Reborn As Noble-Chapter 353: Desperate Choices ( )

Zephyra sat on her throne, her expression unreadable. Her long nails tapped lightly against the golden armrest.

Her royal advisor stepped forward, bowing gracefully and holding out a sealed document.

"Your Highness, the delegation from the Halfling Kingdom has arrived."

Zephyra's lips curled slightly at the mention of the Halflings—always neutral, always the middle ground. If any kingdom wanted to send messages, trade, or negotiate with Amazarak, they had to go through them.

She took the report and scanned its contents. Then she paused, her eyes narrowing.

"So… she was captured."

She didn't need to say the name; her advisor understood immediately.

"Yes, my Queen. Armand has filed an official complaint, with proof that Princess Zania and the other warriors—"

The advisor hesitated before continuing carefully, "—were the ones who attacked first."

Silence filled the room.

Zephyra leaned back, pretending to think as her sharp nails tapped against the report. Her advisor spoke hesitantly, "Should we send our delegation to negotiate?"

A pause followed. Then Zephyra smirked—hidden, subtle, cold.

"No."

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Her advisor's eyes widened slightly.

"Your Highness?"

Zephyra crossed one leg over the other, her voice calm.

"If we officially acknowledge her capture, we put our entire kingdom at risk."

The advisor nodded slowly, then cautiously asked, "What shall we do?"

Zephyra's smile widened slightly.

"Tell them that Princess Zania was the one making the decision alone. Amazarak Kingdom has nothing to do with what she do."

The advisor froze, a knowing look forming—a cold political move. Zania was her own sister, yet Zephyra was willing to discard her to save herself, protect her rule, and keep Amazarak untouchable.

If she admitted Zania had been following her orders, the war would come to her doorstep.

And Zephyra would never allow that—not yet.

Not until her warriors were ready, not until her sword hero was perfected.

With his knowledge and tactics, her warriors would learn, adapt, and evolve. And once everything was in place—once her army was unstoppable and Kenjirou, her handsome sword hero, became the weapon she needed—then the world would bow before Amazarak.

More importantly, no one could take her throne, because Zania… Zania was a problem. A loose end. A shadow from the past refusing to disappear. The only other royal blood who could challenge her rule. A sister who was never meant to exist.

Now, she would be someone else's problem. Armand would execute her, and Amazarak would move forward—without her, without anyone who could stand in Zephyra's way.

With a cold smirk, calculated and perfect, Zephyra leaned back, exhaling softly.

A heavy silence filled the royal chamber. Zephyra's advisor stood still, fingers tightening around the document.

Her voice, careful yet firm, finally broke the quiet.

"Your Highness… are you certain?"

She hesitated, her expression flickering with doubt.

"She is your sister."

Zephyra took a breath, her fingers tracing the gilded armrest of her throne in slow, deliberate movements. She exhaled, closing her eyes for a fleeting moment as if weighing the decision.

Then her gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering.

"I must choose between my people, my kingdom… or my sister."

The words carried weight, laced with a heavy sense of duty.

"I have no choice."

The advisor lowered her head in understanding, her posture resigned. Zephyra watched her closely, and just as the woman turned to leave, a smirk ghosted over the queen's lips.

This wasn't just about making a painful choice; it was about securing her rule. Without Zania—no rivals, no threats, no loose ends. Only her throne. Her power. Forever.

Zephyra leaned back, her smirk widening. "Goodbye, little sister. Your death will be… useful."

The advisor stepped out of the royal chamber, her expression composed but heavy with unspoken words.

In the hallway, a woman stood rigidly, hands clasped tightly in front of her chest. The moment their eyes met, the woman stepped forward.

"Any word from Queen Zephyra?" she asked, her voice calm yet carrying a quiet desperation.

The advisor hesitated for a second, then sighed.

"I'm sorry… but I couldn't persuade her."

Silence followed. The woman's fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeves. Her lips parted slightly and then closed again. She didn't move, didn't speak, didn't cry. But inside, something shattered.

She had raised Zania from the moment she was born—held her tiny hands when she took her first steps, soothed her during nightmares, braided her hair on the mornings of important ceremonies. She had watched her grow into the strong, stubborn young woman she had become.

And now—now, she was being discarded, left to die in enemy hands. A lump rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She couldn't cry. Not here. Not now.

Instead, she lowered her head in a slow, respectful bow.

"I understand. Thank you, Advisor." Her voice was steady, her hands didn't shake.

She rushed to her quarters, barely aware of the heavy footsteps echoing behind her. As soon as she stepped inside, she grabbed a small leather pouch hidden beneath her mattress. Her fingers trembled as she opened it—inside were a modest sum of gold and silver coins.

It wasn't much, but maybe—maybe it was enough. Enough to reach Zania. One last time.

Her mind raced. How could she get to the human kingdom before the execution? Traveling by foot? Impossible. A carriage? Too slow.

A wyvern? Her heart leapt at the thought. The Halfling Kingdom controlled air travel between nations, and the necessary documents would take weeks to process. She didn't have weeks—barely had days. Zania would die before she even reached the border.

Her breath hitched as an idea formed—her only chance. She turned sharply toward the guest wing of the palace, where the Halfling delegation was resting before their journey home.

If anyone could help her bypass the restrictions, it was them. Even if she couldn't save Zania, at least she could see her one last time—hold her, kiss her cheek. And when it was all over, she could ensure Zania's body wouldn't be left to rot in a foreign land.

Clutching the pouch of coins tightly, her eyes burning with unshed tears, she ran.

She didn't know if the Halflings would help her, but she had to try. This was all she had left.

The Halfling delegation was preparing to depart.

The Halfling ambassador, an older man with a neatly trimmed beard, adjusted his cloak before turning toward his escorts.

"Mister Delegation! Please wait!"

A desperate voice cut through the air. The ambassador turned, his brows furrowing as he saw a woman running toward them. Her breaths were ragged, her steps unsteady.

The moment she reached them, she fell to her knees. "Please… help me."

Silence fell. The Halfling guards exchanged glances, and the ambassador's eyes narrowed slightly. "Who are you?" he asked, his tone polite but cautious.

The woman bowed her head, hands clenched tightly. "I am only a servant." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "But I must reach the human kingdom… before the execution of Princess Zania."

The Halflings stiffened, and the ambassador's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "And what do you expect of us?" he asked carefully.

She lifted her gaze, her eyes glistening. "If you can't save her… then at least let me see her one last time." Her voice broke. "I beg of you."

She reached into her pouch and pulled out every last coin she had, offering it with trembling hands. "I have money… I will work… I will do anything."

Her forehead touched the ground. "Please."

The delegation fell into a heavy silence. The ambassador exhaled slowly.

Then he turned to his guards and men. "Prepare another saddle."

The woman's breath caught in her throat as she looked up, eyes wide and disbelieving. The ambassador watched her carefully before stepping closer. "I don't know if you'll make it in time, but i will try my best to help."

Tears blurred her vision as she bowed deeply, her shoulders trembling. "Thank you… thank you…!"

A Halfling soldier helped her onto the extra saddle. The wyvern beneath her snorted, its wings rustling. The ambassador climbed onto his own mount, glancing at her once more. "Hold on tight."

And with that, the beasts leapt into the sky, wings beating against the wind.

The woman's heart pounded. She didn't know if she would make it, but she would try.

Because this was all she had left.

( End of Chapter )