Seraphel yanked the shades and muted sunlight flooded into the carriage; they were passing through a forest on the borders of Noelictus. The trees weren’t as tall as those Seraphel was used to and paler; poorer sunlight. Noelictus was the Kingdom of Shade, after all. Why then was it one of the most famously provident agricultural kingdoms in all of Terandria? She might have the rest of her life to find the answer, of course.

“All is well, First-Knight Dalimont. Pray, continue. I was merely practicing my singing voice.”

The [Knight]—stiff-necked, political—gave her an odd look. He must have heard her snappish voice. But he bowed, covering any actual expression.

“I…see, milady. If we can do aught to make your journey more comfortable, let us know.”

Seraphel nodded delicately. In her head, she doubted Dalimont or the other dozen [Knights] riding with them could do that. They were Level 15-25; as a First-Knight, Dalimont would be at least Level 20.

Probably not higher than that. Standard, in short. Far from special. A Level 30 [Knight] was too good to

waste on this mere escort mission, and anything higher than that would be the Grandmaster or the order’s champions themselves. Level 20 would have been an insult to any foreign dignitary. Still, what did it matter for the 6th Princess and her third marriage? No one cared.

Seraphel thought for a moment and then smiled.

“Actually, my handmaidens were expressing a terrible desire to breathe fresh air. A ride would do them good. Why don’t they ride with you, First-Knight? They can join the [Knights] on the horses if there are no more to spare.”

The two [Handmaidens] looked horrified. But Seraphel snapped her hand shut from below the line of the window and their mouths closed. Another useful little Skill.

Seraphel was a low-level [Princess] too—at least compared to the greatest rulers in the world. The King of Destruction had been rumored to be above Level 50, for instance, and he had conquered an entire continent and nearly the rest of the world. That he had been driven off and entered his slumber—well, it had been a close thing.

She was Level 16. So she had hardly any right to criticize Ser Dalimont on his level. The [Knight] glanced at the two handmaidens’ terrified expressions and silent shaking of their heads. They did not want to sit on hard saddles for the next six hours behind armored [Knights]. What he lacked in levels, Skills, and combat prowess he made up for in diplomatic tact.

“A ride would be…quite uncomfortable, I fear, Your Highness. And I regret to say we lack the spare mounts to expedite such an event in any case. My sincerest apologies.”

Seraphel sighed as if mildly put out.

“Oh, really? Well, I should insist—but I suppose not. Let us move on, Ser Dalimont.”