(Eri's POV)
When my father died, there was no coronation. Not yet. The laws of Kazunaga were clear. A ruler must reach the legal age before sitting on the throne. I was not old enough. And so the kingdom required a regent. There was only one name powerful enough to fill that silence—Princess Sato. My aunt. She did not wear a crown. She did not call herself queen. But from the moment the decree was announced—she ruled. The council stood beside her. The ministers bowed to her first. The generals took instructions from her voice.
And I watched. I was sixteen. Old enough to understand. Young enough to be underestimated. They thought I did not notice the glances. The quiet conversations that stopped when I entered a room. The way some nobles no longer addressed me as "Your Highness," but as "child." They were calculating. If I failed to reach the throne—succession could be… revised.
Sato was not reckless. That would have made her easy to fight. She was patient. Measured. Soft-spoken. Her smile never reached too far.
The day after my father was buried, I expected mourning. Instead, I received assignments. Inspection of northern forestry routes. Visit to a mountain province. Assessment of agricultural yield in a distant village. Always outside the capital. Always far from the court. Meanwhile, Haru remained inside the palace. Training with generals. Observing council sessions. Listening to ministers debate policy.
When I asked Sato why I was constantly sent away, she answered gently. "A future ruler must know her lands." She touched my shoulder lightly when she said it. "You must see the kingdom with your own eyes." I looked into her face and smiled. Because she was right. But not in the way she intended.
Yes. A ruler must see the kingdom. But a ruler must also see the trap.
The day my father died—danger entered my life. And I believe he knew that day would come. Perhaps that was why he prepared me long before illness took him. Long before the regency. Long before Sato stood at the center of the court.
He gave me a teacher. A swordsman whose name was not recorded in palace books. A man who trained me beyond ceremony. Beyond performance. We never practiced inside palace grounds. Never where walls had ears.
He taught me something more valuable than technique. He taught me this: when you grow up surrounded by power—you grow up surrounded by people who want it.
So when I rode through forests, I did not ride carelessly. When I crossed mountain passes, I did not travel unguarded. When I slept in village houses, I did not sleep deeply.
Kazunaga was prosperous. But prosperity attracts hunger. And sometimes hunger wears silk.
Sato had one problem. She could not remove me openly. Not without consequence. My blood did not belong only to Kazunaga. It belonged to Aryanda. After my mother's death, her brother became king—my uncle. Aryanda was not a minor realm. It was one of the strongest powers beyond our borders. Our alliance was anchored in me.
If I disappeared from succession—questions would rise. And questions between kingdoms become wars.
Sato knew that. The council knew that. Every minister who whispered in the dark knew that.
Which meant something simple.
If they wanted me gone—they could not erase my name. They would have to erase me.
And because of that, every journey outside the palace walls felt like walking through a battlefield where no one carried visible weapons.
.