Baldur was fatigued.
Being the regent of a nearly overthrown duchy was no easy job, but it wasn't work enough to overwhelm the Prince of Pala Kingdom.
The training he received from childhood gave him enough skill and disposition to rule over a dozen duchies.
One duchy, as mired in problems it may be, wasn't a backbreaker.
The issue was—
"Why the long face, brother? Don't tell me you hate seeing your sister?" A woman in a long blue dress with silver embroidery leaned forward and asked with her hands behind her back.
Baldur shifted in his throne with a discontent expression and clenched the armrest tight. "Stop the act, witch. Why are you here?"
"What do you mean, brother?" Despite her appearance being in her twenties, Azalea acted like a ten-year-old. Acted for sure, as even her teary eyes couldn't hide the gleaming wisdom in her them.
