《Swapped Dead Ends: How I Woke Up As The Kingdom's Laziest Princess》


 Chapter 1: Unceremonious Death

    Drop by drop, a dull red liquid pissed over the pavement. Pissed. It was discarded. Unceremoniously, my life itself was spilling out, unbearably slowly, sure, but unremarkably.


    I suppose I was just expecting that cinematic impact. A gruesome, or gorgeous death scene, with a figure crying over my corpse. That¡¯s not how I died. The figure had fled already. Hell, the bastards who¡¯d jammed that glass bottle straight through my heart had scattered too.


    Cold. Wet. Uncomfortable. That¡¯s how it felt to die. To be honest, I don¡¯t have a clue why I¡¯d assumed anything else.


    My name is Ralph, you already know my life story. I¡¯ll bet you¡¯ve met 7 other guys who share it. Bright ideals crushed by the weight of reality. As inevitable as it was cruel.


    Never struggled in classes growing up, bullied senselessly, decided to take my skills out to New York, take on city life. Hell, I¡¯d planned to revolutionize the world.


    Do you know how much rent costs?


    I could take it, the abuse of the world, I mean. I¡¯d been bullied, so what were some loans, it¡¯d all pay off once I achieved that coveted job, wormed my way into politics, and fixed this cruel world for all those poor losers like me.


    Do you know how much failing a course sets you back?


    I dropped out. The money was running out, and I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to take another loan. Most of a degree would be enough, surely. It would just be a little push further, the plan was just set back a bit, maybe a few more years of work, but it was just a delay.


    Do you know how soul crushing it is to hear graduated friends take minimum wage jobs?


    So everything falls apart. That¡¯s fine, there¡¯s a way out, it¡¯s a crawl certainly, but once the debt clears, I can just move out, go back home, maybe at least I can find something comfortable, live modestly but happy.


    Do you know the pain of losing your mother?


    I spiralled. Receded into a shell. Let debt rack up. Barely scraped by. And then¡­


    Well, it was a day just before my life completely fell apart. The first thing to greet me that morning was the cold, heartless stare of those steel beams. They had a tendency to line my ceiling, holding wooden boards in an incredibly utilitarian fashion. Of course, it had been an artsy bold style once, now with rust hanging in thick ropes from the structure, it looked more, well, pathetic kinda oversells it.


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    That lovely metallic must ran throughout my lungs, and I took the prolonged breath that precedes a morning sigh. A rolling tumble halfheartedly took me from the comforts of that moth chewed blanket, and firmly into a slam on the hard floor.


    I¡¯d decided on the painful floor slamming routine as an alarm shortly after I¡¯d lost my second job to a lovely morning spent dozing. At least it still hurt.


    Leaving the building had become a sparse ritual lately. I still needed groceries, if only to see the number slowly drain, see my life¡¯s work finally run dry, bit by bit.


    That day had been one for ritual. The second last one I could afford. Bundled in a thin, torn up excuse for a coat I met the bitter late fall cold in a loving embrace.


    Midday in this part of New York was so dry, so desolate, it was grateful even to my worthless footfall. Scattered pages ran in the wind, brick buildings stood along all sides as monuments, stalling their run. Their red forms greyed in the shadow of great sheets of gloomy clouds.


    Thus I made my pilgrimage.


    The rush of a solitary car graced the empty soundscape from a further distance. Then the ring of a bell. The sweep of a door accompanied it, and then the hum of an ancient fridge. I¡¯d found my way to that corner store again, I saw the number flash grey in the green LCD, letting the thrilling despair of those faint blocks hit me.


    When the bell and door ran their sound one more time, the soundscape deafened once again. I returned along that road again. That painfully empty road.


    I don¡¯t remember which I noticed first, the muffled panic, or the rushing shapes in the corner of my eye. It wasn¡¯t an immediate process in either case. Moreso, I felt a slow building doom. She was held fast against the brickwork. They were bashing glass bottles against her skull. *Crack!* She could hardly let out a whimper. One of them was already rifling through her purse with his second hand.


    Then I noticed the men, two of them. I processed for a moment. It finally hit me. The woman was being mugged.


    The following instants were a blur. Some force compelled me to tumble my worthless body into the first man. In a whisper the woman vanished behind me, and I dove in front of something painful.


    And suddenly I was pissing blood unceremoniously into the alley.


    A scattering sound of footsteps marked the end. Sealed my fate. So, I bled out.


    Darkness took its time, creeping from the edges of my sight, it was in no rush to finish this miserable experience. Still, when it finally came, it was nice. A pleasant warmth finally replaced the cold, firm concrete. For a brief moment, it was just sweet darkness.


    Then light. Some voice filled the void. What it said escaped my memory, but I answered it. The words I spoke etched themselves crystal clear on my lips.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The light went out.


    The first thing to greet me that morning was-


    It wasn¡¯t quite a ceiling. Smooth, blue, painted in the fading moonlight. My eyes traced to its edge. It was a canopy, lifted into the illusion of a ceiling by four posts, rising as if Greek pillars from the soft down sheets of the bed.


    Somehow I¡¯d survived. The generosity of a stranger perhaps? I couldn¡¯t comprehend who or how, and some part of me wondered at the oddity of the luxury of this bed, surely this was no hospital.


    Perhaps in hindsight, my classic rolling alarm was a bad way to follow up a near death experience, still the instinctual routine had taken hold. Slipping out of the covers, I plunged recklessly into the floor.


    I felt no pain.


    It was as though I¡¯d floated gently from the bed¡¯s side, my usual weight no longer plunged me awake. No. No, instead, what woke me that morning was sheer horror.


    Thin delicate arms and legs stretched to raise me from the floor, easily pulling up a frame and shape so horrifyingly unfamiliar. Small, I think that was what first dawned on me, my sudden lack of size, I was skinny, and rising on those dainty feet, I realized I was short too. As those feminine arms fell to my side, they brushed past unfamiliar mass on my chest.


    It took just another instant before I noticed the tickling hair on my neck. Those delicate hands rose again, and they felt another horror, long thick hairs, draped along my back. It was like the alley again, a slow processing.


    I was no longer in my own body. Somehow, for some reason beyond my understanding, I was now in the body of a young woman.


    And I screamed.

 Chapter 2: Waking as Another

    I practically threw myself at the door, hitting against it in a harsh cacophony. It was a brief and all at once excruciating process to reorient myself. I took the opportunity to take in the room around me, thick stonework, a huge arched window just beside the bed. Something was horribly wrong.


    Yielding to my frantic finger fiddling, the door fell open. I tumbled past, stuttering my way only the hallway beyond, nearly tripping on the warm red carpet as it dragged against my feet.


    I froze.


    There was someone there. A maid.


    Perhaps someone would judge me harshly for my reaction. I can almost hear the whining, something to the tune of ¡°OH if I were in his shoes I would¡¯ve calmly asked the maid about what was going on.¡±


    Screw that. If you¡¯d just woken up in the body of a girl, in some kind of stone castle, and the first person you saw was the caricature of a french maid, you¡¯d sprint as far away as you could too. Whatever insanity was going on here, I wanted no part of it.


    Despite my best efforts however, my new body failed me. Legs twisted, moving incorrectly for my new form, they sent me tumbling down the nearest stairwell.


    It took a few moments to once again reorient myself. This room was larger, and split level, the upper half I¡¯d collapsed onto was angled into a U shape, peering over the grand room below. Adorning its center, a great map, over which the hunched back of a regal figure was hung.


    The ends of that U descended as stair cases, and hearing the confused footfall of the maid begin to descend behind me, I once again burst down a staircase, this time taking care to place my feet correctly.


    The figure at the map remained firmly lost in his thoughts, though I took the opportunity to further take in his attire. A white coat with blue trims.


    That was quite enough to tell me he was in on whatever insanity this was. Someone roleplaying a noble and running this sick game. That was where my thoughts had landed I think. That this was some kind of delusional role play.


    I hadn¡¯t quite reconciled being changed into a woman with that idea, still I knew enough that I wanted no part of this. Catching the maid¡¯s form entering the archway of the stair above, I sprinted away, following the grand path of a towering hall.


    My breath was growing short, this new body clearly lacked any amount of stamina, though I admit my old one would only have lasted maybe a minute longer. Still, I found myself panting as I rested my elbows against a ridge.


    It was then that my mind had finished processing my surroundings, the tall arched hall had continued, though after winding a corner, the walls had opened up to the world beyond. Broken up by pillars, and melting into the ceiling with triangular forms, the paneless windows now surrounded me.


    And I was leaning against one.


    I was staring down at a steep drop onto cobbled pavement.


    An all too familiar sensation for that morning returned, my legs failed me, and I collapsed away from the window, crumpling into a heap. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I think it was then that I realized this wasn¡¯t possible. The scale of the world beyond those windows was well beyond a role play. Even in that brief glimpse of the cobblestone, I¡¯d seen dozens of people.


    I¡¯d seen donkeys, horses, market stalls, and the full medieval menagerie.


    As I forced myself back to my feet, I looked out again. Out at a lively, busting castle, at the energetic village that lay beyond it, and with great despair at the near endless green fields beyond.


    ¡°Sophie!¡± A harsh voice rang out behind me. ¡°What in Regalia are you doing out in your nightgown?¡±


    I continued to stare out at the horrifying weight of the scene before my eyes.


    ¡°Sophie!¡± And suddenly my shoulder was whipped around as I was spun to face the voice.


    It''s owner was uncomfortably close. Crisp, clear features made up her face, staring directly into my eyes with an unusual mix of gentle anger and surprise.


    ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°Sophie, get a hold on yourself and breathe, you''re as pale as a sheet¡± The anger had faded into genuine concern.


    And at that moment, those words resonated. I took a steep breath, fresh clear air rushed through my lungs, and all at once a deep calm hit me.


    ¡°That''s better, now dear sister what has got into you.¡± In that moment I managed to take in her form.


    That clear face was placed carefully atop an imposing suit of armor, shimmering in the breaking sunlight. A white surcoat with a detailed blue-gold emblem of some sort rested over it. It was a lot to process, but at the least I''d managed to put a shape to the voice.


    ¡°W-where am I?¡±


    ¡°Are you running a fever?¡± She touched a gloved hand to my forehead. ¡°No that doesn''t seem to be it¡­¡±


    Some part of my mind was finally taking in the insanity. Somehow, through some process I''d no hope of understanding, I was here. In a castle. And this woman seemed to know me, I wasn''t just a girl now, I seemed to be a specific girl.


    ¡°I uh had a nightmare, a really vivid one, woah. I- oh I''m sorry I''m still so disoriented I forgot your name.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, that''s, well it''s certainly quite the dream dear sister. To make you forget your own flesh and blood sister Gale. You poor precious thing.¡±


    I hope the whiners appreciated that, suddenly somewhere in the pit of disorientation I forced myself to play along. I''d fully accepted this as more than just a roleplay, and with that, the possibility of escaping, of resisting my place in this scenario suddenly disappeared.


    ¡°Ah right, I''m sorry sister, I think I''m slowly recovering. Where am I, ugh?¡± I played up the exhausted disorientation.


    ¡°We¡¯re still in the castle, just like alw-¡±


    ¡°Which castle?¡± I played up hysteria, a task I found considerably easier given my circumstances.


    ¡°Spravalia dear, home.¡± She looked almost annoyed, yet the emotion seemed overpowered by concern.


    Some part of me wanted to push my luck, to keep asking about my situation, the other parts were already trying to think through other ways to gather information, to work something out, to problem solve.


    Both parts were snuffed out when the maid caught up.


    ¡°Ah Princess Sophie I¡¯ve-¡± She took a breath. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to find you, what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    My ¡°sister¡± spoke out for me. ¡°The poor girl suffered some sort of night terror, she¡¯s woken wholly disoriented, and seems to have mixed around some memories. I trust you¡¯ll take extra good care of her this morning for my sake.¡±


    ¡°But of course Princess Gale, I always do, now miss Sophie, shall we get going, we have a busier schedule than usual today, what with the wedding preparations and all.¡±


    I suppressed a shout of surprise, and forced myself to respond. ¡°Ah, yes right, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    And with great dread I followed the maid, my escape voluntarily dashed, I receded into the room again, slowly but inevitably.

 Chapter 3: A New Lesson

    Wearing a corset is remarkably uncomfortable. No hmm, actually I think that¡¯s a little unfair. Have you ever put on a long sleeve shirt for the first time after a long summer? That¡¯s part of why putting the corset on was so uncomfortable to me. It was entirely unfamiliar. A sudden restrictive sensation I¡¯d never felt before.


    I remember a sort of chilling dread then, as the maid tightened it. A dread that I¡¯d never be able to escape this corset.


    ¡°You mentioned I had a busy schedule, err what does it look like?¡± Mainly the words had slipped out in an effort to keep my attention away from whatever outfit the maid had been putting over my body.


    ¡°Ah Princess, I know it¡¯s a lot to keep in your head, but surely you could remember. An agenda of two things isn¡¯t that far above the usual is it?¡±


    My cheeks burned red. ¡°I- I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve forgotten.¡±


    The maid seemed a bit exasperated, then seemed to straighten up, as if remembering something. ¡°Right, I¡¯m sorry Princess, it will just be your usual class, and then some taste testing for the wedding caterers, you know, they need ample time to prepare a royal feast and all.¡±


    The boiling in my cheeks was almost unbearable. How could this girl be so dense that my questions hardly phased the maid? Still, I was starting to see how that could serve to my advantage. No one would bat an eye to these stupid questions, and then¡­


    Well to be honest, I still had no idea what I was working towards. I suppose at that moment, as the maid led me out of the bedroom, I was just trying to think, to find something to work with, to desperately try and escape this hopeless pit in my gut.


    ¡°Ah, umm, this might sound a bit bad, but when was the wedding again?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in a month and a half, Miss Sophie.¡± She said that matter of factly.


    ¡°Ah yes, thank you.¡± I was tempted to ask her name, but the thought of insulting her, or worse still finding out this girl had never bothered to learn it was a strong repellent.


    ¡°And Miss Sophie, be sure to attend your full class today, you only have a few weeks left, and the King insisted you not insult the tutor at least for these last few classes.¡± She paused. ¡°Ah I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to tell you what to do, it¡¯s just the-¡±


    ¡°No that¡¯s alright, I think I can give learning a shot.¡±


    We¡¯d followed a corridor and landed at an old wooden door. The maid looked almost stunned. I supposed the part of her that didn¡¯t was assuming that her mention of the King had convinced me. At that point, I remember wondering if that King would be my father, or something of the sort at least.


    Either way, the maid indicated to pass through the door, so I followed, feeling the somewhat cool air of the hall replace itself with a stifling warmth from within the room.


    The classroom was, in a word, cozy. It was a small room, still walled with stonework, but that fact was almost hidden by bookshelves, scattered boards, and the occasional loose stack of papers. The floor was thoroughly covered in a velvet carpet. As for desks, there were only three, a great big one sat at the far end of the room, framed in the brilliant orange light of the fireplace, and before it, a pair of smaller desks, simple, though still graced with more ornamentation than any school I¡¯d attended.


    The teacher¡¯s desk sat an old, kindly man, who appeared exhausted at the mere sight of me. Of the two remaining desks, only one sat a student. It seemed I was the last to arrive.


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    I hurriedly took a seat.


    ¡°Ah yes, good day princess, it¡¯s good of you to join us.¡± The man craned his neck, straining his eyes behind thick glasses. ¡°Now, when last we left off, I believe we were going over the Takelvian-Rynekish trade war of 982. Tella, if you would, tell us about the conditions that led to the conflict.¡±


    ¡°Yes professor!¡±


    I took the opportunity to steal a glance at Tella. Beyond her crystal clear voice, the primary impression that struck me was an elegant beauty. Every detail of her outfit was intimately arranged, and at the same time, her face done up with pristine detail, almost painted on with makeup. Despite that, with that fiery look in her eyes, the girl pushed an almost doll-like look into one of passionate arrogance. Her appearance screamed of pride, frilly accents be damned, she lit the fire in her orange dress.


    ¡°It was sparked by a series of border skirmishes that followed from the end of the last great war. Rynek cut off the Takelvian people from a rich grain supply that had previously travelled freely across the border. The conflict escalated until Spravalia stepped in, using diplomatic placation, and military threat to push Takelvia to call off their tariffs, and reintroducing the grain route, albeit with a new tax placed on the grain.¡±


    ¡°Excellent work! Yes, that''s all I wanted to cover on the topic, so if you¡¯re both satisfied with what you know, we can conclude our lectures on history. Of course, it¡¯s hardly even history when it happened 20 years ago, hehe.¡±


    The professor seemed quite pleased with the progress of my classmate, but I couldn¡¯t help noticing he was trying his hardest to avoid looking my way.


    Screw that, how could this girl have just sat there, taking this oppressive condescension.


    ¡°Professor, I have a question.¡± I tried my best to keep the words neutral.


    I think between the giggling to my left and the professor¡¯s agape expression I nearly died right there. Still, I forced the words out. ¡°I was wondering why Spravalia had the influence to enforce that much control over the other nations.¡±


    The professor closed his mouth after a few moments. ¡°Ah well princess, that¡¯s a complicated matter but if I had to summarize, it would be a combination of our geopolitical position as peacekeepers following the great war, and your mother, the late Queen¡¯s skilled diplomacy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you professor, that definitely helps put it into perspective.¡± I struggled to hold onto my dignity as the giggling to my left intensified.


    ¡°Right, of course, regardless, I¡¯ll schedule our history exam for after the weekend, be sure you both study hard.¡±


    I suppose after that the class progressed without much incident. Standing up to the oppressive pressure of that room was almost impossible, and I didn¡¯t feel like I¡¯d gain much asking about the math and science I was familiar enough with anyways. There was a brief section on literature as well, and while I wasn¡¯t at all familiar with the source material, it was the kind of thing you could easily pick up on as it went.


    Tella was quite the know-it-all, though I¡¯d gathered that almost immediately. Still it didn¡¯t make that first class any easier to stomach.


    But I did stomach it. Time drew away like a retreating serpent, and before I knew it, the bespectacled professor was ushering us to leave the room. Tella took his indication, I stayed behind.


    ¡°Ah- umm, princess, what is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had a change of heart, I think. I¡¯d like to give learning a shot after all.¡± Every word was almost painful to utter, still, I did manage to utter them. I was already thinking of how studying this, well at this point I¡¯d concluded it must have been a whole world, of how studying it would give me a better chance of surviving whatever this experience was.


    ¡°Ah I see princess, well, it¡¯s certainly a little late for that, but I can do my best to help you through this last stretch, at least to get what you can out of it.¡±


    ¡°I- uh could I borrow some books on history, oh and that literature we were studying.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll have it delivered to your room.¡± As I turned to leave I caught him sighing under his breath, and mumbling almost inaudibly ¡°Though I doubt it¡¯d be much use, all that history crammed into just a weekend.¡±


    I practically stomped my way out of the door at that. Still, I bit that rage down, and left the room with what remaining grace I could muster.

 Chapter 4: A Feast of Purpose

    Drip, drip, drip. A metaphorical trickle. Royal blues almost seeped from above. It¡¯s such a hard sensation to describe, after all, literally it was just a well painted ceiling, still there was something overbearingly regal about the patterns on it, about the richness of the colours, mostly blues, but accented with vibrant golds.


    It served as a terrible distraction from the mountain of a man now standing next to me. I¡¯d tried my best to avert my eyes, still I¡¯d caught a great white beard when we first met. Aside from that brief glimpse, all I kept seeing of him was that great blue cloak. I¡¯d have taken the ceiling any day, but it was almost impossible to ignore the white firm trim that outlined the cloak in the corner of my eye.


    ¡°My dear girl Sophie, why are you so stiff? Relax and be merry, look how the Takelvian cooks prepare a sample of their finest meals!¡± His voice was booming certainly, but it was the warmth that startled me.


    I shivered.


    How was I supposed to relax? Nevermind the stress I was under, it was this intense discomfort. Guilt I think. This intense disquieting sensation came squarely from the idea that this man erroneously believed I was his daughter.


    Was I supposed to just tell him? Tell him what? I was actually a man from some other world or reality or something? Was I supposed to accept his kindness? To pretend I was his daughter? To live the life of a pampered princess.


    There was a thought that accompanied that last possibility. At once disgusting, and impossible to ignore. The idea that this was my reward for hardship in life, that I was entitled to live out a peaceful life.


    I¡¯d hardly noticed, but we¡¯d sat at the table. There was a great commotion around us, that was what finally pulled me from my thoughts. Chefs were swarming around, like bees, maneuvering the dishes with aimless grace.


    ¡°My dear, please, I know marriage is a lot to think on, but you must set those thoughts aside. There¡¯s food to taste¡± He¡¯d taken to merrily chomping a shimmering sweet scented slab of meat.


    Sickening sweetness. I have an obsessive tendency to hate that. The sweet taste in the back of your mouth as you walk through the blazing heat of a paved lot, that¡¯s the scent that overpowered my nostrils at that moment. Running on railroads to that sweet reward, huh? Rewarded in my new life with the opportunity to free ride as someone¡¯s trophy wife.


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    Had anything changed?


    ¡°Uh, father, what if I-?¡± I hesitated.


    ¡°What is it dear?¡± I almost froze. I suddenly had his full undivided attention. The meal had been set aside.


    I did something. ¡°What if I didn¡¯t want to go through with the wedding?¡±


    He looked at me, sympathetic, yet still he sighed. ¡°Sophie, this is a very bad time to go back on the wedding. I understand your nerves, but at this point Takelvia is relying on this marriage to secure our relations, it would hardly be becoming of us to overturn that good will.¡±


    ¡°I- it¡¯s not nerves I-¡± I realized something very important in that instance, something I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever learned in all those years near rotting in that apartment. ¡°I see my life written out in front of me, like if I just leave it on the track it¡¯s on I¡¯m going to run into something I hate. I don¡¯t want that. I want to lead it on a better track.¡±


    ¡°Is that right dear?¡± He looked genuinely shocked. ¡°You know your mother and I had always wanted what¡¯s best for you.¡±


    ¡°I know but-¡±


    ¡°Let me finish dear, we¡¯d always hoped you¡¯d find passion for something, take charge of your life, like how your brother and sister have. And you know, hearing those words now, I want to believe a spark finally found its way to you.¡±


    It was weird, uncomfortable even to hear him refer to a past I knew nothing about.


    ¡°It has father. Please, I don¡¯t want this marriage.¡± I replied with what genuine emotion I muster from behind my lies.


    ¡°A month and a half right? Until the wedding I mean.¡± I nodded; he continued. ¡°So my dear, you have 5 weeks, I want you to prove to me this new spark isn¡¯t a passing phase, to find something you take passion in, to find your place in my court. If you can do that, I¡¯ll gladly bear the brunt of Takelvia¡¯s ill will, so long as my girl is truly happy. Is that fair?¡±


    ¡°Yes father!¡± It wasn¡¯t much, certainly nothing easy, but I think somewhere in that deception I¡¯d found truth, I¡¯d lit a fire in my heart I hadn¡¯t felt in quite a while.


    ¡°Very good, for now then, let¡¯s eat, we have the opportunity after all!¡±


    To this day, that was the best meal I¡¯d ever had. Passion has a way of bringing out the true savoury depth of a meal. It was a crushing pressure certainly, to find someone else¡¯s life purpose in little more than a month, but it was also a great, almost blinding strength to finally have a clear goal after the most confusing hours of my life. A relief so strong I couldn¡¯t help but indulge in that celebratory meal.

 Chapter 5: A Stroll

    I hadn''t yet worked it out. No, as I wandered past the loud shouts of assorted market vendors it really hadn''t clicked with me yet. I don''t think it''s fair to blame me, I''d spent the majority of that morning buried in the books I''d fallen asleep reading the night before.


    There was a sudden startling rustle, accompanied by a cold breeze that had shattered my groggy sleep. I had hardly a second to grasp what the maid had said before I was dressed again in a- well I suppose it was elegant by my standards, but looking back- a simple dress.


    ¡°The captain of the guard is waiting to take you on a walk in the castle town.¡±


    Those words were still being processed in my mind as I walked after the figure in front of me. Captain Alfin I think I heard the maid call him. Tall by my new standards, but not at all the archetypal brute I was half expecting, he was slim, almost small compared to some men I spotted on that stroll. Though, the thick metal plates all over his body did a lot to cover that up from the average onlooker. Not to say he was bad looking but-


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    Alfin turned to face me. ¡°What is it, princess?¡±


    ¡°Oh I uh- I was just thinking, it¡¯d be great if you could tell me a bit about the town.¡± That was when the shoe dropped.


    I still kick myself for it. Why hadn¡¯t I seen the opportunity? It was so transparent that I could use this walk to work even more out about my situation, and it was handed to me on a silver platter.


    His face was that familiar condescending bewilderment I¡¯d grown sick of already.


    ¡°Gagh quit looking at me like that, so I¡¯ve decided to take my studies seriously for once, is that so baffling!¡±


    ¡°Ah- of course not princess, I¡¯ll more than happily be your guide, my wish is your command.¡± He followed the statement with some muttering I neither could nor cared to work out.


    I suppose I should save you the lecture itself, not like I could quote it word for word anyway. Still, after rectifying my mistake, the walk turned into one of the most formative, important moments in those early days.


    The market was a weekly occurrence, vendors came in from across the world, bringing products in for the townspeople. A lively spot, lying just beyond the gates of the palace made it perfectly convenient for castle staff. Passing down a hill, the road led to a waterway. A nearly still channel that ran directly below the palace, offering direct river access. Its docks a chattering hub of commerce, it was the central route of trade through the capital. Horses whinnied, restlessly tugging at their carts as goods were loaded en masse.


    We passed by, taking a left at the castle wall, meandering past homes and pubs. Locals bumbled their way between shops, occasionally passing a condescending glance at myself or the aimless tourists that had diverted from the main road. We passed that too, the main road was beyond congested with all manner of person, animal, and other assorted traffic.


    Finally, we stopped down a sidepath. Alfin heaved a coarse breath, sweating, clearly my barrage of questions had done a number on his stamina.


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    ¡°Right, so, this district is an older one then?¡±


    ¡°Dear princess, please, have mercy, I¡¯m no orator and yet you¡¯ve asked me to detail the whole intricacy of our trade with Takelvia, of the roads to all the kingdoms cities, and of the culture of near every pedestrian we meet.¡± He hung his head at that.


    ¡°Oh- I¡¯m sorry Alfin, that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    The silence was a great relief. I took in the surroundings on my own. Grey cobblestones walled the alley as it sank between a pair of buildings. We¡¯d found ourselves standing along a ramp. The incline proceeded quite a ways, before snaking into a long deep alley that eventually found itself swallowed by a dark tunnel a ways along.


    I sat, resting the dress in an awkward fold beneath my body. Hanging there, along the slope for just a long, silent moment.


    ¡°Thank you for all the information Alfin.¡± Seeing his head stir I swiftly threw on ¡°Ah, no please rest.¡±


    It was the first moment since I¡¯d woken up as a girl that had felt genuinely peaceful. So fittingly, it was shattered with a yell.


    Someone thrust themselves out of a window, landing deep in the alley with a crunch.


    Another yell, this one understandable. ¡°Thief!¡±


    Alfin snapped to his feet.


    The thief scrambled to their feet, cloaked in grey, they seemed to briefly size up the alley. Catching sight of us, they scattered their feet against the cobblestones, skittering deeper into it.


    With a deep sigh, my accompanying soldier began a dead sprint, clunking his way after the skitterer. Watching on from a distance, I caught sight of that thief making their way to the tunnel, only to watch a crushing realization hit them. The thief¡¯s hands frantically pulled at something, I realized then, a gate, it was almost like watching a mime, their hands filling in the shape of a black, near invisible gate now serving as their doom.


    Alfin thundered ever closer to the figure. Panic took the thief, they started flailing their hands wildly, turning to face their pursuer.


    Then something happened.


    The thief shouted.


    Despite the distance, the words were crystal clear.


    ¡°Ter rys!¡±


    And the ground beneath their feet shot up, a pillar of stone burst upwards, sending the thief flying into the air.


    Alfin stumbled back.


    The thief caught hands on a rooftop, scrambling their way up and disappearing over the edge.


    A moment passed.


    Alfin slowly returned to my side.


    ¡°What- what was that?¡±


    ¡°Seems even lowlives have taken to practicing magic of late. It¡¯s a concerning trend.¡± He looked over me with a concerned expression.


    ¡°Magic¡­ ?¡± I let the word slip out before I could evaluate it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be so ignorant that- uh I mean-¡± Alfin blushed. ¡°I meant to say that magic runs in your family, so I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not familiar, your sister is an expert battle mage after all.¡±


    ¡°Is that- does that mean I could learn magic?¡±


    He pondered the question for a moment. ¡°I mean, anyone can learn magic, in theory, it¡¯s not tied to genetics, but it¡¯d be quite difficult, the practice is simply so different from any other skill, it¡¯s hard to grasp.¡±


    But my thoughts had already melted past his words. The walk had been a great breakthrough, suddenly I had hope again. Plans. God, it scared me a little, but I could come up with something. Feelings were rushing through me for the first time since my mother¡¯s passing.