In a grand training hall, the sound of a person grunting echoed as they relentlessly slashed a wooden dummy into smithereens. The hall was vast and bathed in dim light, with wooden training dummies scattered about, bearing the marks of countless previous assaults. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of sweat and effort.
"Princess, it's time for your meeting with the patriarch," announced an older butler, his voice cutting through the otherwise solemn scene.
The figure, a young woman, paused her assault and turned her head to look at the butler. Her chest heaved with exertion, and she appeared to be in her late teens. Her raven-black hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and her eyes sparkled with determination. She grabbed the towel the butler offered and began to wipe the perspiration from her face.
The princess's voice held a firm, confident tone as she inquired, "Has my father been notified that I just came from practice at this time?"
The butler, who was known for his discretion and ability to navigate the intricacies of palace life, responded with a slight nod. He then offered her a coat, which she gracefully donned, readying herself for the impending meeting.
Together, they began to walk through a lavishly decorated corridor that led deeper into the palace. The grandeur of the surroundings was apparent, with opulent decorations adorning the walls, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and marble statues standing at intervals. The place was undoubtedly far grander than the Rayos family's estate.
The princess couldn't help but express her annoyance at the extravagant display, grumbling as she walked, "Why put grandiose on a mere hall that people will just pass by once if they visit?"
The butler, who was used to her occasional outbursts, offered a simple explanation, "Well, Princess, the grandeur of the palace serves to impress and awe guests, a display of the family's status and influence."
The princess made no further comment, but her displeasure was evident as they continued their journey. They soon arrived at an elaborate double door, guarded by two imposing sentinels in resplendent armor.
"Princess, the duke has been waiting for you, and he is apparently in a bad mood," one of the guards announced, his voice betraying a hint of caution.
The princess, however, didn't let the information perturb her. With a wry smile, she replied, "I see. It seems my father is in a sour mood yet again," before pushing open the grand doors.
As the doors swung open, the princess entered the room where her father, the duke, was seated. He was a middle-aged man, his features stern, with graying hair that only added to his air of authority. The room itself was ornate, filled with intricate furniture, towering bookshelves, and the heavy scent of aged books. Her father's large wooden desk was covered in an array of parchments, letters, and documents.
The duke was not in a pleasant mood. His face contorted with anger as he raged, "How dare those Rayos meddle with our business! The emperor was the one who tasked us with quelling those peasants. But they just had to swoop in and steal the show!"
With every word, he pounded his fist heavily on the table, causing the parchment and documents to rustle. The princess winced at the sight of her father's anger, unable to prevent the painful memories from resurfacing.
But the facade she had honed over the years quickly returned. She was a princess, and showing any sign of weakness before her father was a perilous mistake.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with piercing eyes. The room was thick with tension as her father inquired, "So, have you thought of a plan to minimize the damage to our reputation?"
The princess's response was swift and measured, "Well, it seems our only choice in this situation is to act as saints and provide provisions to the peasants."
Her father leaned forward, his expression growing sinister, "I see. That could work. Giving those wretches hope will make us appear as saints and samaritans in front of them and even the empire. We would be piggybacking on the back of the ever-so-good Rayos duchy."
The princess made no comment about the mention of the Rayos family, though her unease was evident. Her father's resentment toward their rivals was palpable.
The duke then turned his attention toward his daughter, his gaze cold and unyielding. "But how is your status at the academy, Adrianna? I hope you have already established yourself there, befitting your blood."
The princess, maintaining her composure, replied, "Yes, Patriarch. I have already been accepted to the student council as the grade representative and will run for the position of president next year after the current president retires."
But her father's expectations were always high. He leaned back in his chair, dismissively flipping through the paperwork on his desk. "I see. However, that isn't enough. I need you to get recommended to skip a year."
The princess hesitated, knowing that her next words might unleash her father's notorious temper. She knew she had to tread carefully. "I can try, Father. But right now, I have my hands full participating in the academy's Call to Arms competition."
Her father stopped what he was doing, his attention snapping toward her. "Did I say I care about that? I said what I meant. You are to make it happen. You are an Artius, and the kingdom and its king rely on us to be the very best."
As if to emphasize his point, her father released his oppressive aura, causing her and the butler to struggle for breath. The weight of his authority bore down on her, making her submission inevitable.
With her body still reeling from the pressure, the princess responded, "As you command."
Her father, without even a word of acknowledgment, went back to his documents as if her presence no longer mattered.
As the meeting concluded, the princess and her butler swiftly made their exit from her father's imposing presence. She couldn't bear to meet the eyes of the guards stationed outside the room.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as they walked in silence. The butler knew that the young lady he served had just experienced another grueling encounter with her father, the duke. She was a child, yet she was subjected to the harsh expectations and pressures of adulthood.
While the palace staff maintained a façade of deference, they all pitied the young lady, who bore the weight of the Artius name on her shoulders. Her life, filled with duty and obligations, offered little room for the joys of childhood.
Inside her room, the princess was alone at last. She had carried herself with poise and determination throughout the meeting, but now, she couldn't contain her emotions any longer. She was an heiress, a symbol of her family's power and legacy, but she was also a young woman trapped in an oppressive world.
She walked to her desk and opened a delicate-looking box. The craftsmanship was exquisite, with her name engraved on the lid. Inside the box was a figurine of a woman, standing tall and proud, holding a flag. As she opened the box, the room was filled with soft, melodic music.
The princess couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She cried for the mother she had never known, for the childhood she had lost, and for the weight of expectations that pressed down on her shoulders.
The figurine in the box was a precious reminder of her mother, the only person who had shown her warmth and kindness. It was a connection to a time when her heart had not been sealed off from the world.
But her moment of vulnerability was brief. She wiped away her tears and looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes determined. She whispered to her reflection, "Now, let's be the perfect daughter my father ever wanted."
With renewed resolve, the princess left her room, ready to face the responsibilities and expectations that awaited her outside.
The weight of her family's legacy and the duties placed upon her were immense, but for now, she would continue to navigate the treacherous waters of palace life, all while preserving the memory of her mother's love and the small moments of warmth that had sustained her throughout the years.