Military Princess

There was a moment of silence when all that could be heard was the dripping of ale on the golden floor.

Clank!

Troan dropped the empty pitcher on the floor and it rolled towards Wriggler, who picked it up.

"Ginger-dusted ale was always your favorite; hope you liked it." He said before raising his tankard.

"Cheers."

However, he didn't drink the ale. He simply placed it down on the sarcophagus.

Then he turned and walked past Wriggler.

"Let's go."

The door opened and they walked out.

Troan walked, looking down at the floor as he appeared deep in thought.

"Troan El' Sea— Ahem! Lord Seventh." Someone called out in front of him.

He felt the voice sounded familiar, so he gazed up to find a man with slightly greying hair and a hardened expression approaching.

It was a tall, muscular man in thick bronze armor and a yellow cape.

A reckoning light flashed through his eyes.

'The captain of the houseguards? He's grown older. I wonder what he wants with me?" He pondered.

They both came to a stop at a respectable distance from each other.

Troan stood erect, back straight and eyes steady, and then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked. "Is there a problem, Lord Captain?"

The captain's callous gaze locked with Troan's dulled eyes for a moment. Then in the gentlest voice he could manage, he said.

"I am sorry for your loss, Lord Seventh."

Troan gave a hesitant nod.

"Thank you." He croaked and cleared his throat.

A moment passed by between them in silence before the captain spoke again.

"How...you've grown." He began, gazing at him with a distant stare, nostalgia in the depths of his yellow eyes.

But then he shook his head, letting out an quick sigh.

"The Queen Regent has called for you, Milord." He informed.

Troan blinked in surprise and then frowned.

'Stepmother? What does she want with me?"

***

A white-haired girl ran across the hallway in a floral-printed ball gown. Her eyes scanned the halls in search of someone.

'Brother has awoken! It has been too long since we last spoke in person. What should I tell him? What shall I do when we finally come face to face? Should I curtsy? Should I...hug him? Would he like that? I heard he's become cold and distant, militaristic and practical. Would he be happy to see me? Or would he be...disappointed?"

As she raced with her thoughts, she came upon a bench ahead, just beside a doorway, and she slowed to a stop. She felt that there was something strange about the bench and she tilted her head slightly, looking thoughtful as her eyes became distant.

Suddenly, the rays of light streaming through the arched windows seemed to brighten, and a hazy memory came to life before her.

A young white-haired boy sat on the waiting bench reading a book. When suddenly, a petite, little white-haired girl ran up to him and threw her hands around his torso in a hug.

"Brother, brother! Would you come play with us?"

Then a dark-haired boy also ran over. He stopped and whispered something in the little girl's ear, causing them both to smile.

The dark-haired boy then poked the white-haired boy on his sides, causing him to jump.

"Kaydin!" The white-haired boy yelled in a mix of shock and amusement.

Young Kaydin immediately sprinted down the hallway, cackling.

The white-haired boy smiled and kept the book aside before giving chase. Their laughter reverberating all over.

Just as the little girl was about to run after them, she suddenly stopped, and turned around to look straight at Lurin.

Lurin look a bit startled.

With a bashful smile, the little girl pointed at the doorway to the side that led into the dining room.

"In here!" The petite girl whispered, her ethereal laugh echoing in the air as she turned and ran after the little boys.

Lurin blinked, her vision returned to normal and she discovered that they were gone.

She smiled and whispered in turn.

"Thank you, little me."

Then she tiptoed to the door and peeked into the room. Her eyes momentarily caught sight of the people within, people she had grown close to during the past few days.

People who had been a great source of comfort to her.

'These are brother's friends. But I can't find Brother among them. I wonder if they know where he is." She contemplated, before taking a step through the doorway.

However, unexpectedly, her sock slipped on the varnished wood flooring, and with a great, desperate flaying of her arms, she caught the door frame. Grasping at it for dear life.

In her excitement, she forgot to put on her shoes.

As she tried to regain her footing, a shadow loomed over her, and a large gentle hand helped her up.

"Is there something wrong, Princess?"

Lt. Sol asked, his tone laced with concern.

Lurin glanced up at him, and then her eyes scanned the room.

On the table were half-eaten meals and fruits of all kinds. Those who sat around it stared at her with varying expressions ranging from concern to curiosity.

The weight of their attention bore down on her nerves.

"...Brother." She mumbled.

Sol drew closer. "What was that?"

"Where is my brother?!"

She inquired in a louder voice, almost a yell this time, and she winced as if pricked by guilt.

Lt. Sol drew back with a big smile on his face.

"Oh! You've heard! I was about to go inform you, Princess."

"I told you she'd already know about it," Jigimon spoke in between mouthfuls, waving a spoon flippantly back at Sol from her seat.

"You're looking for Oan?" Frozen asked, raising a questioning brow.

Oan was her pet name for Troan.

Then she scowled, clenching her fork tightly. "That golem took my ale! Even I am wondering where he is!"

"You shouldn't make such a face, my Lady."

A young lady admonished, standing dutifully beside her with a neutral expression, and gentle eyes.

She had long, dark-blue hair and a beautiful set of violet eyes.

The thick set of steel-plated armor and the broad sword resting in the sheath at her back made her a formidable and beautiful figure to behold.

On her neck hung a dog tag similar to Lt. Sol's, but her's had the depiction of a trident piercing up through the clouds.

The 'Trident Aerial Legion'.

An illustrious legion of pegasus riders, they were among the best of the best in both aerial and ground warfare.

They were ATAN's pride and joy, and a touted equal to the Imperial Dragon Corps.

In theory, Valerie and Sol were equal as they both bore the rank of lieutenant. But in actuality, Valerie was ranked higher based on her versatility, skill, and the unique importance of her legion.

Frozen huffed and folded her hands.

"It wouldn't make my fiance love me any less so I don't care!" Then she shot her a puzzled look. "By the way, you don't need to wear your armor in here."

"So it would seem," Valerie remarked as her gaze scanned the very walls themselves.

Then her gaze returned back to Frozen.

"However, I feel at ease adhering to military doctrine when carrying out my duties."

Frozen smiled at that. "That's exemplary. But you should eat first. You just woke up, didn't you? Come, eat something."

"...Very well."

Valerie reluctantly agreed and picked a seat close to Frozen. Keeping aside the broad sword, she sat and took a plate to serve herself a meal.

Meanwhile, Lurin's eyes shone in admiration.

'Wow! I wish I could be as strong and reliable as Valerie. Maybe that way I could go with brother on a grand adventur—Wait! Am I being ignored?"

Lurin thought as she took a step forward. Her sudden movement attracted Lt. Sol's attention.

"Oh! Sorry, Princess. Lord Seventh was here for a short while, but he soon left along with Wriggler. We haven't seen them in..."

"43 minutes, and—counting!" Jigimon chimed from her seat, turning away from the grandfather clock standing beside a large flower vase to look back at Lt. Sol.

"Thanks Jigimon." He said before turning back to Lurin.

"But he should be back soon." He informed, with a pacifying smile.

Just as he said this, they heard voices outside the door and Lurin turned back.

"So, boss! How come your mom's not the Queen Regent, isn't she the first wife?"

"I don't know how it's done over at Naveth, but in Regulon, the mother of the crown heir usually becomes the Regent in these sort of cases."

At first, she saw the captain of the houseguards walk by, and then two young men.

One she got to know over the past few days, but the other—the other made her world slow down.

A young man neatly dressed in ceremonial military wear. His frosted blue eyes glanced to the side and caught her ruby red ones.

Then he came to a halt, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Lurin," he said, his expression near unreadable.

Lurin's heartbeat quickened.

'Ohhh! He's here! What shalI I do!? How do you greet a brother you haven't spoken to in a decade? I know! I should curtsy and smile cutely! I would seem formal and adorable! Or I should just hug him! Throw myself into his arms and cry tears of joy at our reunion at long last! Perhaps just a small wave and a smile, or maybe a salute? He seems so serious but handsome in his uniform! My dear brother!"

Lurin's brain was about to implode as the thoughts flooded in, anxiety seemed to roll off her in waves.

Troan walked up to her until he was just a step away, watching her with a strange light in his eyes.

Lurin was acutely aware of the silence in the room now, the weight of all eyes on her.

'I-I have to do something! Anything!"

Spurred on by her emotions, she did the first thing that came to mind.

With a determined expression, she balled her left hand into a fist and brought it up to her chest, and her right hand quickly shot upwards diagonally, clenched like a pirate or adventurer holding up a tankard in a toast to a merry tavern.

"Hail! The Seventh!" She declared with a solemn expression.

Silence—

Everyone looked between themselves, puzzled, and Lurin seemed like she was about dying inside.

'OH! NO! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY ARMS!??"