Lia Ardenian
Two hours of training can knock any nonsense out of your head and exhaust even the toughest of us. But it also helps get your thoughts in order. So what if more people show up for the tournament this time? Big deal. The main thing, as always, is to get rid of the last contender in the final. And that’s no problem. Because, besides dozens of glory-hungry fighters, they’ll also have to face “The Mask.” And no one’s managed that yet. Let them take solace in the fact that at least the final prize will be theirs either way.
That thought warmed my heart, and a relaxing bath with essential oils brought me to a state of blissful calm. I returned to my room noticeably cheerier and more content. I’ve got this. To hell with them and the throne. Sure, princesses don’t talk like that, but since no one’s around to hear me, I can allow myself a little freedom.
Tonight, there’s supposed to be a “small dinner with friends”… for about a hundred people, no less. But I’m used to it. The key is to get through the start, smile a lot, and talk as little as possible. Though avoiding chatter about the tournament will probably be impossible today. Before, it was seen as my little game, but now that the king himself has backed me, things will be different. Now it’ll be taken seriously. At least there’s some benefit to this whole circus.
But it’s too early to get ready. My dress and jewelry are already prepared; I just need to show up and put on this festive armor. Which means I’ve got some time to myself. I’ll settle in the garden gazebo with a book (let’s go with a light romance novel) and just relax. They’ll bring dinner to me there anyway—it’s not the first time. Today, I don’t want to overthink; I just want to enjoy the moment.
With that thought, I smiled and headed to the library to grab something to read.
As I passed by my father’s slightly open study door, I was about to peek inside when I suddenly caught a snippet of conversation where my name was clearly mentioned.
“Magister Londrin, I believe we’ve come to an agreement. All you need to do is slip Lia a fake instead of ‘The Mask.’ It shouldn’t be difficult.”
“But, Your Majesty, the princess will notice right away! She may not wield magic, but she can sense it,” came the voice of the palace’s chief mage, one I’d recognize out of a thousand. What is my father up to?
“Then make sure she doesn’t find out!” The irritation in the king’s voice was impossible to miss. The conversation must have dragged on, and his patience was wearing thin. “Surely that’s within your power!”
Yeah, not many would dare contradict Dad. He only accepts his own version of right, and once he’s set on something, there’s no swaying him.
“I’ll do my best, Your Majesty.”
“Please do. That’s all, Magister. You may leave.”
Those words were my cue to bolt. I hurried toward the library, trying to step as quietly as possible on the creaky parquet floor. If Dad finds out I was eavesdropping, I’m in for it.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel like reading anymore. My mood had sunk lower than ever. What now? Thoughts swarmed in my head, but none of them seemed sensible. Finally, I shook off the negativity, grabbed the first romance novel I saw on the shelf, and headed to the gazebo.
Screw it! I’ll deal with problems as they come. Just a few more days in the palace, and then I can head back to the island. There’s a ton to do there! I need to prepare everything for the tournament and finish building the extra “dormitory”—we’re expecting way more guests than in previous years, and they’ve got to sleep somewhere.
Oh, the blue-blooded aristocrats are going to have a field day when they see our “barracks”! Though, to be honest, the conditions are pretty decent: clean, warm, perfectly livable. It’s just designed for two contenders per room. But judging by what my father’s planning, I might have to squeeze an extra bed into each one.
Well, let’s crowd the rich folks a bit. Maybe some of them will bail. That thought warmed my soul better than a mug of mulled wine on a cold winter night.
Emin
I feel great after training. The bad thoughts have evaporated, replaced by calm and balance. Nice. I’ll take a shower now and head into town—I need to check on things at the office. Good thing Dad hasn’t sniffed out my little side venture. It’s only been six months since I started, but I’m already seeing results.
Of course, I operate under a fake name there. The last thing I need is to be recognized as a prince—they’d laugh me out of town. But I’ve got to admit, business is booming: my restaurant is thriving. I poached an amazing chef, and now we’ve got twice as many customers. If things keep going like this, I’ll have to expand—my manager’s already dropping heavy hints about it.
Yeah, I picked a woman for that role, and I haven’t regretted it once. And if anyone’s wondering—no, I’m not sleeping with her. Strictly business.
Tonight, there’s a little gathering at the palace. As usual, Dad’s rounding up his old drinking buddies for some revelry. It’s at dinners like these that lucrative deals are struck, political matters are settled, and… marriages are arranged.
Any aristocrat would sell their soul to get into this exclusive circle. But Dad’s very particular about who sits at his table. Some are ready to literally buy a spot—after all, it’s a chance to marry off a daughter, secure a good match for a son, start a new venture, or even push through a favorable law.
I’ve been around this stuff since I was a kid, so these dinners don’t impress me anymore. But they’re a convenient place to pick up new flings. The girls who show up here are usually smart, well-bred, and fully aware of the game. They know what I want from them and, more importantly, what I don’t want. Though, of course, every other one hopes she’ll be the one to tie me down.
Naive.
My wife will be chosen by my father, and whoever warms my bed has no bearing on his decision. But as long as my charm and looks keep working their magic, I’m not bored at night.
While driving to the restaurant, I started thinking about the upcoming trip to Ardenia. The tournament starts in two weeks, which means I should head out in a week. I’ll pack only the essentials—everything else should be provided for me there. I’m a prince, after all, right?
The tournament itself will last ten days, so in about a month, I’ll be… married. Insane.
I’ve managed to stay a bachelor until sixty-five, while Dad caved at forty. Sure, I was hoping to hold out until at least a hundred, but you don’t argue with His Majesty. I just hope my wife won’t cramp my style too much, so I can keep up my romantic escapades.
I wonder how old she is?
I really hope she’s not much older than me. Some folks start losing their youthful glow after two hundred and slowly age. I don’t want to be stuck with a senile old lady by the time I hit two hundred fifty. Though, of course, I’m thinking way ahead… but still.
After all, this girl might have delayed marriage too, since lifespan allows for it. Aristocrats usually live to three or four hundred years, commoners around two hundred to two hundred fifty. We’ve got it good. I’ve heard that before the nuclear war, people barely made it to a hundred, regardless of lineage. Horrifying. At my age back then, I’d already be a gray-haired old man.
Good thing we live in better times.
While I was mulling over this nonsense, the magi-car got me to the restaurant, where my manager rushed to the vehicle right away. What an efficient woman—can’t fault her for anything. Good thing I remembered to activate the appearance-altering artifact on the way. Otherwise, she’d have been in for a shock.
Business at the office took a bit longer than I’d planned, so I nearly ran late for the dinner. I had to speed up, weaving past “carts” that were barely crawling along. Dad won’t pat me on the head if I show up past the appointed time.
I pulled into the palace grounds quickly and immediately spotted the king’s assistant by the entrance. Uh-oh, something’s up… I jumped out of the magi-car, adjusting my clothes on the go, and hurried over to Alfred.
“Something wrong?” I asked, mentally bracing myself for anything, but the assistant just shook his head.
“No, His Majesty simply ordered me to ensure you weren’t late.” Ah, so he’s playing it safe. I’ll be there, where else would I go? “You’ve still got half an hour. You can freshen up.”
Nodding gratefully, I rushed to my room. A quick shower, a perfectly pressed suit, a flawless hairstyle—and there I was, almost the picture of a proper prince.
I entered the reception hall five minutes before the start, and the king’s friends were already there. They all gave slight bows in greeting, almost in unison. A few minutes later, the king himself appeared. Everyone immediately stood to welcome him.
“Come on, why so formal? Sit down!” Dad smiled, radiating warmth.
And that mood of his? I didn’t like it one bit. I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes to my plate. Has he come up with something else?