The castle smelled of lemon wood and old paper. Sunlight pooled on polished floors; tapestries whispered the history of MacLinny rule in muted colors. Princess Lily moved through it like someone walking through a poem she had been taught to recite but never allowed to edit.
She had returned the cloak, washed the dust from her hair, and hidden the market's clay-stained hem beneath a neat sash. A maid fussed with a ribbon that she had not noticed loosen. Lily let her hands be guided — small motions that kept the mind calm.
Tomorrow she would ride.
For now, the corridors were quiet enough that she could hear the distant clank of armor through the servants' wings. Her stomach fluttered — not from hunger, but from the small wildness that the tour had released in her. She had seen the market, the alleys, a place where people argued and laughed without thinking of court protocol; she had felt, briefly, what it meant not to be observed.
"Your Highness," said an older woman's gentle voice. The steward bowed, a ledger in hand. "Breakfast is prepared. His Majesty is waiting for you."
Lily smoothed her skirts once and answered, "I'm ready."
---
King MacLinny's breakfast chamber was sunlit and practical. He sat at the head of the table, a man of broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair, the kind of face that held both patience and duty. He wore a simple wool coat, the gold clasp smaller than a noble's ring — he liked things that worked.
"Morning, love," he said as she entered. "You slept well?"
"A little," Lily said. "The city felt warmer than the court. More honest."
He watched her over a cup of tea. "You walked the market?"
She looked at him and did not flinch. "Ahh... y...yes."
He set down his cup, steady. "You didn't even care to tell me."
"I wanted to see it without parades, dad" she replied.
A half-smile. "You wanted to breathe without being pointed at huh?"
Lily met his eyes. "I want to see our people. Not from a carriage or a balcony. I want to hear what they say when they think no one is watching."
The king's expression softened and then hardened with the shape of responsibility. "You must understand, Lily — the crown needs symbols. Your tour will steady trade routes. It will remind the provinces the capital remembers them. You are not just my daughter. You are the future of this land."
"I know," she said. "I just... I don't want my whole life to be full of promises that others hold for me. I want to be a person who keeps a promise because she chooses to, not because she was made into one."
He leaned back. "Do you resent me?"
"No." She said it quietly, and the truth weighed more than any glare or admission. "I don't resent you for loving what you do. I resent only that your love asked me to stop being me."
King MacLinny studied her, not the princess he'd raised, but the woman who had been polite enough to hide that she could think differently.
"You're brave, my child" he said finally. "Not everyone who wears courage believes in it. Tell me one thing — if you see suffering on your tour, what would you do?"
Lily considered. "I would help. Where I can. Listen where I'm told to speak. Use what power I have carefully. And when I can, I will change things. Quietly. Not for praise — because they deserve it."
He let out a breath, half relief, half worry. "That is more than I expected. Good. Then ride with my blessing. But remember — if the road becomes dangerous, do not play any kind of stupid heroics. This realm is a fragile puzzle. It isn't what it seems like. Don't break its pieces."
"I won't," she said.
He stood, came around the table, and placed his hand on her shoulder — father and king, both. "Bring me back a story that makes me proud, our future queen." he murmured.
She nodded. Inside, under her ribbon and measured breath, something beat like an arrow unloosed.
---
Meanwhile At The Martial Yard, Caldemount Upper-ring
At the same hour, under a different sky, the training yard rang with a different kind of ritual.
Devon stood broad and indifferent, watching Solis move. Ada arrived with her usual breathless entrance — boots scuffing, hair loose from a scarf, eyes bright with not-quite-hidden ambition.
"Back at it," Devon said.
Solis wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. "Yes, sir."
Ada surprised him by coming closer to the ring. "Thought I'd watch," she said simply.
Devon raised an eyebrow. "You're not supposed to skip Objective runs for the Captain's amusement."
She smirked. "Someone has to be presentable for the ceremony tomorrow. Might as well get inspiration."
Solis blinked. "Ceremony?"
"You will see." Ada said. "Representatives from all five knight units. Big sleepover of proud men with armor."
Solis let out a small laugh then went back to his stance.
Before the morning had aged into noon, the path rumbled with boots and a carriage. Captain Seraphine arrived first — Commander Cassandra's right hand, neat braids, and a posture that carried both command and kindness. Almond was at her side like a flame in a lantern: bright, hot, and more flashy than useful. He had the look of someone newly leveled up — Rank B recently passed — and he wore it like a banner.
"Who is the kid Captain Seraphine with?" Devon asks out of curiosity.
"Almond." Ada muttered under her breath. "If the world had fewer nuisances, it'd be quieter."
Almond's smile was that practiced one — half grin, half challenge. He swept a small bow in Solis's direction that was more an appraisal than polite. "Well, well. Solis. The village hero. I haven't seen you since you were wiping dust from your knees in that village back there."
Solis set his jaw. "You should focus on not tripping over your medals, Almond."
"A fair retort. You'll need more than that posture to stand next to me at the ceremony." Almond's laugh was loud. "Oh! Plus I heard you saved Pompom village from a... cult? Must be feeling really proud aren't ya, little hero?"
Ada stepped in, tone flat. "Back off. We don't need your lectures."
Seraphine's voice cut through like a calm blade. "Enough. We are here as representatives. The ceremony is for Princess Lily. Keep your rivalry for the sparring grounds." She turned to Devon. "Captain. We appreciate the invitation."
Devon grunted. "You folks are quite late. Sometimes I wonder... do you people really care about time or not."
Seraphine glanced at Almond not giving much attention to Devon's words. "Almond, remember why we brought you. This is for experience. You have to behave accordingly."
Almond's eyes flicked to Solis. "Yes, ma'am. Of course."
Solis caught a look from Devon — something like approval, flat and brief.
Devon called the trainees together. "We have a bigger audience tomorrow. Not every blade is sharpened for applause. Today you will refine the edge." He split the yard into pairs and set them to drills.
Almond's presence niggled at Solis. The young B-ranker moved with practiced arrogance — overconfident feints, a flash of technique, and then a flourish. He wanted to be admired. That hunger made him fast, but not always precise.
Midway through a flurry, Almond sparred with a trainee twice his size and overcompensated with a high swing. Devon called a halt. "Almond. Pride is not a technique. Pride is a mistake you have to pay for."
Almond straightened, defensive. "I can handle it, Captain."
"You can handle losing it," Devon said. "But that's the point — don't get to the losing. Break your swing into parts. Mind, then body."
Solis watched, thinking of the left-hand drills. He had come far, but here was a reminder — no matter how much work, there would always be someone trying to define him by what he carried at his back.
After the drill, Seraphine approached Solis with a small, professional nod. "I'm glad you're here tomorrow. The ceremony will have many eyes. Keep your posture moderate."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Almond hovered near the barracks door like an expectant falcon. "Perhaps after the parade, we shall test ourselves in friendly contest," he said, too loudly.
Ada snorted. "You mean test whether you can stop bragging."
Almond's jaw tightened. "You are pretty sarcastic character aren't you, Ada? But let that be aside, a fight is how names are made."
"If your name gets made by causing trouble at the king's ceremony," Seraphine said sharply, "you will be the lesson we use to scare rookies. So... Behave."
Almond gave a tight smile and fell silent.
---
That evening, Solis sat alone at the rooftop of the inn, the city lights of Caldemount soft like distant stars. The ceremony was the next day. He had been given a place at the Postknight contingent. He felt both small and oddly steady.
Ada joined him, settling with a practiced ease. "Almond's here," she said.
"Ha... I can see that. To be honest he is quite loud." Solis replied.
"Annnd arrogant, too. But he will learn. Most men with bluster pick their own ruin."
Solis looked up at the castle silhouette. "Princess Lily rides tomorrow."
Ada's face shifted, guarded. She remembered the market — how the princess had slipped into the crowd like something trying on a new skin. "Keep your head down, okay?" she said.
He nodded. "I'll try."
They sat there in companionable silence, the city breathing below them — its markets, its hidden courtyards, and, beneath it all, the fog that clung to stone like unfinished sentences.