got close to touching Dame Amira's hair. That means no help from the Silver Crow, I'm afraid."

Shock rippled through the delegates. They exchanged awed glances, trying to reconcile the woman before them with the notion they'd had of an unremarkable "Lady Knight." Slowly, acceptance and respect replaced their skepticism.

Amira allowed herself a small, composed smile. "If you still need help in the Northern region," she said, stepping back while sheathing her sword, "I'm sure we can discuss it further with the Emperor. But I believe you see now that appearances can be deceiving."

"Best remember that next time you come looking for the Captain of the Silver Crow Knights." The delegates, still somewhat stunned, nodded. Cedric, beaming at Amira's success, couldn't resist a parting shot.

Without another word, the delegates offered polite bows and made tentative plans to reconvene once they'd spoken to the Emperor. As they walked away, there was no mistaking the deference in their demeanor toward Amira—Dame Amira.

Watching them depart, Amira exhaled slowly. Her mind lingered on the abrupt ease of her power and the memory of how she and Alexios had eluded Claude's men, time and again, by that very same veil. Inwardly, she felt a mix of confidence at what she had just accomplished and apprehension at not fully understanding how.

For now, though, she tucked those uncertainties away. She had knights to lead, an empire to protect, and her fractured past to navigate—a past where her powers seemed both a gift and a mystery waiting to unravel.