But the twenty-five beast knights standing along the back wall showed absolutely nothing. Not a flicker of surprise. Not a hint of shock. Their faces remained perfectly calm, perfectly professional, perfectly blank. They didn’t exchange glances. Didn’t shift their weight. Didn’t make a sound.
They simply stood there like statues, as if Elara had announced sothing as ordinary as a schedule change.
"This isn’t permanent," Elara continued, pretending not to notice the shock rippling through her staff. "We’ll return eventually. But plan for an extended absence. Dimitri will explain the logistics."
Dimitri recovered first, stepping forward though he still looked stunned. "Everyone receives a relocation bonus. Housing in Port Crestfall is provided. Wages increase twenty percent. You’re now private household staff, not palace employees."
"If anyone has situations that make this impossible, speak to Dimitri privately by tomorrow," Elara said. "But otherwise, we leave in five days at dawn via rchant barge. Pack practical. Questions?"
One of the servants raised a shaking hand. "Your Highness... all the beast knights? All twenty-five?"
"Yes. They serve my household. My household is relocating. Therefore, they’re coming." Elara kept her voice firm. "Beast knights follow their assigned royal’s commands. I’m commanding them to Port Crestfall."
Still, the twenty-five warriors showed nothing. Not approval. Not objection. Just silent, perfect stillness.
The staff mbers looked like they’d been slapped. Even Mira seed rattled.
"Three days for goodbyes. Day four, packing. Day five, dawn departure. Don’t discuss this outside this room. Dismissed."
People filed out in shocked silence, throwing glances at the wall of beast knights who remained completely impassive.
The twenty-five warriors didn’t move. Didn’t speak. They simply stood there, waiting.
After everyone left, Elara walked to face them. "Prepare for extended deploynt. Five days."
"Yes, Your Highness," they said in perfect unison. Twenty-five voices, one response.
Nothing else. No questions. No concerns. Just acceptance.
They bowed as one and filed out silently.
Elara stood alone. Thirty-four people total. Twenty-five beast knights. Nine others. All following her to Port Crestfall.
Five days.
Ti to finish preparations.
.....
At night.
Elara closed the door to her chambers and slid the bolt into place. The noise of the palace dimd to a dull hum. Inside, it was just her, the room that used to belong to a half-dead princess, and the life she was about to walk out of.
She started with the wardrobe.
Most of the dresses hanging there were things the previous Elara had never really worn—layers of silk and lace chosen by maids and stylists, not by her. Elara ran her fingers over the fabrics, then began pulling them down one by one.
Two piles ford on the bed:
- Clothes that might survive Port Crestfall’s damp air and constant movent: sturdy travel dresses, simple tunics, good boots, a few decent cloaks.
- Useless ornants ant for court posturing, not real life.
Whenever she hesitated, she asked herself one question: *Would I wear this on a barge with thirty people depending on not to fall apart?* If the answer was no, it went into the "stay" pile.
Jewelry ca next. The previous princess had owned a small fortune in gems—necklaces worn twice, rings she never rembered asking for, delicate tiaras that hurt if you kept them on too long. Elara opened the velvet boxes and scanned them with a more practical eye.
- A few simple, high-value pieces: easy to hide, easy to sell in an ergency.
- A signet ring with the imperial crest: necessary for contracts.
- Everything else: back into the drawers, to gather dust without her.
She wrapped the chosen pieces in cloth and tucked them into a small lockbox that would travel in her personal trunk.
Then she moved to the desk.
This was the real heart of things. The surface was covered in notes, sketches, calculations—her preservation magic refinents, her rchant contract drafts, lists of guard rotations, contingency plans for the journey. So pages were copies safely stored in the archive. So were not.
She made three stacks:
- Papers that needed to co with her: updated arrays, anchor diagrams, key contract copies.
- Papers safe to leave behind: basic theory already registered, notes that ant little without her.
- Papers too dangerous to exist if she wasn’t standing over them.
The last stack she fed into the small brass burner in the corner. Page by page, diagrams curled into blackened ash. Routes she had decided against, lists of vulnerable staff, early drafts that pointed too clearly to who she did and did not trust. If soone searched her room after she left, they’d find only what she wanted them to find.
She checked the floorboards next.
The previous princess had hidden things—Elara had found the loose board days ago. Underneath: old letters, dried flowers, a broken pendant. Things that mattered to soone who hadn’t been expected to live long.
Elara sat back on her heels, looking at them for a long mont.
Then she chose one small item—a faded ribbon, nothing special to anyone else—and tied it around the handle of her travel trunk. A reminder: this life had existed, and she wasn’t entirely erasing it.
The rest she put back exactly as she’d found it. Not everything needed to be cleaned away.
By the ti she finished, three trunks sat by the wall:
- One with clothes and essentials.
- One with docunts and tools.
- One with carefully wrapped anchors, test samples, and materials for the preservation magic.
Everything else—the unnecessary dresses, the extra shoes, the jewelry she didn’t trust herself with—stayed behind, becoming part of the shell she was shedding.
In the quiet that followed, she sat at the desk and wrote three short notes:
- One to the archive, confirming which materials were formally registered.
- One to Dimitri, listing final items to secure before departure.
- One to herself, a simple list titled: *Things I refuse to lose again.*
She folded that last one and slipped it into the inner pocket of her coat.
When she finally looked around the room, it no longer felt like a princess’s suite. It felt temporary. Stripped down. Ready to be abandoned at a mont’s notice.
Which was exactly the point.
***
Elara was reviewing a list of river supplies when a sharp knock sounded at her door.
The fox knight opened it just enough to admit two palace guards, both in standard colors, both looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. One clutched a leather folder; the other kept his eyes firmly on the floor.
"Your Highness," the lead guard said, bowing. "You requested updates on the investigation into the assassins."
"Yes." Elara set the list aside. "Report."
"We traced their escape route." He swallowed. "The attackers exited your wing through the service passages and crossed into the Second Princess’s wing before vanishing. We found... signs."
Elara’s fingers tightened around the chair arm. "What kind of signs?"
"Two things, Your Highness." He opened the folder and laid out three objects on the small side table:
- A cloth badge marked with the sigil of a well-known assassination guild.
- A broken dart, distinctively fletched.
- A scrap of dark fabric, cut cleanly as if torn off on purpose.
"These were found in a disused side corridor in the Second Princess’s wing," he said. "The badge and dart match tools attributed to the Black Moth guild. The fabric matches the trim of one of Princess Sera’s outer cloaks."
The Second Princess. Sera.
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