Chapter : 10

  The car turned the corner, and the Iron Rose District began to fade into the distance. They were heading toward the Inner City, the place where the powerful lived, where the magic was strong, and where the danger was real.

  Ken leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. He closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh that came from the bottom of his soul.

  "My slow life," Ken mumbled to the empty air. "My beautiful, boring, slow life... it is officially over."

  "Did you say something?" Finlay asked from the front seat.

  "No," Ken said, pulling his hood over his eyes to block out the world. "Just wondering if they serve potato chips in the Royal Palace."

  Finlay didn't answer. The car sped up, rushing into the darkness of the night, carrying the world’s strongest mage toward a destiny he absolutely did not want.

  ----

  The black luxury car finally began to slow down. Ken Eliot, who had been resting his head against the cool glass of the window, opened one eye. He expected to see a golden palace. He expected high towers, shining lights, and maybe a fountain made of crystal. After all, he was visiting a Princess. In the stories he read, Royals always lived in places that looked like five-star hotels.

  "We have arrived," Grandmaster Finlay said from the front seat.

  Ken looked out the window and blinked. "Uh, are you sure?"

  The car had stopped in front of a large iron gate, but the gate was rusty. Beyond the gate, there was a large building, but it didn't look like a palace. It looked more like a very old, very large library that hadn't been cleaned in fifty years. The stone walls were gray and covered in green ivy. There were cracks in the pavement. The garden was full of wild grass instead of neat flower beds.

  "This is the headquarters of the 13th Princess?" Ken asked, sitting up. "It looks a bit… vintage."

  "It is a historic estate," Finlay said, his voice stiff. He opened the car door and stepped out. The metal of his armor clanked loudly in the quiet night. "Do not judge a book by its cover, Mr. Eliot. Get out."

  Ken grabbed his duffel bag and crawled out of the car. The air here smelled like old wood and rain. It was very quiet. There were no guards patrolling the walls. There were no trumpets announcing their arrival. It felt lonely.

  "Great," Ken thought to himself as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "No budget. That means the food is probably going to be terrible too. I bet they serve dry bread and water. My dream of a luxury life is dead before it even started."

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  Finlay walked toward the front door, his cape flowing behind him. Ken followed slowly. He dragged his feet on the ground, making a scuffing sound with his cheap shoes. He wanted to walk as slowly as possible. Maybe if he walked slow enough, the Princess would get tired of waiting and send him home.

  "Pick up your feet," Finlay commanded without looking back.

  "I'm trying," Ken lied, letting out a fake yawn. "My legs are just so short compared to yours. It’s a biological disadvantage."

  They reached the massive wooden double doors. Finlay pushed them open with one hand. They creaked loudly, a sound that echoed like a groan from a ghost.

  Inside, the hallway was dim. There were a few magical lamps on the walls, but they flickered with weak, yellow light. The floor was covered in a red carpet that was worn thin in the middle. Portraits of ancestors hung on the walls, but the paintings were dark and dusty. The eyes of the painted people seemed to stare at Ken, judging his messy hair and loose tie.

  "It really is a haunted house," Ken muttered. "If a ghost pops out, I’m running back to the car."

  "Silence," Finlay said. "We are approaching the Princess’s office. Fix your tie. Stand up straight. You look like a sack of potatoes."

  Ken sighed and pulled his tie. He actually made it more crooked, but he pretended to fix it. He stood up straight for two seconds, then slumped his shoulders again. It was his natural state.

  They walked up a wide, creaking staircase and down another long hallway. Finally, they stopped in front of a simple wooden door. There was no gold plating. There were no guards. Just a simple sign that said "Office."

  Finlay knocked three times. Knock. Knock. Knock.

  "Come in," a soft voice called from inside.

  Finlay opened the door and stepped aside. "After you, Candidate Eliot."

  Ken took a deep breath. "Okay," he thought. "Time to put on the performance of a lifetime. I need to look weak, useless, and totally unworthy. I need to get fired in the next ten minutes."

  He walked into the room.

  The office was large but cluttered. There were stacks of paper everywhere—on the floor, on the chairs, and piling up on the large oak desk. Books were scattered around like they had fallen from the sky. Behind the desk, a young woman was writing furiously on a scroll.

  She looked up.

  It was the 13th Princess, Iris Belmonte.

  She didn't look like the other Royals Ken had seen on TV. She wasn't wearing a diamond crown or a dress made of silk. She was wearing a simple white blouse and a black skirt. Her hair, which was the color of silver moonlight, was tied back in a messy ponytail. She had dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in three days.

  But her eyes were bright. They were a stunning shade of violet, and they were sharp.

  "Welcome," Iris said, putting down her pen. She stood up and smiled. It wasn't a fake, political smile. It looked like a real, tired, human smile. "You must be Ken Eliot. Grandmaster Finlay told me he secured you."

  Ken blinked. She was… normal. He expected her to be sitting on a throne, demanding him to kiss her ring. Instead, she looked like a college student studying for finals.

  "Uh, hi," Ken said, giving a small, awkward wave. "Yeah. That’s me. Ken. Just Ken."

  Iris walked around the desk. She was shorter than Ken, but she walked with a certain strength. She stopped in front of him and extended her hand.

  "I am Iris," she said. "Thank you for coming. I know it was sudden, and I know my methods were a bit forceful. I apologize for interrupting your dinner."

  Ken looked at her hand. A Princess was shaking his hand? That was rare. He shook it gently. Her hand was small but rough, like she had been working hard.

  "It’s okay," Ken said, scratching his cheek. "I mean, the threat of jail was a bit scary, but the car ride was smooth."

  Finlay closed the door behind them and stood by the wall like a statue. "Princess, I have brought him as requested. However, he has expressed… hesitation."

  Iris looked at Ken, her violet eyes studying his face. "Hesitation? You don't want to be here?"