On the glistening night of Dorian Palace, its grandeur dazzled with golden plates, bright lamps, and crystallized chandeliers. The glossy curtains drifted upward by the cold gust as if it almost extinguished a dance of flames on the tip of the candle.
"No! The light!"
Within a drab bedroom, Princess Sara sat on a regal chair with a lavish desk before her. She had donned her white sheer lingerie before hitting herself against the bed. She was skimming every military report she had received from every messenger on the battlefield. Each of the reports contained every factual detail based on their contacts and premises.
Report from the Frontline on the Bridge Fortress
Our line of defense remains intact. We had loaded the guns and secured the barriers. The soldiers have been waiting for an incoming assault of Civitatis Empire while amidst preparation; however, there are still no hostile attacks. We already withdrew some men who had requested to see their family once more since their recess on convivial value would have no further reprimands.
Our thoughts, however, remain doubtful. There has to be something colossal that they have to breach our defenses, which I also wish to doubt about it. We're still waiting for the report of espionage.
- Colonel Mar Johnson -
Bridge Fortress Defense Commander
She skimmed everything to critique how the Dorian military would strategize for a clever triumph.
"This is stressing me out," she sighed.
Over-analyzing it pressured her mind.
After skimming through every text, she laid the paper on the desk and pressed her forehead, relieving further.
Since she had to present a plan, she insisted herself not to withhold—or procrastinate—from her royal duty although she needed to laze for a brief break. She gathered all the papers and arranged it by tapping it on the desk. After she laid it down, she placed her elbow on the desk and knuckled on her cheek, clearing her mind from a cloud. A crisp breeze of night drowsed her, although a lot of papers might be otherwise for her to hit herself on the bed.
She darted her eyes and shook her head as she went drowsy.
"Your Highness," an abrupt voice said. "Can I come in? I have something to give you."
Its knocking sound from the door snapped her back, standing up from the chair and watching the door.
Holy Sight! I have to present myself a formal etiquette…. Wait, could've been Caroline?
The knock on the door kept recurring.
"Your Highness?! Princess Sara?!.... Maybe she's sleeping. I'll give it to her tom—"
"Come in!"
Princess Sara called someone to give her an entry into her room.
She could have wished to do it on the next day, although she had to spend her diligence for a productive opportunity within her spare time of boredom.
Meanwhile, someone opened the door, revealing to be a ponytail girl named Caroline who wore her lofty orange coat. Before she would speak, she closed the door and approached Princess Sara before her desk.
"Your Highness," Caroline bowed. "Or should I speak to you informally? Princess Sara Als Dore?"
"Since we are in my private place, there's no need to be ashamed of yourself," Princess Sara shrugged. "Express your own intentions."
Caroline smiled, "Thank God we are in right communication. But first, how about a glance on this poster?"
Caroline handed Princess Sara a piece of poster, and Sara glanced at it—skimming through every text—although most of it was a charcoal-printed illustration of slender figures while the words were little.
Nudist Party: Flamboyant figures of mankind.
An enormous zeal to open our frames.
Paradise will come at Gunther's House.
The day will be announced once in a moon of rejoice.
After Princess Sara read everything, she clicked her tongue as the poster irritated her
"Is this putting others in a fanciful trivia?" Princess Sara asked. "Where do you find it?"
"Walls around an underground district, Red-Light," Caroline answered. "Probably the prostitutes will look forward to this, although there are missing cases of them from this kind of invitation, and those who are still on their right track are avoiding Gunther's request. They even issued the guild to halt this operation of advertisement, since this invitation can lead to deprivation. Also, another rumor from a former butler of House Gunther said they considered being 'in preparation to sell lives'.... Does it sound duplicitous?"
Princess Sara paused, tapping her cheek with a finger.
"It can be if there's any definite proof although that butler's account might be a clue. In preparation to sell lives? Is he marketing lives to either cult or pirates? I think he meant about human slavery. If he mentions lives over bodies, then I doubt that selling organs doesn't mean it that way. Most doctors or healers don't need an organ transplant from the illegal source, and their solution when there are no supplies or supports is one hell of a cruel practice, which is why the Alchemist Department is still doing the job of finding a cure…. Also, which gender has the most of it?"
"Mostly, women. I can sense a pimp's deed around it, and that sounds bothering me."
"I see," Princess Sara stood up from the chair and walked towards her bed, sitting on the comfy edge and sighing from it. "I should inform my old brother to take care of it. These pesky aristocrats are craving this privileged nonsense and adding more troubles to the officials. The worst thing is, some officials themselves may be illicit volunteers to it, violating to a more noble's degree."
Caroline relaxed her butt against the edge of the table and placed her palms on it beside her hips.
"Humans are prideful creatures, and most panders like Sir Gunther need some legal discipline. I hope your brother can find someone to take care of this." Caroline sighed. ".... By the way, why did you suddenly call us that night?"
"That night? What do you mean?"
"At that night when you felt a 'gust in your guts'. You know? The same night when you found a spiky-haired boy to be a potential Nefastus based on your senses, and you just riled my anxiety with it… from the Inquisitor's perspective."
"Wait? Do you sense it?"
"Have you forgotten about it? I had no clue about your weird instinct that you had. You were giving me a scratch on my head."
Princess Sara lifted her head up, staring at the ceiling and chandelier.
"Who knows? I don't have a clue either. I think of myself like a prophet who will have a right to take the crown and throne, but I also deserve my brother to reign on it since he bears much power to it…. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your family grave. Mind if I'll visit and pray with you before them?"
Caroline frowned, lowering her head and crossing her arms, as if she had seen a nightmare before. She rubbed her skin with her own finger and then clapped it once. Overwhelming her mind with a boil of nightmare, she glared and clenched her fist and lips without embarrassing herself in front of Princess Sara's eyes.
"Whenever I recall about that incident, I always think about how these unjust lowlife will be put into their deserving place such as the likes of pirates, cultists, thieves, and scums. Why bother to revolt when they have no purpose to earn it by themselves? Even now, some aristocrats are greedier and worse like how the Civitatis Empire wanted to prosper for…. Dreams of fortune, opulence, vainglory, or taints as such. I will conquer them away…. We may but want to hope."
".... I understand your wish."
Caroline smirked as Princess' words and voice endeared her with a grip of joyous hope—promising to cease the sins with the sword of justice. Princess Sara gazed at the starry sky through a curtained window and laid her rear against the bed.
Then Caroline headed towards the door for the exit, staring at the drowsy princess while holding a door lever to click.
"I almost forgot. There was an account from the pair of nuns who formerly served in a current abandoned chapel. They said they found a similar appearance of Nefastus, like the same boy whom we almost had that certain night. I'm not sure with an odd lady in a dancing outfit who saved him before us since I can't see her clear resemblance within the gloomy night. You may have a glimpse on her since she was right in front of you before throwing that blackish smoke for their escaping cover."
"I see."
Her dull response sweated Caroline in a bit, as if her voice suddenly went drowsy.
"Well. Thanks for the receipt and have a good sleep."
With that, she finally left the bedroom.
Meanwhile, Princess Sara drew her lips into frown—clouding her mind. Thinking about her kingly brother preoccupied her with chagrin. Her ideals might be vigor, but her brother's ideal was jaunty. She didn't want to fail her nation as she regretted what she had seen before the aftermath of the massacre, in which a certain boy with bizarre clothes had done prior to her arrival.
Her lungs were palpitating with grief as she pressed her head from its ache.
His strategy exasperated her as if she had a secret grudge against her brother.
"Why do we have to set our feet in the line?"