Reine Lionheart.
The first princess of Aetheria.
The name alone carried weight—majestic, powerful, and untouchable.
She was beauty personified, unmatched in grace and elegance, with eyes that seemed to peer into your soul.
It was said even her own brother, Crown Prince Leoric, harbored inappropriate thoughts about her, whispering of forbidden affections within the walls of the royal court.
But as nature dictates, beauty attracts trouble, and where trouble goes, a knight is never far behind.
That knight in shining Armor, of course, was none other than Aron, the hero destined to save kingdoms and win hearts.
And then there was me. Venzel Kaelith, a minor noble from a barely-noticeable viscount family. Our land existed at the mercy of Aetheria's royalty, hanging by a thread that could be severed with a single word from Reine.
So, naturally, my earlier decision to act insolent in front of her was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever done.
But don't get me wrong—I had no intention of apologizing.
The princess stood before me, her gaze sharp, her posture regal. She radiated authority, a reminder of the vast gulf between her station and mine.
"Venzel," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We are all equals under the floating cities. Rise."
I exhaled slowly, swallowing my pride—or at least pretending to—and stood.
Meeting her eyes was both a challenge and a mistake.
The weight of her presence was overwhelming, as though she could see every doubt, every fear I tried to bury.
"What issue brings the princess here?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice steady.
She held my gaze for a moment longer, her lips parting as if to respond, but before she could utter a word, fragments of memories flooded my mind.
Reine Lionheart. The unattainable princess, rumored to be cold and calculating, had a heart that secretly burned for a commoner.
And not just any commoner—the hero, Aron.
A hero and a princess. Could you get any more cliché? But this wasn't some fairy tale where everyone lived happily ever after.
No, this was where the problems began.
Reine wasn't here to charm me or flaunt her royal authority. She was here to talk politics.
Specifically, she wanted to bridge the ever-present divide between nobles and commoners within the academy.
And that, dear reader, was a monumental task.
You see, this school wasn't exclusive to Aetherians. Far from it. Students from across the world studied here, each bringing their own prejudices, rivalries, and baggage.
There was the Virelith Kingdom, our neighbors and longtime adversaries, with whom we'd shared a bloody hundred-year history of war.
Then there was the infamous Thalorian Empire, a realm of unorthodox warriors and mages who operated on their own rules—rules that often defied logic.
The Solara Kingdom, on the other hand, was a place of perpetual daylight, where the sun never fully set, casting the land in an eternal golden glow. A tourist's paradise and a mage's dream.
Even the brutal Warmonger Kingdom, a land built on strength and survival, respected the authority of this floating city. And that spoke volumes, considering they openly challenged even the mighty Thalorian Empire.
In this melting pot of cultures, beliefs, and egos, the floating city stood as a neutral ground, its influence unmatched.
Reine wanted to smooth the tensions between commoners and nobles here, but this wasn't just about Aetherian politics.
She was asking for harmony in a place where centuries-old rivalries still simmered beneath the surface.
Convincing the likes of the Warmongers or Thalorian nobles might be easier—they respected strength above all else. But the real hurdle? Nobles like me.
Let's face it: most of us were just clinging to the privileges we were born into. We were the ones who had hit the lottery, inheriting titles and lands without lifting a finger.
Why would we willingly give up even an ounce of that comfort?
I didn't say this out loud, of course. That would have been suicidal. But the thought lingered in my mind as I watched Reine. Her composure was unwavering, her determination unshakable.
Reine Lionheart's piercing gaze settled on me, her voice crisp as she began, "I heard you were friends with a bunch of commoners."
Oh, great. I could see where this was going, but cutting her off mid-sentence? Yeah, not a good idea.
My neck's still attached to my shoulders, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much.
She continued, her tone laced with something that might've been amusement or disdain—probably both.
"How noble of you, Venzel, to bridge the gap between the classes. Truly commendable."
I could feel the trap being laid, each word weaving the net tighter around me. And then, the coup de grâce :
"Venzel, I want you to help me soothe relations between nobles and commoners here at the academy."
I blinked at her, my mind racing for an escape route. Anything to divert her attention.
Desperate, I turned my head toward Serra and Lena, who were standing nearby, blissfully unaware of my plight.
What I wanted to do was call out, "Hey, chopping board! Hey, big breasts! Get over here!" and show Reine that, if anything, I was more of a jerk than a unifier.
But just as I opened my mouth, Serra tilted her head, looking at me with those bright, curious eyes, and I nearly burst out laughing. Oh, the irony.
Instead, I settled for a vague wave, motioning for the two of them to join me. They hesitated for a moment but eventually made their way over. After all, it wasn't like they could keep a princess waiting.
Well, I could. And I just did. Look at me, the audacious Daredevil of Aetheria! The thought made me chuckle inwardly.
Reine's attention shifted to Serra and Lena as they approached, her expression unreadable but clearly intrigued. "Venzel," she said slowly, her lips curving into the faintest smirk, "don't tell me you only befriend commoners because of their beauty."
Before I could even think of a reply, Serra bristled. "Oh, please! Brother Venzel isn't like the other nobles!"
Reine arched a brow, the smirk still firmly in place. "Oh? And how is he different?"
Serra paused, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Well… uh…" She glanced at me as if I might throw her a lifeline. "He's weird?"
Weird? That's it? That's her defense? I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. Even Lena, standing beside me, was biting her lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh.
"This is so wrong," I muttered under my breath, trying to mask my horror with a crooked grin.
Where's the part where you call me your noble and benevolent master? How can you forget about all those lessons I teached you when we were young!
Reine tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening as she looked between Serra and me. "Weird, you say?"
"Yes," Serra said, nodding earnestly, apparently oblivious to my growing despair. "He's… uh… not like other nobles. He doesn't act all high and mighty."
"That's one way to put it," Lena finally chimed in, her voice laced with suppressed laughter.
"Well," Reine said, her tone deceptively light but her gaze sharp, "it seems you've earned their loyalty, Venzel. An admirable quality."
Lena and Serra exchanged glances, both looking like they weren't sure whether to agree or disagree.
I, on the other hand, was just trying to hold onto what was left of my dignity.
"Thank you for your… insightful contributions," I said dryly, shooting them a look. Serra gave me an innocent shrug, while Lena just grinned.
Reine's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to the matter at hand. "We'll continue this discussion later, Venzel. Think carefully about what I've asked of you."
She walked away, leaving me with Serra, Lena, and a gnawing sense of doom.
"Well, that went well," Lena said, finally letting out a laugh.
I shot her a look. "Define 'well.'"
"You're still alive," she pointed out, smirking.
"Barely," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
Serra, ever the optimist, patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Brother Venzel. You'll figure it out!"
Somehow, that didn't make me feel better.