Another day had passed, and Tuk—who once would never rise before sunrise—now found herself running in the fields with the warriors she had come to respect. She’d grown close to them for their honesty and simple-mindedness, traits she had come to treasure in a world full of deception. Even though the war was over, Tuk forced herself to keep up with the morning exercise routine she once despised.
Over time, it had become a habit, and now she pushed herself at her own pace, surrounded by warriors who trained relentlessly, their muscles straining as if ready to burst. Why are they like this? Their discipline and camaraderie motivated her—not just for her body’s sake, but because it cleared her mind, a necessity in her complex and secretive life.
"Is it true your group is leaving the palace?" Tuk asked Bucky, who was in the middle of lifting a heavy stone, as she sat on the ground to rest between sets.
"Yeah," Bucky grunted, his voice strained from the weight. "Our purpose here is done, and the general finally got the land he was promised. We’ll be busy clearing it up, but I’m sure General Helion would welcome you if you wanted to visit."
"I’d rather join your team if I were allowed."
Bucky laughed, sweat trickling down his forehead as he shook his head. "What are you talking about? Don’t you know how much the warriors envy you for being close to His Highness? No one doubts you’re cut from a different cloth, with that brain of yours. The rest of us couldn’t handle half the things you do." He chuckled, wiping his brow as his laughter echoed across the field.
Tuk didn’t reply, trying to push away the reminder of her stressful life in the prince’s court. She dreaded the unexpected summons to face nobles whose names and faces blurred together, where they’d debate love and power in ways that made her head spin. She didn’t know what might kill her first—the nerve-wracking debates, the wary glares of the nobles who found her presence suspicious, or the prince himself if he ever discovered her secret. Did he really believe she had the answers to every riddle in his mind?
Feeling a surge of frustration, Tuk grabbed a stone and placed it onto Bucky’s back, adding to his load.
“W-Wait! I didn’t ask for extra weight!” he stammered, his arms trembling under the added burden.
“It’s my parting gift,” Tuk said with a grin, tapping his muscled shoulder. “Good luck with the rest of your training.” She turned to leave, waving as she trudged off.
“H-Hey! At least take the stone off before you go!” he shouted after her, but Tuk just smiled to herself and kept walking.
--
That night, Tuk sat cross-legged on the floor of her dimly lit room, notes spread in a wide arc around her. Her hand hovered over sketches, arcane symbols, and hastily scrawled observations about the court, Prince Michaelli, and the map she’d taken from the palace library under the prince's name. She might need it someday, in case an unexpected turn of events occurred again.
The map of the Empire of Marceau lay before her, inked with strange symbols and places she’d only heard whispers of. A heavy sense of mystery clung to it, as if each line and mark on the parchment concealed secrets she wasn’t meant to know. Well, not that I can read maps... but can I trust this? She had only seen the palace of Homonhon, its cold, ancient halls where she copied strange symbols, never venturing beyond its walls.
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To the north, beyond Homonhon’s frozen expanse, a shadowy serpent lurked in the waters, coiled like a warning. Just an artist’s myth to exaggerate the dangers of this place, she tried to convince herself from an artist's perspective.
The Empire of Marceau stretched eastward, its fortress perched ominously on highlands she barely knew. Farther south lay the ruins of Elthor, another fallen empire, its name barely legible, like a faded memory best left forgotten. Southward, the forested lands of Adarna were marked, shrouded in mystery. Other names and symbols—a black mountain labeled Crystaliana, a fort named Chalcedony—hinted at places she might one day seek if escape became necessary. But could she trust these paths to lead her safely?
I don’t know how to reach these lands, she thought, fingers tracing the inked peaks on the map. And I’m certainly not skilled at navigation. A headache throbbed at her temples as doubt seeped in, the room pressing in on her with the weight of indecision. But sitting here, doing nothing… wasn’t that the greater risk?
Who lived in those lands, and what power did they wield? The map provided no answers—only questions that deepened her unease. One thing was certain: it held more mysteries than revelations. For now, her world remained limited to what lay before her. Exploring these places might prove invaluable if she ever needed an escape. It was always better to have multiple plans than to rely on just one or two, especially with the unpredictability of the prince and Sire Leon.
To a stranger, it might appear as if she were wireframing a complex app interface. In a way, she was—except this time, it wasn’t a website she was designing, but her own strategy for survival.
At the center of the spread lay her notes on the Arcanographica, the ancient scroll she’d been piecing together since her arrival. Every symbol, every rune, every cryptic phrase hinted at something critical. But critical to what? The “key” mentioned in the scroll, perhaps. Yet the princess of Homonhon was still missing, and with her, any hope for real answers.
She rolled her shoulders, feeling the exhaustion of nights spent sorting and analyzing, her mind throbbing with half-answers layered like tangled lines of code she’d forgotten to debug.
Tuk tapped her pen against her notebook. Focus, she told herself, squinting at her notes on Prince Michaelli. The man was a study in contradictions: charming yet dangerous, turning threats into mere annoyances. Beneath that charm lay a raw, untamed power barely leashed behind his piercing golden eyes. Michaelli was both shield and sword, authority wrapped in a dangerously beautiful package.
And who better to keep you safe?
She stared at a sketch of the prince, drawn hastily yet capturing his stern face and predatory grace. If she couldn’t beat him, she’d have to use him, letting him clear the dangers that lay between her and any escape back home. Loyalty, she’d learned, was currency here, and she intended to make good use of it. It might be a bit dangerous but there's no denying that it was the best option.
Tuk grinned despite herself. It was like designing for a demanding client: you didn’t argue; you adjusted, adapted. You found ways to turn their demands in your favor.
“All right, Prince Michaelli,” she murmured, glancing over her notes one last time. “You’re the lead feature in my survival strategy now.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and Tuk scrambled to hide her notes. Leon’s voice drifted through the wood, calm as ever.
“Tuk? His Highness calls for you.”
Again? Taking a deep breath, she tucked the notebook into her cloak and rose, smoothing her hair as if it might make her appear loyal—and less like she was plotting behind closed doors.
“Yes, Sir Leon,” she called, opening the door. Their eyes met, and for a split second, no words were necessary. Leon was the one who had ultimately led her to this decision, watching closely for any historian who might expose what they shouldn’t. While Tuk still couldn’t fully grasp his purpose in fooling other historians, she knew one thing: Leon was more aware of her plans than he let on.
Leon nodded, glancing briefly at her cloak. “Another servant will take you to him,” he added. “The council awaits.”
With a quick exchange of goodbyes, Tuk followed the second servant down the corridor toward the prince’s office, her heart thudding with equal parts tension and amusement at the absurdity of her plan.
The door to the prince’s office swung open, and Tuk found herself immediately ensnared by Michaelli’s intense gaze. His look held an unspoken understanding, as though he already knew she had chosen to work alongside him rather than stand in opposition. His eyes gleamed, a mix of amusement and respect flickering in their golden depths as he studied her in silence.
“Good,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. “We’re about to meet the council. Stick close. You’ll want to hear this.”
Tuk nodded, fighting back a laugh at the absurdity of her situation. She fell into step beside him, reminding herself of the strategy she had adopted: there was no need to beat the prince at his own game. Sometimes, the best way to navigate a maze was to follow the one who held the map.
As the doors to the council hall swung open, Tuk’s pulse quickened. I don’t think I want to hear any of it, she thought, steeling herself for whatever revelations awaited.
But I don't have a choice but to nail it.