The King was silent for a long moment, his eyes closed as he absorbed the gravity of the commander's report. The weight of a crown was not just gold and gems, but the lives of thousands.
"Take what you need," he finally said, his voice ringing with finality in the vast hall. "Also, send my second daughter my regards. Tell her the kingdom's pride is with her."
The commander bowed deeply. "I will, my King. Princess Sylvaris will appreciate your generosity."
With that, he backed away from the throne and exited the chamber, his boots clicking sharply on the marble before fading into the distance. The next audience was already approaching the throne, a female figure whose presence seemed to absorb the light around her.
She was a striking woman, tall and slender, clad in robes of deep indigo that shimmered with an inner light. A wide, brimmed hat sat atop her head, shadowing a pretty face, but its shadow could not hide the sharp intelligence in her violet eyes or the long, silver hair that cascaded over her shoulders.
The robes were intricately embroidered with silver threads forming constellations and arcane symbols that seemed to writhe and shift in the torchlight. A large, obsidian pendant hung at her throat, and she carried a staff of twisted yew wood, its top carved into a gnarled hand holding a sphere of glowing amethyst.
She stopped at the prescribed distance and lowered her head in a gesture of respect that felt more like a formality than genuine reverence.
"Your Majesty," the woman spoke, her voice calm and measured. "The admissions season is about to begin, and it requires more funds. Please approve the request."
She bowed gracefully, and a guard stepped forward to take the sealed parchment from her hand, delivering it to the King. He broke the wax seal and scanned the document.
He looked up, his expression skeptical. "Headmistress Selene. Why does the Institute of Virtue require more and more funding every passing year? Are you not telling me something?"
Selene's composure was absolute. She stood perfectly still, her gaze unwavering.
"Absolutely not, Your Majesty," she replied smoothly, her voice betraying no emotion. "This is, in fact, a positive sign. The Institute is expanding, its reputation spreading far and wide among your citizens. As such, more students are applying, and more resources are required to accommodate them. We must ensure that no citizen of talent is turned away, regardless of their station."
She allowed a brief pause. "The same goes for your third princess. Her studies are progressing admirably, and she is expected to join the advanced seminars for the next semester as well."
The King stared at Selene for a long moment, his gaze piercing as he tried to read the woman before him. He went over the numbers again, his brow furrowed in thought.
Finally, he gave a nod. "Very well. I will take your word for it. Take care of the Institute."
"I will, Your Majesty," Selene said with another slight inclination of her head before backing away.
Just as she was about to depart, a nobleman from the front row began to step forward. "My King, regarding my territory…"
Before he could continue, a knight standing in the shadows just behind the King's throne leaned in and whispered urgently. The King's brow furrowed, and he raised a hand, cutting the nobleman off mid-sentence.
"Dismissed," a knight boomed, his voice echoing through the grand chamber. "The audience is ended."
As if on cue, the nobles, vassals, and petitioners began to back away, their whispers fading as they filed out of the throne room.
"What?!" The nobleman was swept out the door by the crowd.
The great doors swung shut, leaving the vast hall empty save for the royal couple and the knight who had reported. The King waited until the last footstep had faded before turning to the knight, his expression shifting from regal patience to stern concern.
"Is this true?" the King asked, his voice low, carrying an undeniable weight.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the knight replied. "Our scouts have confirmed it. The number of monsters appearing within our borders, particularly those spilling out from the Withering Jungle, has increased exponentially over the last month. The border guards are working tirelessly, but they are more numerous than in previous years."
He paused, letting the information settle. "And there is another report, Your Majesty. It concerns the Third Princess."
"Is that so," the King prompted, his interest sharpening.
"Yes," the knight continued, his voice dropping even lower. "The report states that Princess Rosalinda has been going out alone, accompanied only by her personal guard. Their destination is… the Nazas Dungeon."
"That dying dungeon?" the King mused, his brow furrowed in thought. "But the princess cannot use magic. Why would she go in there? What if something happens to her?"
The Queen, who had been silent until now, could no longer contain herself.
"You must stop her!" she cried, her voice laced with urgency. "My King, please! That place is dangerous!"
"Slow down, my Queen," the King said, patting her hand in a gesture meant to be soothing, though his own mind was clearly racing. "She is accompanied by her personal guard. A fledgling dungeon, already on the brink of collapse, poses no threat to her."
His words did little to ease the Queen's fears, but he had already made his decision. The King turned back to the knight. "But to be safe, we should wipe that place out. Dispatch a team for that. I want it scrubbed clean. Is that understood?"
The knight stood his ground, his expression unchanged as he delivered the final piece of his report.
"Your Majesty, actually, the First Princess has already sent a team to address that problem. She posted a bounty, and a team of professional adventurers has already been dispatched under her authority."
The King's stern face broke into a wide, booming laugh. The sound was so loud and unexpected that it made the Queen jump in her seat.
"Elara? My good daughter already has it handled?" he roared, his relief palpable. "Then we have nothing to worry about!"
His laugh echoed through the empty hall, and a wave of relief washed over the Queen's features.
Her worries for Rosalinda were not entirely gone, but the news that her eldest daughter, the Ironflower, was on top of the situation was profoundly comforting. She allowed a small, genuine smile to touch her lips.
Yes, Elara was their pride and joy, a daughter who would one day bring this kingdom to heights it had never before achieved. The King's laughter finally subsided, leaving a broad, satisfied grin on his face.
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Back inside the third princess's bedchambers, the air was thick with tension and the lingering scent of panic. The only sounds were the ragged, huffing breaths of Rosalinda, whose face was buried in her hands.
Her cheeks were a deep, mortified crimson, and her shoulders trembled with the aftershocks of her ordeal. The personal guard - Ysabel stood before her, her posture rigid though her expression was a storm of confusion and hurt.
"I see," Ysabel said, her voice dangerously low. "So that was when you first… got this thing. And you didn't even tell me."
The words hung in the air, an accusation that cut deeper than any blade. Rosalinda's sobs intensified, her small frame wracked with grief.
"It was too… embarrassing," she wailed through her fingers. "I couldn't tell anyone! What if you just called the other guard or someone? I would be locked up! They would call me a monster!"
The last word broke her completely, and a fresh wave of tears burst forth, streaming down her face and mingling with the snot on her upper lip. She was a picture of utter desolation.
Ysabel's face softened, the betrayal in her eyes giving way to a deep, aching concern.
"I would never do that to you, Rosalinda. Never." She took a step forward, her voice gentling.
"Aren't we friends?"
Rosalinda's sobbing hitched, and she managed a small, broken nod.
"Y-yeah… we are friends," she hiccuped between sobs, the admission seeming to exhaust the last of her strength.
Both women were silent for a moment, lost in the memory of six years ago. It was a time when the King had decreed a personal guard for each princess.
For the first and second princesses, it had been a competition, with knights and maids vying for the honor. For Rosalinda, the cursed princess who could not use magic, there were no one.
In the end, an 'obligated' soldier was appointed by the King himself to ensure the third princess's safety. That soldier had not been happy about the assignment; serving a magicless, 'disabled' princess was seen as a demotion, a punishment.
But the soldier could not refuse the King's command, so she had to endure the humiliation, forcing a smile while inwardly resenting the burden.