Chapter 23: Chapter-23

“Don’t thank me yet,” the Emperor said. “You’ve just painted a target on yourself large enough to be seen from across the capital. The only reason you’re still breathing is because I’m curious to see what you’ll do next.” His gaze sharpened. “Don’t disappoint me, daughter.”

“I won’t, Your Majesty.”

He waved a hand. “Dismissed. And Elara?”

She paused at the doorway and looked back.

“Next time you want to raid a palace wing,” the Emperor said, “send word first. Professional courtesy.”

His expression didn’t change, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Elara bowed one final time and left.

The doors closed behind her with a sound like a vault sealing.

Outside, the two beast knights who’d announced her snapped to attention. One of them looked at her face, then at the doors, then back at her—clearly trying to calculate what had just happened.

Elara walked past them without explanation, file tucked under her arm, legs aching but holding, mind already three steps ahead.

She had imperial backing now. Temporary, conditional, and razor-thin—but real.

Which meant she had exactly as long as the Emperor stayed “curious” to finish securing her position before someone decided curiosity wasn’t worth the disruption.

Time to move fast.

With the Emperor’s conditional backing secured—however temporary—Elara at least had breathing room. But she wasn’t naive enough to think the other princesses would stay quiet. Eleana was confined for now, but the others? They’d be circling, looking for weaknesses, waiting to see if the Fourth Princess’s sudden competence was real or just a lucky fluke.

First priority: assess what the previous princess had actually been working on. According to Lisa, there used to be a small research team—commoners and lower-class scholars who’d followed the Fourth Princess because she was the only royal who’d let them touch real equipment. They’d been doing experiments, building things, testing theories that the court dismissed as “unladylike hobbies.”

Elara couldn’t replicate scientific work from her old world here, but she could recognize useful people when she saw them. If that team still existed, she needed them secured and working again.

She raised one hand, palm up, and concentrated. ’Light,’ she thought.

A small orb flickered into existence above her palm—soft white glow, barely larger than a marble, but steady. She held it there for three seconds, then closed her fist. The light vanished.

Magic wasn’t difficult, at least not the basics. The body knew how; she just had to ask it correctly. But parlor tricks wouldn’t be enough. She needed practical applications—wards, detection spells, something defensive that didn’t rely on soldiers being in the right place at the right time.

She was still walking, still thinking, when the sound of metal on stone made her stop.

Swords. Multiple blades, striking in rhythm.

Elara turned and followed the noise down a side path she hadn’t noticed before. It led to a small courtyard—no, not a courtyard. A training yard. Plain stone walls, no decoration, no flowers, nothing that marked it as part of the “beautiful” imperial complex. It looked utilitarian, almost industrial, like someone had carved a functional space out of the palace and everyone else had agreed to pretend it didn’t exist.

The door stood open. No guard posted.

Strange.

Elara stepped through.

Inside, thirty knights were mid-practice. They wore white undershirts and training pants, no formal armor, swords in hand. Stone constructs—humanoid shapes carved from rock, animated by magic—stood at intervals across the yard, moving in slow, predictable patterns. The knights were sparring with them, practicing strikes and footwork, sweat soaking through their shirts.

The moment Elara’s shadow crossed the threshold, every sword stopped mid-swing.

Thirty pairs of eyes turned toward her. Beast knights, all of them—horns, ears, tails, scales. Not a single human face among them.

They dropped to one knee in unison, fists pressed to their chests, swords laid flat on the ground.

“Your Highness,” they said together.

Elara nodded and walked deeper into the yard, scanning the equipment. Wooden dummies lined one wall. Racks of practice weapons on another. A water barrel in the corner. Everything functional, nothing decorative. This wasn’t a place for performance—it was a place for work.

The stone constructs interested her most. They were still moving even with the knights kneeling, continuing their preset patterns like clockwork. Someone had enchanted them well—smooth joints, responsive movement, durability that suggested years of use without breaking.

Footsteps rushed toward her. A man in a knight’s uniform—human, older, with a captain’s insignia on his shoulder—appeared from a side room and positioned himself directly in her path.

He bowed quickly, too quickly. “Your Highness. What brings you to this… this dirty place?”

Elara looked at him, then past him at the knights still kneeling, then at the well-maintained equipment and clean stone floor. “Dirty?” she said. “This is a training ground.”

Sweat appeared on the captain’s forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “Yes, Your Highness, but it’s the beast knights’ training ground. It’s not—this isn’t a place for someone like you. A princess shouldn’t be here.”

Elara’s expression didn’t change. “Someone like me,” she repeated.

The captain shifted his weight. “I meant no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s just that this area is… it’s not maintained to the standards of the inner palace. The beast knights train here because it’s away from the main grounds. Out of sight. Your delicate health—”

“My delicate health,” Elara said, “has already walked here from my chambers, survived a twenty-minute trip to see the Emperor, and is now standing in front of you asking questions.” She looked at him directly. “Who decided this training ground should be hidden away?”

The captain’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “It’s… it’s always been this way, Your Highness. Since the beast knights were assigned to palace duty. They need somewhere to train, but the court didn’t want them practicing where guests might see.”

“Because guests might be uncomfortable,” Elara said.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Elara looked back at the thirty knights still kneeling on the ground, still waiting for permission to move, still holding themselves in perfect discipline despite being caught mid-training by a princess who wasn’t supposed to exist in their space.

These were the same soldiers who’d moved when she spoke. Who’d retrieved thirty-two servants in under two hours. Who’d followed orders without hesitation and without complaint. And they’d been shoved into a corner of the palace where no one had to look at them.

“Stand,” Elara said.

The knights rose as one, retrieved their swords, and returned to attention.

Elara turned back to the captain. “This training ground is functional and well-maintained. The equipment is good quality. The constructs are still working after what looks like years of use.” She gestured at the space. “This isn’t dirty. This is efficient. I’m more impressed by this than I am by half the decorative gardens in this complex.”

The captain stared at her like she’d started speaking a foreign language.

Elara walked past him toward the nearest stone construct. It shifted its weight, tracking her movement, wooden sword still raised. She circled it slowly, examining the joints, the balance, the way the enchantment kept it moving smoothly without jerking.

“Who made these?” she asked.

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