As I scribbled on the parchment under the dim light, I felt my hand ache. Placing the quill down, I kneaded my fingers and sighed. I lazily placed my head down on the table and emptied my mind from all the trivialities of life.

Though I wanted to relax, it only caused me stress to not work, so with great hesitance, I lifted my head up and picked up quill once more. After attempting to wet the quill with ink, I noticed that I had run out of ink.

Once again, I sighed.

“Princess, it’s not good to sigh too much. Your soul might escape, you know? But do people have a soul? I wonder…”

I raised my head towards the owner of the voice and massaged my temples. In response, I said, “Should a ghost be really saying that to me?”

The ghost of an elderly man sporting long hair and reading glasses laughed at my retort. As he laughed, the ghost choked and had to beat his chest a few times. I almost got up in panic to help him until I remembered that the man is, well…dead. Ghosts aren’t exactly known for their ability to be not dead.

“The Conqueror-King’s descendant is amusing, to say the least. Allow me to replace the ink while you wait here.” The ghost picked up the ink bottle and tried to go through the wall, causing the ink bottle to slam onto the wall. After a couple of chuckles and bowing, the ghost fixed his mistake and went through the door like a normal person.

If only a normal person wouldn’t be dead…

“I suppose now would be a good time for a break…” I said to no one in particular. After a quick stretch, my body became reinvigorated as I made my way down the hallway. Two knights patrolling the hallway wearing the Angolian banners on their tabards gave me a bow and continued their way.

Just minutes later, two black knights carrying shields painted with the coat of arms of Phollicia, the old Angolian capital, kneeled as I passed through them. I was used to this by now so I simply nodded. I used to panic and nervously try to ask them not to do that but since they insisted, I couldn’t argue.

Being a princess is such a hassle.

I started to get excited as I neared my destination. Going through a large set of doors, an unlit furnace greeted me along with the rest of my smithing tools. The fire in my heart was set alight as my excitement started to burn.

Ah, the fire might be actually literal…

As taught by grandpapa, I held my palm out and waited for flickers of white flame. Eventually, the flickers formed into a ball of normal, non-magic fire which I used to heat up the furnace. Although not as good as my furnace back home, this was still nice.

It couldn’t be helped, anyway. The enchanted dwarven forge couldn’t be moved and grandpapa didn’t like people not of his kin knowing about the forge that was originally made for his wife.

Heh…I guess grandpapa really liked his wife. I wonder if I’ll get like that someone that…

No, wait! Idiot!

I shook my head as I lost concentration and nearly made the furnace fire into Phollician fire, which could even cut through magic. Although it is nice to burn giant monsters with fire, it isn’t nice to burn my entire palace down and suffer grandpapa’s wrath.

I pulled my dress back as much as possible, rolled up my sleeves and wore a dirty brown apron around my waist, marking the start of my work. The troubles, the teachings of grandpapa, and the headache included in being a princess were slowly drowned by the clanking of my hammer against steel.

When it came to the pen and paper, I would feel lethargic and grow easily bored. But if it came down to the hammer and anvil, I felt like I could go on for days. I raised the unfinished blade I was working on and quenched it in oil. The steaming smoke and dying glow of the sword gave me a good shock on my spine, an odd feeling of excitement dancing inside me.

I kept working by the forge, uncaring of the passing time, until a cold, deathly grip hugged my skull.

“Ow ow ow! Mercy! Mercy, I say! Uncle!” I cried as I grabbed onto the gauntlet squeezing the life out of me.

“It’s ‘Ancestor’, not uncle. What are you doing?” Grandpapa Sarjay’s annoyed voice was accompanied by the furnace fire suddenly dying out.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m fishing…OW OW OW! I’m sorry! I beg you for mercy!”

“Which one of your idiot parents taught you how to be snarky? I’ll give them their belated spanking!” Grandpapa let go of my head and picked up one of my works. I was quite surprised that I had a few blades prepared on the table. It would’ve seemed that I had spent a long time smithing.

“These are steel?” He asked.

“You wouldn’t let me bring mithril from home…” I answered.

“Why? Do you really like using them as toilet paper?”

“Look, I still won’t believe your tales of how an entire kingdom used mithril as toilet paper,” I retorted with a pout.

“It’s not a tale. It’s history. Anyway, we’re only here for a few days for the royal meet-up,” Grandpapa said as he placed down the blades onto the table.

“Do I really have to attend? I don’t want to meet them. It’s so troublesome. Besides, didn’t I meet them before already?” I complained as I took off my apron and fixed my dress.

“Indeed, you have already met them…as a smith, that is. This royal meet-up is a face-to-face with another monarch. It’s also official business and since we already know them, Argo wants to delegate this task to you, the real Queen of Angolia.”

“Urk…why can’t Uncle Argo go instead? He’s officially the real king and he has experience dealing with other monarchs, right?”

“Well, since it’s her, I would have no doubt that she would be able to figure out the fallacy we’re playing out.”

I gulped and replied, “She’s that scary, huh?”

“To you, maybe. To me, she’s amusing since she has somehow found a way to irk Boss. Come on, we need to get you a new dress,” Grandpapa ordered. I couldn’t argue with him since my dress was stained with oil and scorched with burn marks.

As I followed grandpapa, a question popped up. “Ancestor, you always say Boss this, Boss that. Every time you spoke about him, it’s always Boss.”

“…And what’s your point?”

“His name. What’s his name?”

“…What?”

“What?”

We stopped in our tracks and looked at each other for a while. Although grandpapa wears a helmet all the time, I could feel that he was utterly confused.

“Boss’ name?” He asked.

“Yes. What’s the Archlich’s name?”

“…Boss is Boss.” Grandpapa answered just like that and didn’t talk to me after that, which also left me confused. I thought about it for a while, perhaps there was some cryptic meaning to his answer.

Yet, as much as I would love to think, I had to get a new dress, and prepare myself to meet the monarch. After putting on a new dress, I looked at the mirror in my room.

I straightened my back, lightly slapped my face, and placed a smile I was trained with. I mustered as much fake confidence I could get as I marched out of my room.

Graciously walking to the throne room with knights escorting me, I sat on the royal throne in anticipation. It seemed that she was late so my fake confidence was starting to drain me. However, grandpapa’s etiquette lessons were cemented into my body so I couldn’t do something unruly like complain or tap my foot impatiently.

It almost felt like an eternity until a messenger came through the doors of the throne room. It was a small girl wearing an armored maid’s uniform, a cuirass on top of a black dress with a plated white skirt.

She coughed and announced, “I, a humble servant, have the pleasure of announcing the arrival of Her Majesty, Queen Ellysa the Sixth of the United Fortresses!”