The final stop of Isabelle's shopping marathon was the stall of a weaver in the upper district of the capital. By the time the last bolt of superfine brocade was added to the gargantuan mountain of parcels, wooden crates, and linen sacks, Hayjin had well and truly hit the point of no return.
His heavy, blocky gray iron greaves weighed down on his shins as though they had been cast in lead. With his arms completely laden and a box of medicinal herbs wedged under his chin to keep it from slipping, the boy stumbled down the avenue leading back to the castle. Every three steps, his bolo tie dangled against the parcels, and sweat plastered the black and white streaks of hair to his forehead.
"I... swear... if you make me walk one more meter... I'm dropping everything and collapsing on the pavement," Hayjin wheezed, his voice barely more than a raspy whisper. "This isn't a courtesy service... this is premeditated torture inflicted upon a court guest."
Isabelle stopped a couple of paces ahead. She turned around slowly, her high golden-blonde ponytails swaying. Her large crimson-red eyes appraised the boy from her meter-and-forty stature, noticing his knees trembling slightly under his dark red shorts.
She raised her right hand to chin level, joined her thumb and middle finger, and delivered her sharp, disdainful finger flick outward though this time, it lacked its usual charge of spite.
"Pathetic," the small maid commented, letting out a quiet sigh of annoyance. "Seeing an individual associated with our royal house dragging himself in such a state through the streets of the capital is a disgraceful spectacle I cannot tolerate any longer. Express your gratitude for my immense generosity."
Isabelle flicked her fingers once more, but this time a soft bubble of plum-purple light enveloped the boxes and Hayjin's body itself.
FUSH.
All at once, the crushing weight that had been breaking his back vanished. An invisible spatial force lifted the packages and the boy himself a couple of centimeters off the ground, negating gravity and easing the pressure on his joints. Hayjin needed only to let himself slide forward, floating almost effortlessly in Isabelle's wake.
"Woah!" Hayjin gasped, his eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, blessed spatial magic! Why on earth didn't you do that two hours ago?! You almost turned me into mush!"
"Because earlier you needed to learn the value of hard work, you idiot," Isabelle shot back without looking back, resuming her regal stride. "Now hush and enjoy the transport, before I decide to make you walk the rest of the way barefoot."
The journey back to the palace was significantly faster and, for once, relaxing. However, Isabelle's benevolence had a strictly enforced expiration time.
The moment they crossed the castle's massive entrance gate, the royal guards of honor lined along the approach snapped to attention, placing their hands over their chests and bowing their heads deeply.
"Welcome back, Miss Isabelle," the soldiers uttered in unison, completely indifferent to the boy floating face down behind her with a mountain of parcels piled onto his back.
"Carry on with your duties," Isabelle replied in an impeccable, detached tone. Then, without the slightest warning or countdown, the maid cut off the flow of mana.
FLOP.
The magical bubble vanished instantly. Gravity reclaimed its hold, and Hayjin plummeted to the ground, crashing awkwardly onto the marble floor of the inner courtyard. The wooden boxes and herb sacks bounded around him with a dull, chaotic racket, while his iron greaves struck the stone with a deafening metallic clatter.
"Ow! Dammit!" Hayjin yelled, rolling onto his side and rubbing his scraped elbow.
Isabelle turned to look at him, raising her hand again for a swift, disdainful finger flick in mid-air. "We have arrived. My private transport service ends at the front door. See to it that you gather your belongings and refrain from causing further scenes in front of the soldiers."
Hayjin glared up at her with blazing hazel eyes, biting back his bitterness as he struggled to his feet.
"I swear..." he muttered under his breath, scooping up a linen crate. "One of these days I'll pay you back, you evil little gremlin. I'm going to hide that silk cloth of yours on the palace roof and see how you reach it without your magic!"
Two castle footmen quickly approached. Isabelle, recovering her usual professional composure, pointed at the haul.
"Take these ingredients and fabrics immediately to Princess Zhilian's chambers and the servants' archives. Ensure the medicinal herbs are stored in a cool place."
The servants bowed, taking custody of the load and finally freeing Hayjin, who stretched his back until his spine popped with a massive sigh of relief.
Relieved of the parcels, Isabelle and Hayjin traversed the side corridor leading to the palace's east wing, stepping through the wide glass doors that opened onto the royal garden.
The garden was an immense oasis of peace: meticulously manicured manicured lawns, white marble fountains spouting crystal-clear water, and flowering hedges filling the air with a sweet, refreshing fragrance.
At the center of that landscape, beneath an elegant wrought-iron gazebo draped in purple wisteria, Zhilian sat on a cushioned chair.
The princess wore a light golden day dress. Before her stood a light wooden table literally buried under mountains of paperwork, kingdom maps, official documents, and parchment scrolls waiting to be sealed.
Zhilian held a quill in hand, but her posture betrayed immense frustration: her elbow rested on the table and her cheek was propped against her palm as she stared at the sheets with a glassy, thoroughly annoyed expression. It was clearly a task she despised with all her soul, especially now when her only wish was to crawl back into bed and sleep to regain her strength.
A short distance away on the green lawn, Wren was practicing to refine her magic. The little girl held a small grimoire open in her hands; with her golden eyes narrowed in concentration, she moved her fingers in mid-air, spawning small sparks of golden light that danced around the book's pages, revealing a truly remarkable magical potential for her age.
Hayjin took a step forward onto the gravel path, raising a hand to be noticed.
"Hey! Good morning to the hard workers!" Hayjin called out, shattering the silence with his usual fast talk.
The moment they heard his voice, both Zhilian and Wren raised their heads. Both greeted him happily and enthusiastically.
"Hayjin!" Wren chirped, immediately interrupting her spell and letting the grimoire fall onto the grass to wave at him. "You're back! Did Isabelle make you carry a lot of heavy packages?"
Zhilian dipped her quill back into the inkwell, sinking into the back of her chair with a long, exasperated sigh.
"Hayjin... please tell me you brought good news from the market," the princess began, running her hands through her blonde hair. "I'm about to lose my mind over here. All this paperwork to organize is a deadly bore! I have to sign authorizations for trade tariffs, grain reserve reports, and even hunting permits for the northern province. I just want to close my eyes and sleep for ten hours straight!"
Hayjin approached the gazebo, looking at that endless mountain of paper with a touch of pity.
"Wait a minute..." Hayjin said, scratching the back of his neck. "Wouldn't it be easier for the Sages of Opes to handle all this bureaucracy? I mean, Arkon and the others spend all day locked in those rooms talking politics why do you have to endure this torment while you're still recovering your strength?"
Zhilian let out a soft yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
"If only it were that simple," Zhilian explained in a tired voice. "Unfortunately, kingdom law is crystal clear: these documents must strictly be processed by one of the royal family's princesses. It is a dynastic duty. And since Wren is still too young to manage state edicts, the weight falls entirely upon my shoulders. If I don't sign these papers, the entire administration of the provinces comes to a standstill."
"What a bureaucratic pain in the neck..." Hayjin commented, shaking his head.
Zhilian tried to shake off her fatigue, offering Hayjin a curious smile.
"Anyway... how did the shopping go with Isabelle? Did you manage to find everything without destroying half the market?"
"It went fine in the end," Hayjin replied, crossing his arms over his black vest. "Aside from the fact that she used me as a pack mule for three hours straight and then gave me an emergency crash landing on the pavement outside, I'd say we're both still alive."
Isabelle, who until then had stood aside smoothing the folds of her plum-purple cloak, stepped forward. She raised her chin with her customary aristocratic elegance.
"Fortunately, it went well, Princess Zhilian," Isabelle chimed in, her voice becoming composed and formal. "We retrieved all the prime-quality medicinal herbs. And I must admit... Hayjin was quite an effective assistant. He carried out his duties as a porter without dropping any of the valuable goods."
Hayjin raised an eyebrow, stunned by that tiny compliment. But the joy lasted for precisely one second.
"However," Isabelle continued immediately, her tone turning as sharp as a blade, "if he truly wishes to be of use in the castle and earn the crown's hospitality, he will need to do far more than this. Carrying four boxes is the absolute bare minimum for a plebeian of his strain. I shall expect a consistent effort from him in daily chores."
Hayjin stood open-mouthed, while a barrage of insults directed at the small maid exploded in his head.
"Listen to this little brat!" Hayjin thought angrily, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Screw you, your shopping, and the whole castle! I hauled tons of stuff on my back without mana, and you still have the nerve to act all high-and-mighty?! One of these days I'm trapping your ponytails in a lock and seeing if you still play the superior noble!"
Zhilian, catching sight of the boy's visibly furious expression, couldn't hold back a soft, amused chuckle.
"Now, now, Isabelle... don't be too hard on him," Zhilian said gently, looking at her maid with affection. "Hayjin has already done so much for us in the dungeon and offered to stay here to help me. Treat him a little better, he deserves it."
Isabelle snapped her head around, executing a swift finger flick outward. "I shall obey your directives, my lady... though I find that excessive leniency ruins the character of plebeians."
While the group was still giggling over the bickering, a heavy metallic sound shattered the garden's relaxed atmosphere.
The large wood and iron door of the castle that opened directly onto the royal garden creaked open deeply.
From the shade of the interior stepped an imposing figure that immediately drew the attention of everyone present. It was a knight clad in superfine silver armor, so polished it reflected the sun's rays like a mirror. The plates of his breastplate and pauldrons were inlaid with floral motifs and symbols of the royal house, and across his back he wore a pristine white cloak that brushed the gravel.
The knight removed his iron helm, revealing a thick mane of blonde hair laced with streaks of vivid red, like flames embedded in gold. His face was sharp, refined, and youthful, dominated by two intense crimson-red eyes that shone with vibrant energy.
But the thing that struck Hayjin the most was his face: the knight displayed a broad, dazzling, and genuine smile, entirely free of any hint of arrogance or aristocratic coldness.
He advanced along the gravel path with a firm yet light step, the metal of his armor producing a rhythmic, majestic sound.
"Peace and light to this splendid garden!" the knight proclaimed, his deep, warm, and remarkably youthful voice filling the air with disarming natural ease.
He stopped a few meters from the gazebo and, in a fluid, coordinated motion, brought his right fist to his silver breastplate, bowing with deep and supreme elegance before the two princesses.
"My lady Zhilian, little Princess Wren," the knight said, rising with that radiant smile of his. "It is an immense relief to finally see you out of the medical quarters and enjoying the capital's sunshine. Your condition seems to be improving by the hour, and that is the finest news I could possibly receive today."
Zhilian returned the greeting with a nod and a genuine smile. "My thanks. My strength is returning, even if these papers are trying to break me more than the dungeon did."
Wren greeted the knight enthusiastically. "Hi, Wilder!"
Then, the knight turned toward Isabelle, offering a respectful little bow to her as well. "Miss Isabelle, ever flawless in your service to the crown."
Finally, his crimson-red eyes settled on Hayjin.
Hayjin instinctively stiffened, raising his usual paranoid defensive barrier. He expected the usual look of disgust, the customary condescending gaze reserved for F-Classes, or the blatant hostility he had received from the silver guards and Riko.
Instead, the knight took a step toward him, widening that warm, polite smile even further. There was no trace of disdain in his eyes; there was only sincere and genuine curiosity mixed with admiration.
"And you must be the young man the entire court is talking about!" the knight said in a tone of warm and extreme kindness, extending a hand clad in superfine steel mail toward him.
"Greetings to you! It is a true honor to make your acquaintance. I was informed of your incredible bravery inside the tower and how you protected our princesses in their hour of danger. Your valor brings honor to anyone who wields a sword."
Hayjin froze for half a second, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. It was the first time since arriving at the castle that a soldier or noble had addressed him with so much respect and without using the words "plebeian" or "F-Class."
Hayjin reached out, shaking the knight's hand with a bit of hesitation. "Uh... hi. Thank you... though I just did what I had to do."
The knight released his grip with a clear, resonant laugh, taking a small step back and placing a hand over his chest.
"Modesty is the virtue of the truly strong!" he said with infectious energy. "Allow me to formally introduce myself to you all. My name is Wilder, Knight of the First Royal Guard of Opes. I am at your service."