Princess in a Province
> “She was raised to shoulder the burden of an entire nation. We were raised to give our lives for her.” ~Frill Veli
In the southernmost borders of Irista Nation just across The Great Sea Dividyr, a provincial region by the name of Minaveil stood throughout Brymeia’s history.
Since the Divine Severing thousands of years ago, the humble citizens of this town proudly, if not stubbornly, tended to their lands, content with their peace and barely interacted with any modern technology if only to better either their housing or farming.
Crops grew lavishly and the cattle plump as top-of-the-line quality in the entire Nation and arguably even beyond. Trees, too, bore fruit that the gods themselves would pay for, or so they say—prayers had not been able to reach the gods since…well, the Severing. But even with this exaggerated claim, no one dared to dispute it. Perhaps at one point, when the lands were whole, these fruits adorned feasts made for the Forgotten Deities.
Perhaps.
The popularity and quality of such produce made for such a demand that special distribution and export methods had been mandated by the monarchy to ensure the goods securely made it across the sea and provided among the Great Cities and throughout the rest of Irista Nation as well if the harvest was gracious enough.
With such a bounty to boast and a coincidentally strategic position, Minaveil Province quickly became the major trading center for the surrounding unaffiliated lands and one neighboring country across leagues of desolate desert—Vyndival Kingdom—during times of peace and the first line of defense against the same lands and country during times of war.
What sort of line of defense could a meager province of farmers, tree tenders, and cattle herders could provide, you might ask? Well, on their own, virtually nothing…
And so, for this reason alone, Royal Knight Princess Kristel Irista had descended from the High Palace and had spent the last three years standing guard.
The governor, the good old Corwyn Evergreen, had willingly and almost too quickly relinquished his position the moment she arrived. He had been more than eager to return to his farms rather than govern the province and was even thankful to be rid of stewarding the Militia Estate.
Even the citizens themselves made no disagreements when the Princess took the role of governor. Whether in public or even when she went out of her way to discreetly eavesdrop in festivals or social gatherings—in full disguise, of course—the citizens had mostly expressed great appreciation towards the Princess, and expressed nondescript dissatisfactions on the other end, if at all.
So, for the next three years, Princess Kristel governed over Minaveil and protected the province from any would-be invaders. And those three years—three long years since Katherine left—passed the Princess by wondering if she would see her dearest friend again…
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If not for the little gap between the curtains of her window blocking the firsts of blue morning sunlight, Royal Knight Princess Kristel Irista would have slept through the entire morning. She wished. Even if her brain urged her to sleep in, her body, despite the small frame, had been trained to do otherwise.
She flung the blankets and lazily rolled out of bed, sighing disappointingly at her own upbringing and stretching away her sleep, the azure mess of her morning hair covered her dark blue eyes. With a snap, lights sparkled to life in a room of white and blue where she lazily began her morning flexibility exercises. Her yawns were full and deep even while fully stretching her muscles. There were even times when she had caught herself dozing off on the floor, fully outstretched, but this was one of her lucky days.
Even as royalty, Kristel had voluntarily distanced herself from luxury and had spent her entire youth under a knight’s oath. Her father begrudgingly blamed it on Katherine’s influence, essentially luring her into this path, but simply reading through Denis Irista’s Path to Monarchy would tell you it was meant to be regardless. She gained the title of Royal Knight, a title bestowed only to a select few, at the age of fourteen while other girls her age giggled about their crushes.
Three years since, she retained her discipline, settling for a room with a mundane manufactured bed, a study, and a bunch of simple stuffed toys rather than their expensive meiyal-crafted counterparts.
Kristel was raised to believe she was born a lady and a warrior. She took those roles magnificently…if not always.
Done with her routine, she went to take a quick shower. The bathroom, through a door adjacent with her bedroom, was the one and only exception to her oath of simplicity—not the bathroom itself, but rather the pleasure of taking one’s time while submerged or drenched in cleansing, thermally balanced water.
The multi-sectioned room was slightly larger than the bedroom, designed with a narrow path for ease of access to the powder room on one side and a dressing room on the other.
And the most special among all these rooms was the shower room at the end of the hallway.
A few months after her arrival, Princess Kristel had had enough and decided to renovate the old shower room for her purposes. First, it was separated from the other two sections by a partitioning, dark marble wall with a mounted lavatory on both sides, complete with a set of mirrors, various towels, a collection of hand sanitizers, and other mundane items that were given to her.
She had the tiles of the shower room replaced to suit her taste for subtle flowery designs, added temperature control for the water and the room, and replaced half of the outside wall with a one-way window so she could admire the elevated view overlooking the riverside and the farms behind it in private whenever she took a soak in the then newly installed undermount bathtub.
With a flip of a switch, securely covered for safety purposes, and after passing a redundancy safety measure to avoid any accidents, the new floor tiles would retract, revealing this stone bathtub. Needless to say, she would prefer the bathhouse of the manor, but the privacy this tub in her own shower room provided her all the luxury she would ever need.
Of course, there was no time for bathing this early in the morning. Work kept piling up at every passing second. She threw all her clothes off and entered the shower room with a single smooth whistle.
From somewhere in her bedroom a small crystalline orb began to glow and hover, responding to Kristel’s summons. It shivered a little in the air before zooming past the bed, past the dressing room and the powder room, turning abruptly to avoid hitting the wall divider and stopping just in front of the Princess as she turned the shower’s faucet.
At the same instant she made her summoning whistle, a single knock echoed from the bedroom door. As the orb zoomed through the bathroom, the door opened. And as the orb stopped, a single, loud, yawning sigh pierced the noise coming from the pressure shower…or at least Kristel imagined it since the next thing she heard was a stern but lazy, “Princess Kristel!”
Kristel imagined the slow thumps of closing footsteps echoing from the tiles while she activated the orb and let the shower run through her hair. The orb sent a feedback chime and began to emit a clear projection of a screen. On the screen were an arrangement of images from various forms of media which Kristel learned to completely ignore, jumping on a selection of articles for the latest news with a practiced set of gestures from her fingers.
Now the footsteps were close enough for them to remain just in her imagination, and the low irate mumbling prepared the Princess for what was to come next. A small head peeked just enough for her peripheral view to catch.
Short black hair, emerald eyes, and an otherwise innocent face if not for the accusing frown made it clear that it was Liona Veli’s turn to scold her. The silk nightgown slipping off her shoulders also made it clear she either forgot or woke up late.
“There’s a place to leave your used clothes, Princess,” she said as she stared and added, “folded.”
“I was going to clean it up after I’m done taking my private shower,” Kristel replied while still showering and reading at the same time, barely turning a glance at Liona who was now in full view and busy folding the used clothes.
“I placed the basket right here next to your shower room so you don’t have to leave them on the floor.”
Despite the conversation, Kristel deftly navigated the screens projected by her orb, saving any articles specifically regarding the High Palace for her to read later.
“I didn’t notice,” she said at last.
“I even reminded you last night, Princess.” After she was done folding, she vanished from view, but her words carried through the narrow pathway. “You’re lucky it’s my turn to check on you.”
“Thanks, Liona. I’ll remember next time.”
“I’m sure you will, Princess.” Liona’s face peeked into the shower room again. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Please don’t take too long, I prefer to not have an earful from my sister this early in the morning.”
“So do I.”
As Liona left, probably to prepare and transform herself to the role of royal retainer for the rest of the day, Kristel set her orb to play a soft tune and set it aside to fully, and finally, enjoy the shower. Reminding herself just in time not to overstay, she quickly wiped herself dry and chose a very simple set of clothes, a small blouse, a pair of shorts, and a pair of slippers, none of which gave even the most minute impression of nobility.
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Kristel returned to the bedroom and found the bed completely and neatly arranged, and the rest of the room had been cleaned at least once over while she was taking a shower.
Like a signal, Liona knocked on the door once and opened it again without waiting for permission.
She was wearing her maid uniform, a loose formal sleeveless dress bearing straight simple patterns and the hues of the High Palace’s white and gold over a base of black. Usually, it was matched by a layering upper garment and a footwear, both of which were left up to the maid’s sense of fashion or whatever trend was circulating amongst the high-class maids at that time, but Liona only ever wore them whenever they had visitors, preferring to keep her arms free and her feet comfortable with sandals.
“Water?” Liona carried a tray with a glass of water in one hand like it was part of her and seemed to expect the Princess to be right there as she opened the door.
“Coffee,” Kristel replied in a likewise casual manner.
With a simple nod Liona fully opened the door and gave way for Kristel to proceed first while employing a smoothly trained gesture to deposit the tray set inside her personal meiyal space.
The ancient obsidian walls of Minaveil Manor greeted the Princess with their cool dark colors. A festival of dark red and blacks from the furniture, accented by the greys and silvers from the interior patterns and windows, giving stark contrasts against the greens, whites, and yellows from the gardens outside.
The feel of great form bound by age carried Kristel with every step as she descended the carpeted stairs and entered the small dining room officially intended for servants.
Currently, only four people lived in the manor. Preferring efficiency and practicality, Kristel reserved the use of the grand dining hall only whenever guests or special occasions were involved. A quarter of the manor was enough for the four of them. But it never stopped Frill from making sure the rest of the household were kept functionally clean and maintained.
Speaking of which, the elder sister, Frill Veli, stood just outside the servant’s dining room. She wore a slightly modified uniform, adding a flare of frills and laces that, matched with her shoulder-length red hair and purple eyes, gave her the impression of an elegant dancing fish. Like her younger sister, she kept her clothes free of any extra layers, only adding to them when necessary.
“Good morning,” Frill said, giving a slight bow before turning to her sister, “Lor’s outside with the plants. Could you?”
Liona nodded and left.
“Morning, Frill. What do we have today?” Kristel asked, taking a chair while Frill brought out breakfast; a juicy combination of honeyed bacon, eggs, and toasted bread with freshly brewed coffee to match. “Perfect! I love you so much, Frill.”
“I love you, too, Princess, but that won’t get you cakes in the morning,” Frill replied as she brought out three more of the exact same set of meals for the rest.
“Was worth a shot.”
“Good morning, everyone.” A low rumbling voice vibrated from behind the Princess, presenting Lor Veli, the eldest brother of the Veli siblings, in recently cleaned gardening clothes.
While the sisters were both scientifically classified as part of the human species, Lor boasted the square defined frame of the orcs mixed with the elegant handsome details of the elves, making him a unique mixture of both species.
At ten, he was adopted into the Veli family early in his stepparent’s marriage, suspecting that they wouldn’t be able to bear children. A decade later a miracle occurred and Frill was born followed by Liona a year after, and by then Lor was in his final year of training to be a servant of Monarch Denis.
Instead, when he graduated, he became Kristel’s steward a day before she was born, assisting her in any way possible during her younger years. But now that the Princess had come of age, the sisters had taken a more active role taking care of her, giving Lor more flexibility to pursue his other passions. And while he took a liking to caring for plants and yumas, Kristel still trusted him like a father, looking to him for advice and letting him handle matters that involved anything outside the four of them.
They ate in silence for a short while, savoring the aromas and tastes of their bountiful meal. After making sure everyone had something to eat, the Princess then began.
“What do we have today?”
“I have a meeting request for you, Princess,” Lor issued. As always, Kristel was impressed at how his brushed-up hair remained predominantly still. “Royal Guard Tryvinal Bree. A lunch meeting to be specific.”
“Did he say what about?”
Lor pulled a small orb from his pocket which projected a small screen. “It says here: ‘Matters of the High Palace.’”
“Couldn’t we do it through M.O.B.I.L.E.?”
“I asked, and he said no.”
“Which means this isn’t about the Monarch.” Kristel sighed.
“Five gold says it’s a marriage proposal,” Lor started. Liona choked and desperately reached out for water.
“I can punch him in the face, right?” Frill said while passing a glass of plum juice instead. Liona never liked coffee.
“Bree? Or me?”
“How about you both?”
Kristel sighed again, taking things into perspective. “You’re right Lor, it’s highly likely, so I’m not taking that bet. And if he does propose, try not to punch him, Frill. Punch your brother all you want, that’s fine, but we don’t want to be in trouble on grounds of technicality. What else?”
“For today, that is all, Princess,” Lor replied.
“Really?” Kristel frowned and stopped eating completely. “Aren’t there supposed to be patrol checks? Meeting with neighboring town leaders? Treasury audit?”
“Today is Blueday, Princess,” Liona said coughing, her emerald eyes close to tears. “You should take a day off every now and then. You really should. Freaking marriage proposal…”
The realization made Kristel sigh once more. It was rare for her to lose track of the days, but those had been happening more often recently, even as the rays of the sun made the day obvious.
Blueday was officially reserved for her rest day, consisting mostly of personal meditation, reading, and a few strolls in Lor’s garden.
Most townsfolk would begin work the next day, Limeday, tending to farms and preparing for the market while the Princess would busy herself with combat training.
Major meiyal training and market supervising would be for Greenday.
On Yellowday, she would take advantage of the yellow sunlight to get a clear view of the fisheries along The Great Sea Dividyr, engage in social matters with the townsfolk, and even exchange information with foreigners from outside Irista Nation from time to time.
Whiteday would be for any remaining clerical work that didn’t get enough attention during the previous days, and then back to Blueday, weaving more training throughout the week as the schedule allowed.
Despite forgetting her routine, it had been that way for three years now since the monarch turned ill.
Foreseeing his inevitable death due to an incurable disease, the Monarch of Irista Nation, Denis Irista, issued a command to his loyal servants, including his two daughters.
> Claim your rightful place as the next ruler of my kingdom. Unite my lands under your banner. Enlist the hearts of its people. Whoever shall claim most of my kingdom shall be named its monarch and protector! Do so without bloodshed, or my judgment will find you swiftly and my wrath smite you.
Remembering the thought left a bitter taste in Kristel’s mouth, she lost the mood to even lift her fork.
It had happened right after Katherine left and the news, both of her father’s illness and of this outrageous competition, had taken her so out of guard she didn’t know what to do. On top of all this, her father had mandated her to position herself in Minaveil Province.
She could’ve leveraged her position as a princess, but her duty—as she had been freshly anointed as Royal Knight during this synchronous fiasco—demanded her to obey. And of course, Kristel being herself, albeit under the pretense of her father’s instruction, had descended from the High Palace to honor her title.
Everyone else had finished their meals by then. The Princess exerted effort to finish her plate, making sure Frill had no excuse to stop or scold her, while suppressing the rest of her memory.
She needed to do something. She opened her M.O.B.I.L.E. and looked at the weather forecast.
“I want to visit the borders while we have the time,” she said to Lor and gestured for her maids to follow her in the dressing room. “Let Bree know he can have lunch on his own, my treat, his escorts as well. I’ll meet with him at noon instead. And ask Bennie to reserve some rooms in her inn. If he’s coming for a visit, he might as well enjoy the stay.”
“Very well, Princess. I’ll make preparations,” the head retainer replied, seeing them off.
Back in her room, Kristel sighed as the sisters prepared her clothes. “You’re coming with me, Liona, Frill can take care of the rest.”
“I’ll let Stiry know you’re borrowing him,” Frill said. She gave Kristel a look, considering something, before turning back to her sister. “Pack some lunch.”
“Thanks.” Liona bowed and made her exit. Kristel caught her sighing and mumbling something about the Princess refusing to take a day off just before she went out of the door.
“I’ll have a hot bath for my return, Frill.” The Princess turned to her second maid—actually, first, if age was taken into consideration. Frill’s red wavy hair easily grabbed attention, flowing so effortlessly while she browsed the Princess’s wardrobe.
“Certainly, Princess, I’ll prepare the bathhouse,” Frill replied. She hummed in a soft tune while pulling out various combinations of clothes. Kristel had trusted her choice of fashion ever since they were kids; she didn’t have a choice anyway. It, plus the humming, were habits Frill developed growing up.
“On second thought, I’ll take the bath in my room.”
“Certainly.”
Despite the relaxing sound, Frill’s terse and dry response hinted at Kristel. “Something wrong?”
Kristel and her retainers agreed to one ironclad agreement before descending to Minaveil Province. Honesty. Her retainers knew, despite the Princess’s young age, her perception to subtlety was akin to that of a practitioner Blessed with Heart’s Will. At least, when the siblings were involved strictly speaking.
Frill paused and sighed, but the soft tune carried on through her Meiyal Arts. “I’m just worried you might be missing your father. Whenever they send out news about the competition, they always keep your father’s condition confidential. And you’re not calling him either.” Regardless of her worry, she managed to choose the perfect combination of clothes and started dressing up the Princess.
“You’re calling your friends over there,” Kristel retaliated.
“Only out of concern for you.”
Kristel barely had any memories of the Monarch being a father to her. For her, from the time she became aware of her surroundings, her relationship with Monarch Denis simply served hierarchical purposes, barely to be even considered as family. Not that she harnessed ill feelings toward him nor was she mistreated, but Kristel had viewed her retainers more of a family than her biological father.
“So, you don’t miss him?” Frill asked after a while.
Kristel glanced at the mirror while she considered her response.
Her field garment had some militaristic appeal to it. A white, linen, military tunic riddled with golden buttons formed the base, and an epaulet depicting two crossed swords fixed on her right shoulder fastened an azure one-sided cape. It was complemented with a pair of white shorts matched with dark leggings and covered with a long skirt that could be opened on one side depending on the Princess’s mood, then finished off with a pair of boots that played around the colors of her dress. It wasn’t so casual as to throw away the dramatic flair of noble wear.
“I guess, I do,” Kristel replied without batting an eye now that Frill was doing her makeup and adding accessories. “I’m worried about him, but I’m also dutybound. Maybe we can make a visit soon.” Her eyes shifted back and forth from her reflection to Frill’s. “Say, Frill...”
“Yes, Princess?” Frill tuned her words along with her song as she replied, jollier now than she was a second ago.
Kristel placed a hand over the small gold and white hairpin. “Have I grown any taller lately?”
“You’re not just trying to change the topic, are you, Princess?”
“Only half-heartedly.”
Frill smiled and leaned lower to meet the Princess eye to eye through the mirror’s reflection.
“My dear, Princess Kristel,” she began, fixing the hair that Kristel slightly nudged. “Stature holds no power on the right to rule. It’s your conviction that matters. And as far as we are concerned, no one can hold a candle against yours. And besides,” Frill’s hands moved deftly from the Kristel’s hair to her chest, “you’re filling up quite nicely in other places.”
The Princess slapped her maid’s hands just as quickly. “Go fondle your sister’s or some other doll, Frill. Leave me out of it.”
“If I offer Bennie some of my old clothes, you think she’ll let me?”
“How would I know?”
Frill swore not to tell a lie, so she used the power of her words and some absurd misdirection to ease the pain of honesty. Kristel understood it simply as affirmation for her lack of growth and didn’t particularly like it.
A knock came from the door. “Princess, Testra is ready.” Lor’s deep voice echoed.
Kristel acknowledged. She gave Frill a small nod before heading out. “We won’t be long.”
The maid smiled and gave a slight bow, sending the Princess off with a soft hum.
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