Amidral: No Promises Exist

Tsol

The next day began before dawn. Hada climbed to the top of the fourth tower under strict orders to wake the princess, two hours before the darkness of the night would dissipate. She was startled and almost immediately stepped back behind the door when she found Charlotte staring blankly at the ceiling above her bed.

"Your Majesty... did you rest well last night?" her voice came out a little louder than usual. She was about to apologize when the princess's calmness eased her, avoiding the question.

"Is it time?" The servant simply nodded. "Alright... I'll be down in a moment."

Having said this, Charlotte bowed and closed the door as she left. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled. Getting out of bed that morning was particularly difficult, and she just wanted to forget the world. She covered her face with both hands with force and frustration. Not even now, in the privacy of her room, could she afford to cry. The sheets around her were warm and soft. She remembered the first time she slept in that bed, small and fragile under the protective arms of the queen. It also reminded her of when she would fall asleep on her mother, in front of a few pieces of charcoal. Suddenly, the bed stopped being warm and became suffocating. She kicked the sheets, letting the cold of the night wrap around her and dry any tear that threatened to fall. It was time to bury the past.

The armor she had prepared the day before lay on its stand in the middle of the room. When she finished dressing, she covered her appearance with a royal velvet cloak. Her hair was gathered and adorned with Queen Mari's crown, leaving her princess tiara on the dresser's bust.

Outside the castle, Hada and Mina waited with a travel bag and a metal-clad buGatsu up to its neck. The saddlebags were fitted with small leather modifications, making it easier to store and unsheathe the royal sword while riding. She mounted, adjusting her posture while securing the travel bag to the saddle and took a final look at the Nartai castle, her home for over... years.

"It's time, girls. Pack your things and take cover. Nothing good will happen for a while... from now on."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Mina spoke up, "we can't leave the castle unprotected. Who will welcome you... when you return?" Her voice cracked at the end of the last word. She twisted her face, resisting the urge to break down as she trembled. She stopped almost instantly when a warm hand brushed her cheek, wiping away the traitorous tear that had escaped.

"It's time," the princess said.

She stepped back a few years. Before serving in the castle, her mother had been a strong and diligent woman. Work was as important as raising her own daughter. So, when she was old enough, she took her with her to learn about service in the castle. Clumsy and slow at first, over time she became as good as her mother, with an innate talent for cooking. Without realizing it, she even became better than her. For this reason, the princess did not oppose her taking her place for a few days when she fell ill. At the end of the week, she left the house as any other day, said goodbye to her mother, who had decided to rest a bit more in bed, kissed her face, and stopped when her mother's hand closed around her uniform. She returned the kiss and smiled warmly.

The next day began before dawn. Hada climbed to the top of the fourth tower under strict orders to wake the princess, two hours before the darkness of the night would dissipate. She was startled and almost immediately stepped back behind the door when she found Charlotte staring blankly at the ceiling above her bed.

"Your Majesty... did you rest well last night?" her voice came out a little louder than usual. She was about to apologize when the princess's calmness eased her, avoiding the question.

"Is it time?" The servant simply nodded. "Alright... I'll be down in a moment."

Having said this, Charlotte bowed and closed the door as she left. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled. Getting out of bed that morning was particularly difficult, and she just wanted to forget the world. She covered her face with both hands with force and frustration. Not even now, in the privacy of her room, could she afford to cry. The sheets around her were warm and soft. She remembered the first time she slept in that bed, small and fragile under the protective arms of the queen. It also reminded her of when she would fall asleep on her mother, in front of a few pieces of charcoal. Suddenly, the bed stopped being warm and became suffocating. She kicked the sheets, letting the cold of the night wrap around her and dry any tear that threatened to fall. It was time to bury the past.