Chapter 71: The First Princess

“Your father showed guts… Though I wouldn’t say it was entirely welcome, I was pleased to see another figure emerge on the continent, a king burning with ambition.”

As the thick violet light dwindled and faded, Rafael VII spoke slowly, his voice tinged with a strange excitement. That magnificent scroll in his hand had vanished without a trace. In its place, a stream of withering purple light remained. Closer inspection revealed it was composed of countless minuscule, interlocking symbols. Even fading to transparency, the intricate structure of the magical array within was still discernible.

Coming from the supreme ruler of the continent’s greatest kingdom, this was undoubtedly an extremely high evaluation. Yet, though spoken with a sense of praise, it did not mean Rafael VII truly regarded that distant figure seated on another throne, leagues away, as a genuine rival.

“Thank you for your praise. That is the highest compliment I’ve ever heard bestowed upon him by others… Naturally, excluding the timid mice and the nauseating flatterers.” The handsome young man gave a slight bow, his lips twisting into a mocking smile. “Evidently, most prefer to describe him with the words ‘mad’ and ‘greedy.'”

This commentary sounded nothing like a child discussing his father. It displayed far more boldness than courtiers whispering criticisms of their lord in private. Yet, from the youth’s lips, it came as casually as neighborhood gossip.

“A child’s perspective…” Rafael VII smiled, though his blue eyes remained icy. “Wisdom and cunning share the same root… Ambition is merely the other face of dreams… How many people truly see eye-to-eye on judging the affairs of this world?”

The Phoenix’s Emperor clapped his hands lightly, dispelling the final wisp of violet light, and rose. “Expanding territory is also an Emperor’s duty… Guaranteeing land sufficient to sustain them to his people is how a nation endures…”

“Yes…” Rheinstett lowered his gaze slightly. “Since everything upon this Earth is already held in countless hands. Everything we see, everything we desire – it already has an owner. To possess it, we can only snatch it from others’ grasp. Only by climbing a stairway drenched in blood can the future be secured.”

“Hmm? …Hehehe… Well said.” The familiar phrasing spilling from the other’s lips caused Rafael VII’s expression to tighten for a split second. Then, the Emperor laughed heartily, rich with unwithheld approval.

“Our covenant is forged… in the name of Vijess, the Goddess of Justice. Now, for the time to come, your studies will commence within the Royal Academy. Though this journey began with some… unfortunate turbulence, the Sun will not remain hidden behind clouds… I promise you, you shall find this journey thoroughly worthwhile.” A long moment later, Rafael VII gave a dignified nod to the fine-looking teenager.

…

“Dellan has truly shown resolve this time… What odds of success would you grant him?” Long after the boy’s departure, the mysterious woman clad in crimson robes spoke.

“Sixty percent chance of breaking through, thirty percent chance of conquest… The odds the old fellow gave me.” Rafael VII sounded distracted, most of his attention absorbed by a beautiful Crystal Ball where tendrils of faint white mist swirled, coalescing into shifting images.

Had Constantine been present, he would have recognized scenes from the recent mishap within the Mage Tower. As the images flowed seamlessly onward, glimpses even appeared of him boarding a carriage alongside the Prince.

“Both nations pledge a military alliance. Dellan commits to waging war upon the surrounding states, while Phoenix commits to no military action. Once Dellan’s campaign concludes, win or lose, Dellan will cede two provinces bordering Phoenix as the price of this pact… He gambles such stakes for such odds… And should he fail, he plunges into utter ruin… Truly, his madness lives up to his reputation.” The Sorceress’s voice held a note of faint lament. “Or perhaps one should say, he is a gambler.”

“The south… Those little kingdoms lack everything, save for schemers brimming with ambition. And now it seems, they’ve gained one with a touch of bravery.” Rafael VII lifted his gaze, closing his eyes slightly – like many his age, he favored pretended repose. Yet his voice remained coolly distinct. “This seems the August tradition as well, recurring periodically… But this time… something feels different… Their cunning.”

“Even monkeys learn to crack nuts with stones eventually… Let alone men?” The Sorceress released a scornful laugh. “Rare indeed you offer them any positive regard. Yet, your mood seems troubled… Could it be because he encroached upon your toy?”

“The sweetest meat, even tightly wrapped, cannot hide its pungent scent of blood.” The Emperor stood, his tone dripping with contemptuous irony. “Insects always make their way to it, traversing leagues… Yet no matter how they circle, shifting its position is entirely another matter.”

“Meat buzzing with insects ruins the appetite and invites sickness…” The royal analogy drew a light, amused chuckle from the Sorceress. She extended one slender finger, tapping the exquisite Crystal Ball. Thick clouds began spiraling violently within its depths. “Moreover, I believe I should warn you, a cook has taken a keen interest in your chosen meat.”

Passing through a doorway veiled in white gauze, Constantine stepped into a small courtyard. The twisting corridors behind him successfully muffled the clamor emanating from the not-so-distant chambers… His gaze swept over greenery bravely pushing through hints of life even in the chill. Constantine inhaled deeply, satisfied.

He’d resorted to some traditional excuses to escape that room teeming with Counts, Viscounts, and Barons.

Perhaps enriched by experience, conversing with these so-called Important People had gradually become routine; the initial nervousness in his voice was long gone. Familiarity didn’t equate to liking, however. Dealing with these vain, snobbish creatures still filled him with profound distaste.

Thanks to the conspicuous fuss made by that strange foreign Prince, their attitude toward him was now one of near-ridiculous deference. Yet, the burden of being the center of attention felt worse than ever – especially considering the peculiar, almost unbearable looks several Ladies kept darting his way. Heaven only knew if these noblewomen, with their fiery yet resentful gazes, felt bored with Bards or handsome pianists and sought a change of taste. Though the notion of conquering a beautiful, conveniently detached noble widow held undeniable appeal, Constantine had absolutely no interest whatsoever in becoming an outlet for their twisted desires.

Frankly, Constantine had been itching to retreat to his comfortable supremacy within the Mage Tower. Yet the King had inexplicably seen fit, passing an order via an Attendant, demanding his presence at the upcoming welcoming feast. Left with no choice, the summoned boy could only glance at the Sun just past its zenith overhead and manage a bitter grimace.

“Viscount Constantine…” A female voice reached him not far off, making Constantine frown slightly. But as he turned to look, he realized his imagined charm wasn’t the source.

A woman roughly in her twenties appeared at the entrance. Constantine noted her attire wasn’t the splendid gown of a noble Lady. A small insignia, the mark of a titled court lady-in-waiting, was embroidered discreetly in a corner. Her features were ordinary, though her two pale gold eyebrows were unusually long and thick, lending her gaze an unsettling coolness. Yet her speech and movements were flawlessly respectful…

“My Lord Viscount, Her Highness the Princess requests your presence…” With an elegant, slight dip of her skirts, she addressed Constantine in a low, deferential tone.

“Oh… Huh? The Princess?”

This utterly unexpected summons made Constantin neglect all semblance of decorum. He stared blankly, even forgetting to return the courtesy surely owed to this woman likely of equal rank to his own.

In a certain sense, the relationship between Constantine and the Princess was soon to be exceptionally close. Within a year or two at most, perhaps sooner, she was destined to become his lifelong partner by law. Yet, the firstborn heir of the Connallyvis Family hadn’t anticipated their first meeting occurring under such awkward circumstances.

To go or not? The customs here weren’t those rigid feudal rules where simply seeing an unwed girl spelled trouble… Still… meeting this… juvenile spouse felt decidedly… uncomfortable…

“It is Her Highness Princess Anastasia requesting you…”

Perhaps the boy’s stunned stillness disrupted Falkens Palace’s refined air. The lady-in-waiting’s thick brows knit together. “Princess Anastasia,” she added coldly.

This clarification plunged Constantine straight into an even deeper realm of bafflement.

Anastasia Galanord Ralphe… Phoenix’s pride, the Empire’s White Lily, the First Princess… Crucially, his prospective mother-in-law. A cascade of titles ricocheted through Constantine’s mind while mechanically following the stern lady-in-waiting. He barely registered their path. Only when his thoughts settled slightly did she speak again.

“My Lord Constantine, enter.”

Constantine arched an eyebrow, eyeing the heavy, heartwood-carved door before him. A weird suspicion flickered to life: he hadn’t heard any formal announcement. Walking in unheralded felt wildly unorthodox. What if this was some trap laid? Who could he plea to later? Wasn’t this how Lin Chong got framed and exiled thousands of miles? And that was just a middle-aged man’s office! This was the Princess’s private chamber! The crime… would earn him being tarred and left roasting in some harbor for five years, surely?

Then he chuckled inwardly at himself. Habitually forgetting again that he wasn’t that thirty-ish, home-bound geek any longer. He was a thirteen-year-old pseudo-tween.

Clenching his teeth, Constantine marshaled immense courage and stepped through the short corridor.

The chamber was vast. Like the Emperor’s study, it favored stark simplicity. The sole indulgence was a thick tapestry carpeting the floor—its intricate patterns, strikingly different from Hayton noble motifs, carried an aura of antiquity, signaling it was a treasure of considerable age. Constantine noted the exceptionally fine stitching, the hallmark of southern nomads’ peerless craftsmanship. It was itself a masterpiece, a testament to artistry and utility valued only by that distant southern breed of people.

But smack in the center of this soft expanse stood the room’s sole distinct decoration: a full set of silver-white, heavy plate Armor. Although the breastplate had been clearly modified into a shape fit for a female frame, the sheer density of the metal and the visible Chainmail undershirt still suggested an immense weight, daunting for any ordinary person. The network of fine fissures and dents scarring the metal surface screamed emphatically that this was no decorative piece.

…And even were it merely decorative, it struck an exceedingly odd chord. While Phoenix Nobles certainly collected armor, they housed them in dedicated weapon halls. Not even Constantine Connalyvis, the Duke whose power lay squarely upon levied arms, kept armor displayed within his own private rooms.

Especially not wrecked battle-scarred armor.

Only then did Constantine fully see the main purpose of this visit.

A few large, pure-white Lilies sat scattered within a delicate ceramic vase on a low table. A woman, robed entirely in white, held one more such Lily, her chin resting thoughtfully in one palm. Her gaze wandered carefully among the blooms, seemingly contemplating its placement amidst the arrangement. Her intense quietude merged flawlessly with the surroundings. To Constantine, the entire scene materialized like something pulled straight from a master painter’s canvas.

Constantine simply gaped. Ten years traversing this Plane, and this was his first glimpse of such a person. A woman like this.

The boy prided himself on possessing mature composure. He’d seen his share of true beauties – blood Elves among his household attendants, the Red Lady within the Mage Tower – these counted among the rarest beauties this world offered. Yet Constantine conceded that his future mother-in-law possessed an entirely different form of enchantment.

Visually, she was breathtaking. Although mother to a teenager, Constantine knew her age hadn’t even reached the thirties. Perhaps an effect of this era’s early marriages and births? …Yet the soul framed harmoniously by lilies projected, above everything Constantine saw, the image of a bashful sixteen-year-old maiden.

Her hair, like shards of gleaming gold, fell loosely without intricate styling. A band crusted with small Gemstones kept it loosely drawn back from her temples. A gown of soft white linen hung unadorned, exposing a glimpse of a perfectly rounded shin, a slim, elegant ankle, and a delicate, shapely foot. Its design hid her waist entirely. Yet the glimpses revealed muscles possessing flawless, athletic proportion.

The room’s illumination made her silver-grey eyes gleam vividly. Lowered eyelids cast long, faint Shadows on cheeks tender as dewy rose petals. Two gracefully elongated brows gave off an impression of being painted. Yet no feature – neither the heavy lashes, the peach-like bloom on her skin, nor the texture recalling untouched down – succeeded in softening that dominant impression radiating through her stillness.

Nobility… All traces of aristocratic refinement faded beneath that core aura of authority she carried deep in her bones.

Constantine silently took a large breath, gritting his teeth discreetly to contain shock. This woman embodied true royal bearing – the mythical Princess made flesh. She seemed almost too regal to belong to just one nation. Had she not been royal, Constantine struggled to envision what position possibly fitted such a person. Even legendary Deities would seem flawed by longevity, less vibrant… incomparable standing beside this mere mortal presence.

Thank goodness my origins lay elsewhere! Daily bombarded by stunning women through TV, movies, the internet – that built at least partial immunity! Otherwise, she’d truly bowl me over! Constantine mentally cursed savagely, half convincing himself this fact somehow leveled their immediate playing field.

A prolonged quiet settled. Only then did the First Princess carefully place her chosen Lily amidst the others, creating an exquisite cluster. Still she contemplated the vase thoughtfully, seeking flaw her adjustment hadn’t completely eradicated.

“Your Highness…” The plain-faced attendant evidently well attuned to her mistress’s ways spoke, forestalling another adjustment attempt. “…Viscount Connalyvis has arrived.”

The Princess’s attention shifted briefly over her assistant, then landed squarely upon Constantine himself.

When their eyes briefly met, Constantine caught that instantaneous flicker of something indecipherable crossing her face.

Obviously, this external presentation proved rather… unimpressive. Constantine suddenly felt his nose prickle irritatingly, yet resisted touching it.

“Find somewhere to sit…” After almost ignoring him following that brief eye contact, the woman returned focus entirely toward the flowers on her table.

Constantine glanced around, unease mounting. It felt like a useless invitation. The modest parlor, aside from the Princess’s own low stool near the table, offered exactly zero chairs. But minor obstacles rarely stumped Constantine long. After a fleeting thought, he simply folded his legs and settled directly onto the plush carpet facing the elder figure across the low table.

“Viscount Connalyvis. Doubtlessly, you ponder my reasons for summoning you hither?” The lady-in-waiting having withdrawn, the Empire’s First Princess spoke after another lengthy pause.

Constantine offered silence. Truly, no verbal answer seemed essential. However, her subsequent sentence nearly made him jerk upright from his seated posture!

“What if I said… I desire you call off the Marriage Alliance between Phoenix and the Connallyvis family… Would you comply?” Anastasia raised another Lily calmly from the vase, her voice quiet as snowfall as she posed her startling demand.