Everything in her life had seed to be progressing perfectly, until she received the news of King Marconius’s sudden death, followed by the royal decree that she was to beco Lumiel’s fourth wife.
There was one specific concept within noble society that Morgana loathed above all others: the vile, age-old tradition of essentially selling off daughters to forge political alliances, callously using them as re bargaining tools.
She had sworn long ago that she would never, under any circumstances, allow herself to be used in such a degrading manner. She had never even needed to voice this fierce sentint to her father, for Arges already knew his headstrong daughter perfectly well. He understood her deepest desires and refused to be the kind of man who would ever forcefully sell his own flesh and blood to so arrogant noble’s son for the sake of a flimsy political treaty.
However, he did secretly worry for her at tis, as it was abundantly clear that his daughter possessed no desire to ever wed or start a family of her own. It seed the tragic fact that her mother had died while giving birth to her had inflicted a quiet, deeply rooted trauma upon her mind.
Moreover, she refused to ever beco the subordinate wife of a man who was weaker than her, yet held a far higher societal status.
That was, unfortunately, exactly how the world worked.
A King was universally expected to be stronger than a Queen.
A Duke was inherently more powerful than a Duchess; a Count held more authority than a Countess.
While so foreign kingdoms might have operated under vastly different social systems, within the rigid Kingdom of Helios, this patriarchal hierarchy was the unquestionable norm.
And Morgana vehently refused to have any part of it.
She was determined to continue growing stronger, climbing the martial ranks until she finally achieved the exact sa legendary status as her father, fully intending to take over as the Commander of the Royal Guard upon his eventual retirent.
It had been her burning ambition since she was a small child, and now, at eighteen years of age, she was still working with bloody and sweaty diligence to ensure it beca a reality.
So, obviously, she did not take it particularly well when she discovered her father had gone behind her back to make such a promise to the King. But at the sa ti, it had been a direct demand from King Marconius himself, soone she had t many tis, who had always acted as a deeply kind, fond uncle toward her. Having been always reminded by her father her entire life that they were honor-bound to answer the King’s every command, it was incredibly difficult for Morgana to feel any genuine hatred toward the late monarch.
And, it was an official marriage to the Royal Prince, though several distinct aspects of the arrangent deeply bothered her.
First and foremost, the Prince in question was obviously Lumiel, a man weaker than her.
Secondly, she was to be reduced to the status of his Fourth Wife.
She had been humiliatingly overtaken by an unknown foreign Princess, well maybe not as she knew the famous Princess known to be the most beautiful woman in the world but regardless Morgana had no awareness of why or how this stranger had suddenly ended up becoming the future Queen of the entire Kingdom.
Asthenia she could perfectly understand being ranked above her. In fact, Morgana was secretly quite surprised that Asthenia had not ended up becoming the ruling Queen herself. But then ca Eleanor.
That reality was annoying for Morgana to stomach.
What did Eleanor possibly possess that she did not?
Morgana held a higher martial status and was stronger.
Eleanor, on the other hand, was considerably wealthier than her, which Morgana bitterly assud must have played a rather large, corrupt role in the final rankings.
Regardless, her father eventually managed to thoroughly convince her lingering, reluctant side.
He expertly appealed to her deep-seated pride as a knight, even though she had not officially earned the title yet, as well as her ingrained respect toward the King she was sworn to serve. Her father had ticulously raised her with those exact values, so his words carried profound effect.
But the best, if not the most convincing argunt he had given her, albeit rather reluctantly, was regarding the specific nature of Lumiel as her future husband. If she married him, she would never again be endlessly pestered by nauseating marriage proposals from greedy lords. No one would ever dare bother her about securing an alliance again. And Lumiel, as remarkably ek and easily cowed as he was, would never try to force himself upon her, and he would be entirely forced to treat her with the utmost respect.
When presented in that highly practical light, the forced marriage suddenly seed like quite an excellent prospect for Morgana.
She would possess the untouchable status of one of his Queens, aning she could easily leverage that power to climb the military ranks far faster. She would instantly get the respect of everyone in the kingdom, and eventually, when she finally beca an official Knight, the sneering nobles would be forced to see her as sothing far greater. They would never dare to openly mock her, as she would be both a fearso Knight and a Queen of the Kingdom.
And Lumiel himself might actually prove to be the best part of the entire arrangent!
The weak, constantly cowering Lumiel would simply never possess the sheer courage to order her to do anything, least of all summon her to his bed for the sole purpose of royal reproduction, an intimate act she honestly found deeply embarrassing, entirely unladylike, and completely unbecoming of a true knight.
So, after a thorough, agonizing reflection lasting all of about five seconds, she had readily, confidently accepted the proposal. Thus, she was officially married to Lumiel on the exact sa day he was formally crowned as the new King.
Her horrified, deeply disgusted expression when she witnessed the newly crowned King of her beloved Kingdom instantly faint before the High Pope the very second the heavy crown was placed atop his head spoke volus about her true image of Lumiel.
She had previously thought her respect for him could not possibly reach rock bottom, but it had definitely crashed through the floor that day, and sohow, the sheer humiliation of it all only served to annoy her further.
She felt literal, burning second-hand embarrassnt whenever she was forced to rember that this pathetic, swooning boy was both her husband and her King.
Regardless, she had accepted her duty, and the binding ceremony was already done. But a re week later, following his supposed, mysterious disappearance during which she had felt a tiny, irritating sliver of genuine worry, alongside the bitter assumption that he had simply run away from his royal responsibilities like a coward, he had suddenly, miraculously returned.
And he was entirely, completely changed.
She could hardly believe the man standing before the court was the exact sa Lumiel she had known her entire life. She had obviously heard the ancient, whispered tales of the Sacred Fla and the famous First Ritual of Awakening that every true Heir endured around the age of sixteen, and how it changed them. But actively witnessing its profound, physical consequences firsthand was sothing else entirely, especially for soone who had intimately known Lumiel’s inherent weakness for so long.
But it was his sudden, overwhelming arrogance that truly shocked her. Well, perhaps not exactly pure arrogance, but that unapologetic cheekiness was a far better word for it. She had obviously, imdiately snapped at him when he casually dared to joke about her previous training sessions.
Regardless, in the end, she simply concluded that after finally surviving the Awakening and feeling true power rush to his head, he had just beco annoying, especially toward her, likely as so childish attempt to take a bit of petty revenge.
So, the very next day, she had already returned to her family ho as if nothing had happened.
The Raimond Mansion was a large estate, but it was certainly not overly ostentatious compared to the sprawling palaces of other high-ranking nobles. That modesty had been Arges’s explicit wish when the previous King had generously given him the freedom to choose any mansion he desired within the capital.
He had lived there happily with his deceased wife, and he had continued to live there with his daughter since the very beginning.
Currently, out in the expansive backyard of the Raimond Mansion, on a dusty space where Arges himself used to train on rare occasions, another solitary figure was rigorously training. It was Morgana.
She was dressed in worn breeches, heavy boots, and a simple, sweat-stained sleeveless tunic as she viciously swung her steel blade, complex martial forms against a heavily scarred, sturdy wooden dummy.
The training dummy showed the deep, splintered signs of years of continuous battering, but it remained entirely sturdy. It was ant strictly for practicing the heavy impact of precise swings, not for simply decapitating the target.
Loud clangs echoed sharply through the quiet yard as Morgana continued to work the blade, having been at it for nearly two straight hours, taking only brief, heaving pauses here and there.
She would alternate her grueling routines like that all morning. After eventually leaving to complete several long running laps through the bustling streets of the capital, she finally returned ho right around noon, only to find her father still there.
She blinked in confusion, surprised to see him lingering around the house in the middle of the day, dressed in simple clothes and entirely devoid of his heavy, signature armor.
Usually, he would have left for the royal castle at the absolute crack of dawn. She had not actually seen him leave that morning while she was training in the backyard, but she had simply assud he had departed quietly. If he was sohow still ho, it was usually only a matter of minutes before he rushed out the door, as it was incredibly rare to ever see her deeply dutiful father running late.
But it was now well past noon, and he was still there.
"Father? What are you still doing here?" She asked, her lips twisting into a mischievous grin. "Did the great Commander oversleep, perhaps?" She teased playfully.
Arges turned toward his daughter, offering a gentle, wistful smile as he chuckled softly. "I have officially been freed of my daily duties, so I am taking so much-needed ti to do a bit of gardening and manage a few mansion chores. Not everything should be entirely left to the maids, after all."
There was a long mont of pause as Morgana’s brain slowly processed his calm words.
"Freed of your duties?" She repeated, her grin vanishing instantly.
Arges widened his eyes slightly, turning fully around to face her.
"You did not hear the news about it, did you?" He asked, feeling a sharp pang of exasperation at himself for having sohow completely forgotten to tell her the truth.
He had simply assud that she was already well aware of the court’s massive uproar, including the shocking fact that her own royal engagent had been publicly called off.
But, obviously, she had remained entirely oblivious. He wondered if she had any friends except the ones she used to spare with.
Perhaps she still would have maintained that happy, carefree expression if she had only learned that her engagent to Lumiel had been abruptly cancelled. But he knew her reaction was going to be violently different once she learned exactly what Lumiel had done to him.
"Hear what, exactly?" Morgana asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she cautiously approached him.
She was soone who existed almost entirely within her own isolated world of physical progress and improvent. Since she had stord out of the castle yesterday, she had not bothered to keep her ears open to the latest gossiping whispers of the court, remaining entirely ignorant of the shocking news concerning both her and her father.
Arges hesitated for a mont, awkwardly scratching his scarred cheek, but he eventually relented and told her everything.
When Morgana finally heard his words, she was left speechless.
Her legendary father had been publicly stripped of his sacred title as Commander of the Royal Guard.
And, as a secondary insult, her royal engagent had been coldly called off.
The second part definitely annoyed her a great deal, simply because Lumiel had publicly dismissed it in a way that made it seem as though she was sohow unworthy of becoming his wife. But the first part...the blatant, unprovoked humiliation of her father, completely snapped whatever patience remained of her.
After a few seconds of silently processing the magnitude of the insult, her red eyes narrowed into vicious slits, and her delicate features twisted into a mask of rage she had rarely ever felt before.
Without another word, she spun sharply on her heels.
"Morgana—"
"I am going to talk to him!" She shouted over her shoulder, already breaking into a dead run toward the gates.
She tried to remain calm, to maintain so semblance of knightly composure, but the harder she ran, and the closer she got to the looming silhouette of the royal castle, the more her blood boiled.
How absolutely dare he!
Her father!
The man who had faithfully served the entire Kingdom with his absolute loyalty his entire life!
He was a literal, living hero to her, and Lumiel had just casually humiliated him and tossed him aside as if he were nothing more than so useless, random foot soldier!
She would never, ever forgive him!
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