THE SOUTHERN REGION
Name~Amelia Astralborn, 11th princess of astrean empire.
My gaze, blurry from hours of squinting at endless reports, darted from the stack of unread scrolls to the finished pile, which, to my eternal annoyance, seemed barely smaller. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips, and with a weary flick of my wrist, my quill spun through the air, clattering against the polished oak of my desk. My head hit the back of the chair with a soft thud, the intricately carved wood cool against my scalp.
"Ugh! I'm utterly spent," I groaned, the words muffled by the cushion. My eyes, no doubt framed by fashionable dark circles, felt gritty, like I'd spent the last century sifting through sand. I hadn't seen my bed since… well, since yesterday morning, I think? Details were a little hazy.
Just then, the soft click of the door announced Eliza's arrival. Bless her efficient heart. She glided in, a comforting clinking sound preceding her as she set down a delicate porcelain cup and saucer beside my head. The fragrant steam of herbal tea wafted up, a welcome balm to my weary senses.
"Your Royal Highness," Eliza's voice was as smooth as silk, yet held that familiar note of gentle admonition. "You haven't slept for a full day. You must rest."
I pried open one eye, a playful grin tugging at my lips despite my utter exhaustion. "Nyah~ I'm perfectly fine, Eliza! A genius such as myself thrives on such a workload, you know. It's practically normal for me." I batted my eyelashes for good measure, trying to inject some sparkle into my tired gaze.
Eliza, predictably, gave an exasperated sigh, though a faint hint of a smile touched her lips. "Please, Your Royal Highness, do not say 'nya' like that. It's… unbecoming of a princess."
"Nyah! But why not?" I pouted, pushing myself upright. "Boys like it, you know! It's cute! And strategically, being cute is very important."
"And what good is 'cute' if Your Royal Highness neglects her health to the point of collapse?" Eliza retorted, her tone firm now. "Beauty, even yours, fades without proper care. What good is attraction if you can't properly care for your body?"
I waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart! I'll find a boyfriend myself, you know. Thousands of boys would practically die for me anyway. It's a known fact." I puffed out my chest dramatically, even though every fiber of my being wanted to collapse back into the chair.
"Your Royal Highness!" Eliza's voice sharpened, her patience clearly wearing thin. "It is not appropriate for a member of the imperial family to say such things! It implies a disregard for your subjects' lives!"
I slumped back, my playful facade cracking. "Well, I don't care about my subjects, Eliza," I admitted, my voice dropping to a tired murmur. "If I did, would I be working myself to the bone, not even bothering to eat or drink properly, for them?"
Eliza's gaze softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes. "Everyone knows, Your Royal Highness, that you are doing all of this for the throne. For your ambition."
I gave a weak, wry smile. "Nyah~ You don't have to be quite so accurate, Eliza. It takes all the fun out of it." I reached for the tea, taking a long, grateful sip. The warmth spread through me, a small comfort.
"Speaking of matters that require my attention," I said, setting the cup down, my mind already shifting gears. "What news do we have regarding the Sea Elves?"
Eliza consulted a small scroll she held. "Your Royal Highness, reports indicate that their patrols along the Coral Labyrinth have become increasingly aggressive. Several Astrean merchant vessels have been intercepted, and while no lives were lost, their cargo was extensively searched. Their reasoning is that they are 'protecting ancient oceanic pathways from foreign intrusion'."
I leaned forward, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. This was more like it. A genuine strategic puzzle. "Protecting their ancient oceanic pathways? That's merely a flimsy excuse. They want to exert control over the shipping lanes. The Triton Protectorate and the Siren Sovereignty have been stirring up trouble in Aethel for months, but the Sea Elves have always been more… neutral. This aggression is new." My mind, despite the fatigue, was already racing, connecting dots, anticipating moves.
"Have we confirmed if these aggressive patrols are isolated incidents, or part of a larger, coordinated effort with the Tritons?" I pressed, my fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "And what of their motives? Are they seeking to expand their influence, or is there a specific resource or artifact they're attempting to secure?"
My mind hummed with the complexities of the Sea Elves' sudden aggression, already mapping out counter-strategies, predicting their next moves, and devising ways to exploit their perceived strengths. But even a genius like me has limits. My body, unfortunately, was screaming those limits rather loudly.
With another groan, I pushed myself up from the desk, letting my scroll-laden thoughts drift away for a moment. My legs felt like lead as I shuffled over to the plush velvet sofa in the corner of my office, a haven of softness in this otherwise rigid world. I collapsed onto it, a sigh of pure, unadulterated exhaustion escaping my lips.
"Ugh, I'll deal with those pointy-eared aquatic nuisances later," I mumbled, already half-buried in the cushions. "My brain cells are staging a rebellion. They need a nap, or at least a distraction."
I propped myself up on an elbow, looking at Eliza, who was now meticulously tidying the discarded scrolls on my desk. A mischievous glint entered my eyes. "Alright, Eliza, enlighten me," I said, a playful lilt in my voice. "You're always so annoyingly accurate. Who do you think will win this delightful little succession war among us Astralborns?"
Eliza paused, a finished scroll held neatly in her hand. She turned, her expression unusually serious. "If Your Royal Highness truly wishes to hear the unvarnished truth…"
I gave an enthusiastic nod, my tiredness momentarily forgotten. "Oh, absolutely! Spit it out! Don't hold back just because I'm the most charming princess in the Empire."
She gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head, a familiar gesture for her. "Very well. As of this moment, Your Royal Highness, I believe Prince Asher has the highest chance of winning the succession war."
My playful facade didn't even waver, though an eyebrow did involuntarily arch. "Asher? My dear Eliza, you are utterly, completely, hilariously wrong."
"Hear me out, Your Royal Highness," she continued, unperturbed by my immediate dismissal. "While it is true that he currently has very few nobles openly on his side, this is largely because he is almost perpetually engaged in border defense. He is rarely in the capital to curry favor, to attend the necessary banquets, or to participate in the courtly intrigues that secure allegiances."
She then added, her voice gaining a note of undeniable respect, "However, his achievements are increasing day by day. Every battle he fights, every incursion he repels, adds to his legend among the common soldiers and, more importantly, solidifies his reputation as the Empire's most vital protector. The people may not know the names of the nobles who scheme in the palace, but they know the name Asher Astralborn, the one who defends their homes."
I pushed myself further into the plush cushions of the sofa, a theatrical sigh escaping my lips. My exhaustion was still very much present, but the thrill of a good strategic debate, especially one where I could playfully dismantle Eliza's arguments, was far more invigorating than any tea.
"Eliza, Eliza, Eliza," I sang, wagging a finger at her, my voice laced with mock pity. "You're just too serious sometimes! And fundamentally, utterly, spectacularly wrong about Asher."
I sat up properly, crossing my legs elegantly, though my mind was already several moves ahead. "The King, dear Eliza, should be one who excels at everything! Not just some brutish warrior who spends his days rolling around in mud and blood. What good is a king who's all brawn and no… sparkle?" I gestured vaguely at my own immaculate (if tired) self. "A king needs to be a dazzling strategist, a captivating speaker, a charming diplomat, and yes, even a little bit of a drama queen. Asher, bless his stoic heart, is none of those things outside of a battlefield."
I leaned forward conspiratorially, my voice dropping to a stage whisper, though it was still full of playful mischief. "Besides, most of the 'important' nobles, the ones with actual power and influence, have already picked their ponies in this race. My ponies, my brothers' ponies. Only the fence-sitters, the truly spineless neutrals, are left. And they'll stay neutral, petrified of offending anyone. So, even if Asher suddenly decided to charm his way into court like a dazzling prince, there's almost no one left for him to woo! His pool of potential supporters is practically a puddle."
I grinned, my eyes twinkling with challenge. "So, my dear Eliza, do you have anything to say to that?"
Eliza, bless her unflappable soul, didn't even flinch. She simply tilted her head, a knowing glint in her usually serene eyes. "If Prince Asher were truly just 'brute strength and no brain,' Your Royal Highness, you know perfectly well he would have been dead by now. Long, long ago." Her tone was quiet, but there was a steel beneath it that always made me pay attention.
"Furthermore," she continued, calmly, "we simply don't know how skilled he is in politics, because he doesn't do politics. He spends his entire life on the borders, fighting the Empire's wars. He has no opportunity to show that particular talent, if he possesses it." She paused, then added, "And do not forget, Your Royal Highness, even with almost all of your siblings plotting his downfall, he remains the Emperor's favorite."
I rolled my eyes, a tiny theatrical huff escaping my lips. "Oh, that's just common knowledge, Eliza! Everyone knows Father dotes on his little war machine. But that's precisely why he can't just make him the next Emperor just like that. The optics would be terrible! It would scream nepotism, favoritism, and weakness. For Asher to become Emperor, he needs other achievements, substantial ones, beyond just battle records. But since he's done absolutely nothing but fight and strategize on the battlefield for his entire life, it's too late for him to show results in those other, more… refined things. He doesn't even talk much, for crying out loud! He's a tactical genius, yes, but a social… well, a social hermit."
I leaned back again, crossing my arms over my chest, a triumphant smirk playing on my lips. "See? My point stands. Asher's out. It's either me, or one of those fearsome siblings."
The brief moment of raw honesty passed, and I shifted on the sofa, seeking a more comfortable position. My thoughts, ever restless, turned to a different kind of war, one etched deep into the annals of our history.
"Speaking of fearsome power," I mused, my voice regaining a hint of its usual lightness, though a serious undertone remained, "it reminds me of the Demon King's War, doesn't it? And at that time, it was said, all the chosen Heroes were human. A testament to our spirit, our ingenuity, our sheer audacity even in the face of annihilation." My eyes drifted to a tapestry depicting a celestial figure bestowing light upon a kneeling warrior, a common depiction of the Goddess blessing a hero. "They spoke of incredible powers, unparalleled bravery. They pushed the Demon King back, inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he fell."
Eliza's gaze grew distant, as if seeing the ancient battles unfold before her. "But then, after the Demon King's death, chaos descended upon the very Heroes who had saved the world. They began to fight each other, vying for dominance, for control."
"A tragic irony, wasn't it?" I murmured, the weariness returning to my voice. "The very saviors became the new destroyers. The world teetered on the brink once more, not from demonic corruption, but from human greed and ambition."
"And it was the founder of the Astrean Empire, Your Royal Highness," Eliza continued, her voice filled with reverence, "who single handedly brought the destruction to a halt. His wisdom, his strength, his vision – he quelled the warring Heroes and laid the foundations for the peace that followed, though it was a peace often enforced by our legions."
Even though it's written in history, for me, it's almost impossible to do that single handedly.
Either the records or fake, or there was something else.
I let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "And the Goddess, apparently, was not amused by our human antics."
Eliza's expression became more solemn. "No. It is said she became profoundly angry with humanity. And ever since that time, for hundreds of years now, not a single human has been chosen to become a Hero."
"Because," I finished, my voice laced with a bitter irony, "she thinks humans are greedy, lusty, power-hungry, deceitful, and utterly incapable of handling such gifts responsibly. A rather scathing indictment, wouldn't you agree?"
Eliza nodded, her expression echoing my own weariness. "It is a common sentiment, Your Royal Highness, both among those who believe in the Goddess's wisdom and those who simply observe the cycle of history."
"How dare she? and how dare they?" My voice, no longer light, held a sharp edge. "The Astrean Empire! We were the ones who stood firm! We were the ones who resisted the Demon King for all other races! The demi-humans, the elves, the dwarves—everyone cowered, but we fought! We spilled our blood so they could survive!"
I clenched my fists, the memory of countless historical texts, of endless strategic analyses, fueling my indignation. "And now? Now we've become the very entity they want to destroy the most! The constant target! Every single one of them, from the haughty elves to the scheming serpent-folk, dreams of our downfall!"
I stopped, turning to face Eliza, my eyes blazing despite the dark circles beneath them. "And because of that, Eliza, because of the historical burden we carry, the royal family has to go through all of this! The endless wars, the internal strife, the constant threat of assassination! We pay the price for a peace we forged!"
My frustration mounted. "And what do they do? They keep sending their Heroes to the Astrean Empire! These so-called saviors, blessed by a Goddess who inexplicably despises us, come bearing divine powers, seeking to dismantle everything our ancestors built! It's a never-ending cycle of ingratitude and thinly veiled aggression!" I threw my hands up in exasperation. "It's simply unfair, Eliza! Utterly, completely unfair!"