Unwanted Meetings
Kristel wore whatever clothing Frill gave her, something less formal compared to the one she wore that morning. She couldn’t be bothered with formalities with anyone outside the ranks of the Cross Irista, and she wouldn’t start now.
Royal Guard Tryvinal Bree was alone inside the dining room. With Lor’s instructions, his men waited outside the manor. Kristel appreciated his initiative. This way, the Royal Guard held minimal means to intimidate her. Not that having more men would work, but when dealing with a Blessed One like Tryvinal, they couldn’t afford to give him anything he could capitalize on.
“Greetings, Princess Kristel. I am overjoyed to see you are well.” Tryvinal stood from his chair, moved a few paces away from the dining table, and bowed, spiky black hair pointed at her like daggers as he did the gesture.
Kristel sighed and dragged the chair from the opposite side of the table. The noise it did sent a ringing in her head despite being the one at fault, but she hoped it sent the message of how much of a hassle his visit was for her.
“Let’s get on with it,” she said monotonously.
“Please, Your Highness,” the Royal Guard bowed deeper. Kristel didn’t like being addressed as such. Princess was the most she would tolerate until either a more proper title was bestowed, or it was stripped altogether. “I only mean to speak with you.”
“What else am I here for?” In truth, Kristel was only acting. Tryvinal was actively participating in the monarch’s challenge and the most favorable to win. Kristel didn’t care about it, but she wanted to quickly probe on his motives without giving him enough time to play mind games. And again, she was dealing with a Blessed One.
Tryvinal sighed. He retook his seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Do you want something to eat?” Despite the bothersome meeting and her aggressiveness, Kristel made it a point to at least treat any guest of her household as an actual guest. She did purposefully delay the meeting time after all.
The Royal Guard raised a hand in denial. “We just ate, thank you for such a fine cuisine.”
“Your men?”
“They have eaten as well.”
“Some tea then?”
Tryvinal paused for a moment. “Very well, tea then.”
Lor quickly gestured to Frill who immediately went into the kitchen. All three of the Princess’s retainers wore their mandated attire; maid dresses for both Frill and Liona complete with the extra layers and proper shoes, while Lor had a fine black and gold suit—more black than gold—customize for his build.
“So,” Kristel started, not wasting a beat. “Tell me why you’re here in the farthest corners of the nation in search for my audience.”
“I am here for a proposal, Princess Kristel.” Tryvinal replied. “At present, my forces have assimilated more than half of the nation under my banner. Many more are to come in the next coming weeks. I am here to offer you and Minaveil Province a place in the birth of a new nation.”
“Impressive,” Kristel commented monotonously. “But your offer is meaningless. When you become the next monarch, all of the other provinces and cities, with or without the protection of Cross Irista, will be under your rule. Why offer a position to me now if you already have the majority?”
Tryvinal smiled in a way Kristel perceived as sinister. “It seems I have been misunderstood.”
The Princess could only sigh internally. Lor did see this coming, and she was glad to have not taken the bet.
Frill reappeared from the kitchen and placed a hot cup of tea in front of the Princess. She began to walk towards the other end of the table when Tryvinal spoke again.
“When my new kingdom is born, I want you, Princess Kristel Irista, to be its mother.”
Everything froze.
Frill’s eyes glared at Tryvinal. Lor and Liona did the same. Their attentive posture tensed into subtle aggressiveness. Pressure built up inside the dining room, focusing all on the Royal Guard. It was too late for Tryvinal to realize he was sweating.
Time only resumed when the high-pitched tune of a cup returning on its saucer signaled the non-verbal hostilities to stand down.
“I am only seventeen, Royal Guard Tryvinal, surely I am too immature for your tastes. And I am too young to commit my life to anyone, you least of all. I refuse to be your would-be kingdom’s mother.” Kristel, the definition of sarcastic stoicism, raised her cup once more and took another sip. “Excellent tea, Frill. Thank you.”
Frill calmly placed the cup offered to the Royal Guard and gave him a slight bow before returning to her post.
“Is that all what you came for, Tryvinal?” Kristel peered into him and saw still a flicker of hope and determination. She could sigh before he could even begin to speak, but prompted not to do so. “I would say ‘I am sorry to disappoint you,’ but you can clearly see that I am not.”
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“My spies in the Desolate Lands report of armies amassing within Vyndival. They have hundreds of thousands, possibly millions. Armored gargantuan animals and giants by the thousands, and who knows what other abominations.” The way Tryvinal spoke, he was getting desperate.
“You’re implying a Nightmare?” Kristel asked, curious.
“Jaws Lurking in the Forest specifically, from our reports,” Tryvinal replied.
The particular Nightmare was on the larger scale, averaging around four to five stories high. Kristel vaguely recalled records of it reaching up to ten stories high, but despite their size they were extremely efficient in stalking their prey. Although solitary by nature, they lingered within the bordering territories of the Nightmare Lands and were often the leading cause of death for any mad adventurer.
“My scouts didn’t report such a thing.” Kristel preferred to believe her own resources than one not of her own, yet this claim was too alarming to pass as mere blabber. The King of Vyndival was another Blessed One. For him to amass such an army would not be outside of the realms of possibility. Adding secrecy to the equation, it would've taken King Urzic half a year.
But to subdue a Nightmare like a Lurking Jaws…
“Spies of the High Palace infiltrate Vyndival. Your scouts watch from the mountains and see nothing but desert dunes. They’ll report the same after a week or two. By then, they’ll be flooding through the South Valley.”
Kristel ignored Tryvinal’s implicated claim about the High Palace spies.
“Point taken.” She took a sip, still calm and cool. “Am I now supposed to marry you in exchange for your army to protect this province?”
Tryvinal was taken aback. His plan was too obvious for the Princess and he couldn’t come up with a brilliant retort when everything was spelled out for him.
“Yes.” He could only agree.
A nerve snapped somewhere inside the Princess’s head.
“So, you’re telling me, you’re willing to leave this province without support if I refuse your offer? You’re willing to let your pettiness to overshadow your duty as Royal Guard? You’re willing to potentially sacrifice millions of people because you can’t force me to bind my life to you?”
The official census for the entirety of Minaveil Province didn’t count to the millions, but that was where the implication lied if the province was to be invaded.
A mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and awkwardness surfaced on Tryvinal’s face. When he was left without a word, the princess continued.
“Tell me, Royal Guard,” she said, placing her tea on the table. “Why would I trust you when you couldn’t even take a sip from your tea?” She relaxed on her chair and watched Tryvinal’s lost expression. “You have trust issues. Did you think I would poison your drink?”
“N-no! You’d be setting up yourself for treason!” The Royal Guard took a sip, actually gulping it down despite how hot it was. “It’s delicious tea!”
“Thank you very much.” Frill gave another slight bow.
“Then answer me this.” Kristel leaned her head against a hand she so purposely raised. “Why would I accept your army when a weakling like you couldn’t even stand against one of my attendants?”
Tryvinal’s eyes flared and his grip tightened, confusion and all unnecessary emotions flushed down the drain. He was a Royal Guard after all. A position of power only a rank underneath Royal Knight. Given Tryvinal’s expertise, if it were not for the mandated number of allowed Royal Knights, Tryvinal would’ve had the title. He was in direct competition with Kristel three years ago.
“What did you just call me?”
“You’re not deaf, Tryvinal. Right now, you’re barely worth the laugh I’d spare a poor joke.”
That was the last straw. Tryvinal flared with power.
“Just because you’re a genius. Just because you’re the youngest Virtuoso. Doesn’t mean you can call everybody else a weakling!” Tryvinal raised the cup with a clear attempt to smash it on the floor.
“You are here to talk, Royal Guard.”
Frill’s voice echoed in the room, her red hair slightly glowing, and the left of her purple eyes glinted with meiyal. The air in the room vibrated and dampened Tryvinal’s power to a mere spark.
“Just because you cannot accept the facts, doesn’t mean you can act spoiled. Or do you prefer losing an arm?”
“It’s never about the marks, Tryvinal,” Kristel simply muttered without regard to what was happening.
By mentioning her practitioner rank, Virtuoso, the Royal Guard had implied her unsealed meiyal marks. She had attained eighty marks three years ago, earning her the edge to take the title of Royal Knight from the rest of her competitors.
“Besides, it’s painfully obvious who the real genius in this room is.”
She gestured her cup over to Frill.
Torn between a decision of pride and resignation in embarrassment, Royal Guard Tryvinal’s eyes shuffled between the unamused Kristel and the flaring Frill, eyes widening as he understood what the Princess meant.
Even if she wasn’t a part of Cross Irista, even if she posed as one of the Princess’s attendants, and even if she only had nine meiyal marks, Frill’s fame, her power and beautiful voice, had spread throughout Irista Nation. Aria in Red, they called her.
With a deep regret for making a fool out of himself, he carefully placed the cup back on its saucer.
“Apologies, Princess. I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself.” The Royal Guard bowed sincerely.
Princess Kristel only felt pity, but even so, she still had to push.
“I won’t apologize for my words, Royal Guard Tryvinal Bree. I’m sure you understand why we address you in such a way. With the Blessing you’re bestowed with, we cannot afford to give you a shred of admiration. And even if we do, I still advise against using it on anyone in Cross Irista.
“Please take this as a sincere warning from me.” Kristel’s eyes met with Tryvinal. “If you so much as influence one of mine with your Blessing, I will consider it as an act of war against the rest of Cross Irista. I need you to recall these words whenever you review your schemes.”
Princess Kristel could practically feel her father’s very nature channeling in her; the ruthlessness of a monarch determined to protect those he ruled. Threats were one thing, but one coming from those who held the Irista name were never empty.
Still, the Princess did feel she went overboard.
“I just have a couple pieces of advice for you,” she began as she stood. “Consider it thanks for giving us valuable information regarding Vyndival.” The guest lifted his head attentively.
“In my opinion, as you are now, you wouldn’t make it as monarch. You can be sure that I and the Cross Irista will never follow you.” Kristel immediately raised her hand to stop him from protesting. “Take it constructively. You have the makings of a good leader. That is why you are where you are now. You may have the Monarch’s Law, but this Blessing makes you too greedy and you depend too much on it. You should know it can and will betray you.
“What’s more, you should have helped us first before asking for my hand in marriage. At this point, I wouldn’t accept you or your army. We can defend Minaveil by ourselves. As you have said, we have a genius.”
Kristel shrugged as if the meeting was never a big deal to begin with. “Who knows? When you actually become monarch, try asking me again.” She began walking out of the dining room. “I still won’t say yes, but I’ll be more respectful about it. For now, enjoy the sights of Minaveil.”
A long shot to the farthest stars at the very least. The Princess’s frown as she walked out of the room had in no way, shape, or form anything to do with the Royal Guard.
Sometimes, the voice simply spoke its mind.
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