Princess Elora took a deep breath, she clenched her fists tightly to calm herself down.
She was in front of her father's chamber, waiting to go inside as he summoned her. She knew what was happening even before her father knew about the news. Her influence had grown that much. After all, she saved the Autumn Kingdom from possible ostracisation and war, she at least deserves that.
'They must be already inside the chambers,' she thought as she had seen the brother and sister duo, the supposed hero, of the Autumn Kingdom enter through the palace gates.
She was sure the boy was already, as he should rightfully, advanced to the Tournament of Unity without any restraints or something.
Even though she hates the duo, she can't deny the fact that he is indeed the most powerful and the one with the most potential in the entire kingdom as of now.
She took a final, deep breath before knocking on the door.
"Come in," came a strained and old voice.
The old man is dying. Dying because somebody failed to obtain a certain herb from the temple.
This was actually good for her, as she had plans brewed just for the right moment.
She pushed open the double door and entered the chambers and sure enough, the duo were standing on the side of the large bed, and her father, the King, lay on the bed with a serious expression on his face.
The duo was not good either. They seemed like someone had asked the girl to sleep with him.
'Aah,' realization dawned on her.
The boy seemed like he could explode anytime.
She walked inside with regal energy and bowed before her father, not because she wanted to but because some strangers were in the room. A king should be addressed and respected accordingly, especially when there are his subjects in the same room.
"Why did you summon me, father?" Elora asked, her voice was low and controlled despite being impatient to know why they have come here. It also made it sound more royal than usual which would make sense considering who she is addressing.
Her father looked up at her with an intense gaze, "You heard about the upcoming tournament conducted by that old bastard?"
"Yes, I've heard about that."
"Good, that makes it easy for me. Now, where is that fool? I had summoned your brother too," he grumbled and muttered. "Forget that imbecile. Some future king, he is. The bastard must be under his mother's skirt right now. Nonetheless, I don't want him anyway now. On to the plans." He said and took a sip from his wine glass.
"By default and rightfully, Calen would be our number one candidate to compete against the other kingdoms. We cannot lose this chance if we ever get another opportunity like this again."
Elora nodded silently.
As Elora nodded, her gaze shifted toward Calen, the supposed hero of the Autumn Kingdom. She couldn't help but notice the mix of frustration and determination etched on his face. It intrigued her, knowing that he had failed the king not once, but twice already.
"Father," Elora began, her voice steady and filled with purpose. "I understand the importance of this tournament and the need for a strong representative. However, I must express my concerns regarding Calen's track record."
Calen's eyes narrowed, his pride wounded by her words. He stepped forward, his voice laced with a touch of sarcasm. "Ah, Princess Elora, always quick to point out my failures. It's a shame you're not out there risking your life to protect the kingdom."
Elora's gaze met his, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of challenge and amusement. "Oh, Calen, don't mistake my concern for criticism. I simply believe in assessing our options thoroughly. After all, we wouldn't want another misstep in such a crucial moment, would we?"
Calen bristled at her playful tone, his competitive nature pushing him to defend his abilities. "I've learned from my mistakes, Princess. I assure you, this time will be different. I won't let you or the kingdom down."
A sly smile crept onto Elora's lips as she leaned closer to Calen. "Oh, I have no doubt that you possess the power and potential to be our greatest champion, Calen. But power alone doesn't guarantee success. It takes wit, strategy, and a keen understanding of one's opponents."
Calen straightened his posture, a fire igniting within him. "And what makes you think I lack those qualities, Princess?"
Elora's eyes sparkled with mischief as she responded, her voice dripping with subtle mockery. "Oh, Calen, I've seen you charge headfirst into battles, relying solely on your strength. But battles are won by those who can outwit their foes. You may be a force to be reckoned with, but true greatness lies in the art of subtlety and strategy."
The tension in the room grew palpable as Calen bristled at her words. His ego wounded, he spoke with a determined edge. "I'll have you know, Princess, that I am not as naive as you believe. I am capable of more than brute force. And I'll prove it to you and everyone else in the upcoming tournament."
Elora chuckled softly, her amusement evident. "Very well, Calen. I eagerly await your display of wit and strategy. But remember, actions speak louder than words. The kingdom's hopes rest on your shoulders."
Calen shot her a defiant look, determination burning in his eyes. "Rest assured, Princess Elora, I will not disappoint."
The king observed their exchange with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He leaned back in his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "It seems we have an interesting dynamic here. Elora, my dear, perhaps you should lend your strategic mind to our dear hero. Who knows, he might learn a thing or two. Perhaps you can find a suitable husband in doing so."
"That would be unnecessary, Father," she said, looking uncomfortable. "I'll marry when the right time arrives."
Celeste, who had been standing silently beside her brother Calen, couldn't help but interject with a teasing tone. "Oh, dear Princess, are you afraid that no one will match your intellect? Or perhaps you simply enjoy tormenting poor suitors with your wit?"
Elora shot Celeste a playful glare, her eyes narrowing. "I assure you, Celeste, suitors have never been a concern of mine. My focus lies elsewhere, as should yours."
Celeste and Elroa had been childhood friends. They were like thick and thin but due to their different nature of the future; they had to part ways. After all these years, they were able to communicate amicably, but the old connection was nowhere to find.
Celeste crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, I am well aware, Princess. Unlike you, I prefer the company of books and puzzles over gallant knights seeking my hand."
Calen chimed in, unable to resist joining the banter. "Well, Celeste, that's probably for the best. I doubt any knight would survive your sharp tongue."
Celeste huffed indignantly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I merely speak my mind, brother. If they can't handle it, then they're not worth my time."
Elora chuckled, finding amusement in their verbal sparring. "Well, Celeste, it seems we share a similar disposition. Perhaps we can form an alliance of wit and intellect, while Calen handles the physical challenges."
Calen raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ah, so my sister and the Princess plan to outsmart everyone while I swing my sword? I suppose it's an unconventional approach, but I won't complain if it brings us victory."
"Enough of your chattering, it's breaking my eardrums," grumbled the king. "Whatever you do, make sure you bring us the victory."
"Yes, your highness," all three replied.
"You," he pointed at Elora. "Find the other suitable candidates for the tournament. I trust your judgment. Don't fail me, unlike some others."
"As you command, Father," Elora said, bowing her head. She was glad this task was handed to her rather than her brother. She will use this to solidify her position as the next ruler but there was some people that she needs to take care of before assuming the title of ruler. A certain promiscuous whore of a mother and her idiot son.
Calen's face flushed as he heard the remark. He knows he had failed the king multiple times now. Not because of his fault, that is. It all started because of that young master. He was the one who started his unlucky streak.
'I'll crush you when I see you next time, Damien Von Zadkiel.' He clenched his fist in anger. He would have visited the Zadkiel duchy and dragged that useless idiot to the mud and asked him about the whereabouts of the thief, but his king had warned him not to do it and he had to drop that subject there. But he never had forgotten about it. And he never will.
He will crush both the imbecile and that slutty thief. He will make her grovel on the floor and lick his feet.
A small smile appeared on his face.
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