Water.
Deep... deep water.
Ingrid was surrounded by darkness that swallowed her completely. The cold and unforgiving ocean tightly embraced her.
Instead of fighting it, Ingrid looked up, observing the distant light fading away.
She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the water embrace her as she released her final breath.
Suddenly, a voice as gentle as a whispering breeze intruded upon her thoughts. "My dear child, why are you alone again?"
A gasp tore through the silence as Ingrid jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat, heart pounding against her chest. The room around her slowly came into focus, and she realized it was all a dream. The sun is shining brightly outside and she is still in her familiar bedroom.
"Princess, are you okay?" Jaquelyn asked with genuine concern as she rushed to Ingrid's side. Jaquelyn, a maid in her late 20s with a cascade of brunette hair and warm brown eyes, wore an expression of sincere worry on her freckled cheeks.
"Jaquelyn... what time is it? Why haven't you woken me up?" Ingrid's voice quivered as she struggled to move.
"Don't worry, Princess. It's only the third hour of the day. You've only napped for an hour," Jaquelyn reassured her. "But if I can be honest, maybe you should consider getting more rest, Your Highness."
Ingrid remained silent. Since Katarina's passing at dawn two days ago, she had hardly eaten and slept. The servants watched with deep concern as she spent most of her time staring blankly out of the window.
"Where is Tara?" Ingrid asked, her voice barely audible.
"She should be outside the gate, my lady. The cortège will start in three hours," Jaquelyn informed her gently.
"Please help me prepare," Ingrid said, her words barely above a whisper.
The cortège, a solemn procession for a royal captive, was a ritual Ingrid was all too familiar with. It marked the return of their body to their homeland, preserved for the long journey. Depending on the distance, the procession could take anywhere from a month to a year to reach the foreign kingdom and back to Sylvania. It was heavily guarded, just like how they were first brought to Sylvania.
Before today, Ingrid had observed eight cortèges.
Ingrid left the palace, wearing her usual white scarf and veil. Traditionally, she should be wearing black as a symbol of mourning. However, it was Katarina's wish for Ingrid to wear white and for no one to weep.
Because of the cortège, Ingrid could venture beyond the gate, as long as she is overseen by the guards. Honestly, the need for such security seemed unnecessary.
A tall stone wall separates the southeastern and southwestern sections, with gates directly across from each other, divided by a 9-meter wide stone road. The Imperial Palace is surrounded by an outer wall with towers, and a man-made waterway encircles the palace grounds. It's an invincible fortress.
Ingrid soon reached the gates and discovered Tara engaged in a heated argument with Mr. Dwight, the official responsible for overseeing the Lily Palace. Tara's face appeared desperate as she pleaded, while Mr. Dwight seemed weary and irritated.
"Mr. Dwight, I beg you," Tara pleaded, her hands clasped together. "I am willing to pay and I am fit enough for the journey! I split firewood and wash clothes everyday!"
The official sighed in annoyance. "I really can't, Mrs. Tara. That is a very veryyy difficult request. Whatever happens to you will just slow down the journey," he said, his tone firm and unyielding.
"Tara," Ingrid whispered, her brows furrowing as she observed the confrontation. It struck her that there was someone else just as devastated as she was. Ingrid had encountered Princess Katarina 13 years ago, but Tara had been in the service of Her Highness since her arrival in Sylvania.
Suddenly, the nearby knights diverted their attention elsewhere, prompting Ingrid to follow their gaze.
"Greetings, Grand Commander. Greetings, Lieutenant," they saluted in unison, hands poised at their weapons, chests puffed out, backs straight, and eyes fixed ahead.
Approaching were two imposing knights dressed in black armor with blood-red capes flowing from their shoulders.
"What is happening here?" one of them inquired, his voice steady and commanding. He had dark, curly hair and olive skin, slightly smaller in stature than the other, but undeniably well-built. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, swept across the scene.
The official outlined the situation, his eyes shifting to the knight officials, awaiting their decision.
Ingrid was surprised when Tara interrupted, her voice quivering as she knelt down on the ground. "Commander Fairburne! I have been Princess Katarina's maidservant for four decades. I beg of you. Please, allow me to serve my master for the last time. I promise not to be a burden! I can cook and look after the soldiers on the journey. Though I am old, I am strong and active."
The onlookers watched in unease and sympathy as the event unfolded.
"Can't they just let her join?" murmured one of the maids near Ingrid, her voice a hushed whisper, heavy with concern.
Ingrid focused on Tara. "She appears determined," she reflected, shifting her gaze to the stern knights observing Tara. "I'm scared of the Sylvanian knights, but..."
Gathering her courage, Ingrid took a deep breath. "There's nothing to lose," she reasoned, taking a step towards the unfolding scene.
Observing Tara trembling, Ingrid unconsciously lifted her skirt and quickened her pace. Despite her hands growing cold and numb, she maintained a calm and composed demeanor.
Reaching Tara's side, Ingrid took another deep breath. With determination, she knelt and bowed her head to the ground.
"Greetings, Commander. I, Ingrid, Princess of Ásjáheimr, wish for you to listen to the plea of this humble servant," she said as calm and clearly as possible, although her knees trembled, and cold sweat trickled down her back.
She despised these knights in their cold black armor, devoid of any warmth in their eyes. They had first appeared when she was torn away from her kingdom. Now, they reappeared just after she had lost someone she loved. Though she had hoped to be heard and granted mercy, deep down, she knew it was unlikely.
"I... hate knights," she thought.
Ingrid closed her eyes, anticipating their reply. Her heart thudded in her chest, its beats echoing in her ears.
Ingrid's eyes opened as she heard the clinking of armor in front of her.
"Please arise, Your Highness," a deep, rugged voice sounded to come from very close by. "The ground is not meant for your touch, and you need not kneel before any knight."
Suddenly, Ingrid heard more clanking of armor and heavy footsteps. Uncertain about what was unfolding, she slowly raised her eyes.
"Ah," she thought, freezing as she saw the knight she believed was the Grand Commander was kneeling in front of her. He had deep amber eyes, like molten gold. His jawline was chiseled, adding to his rugged charm. Dark hair framed his face, with the shorter layers in the front gradually lengthening towards the back.
"His eyelashes are longer than mine," Ingrid thought.
Noticing the man tilting his head, Ingrid realized she had been staring too long and promptly sat up straight. Glancing around, she saw knights and some servants were kneeling.
"What's going on?" she wondered, blinking at the sight.
Her eyes returned to the Grand Commander who extended his hand and said, "The ground is cold, Princess."
Ingrid raised her brow as she glanced at the knight's extended hand. "I don't want to take it," she thought. However, the knight's stern expression made her skin prickle.
"Ah, I really do not like the Sylvanian knights," she thought again.
With caution, she reached out to hold the knight's cold gauntlet. He assisted her in rising to her feet, and the people around them finally ceased their kneeling.
Ingrid must have done an excellent job maintaining a composed expression when the Commander remarked, "Glad to see you are calm today, Princess."
Ingrid looked up at him, a foot taller than her, with raised brows. "Calm today? What is he talking about?" she wondered.
She stared longer at the Grand Commander, expecting an explanation, but he stayed silent.
"I don't understand what you mean, Grand Commander. I believe this is our first meeting," she finally said.
"..."
"..."
"I suppose you don't remember," the Grand Commander finally said and turned away.
"Hmm? What?" Ingrid's thoughts were chaotic, but her face remained serene.
Before she could utter a word, the man was already talking to another knight. "Explain to the lady the risks of the long journey. Let her understand that her fate is not our concern. If she still insists, arrange a different carriage for her. Safeguard her as you would any Sylvanian citizen," he stated, then promptly departed. The knight lieutenant followed closely behind.
Ingrid's ears caught the soft rush of air as Tara released a relieved sigh. She extended a hand for support.
"Are you alright, Tara?" Ingrid inquired, her voice gentle, as she assisted Tara in rising from the ground.
"I'm alright, Princess. But how could I face Her Highness by allowing you to kneel?" Tara said, her expression filled with concern.
"Don't worry about me, Tara," Ingrid replied weakly.
"Thank you, Princess," Tara said, embracing Ingrid tightly.
Ingrid released a sigh of relief. When she lifted her gaze, she noticed the entrance to the knights' barracks.