"Find her." The words, though simple, echoed through the great hall like the voice of a vengeful god. Strained with fury, deep with sorrow, and shouted at the top of his prodigious lungs, the king's orders left no doubt as to what he expected- no, what he demanded. Asmodeus I Lazar, the king of Godspeake, blessed sevenfold by the gracious and benevolent Lord on High, supreme general of the army, and a dozen other titles he couldn't be bothered to use, was a man who did not gladly tolerate incompetence or, heaven forbid, failure, and the fact that the light cavalry had so far been little more than useless in finding his daughter just made his blood boil. When his blood boiled, heads rolled. It was a reputation he had earned the hard way in the wars of his youth, and one his temper would not let him squander now. "Find her, damn you all. I don't care if you need a hundred search parties. I don't care if it drains all the gold in the treasury. I will have her found or I will have the head of every useless whoreson who let her go in the first place, or fails to find her now," He continued, dropping back into the throne, weary and heartsore. The colonel in front of him bowed, sending a puff of dust from his dirty clothing, and turned smartly on his heel to leave, back to the roads and countryside which they had searched a dozen times over. The knights were searching also, and all the guardsmen he could spare, but the light cavalry were most of the horse he had on hand and supposed to be the swiftest force in the nation. Yet his daughter had not been seen since last night, and they had found nothing. "Sire... it could be our worst fears are true," A nobleman mentioned, only to receive an icy glare from his king, . "My daughter is no idiot. She will not cross into the dark kingdom," he snapped, though in truth he did not know. Gods on high, how swiftly things had gone downhill, and he wasn't exactly sure why or how. She was rash, his Sundrop was, but this was something else entirely. Something else entirely, coincidentally, was exactly what Sonnomaya was thinking as she stared across the border. Compared to the slightly rugged but beautiful landscape of Godspeake, so familiar to her after riding across it for years, the kingdom of demons was an alien clime. Every hundred paces, a waystone marked the border. The vegetation itself crawled all over, unkempt for some twenty years now, neither side willing to clean it up. It was a mess, really. Sonnomaya had been six when the treaty had been signed, standing in her little blue dress behind her father, sure to be still and quiet and on her very best behavior, as befitted a princess of the realm. Truth be told, she was always on her best behavior. Until now. Now she was furious, and gods knew she had her father's own temper. This was a stupid idea, she knew it, and if he didn't know it he was a bigger fool than the jester he'd hired last week. But it was to be this or go back and face the music... the wedding music. If it was merely her father's wrath, she would return without issue. The disappointment of her mother didn't phase her, not for a moment. Even the thought of the light cavalry's reaction to her immature outburst didn't make her at all afraid, though she knew they may well revoke her honorary commission for this little display of immaturity. But a husband. No. That she would not stand for, could not stand for. She would take orders only from a man who was better than her, and none of those suitors qualified. She was smarter than any of them, better learned, well versed in the military sciences (a graduate of the academy, in fact), a learned scholar with the title of meister hard-earned, and a fucking officer in the light cavalry. What did they have to that? Titles? Old blood? New money? A knighthood? No. She respected none of them, would bow to none of them, would marry none of them. She would honestly rather marry her horse. The beat was beautiful, an Akhal Teke as golden as a newly minted coin. She was the Sundrop, and he was her Caravelle. A more swift and loyal horse had never been ridden, as far as she was concerned. Her light cavalry tack fit him perfectly, and when she nudged a gentle heel to his side, he stepped across the border with only a snort of disdain. He, like her, feared nothing. Not even the realm of demons. They would have to treat her well. Valuable as she was, letting her come to harm could easily lead to another war, or worse. These people were not stupid, and her value combined with the information she knew would likely make her more an honored guest than anything else. She had it all figured out. She always did.