Chapter : 15

  She blew out the candle on her desk. The room plunged into darkness. For the first time in a long time, the 13th Princess didn't feel completely alone. She had her team. She had her Ninth Servant.

  The game for the throne was deadly, and the odds were impossible. But as Iris walked out of her office to finally get some rest, she felt a tiny spark of hope.

  The war was just beginning, and she had just played her most surprising card.

  ----

  The sun was not even awake yet. It was completely dark outside the window of Ken’s small, dusty room in the East Wing. The only sound was the gentle chirp of crickets. It was a perfectly peaceful time to be fast asleep.

  Suddenly, a massive fist slammed against the wooden door.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  "Recruit Eliot! Wake up! It is 4:00 AM!" a deep, loud voice boomed from the hallway. It was Grandmaster Finlay. The sound of his heavy metal armor clanking together was like an alarm clock made of pure nightmare. "You have five minutes to get dressed and meet me outside this door!"

  Inside the room, Ken Eliot groaned. He pulled his thin blanket over his head, trying to block out the noise. "Go away," he mumbled into his pillow. "I have a terrible sickness. It is called 'needing twelve hours of sleep.' If I don't get it, I might melt."

  "Four minutes!" Finlay shouted through the door.

  Ken let out a long, dramatic sigh. He threw the blanket off and sat up on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and scratched his messy black hair. He looked completely exhausted, even though he had done absolutely nothing the day before.

  "This is ridiculous," Ken thought to himself. "Who wakes up at 4:00 AM? Even the chickens are still sleeping. This is a clear violation of basic human rights. I should file a complaint."

  He stood up and dragged his feet toward the small wooden wardrobe. Inside, there was a standard-issue servant uniform. It was a dark blue jacket with silver buttons, matching pants, and a white shirt with a tie. It looked very sharp and formal. It looked like the kind of outfit a proud, serious warrior would wear.

  Ken put it on, but he made sure to do it as poorly as possible. He left the white shirt untucked on one side. He buttoned the jacket wrong so it looked lopsided. He loosely looped the tie around his neck and left it completely crooked. He didn't even bother to comb his hair. It stuck up in wild, random directions like a bird's nest. He looked exactly like a guy who had just rolled out of bed and was ready to go back to sleep.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Perfect," Ken whispered, looking at himself in the small mirror. "I look completely useless. Nobody is going to expect a guy who can't even tie his own shoes to fight a dragon."

  He opened the door and shuffled out into the cold stone hallway. Grandmaster Finlay was standing there, looking like a giant silver mountain. Finlay took one look at Ken and frowned deeply.

  "What happened to your uniform?" Finlay asked, his voice full of disapproval. "You look like a disaster."

  "Good morning to you too, big guy," Ken said, letting out a massive yawn. He stretched his arms and gave Finlay a lazy, goofy smile. "I dressed myself in the dark. It is a new fashion style. Very popular in the outer districts. They call it the 'I Need Coffee' look."

  Finlay let out a heavy breath, sounding like an angry bull. "Tuck in your shirt, Eliot. We are going to the training hall. It is time for you to meet the rest of your team."

  Ken followed Finlay down the long, dark corridors of the old estate. His cheap shoes made a scuffing sound against the stone floor. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff.

  As they walked, Ken’s mind started to wander. He thought about all the anime shows he used to watch in his past life on Earth. Usually, when the main character goes to a training hall, they meet a bunch of super-muscular, scary guys with giant swords and scars on their faces. Ken fully expected to walk into a room full of angry, sweaty men who wanted to beat him up to test his strength.

  "Hey, Grandmaster," Ken said, dragging his feet. "Before we go in, I just want to make a request. Can we please skip the part where the scary veterans try to bully the new guy? I bruise very easily. My skin is like a delicate peach."

  "Be quiet and keep walking," Finlay commanded without looking back.

  "I'm serious," Ken continued, putting on his best fake-scared voice. He widened his eyes to look like a frightened puppy. "If a giant guy with an axe yells at me, I will probably start crying. You don't want the Princess to see her brand new servant crying on the floor on the very first day, right? It would be so embarrassing for everyone."

  Finlay just ignored him. He led Ken down a set of wide stairs and pushed open a pair of heavy double doors.

  They stepped into the training hall. It was a massive room with high ceilings and tall windows. The morning light was just starting to peek through the glass. The floor was made of padded mats, and the walls were lined with all kinds of dangerous-looking weapons: swords, spears, bows, and magical staffs.

  Ken walked in, ready to put his hands up and surrender to the giant, scary soldiers he expected to see.

  But he stopped in his tracks. He blinked once. He blinked twice.

  There were no giant, sweaty men. There were no muscular warriors with battle scars and missing teeth.

  Instead, the training hall was filled with women. Six of them, to be exact.

  Ken stood near the doorway, completely confused. He scratched the back of his head, messing up his hair even more. He looked around the room to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

  Over in one corner, a tall woman with dark hair and glasses was sitting on a bench, quietly reading a thick, dusty spellbook. She looked very smart and completely focused.

  In the middle of the room, another girl with short hair was doing intense stretching exercises. She was bending her body in ways that made Ken’s back hurt just watching her.

  Near the weapon rack, a girl with bright red hair was sitting on a wooden supply box. She was holding a short, sharp dagger, carefully sliding a sharpening stone against the metal. Schwing. Schwing. The sound echoed in the quiet hall.

  Three other girls were grouped together on the far side of the mats, quietly discussing some battle strategies and doing light warm-ups.

  They were all focused. They were all serious. And they were all clearly elite warriors. But more importantly to Ken, they were all girls.