The carriage bearing the Imperial crest did not merely travel; it struggled through its journey.
Princess Lilia pressed her soft, smooth palm against the hot window of the carriage, her captivating eyes wide as she gazed at the passing scenery.
She had just turned eighteen two days earlier—an age said to be mature enough for someone to understand the world.
In the imperial capital, an imperial princess's eighteenth birthday was typically celebrated with lavish décor and expensive imported wines.
Royal banners draped across the buildings, and the melodious strains of harps echoed through the palace banquet hall, which was adorned with gold and silver.
Yet now—as the distant and perilous borderlands of the Regalia Empire were gradually being overrun by the savage forces of the Forden Kingdom—reaching the age of eighteen meant she was finally old enough to witness firsthand the rot of a deeply entrenched system that was slowly eating away at the lives of the people her family had long ruled.
"You are daydreaming again, Lilia. What are you looking at?" A sharp, melodic voice suddenly cut through the rhythmic, agonizing creaking of the carriage frame.
Lilia slowly turned her head away from the window. Her older sister, Princess Maria, was lounging carelessly in the wide passenger seat directly opposite her.
Her costly silk robe, embroidered with silver thread, draped loosely over the dark leather cushion, cascading around her ankles in elegant waves.
Maria's beauty was undeniable—like a perfectly honed dagger: elegant and razor-sharp, unmistakably radiating the refined aura of the imperial family.
At that very moment, she slowly swirled a crystal glass of imported plum wine, appearing completely unperturbed by the violent jolting caused by the rough, rugged road.
"I am looking at the people, Sister Maria," Lilia said softly, her voice carrying the quiet, suffocating weight of someone who had spent the last three hours absorbing horrors through a clean pane of glass.
"They are peasants, dear. They always look like that,"
Maria replied dismissively, taking a delicate, measured sip from her crystal glass. She leaned her head back against the upholstery, sighing softly.
"This inspection tour is just a mandatory formality. A very basic ritual. You show your face to the lower classes."
She continue. "You prove to the high lords of the court that the Emperor's youngest daughter isn't afraid of getting a little dirt on her boots, and then we return to the palace— to a place that actually has a soft, comfortable bed."
"But that 'dirt' is the border of our empire, your highness." A new voice suddenly intervened, low, resonant, and entirely different from Maria's superficial flippancy.
Sitting directly by the reinforced carriage door, her posture perfectly rigid and unyielding despite the rough, uneven terrain, was Vior.
As one of the most respected Commanders from the Royal Regalia Forces, Vior looked every single bit the living, breathing fortress she was.
Her heavy, silver-plated steel armor was scarred with deep, rough gouges from over a dozen fierce battles against the savage Forden clan, while her stern face—hardened by the rigors of life—was framed by short, practical dark hair.
Her sharp, calculating eyes remained fixed intently on the barren horizon outside, never wavering for a single second. "And those peasants are the first ones to burn when those barbarian attacked. Do not dismiss them so lightly, Your Highness."
Princess Maria rolled her brilliant eyes in annoyance but chose not to argue the point any further. No one in their right mind argued with Commander Vior—not even the usually haughty nobles.
Except for one immature boy.
"Commander Vior! Please mind your manners when speaking to Her Highness Maria!"
Said a young soldier who was also part of the group.
Leon sat beside Vior. He was one of the youngest apprentice soldiers entrusted by the emperor to serve as Lilia's personal bodyguard.
At barely seventeen years old, the young apprentice of the Regalia knights stood at absolute, rigid attention against the shaking wall, his right hand resting tightly and anxiously on the leather hilt of his standard-issue steel sword.
His blue military uniform was immaculate, though a fine, inescapable layer of grey frontier dust had already begun to dull the polished brass buttons on his long coat.
He looked incredibly anxious, his eyes darting rapidly between Princess Lilia and the rattling window, hyper-aware of his solemn duty to protect the young princess with his very life.
Leon was the child of Lord Hiruzar, the younger sibling of the powerful royal head wizard Hendrix.
Because of their families' proximity within the high court, he had been a close childhood friend of Princess Lilia, and the two had known each other since the time she first learned to run through the palace gardens.
Then, suddenly, the heavy carriage groaned to a violent, shuddering halt, the horses whinnying in loud protest as the driver pulled the reins.
The heavy iron-reinforced door was swung open from the outside by a dusty escort guard, and the harsh, arid wind of the borderland instantly rushed into the cabin, carrying the pungent scent of dry dust, old sweat, and absolute despair.
Lilia stepped out of the carriage first, her polished leather boots instantly sinking into the loose, gray dirt of the road.
The oppressive heat hit her face like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs.
This was the isolated border outpost of Oakhaven, though not a single living tree was anywhere in sight.
It was a makeshift, crumbling settlement huddled miserably beneath the immense shadow of a massive stone wall—a wall that separated the wealth of the Empire from the brutal Barbarian Kingdom of Forden, a faction famous throughout the continent for its extreme cruelty and bloodlust.
As Lilia and Maria walked down the dirt path, flanked closely by the watchful figures of Vior and Leon, the young princess's heart sank deeper into her chest.
The grim reality of the frontier was far worse than any of the polished reports read aloud to her by her high-court tutors back in the capital.