But here was his place. Slowly, the [Knight] saluted Cara and watched her go. He wished he could have wept, but the water drying on the tomb’s floor was enough.

Enough. Ser Dalius stood in the tomb, waiting, continuing his eternal vigil. But the last song Cara had sung for him lingered in his heart.

Hope. Let it last another ten thousand years, or until he forgot everything.

Ser Dalius slowly vanished into the darkness.

——

And Cara, finally, reached the surface. She looked around the grassy landscape, the trees, even the alarmed birds singing in the distance. She fell to her knees. And then closed her eyes.

[Singer Level 8!]

[Skill – Song of Persuasion obtained!]

1.05 P

Her first ride through Noelictus, the Kingdom of Shade, did nothing to lift Seraphel’s spirits. Everywhere she looked the colors were ashen, subdued where they should be the green of life—dark purple flowers, ash-grey loamy soil, and a sky that was as gloomy as the worst day in Calanfer. And this was, apparently, a fine morning.

The [Princess] sat back in her ornate carriage and sighed. Loudly and indelicately, since there was no one to impress at this particular moment. She shifted the glowing tiara on her head and debated taking it off. But one did not simply remove magical artifacts while travelling abroad.

Seraphel du Marquin, 4th Princess in line for the Eternal Throne of Calanfer. Twenty-seven years old: married twice, widowed once, divorced once. Currently engaged yet again. And, currently…bored.

Not just with this stuffy carriage and the two [Handmaidens] that she did not like but her mother had insisted on sending—to ‘keep an eye on her’—but with all of this.

Life.

Marriage.

And the inevitable divorce or death that followed the marriage.

Seraphel had been fourteen during her first marriage. It had been political; she hadn’t known the

[Baron]’s son long. He’d divorced her for a [Shepherd]’s daughter before her majority of sixteen.

The second marriage had been at nineteen, to an old, old [Earl]. Another political marriage to keep Calanfer strong. After four years, he had died in bed—not with her in it, thankfully.

Two marriages were enough—Seraphel had been in ‘mourning’ for all of two years before the inevitable had happened (again). Calanfer needed allies, so her father had found a suitable match, even for a

‘used’ [Princess] of Calanfer.

This time she was to marry a distant member of the royal family of Noelictus, the rank-equivalent to an

[Earl] around her age. Which meant this marriage was intended to last.

Seraphel muttered.

“I’m sick of it. I should have followed Lyonette’s example and just run off. I hope she at least made it across the ocean without drowning herself in a bucket.”

Her [Handmaidens] gasped.

“Milady Seraphel!”

“What? She won’t. She stole half a dozen artifacts and enough gold to hire a proper ship. I just wish I was that stupid.”