first steps towards the surprise inspection.
Anthea looked out toward the horizon, where the capital sprawled, vibrant and full of life. It looked wonderful.
It looked… far away.
Very far away.
She lowered her gaze to her feet. She was practically barefoot, with only a few simple scraps of cloth partially covering them. Definitely not the right gear for a marathon. Then she looked at the endless “Path of Heroes” that vanished into the distance.
“It’s a bit far, isn’t it?”
she remarked, trying not to make it sound like a complaint.
One of the Drakorian guards, the one who seemed to be in command (and whom Anthea had mentally decided to call “Boss” for lack of a name), stepped forward.
“Would you like us to bring a carriage, Your Highness?”
he asked with immediate helpfulness.
“We can have one ready in five minutes. A discreet one, if you prefer.”
Anthea considered it for a second. A carriage sounded heavenly for her feet. But then reality hit her.
—A “discreet” carriage from this palace probably has diamond inlays instead of rubies and is pulled by six-legged horses that breathe fire—
she thought wryly.
—If I arrive in the city in that, the “secret inspection” will last exactly as long as it takes people to see the imperial crest on the door—.
“No,”
she said aloud, shaking her head.
“Too ostentatious. It would draw too much attention. Remember, low profile.”
The guard nodded, understanding (or pretending to understand) his sovereign’s logic.
“Understood. Then, would you prefer to fly?”
Anthea blinked.
“Fly?”
“Yes, Your Highness,”
the guard continued, completely naturally, as if he were suggesting walking or drinking a glass of water.
“We can apply a new veil of invisibility over all of us. It would be the fastest and most efficient. No one would see us descend into the city.”
Anthea’s brain screeched to a halt.
—Fly.—
They said it so casually.
—Sure, fly. I’m a half-dragon. I’m supposed to be able to fly, right?—
she thought, feeling cold sweat run down her back.
—They’re saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like I do it every Tuesday before breakfast—.
The problem was one tiny, minuscule detail: she didn’t have the faintest idea how.
Did she have wings? She discreetly turned to look at her back. No, no visible physical wings. Was it magic? Did she have to focus on happy thoughts like in that kids’ movie? Or did she have to throw herself off a cliff and hope dragon instinct kicked in before she became a royal smear on the pavement?
The image of herself bravely leaping from a precipice and falling like a sack of potatoes while her guards watched in horror flashed through her mind.
—I can’t ask them how to fly—
she told herself, panicking.
—I’m their immortal half-dragon princess. If I ask, “hey, which button do I press to take off?”, they’re going to think I hit my head really hard or that I’m an impostor—.
She had to get out of this. Fast.
Anthea adopted her best pose of “nobility exhausted by the burden of the crown.” She brought a hand to her forehead and let out a dramatic but elegant sigh.
“Mmm… flying,”
she said, drawing out the words.
“I could… but honestly, I’ve had such a hectic morning…”
She looked at the guards with puppy eyes, or at least the version of puppy eyes an intimidating royal could manage.
“I’m a little tired,”
she lied shamelessly.
“Could you carry me instead? It would be… an honor to see the efficiency of my personal guard firsthand.”
The guards exchanged glances. If they thought it was a strange request, they didn’t show it. On the contrary, “Boss” seemed to puff out his chest with pride.
“Of course, Your Highness!”
he exclaimed.
“It will be an honor to be your wings.”
Anthea sighed in relief.
—Good, crisis avoided. Now they’ll just carry me in—…
She didn’t finish the thought.
The guard raised a hand and, without warning, Anthea felt the ground vanish beneath her feet.
“Woa!”
a very un-dignified squeak escaped her as she began floating half a meter off the ground, wrapped in a soft violet glow.
“Antigravity field established,”
the guard reported with military efficiency.
“Initiating transport protocol.”
Another guard snapped his fingers and the world turned slightly grayish around her. The invisibility veil.
And then it happened.
With a sound like sheets whipping in the wind, enormous wings unfolded from the backs of the Drakorian guards. They were magnificent, imposing, and… definitely functional.
“Hold on, Your Highness,”
warned the guard controlling her gravity.
“Hold on to what? I’m floating in a bubb—!”
ZAP!
They shot into the sky like rockets.
Anthea, floating weightlessly in her magic bubble, watched the ground drop away at a dizzying speed as she was towed by her flying guards toward the city, wondering whether vomiting while invisible was still embarrassing.
The landing was surprisingly smooth, although Anthea had to fight back nausea when her feet finally touched the cobblestones of a narrow, gloomy alley on the city’s outskirts.
She took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her tunic and making sure her royal dignity was still intact after the express trip.
“Alright,”
she said, turning to her escorts.
The two towers of golden armor were gleaming ridiculously in the alley’s dim light. They were about as discreet as a white dot on a black canvas.
“I can’t walk around with you two following me like that,”
Anthea explained, pointing at their shining breastplates.
“You draw too much attention. I need you to hide. Stay close, but… invisible. Let no one notice your presence.”
“At your command, Your Highness,”
replied the lead guard.
And then Anthea witnessed something that defied all logic.
She watched as the shadows of the alley seemed to come alive, creeping and coiling around the bright golden armor. It wasn’t just that they hid in the darkness. It was as if they became it. The golden metal dulled, losing its shine and solidity, until the guards’ figures blended perfectly into the surrounding blackness.
In the blink of an eye, there was no one. Only shadows and silence.
Anthea felt her jaw drop.
—But what the hell…?—
she thought, frantically scanning the empty corners.
—They were shining like the sun two seconds ago! How is that physically possible? Does the armor have a “ninja mode” switch?—
Amazement bubbled in her throat, about to come out as a very un-royal “Did you see that?” But she stopped herself cold.
—Wait. I’m their princess. I’m supposed to know they can do this. I can’t look ignorant. That would only raise suspicion—.
She snapped her mouth shut, swallowed her surprise, and forced her features into an expression of bored indifference. She straightened her back and gave a slight nod toward the nothingness.
“Mmm, decent execution.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,”
the guard’s voice answered from the empty air to her left, so close it made her flinch.
“We are honored by your praise.”
Anthea brought a hand to her chest, disguising the startle as a gesture of adjusting her hair.
“Yes, well… keep it up,”
she murmured, trying to get her heart to stop pounding.
“Let’s go. We have a city to… inspect.”
As she took her first steps out from the protection of the shadows, her mind still processing the aerial trip, Anthea didn’t pay attention to the cross street.
The impact was sharp and solid, like crashing into a brick wall. Anthea stumbled backward, losing her balance for a moment.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, girl!”
growled a deep, rough voice.
Anthea looked up, dazed. In front of her stood a huge man, a mountain of muscle wrapped in a thick linen tunic. But what caught her attention wasn’t his size. It was the pair of triangular, furry ears twitching atop his head, and the slanted eyes with vertical pupils glaring at her in irritation. A feline demi-human.
“I… I’m sorry,”
she apologized quickly, lowering her head in an uncharacteristic gesture of submission, remembering her undercover role.
“I didn’t see you, sir.”
The man let out a disdainful snort, his ears flattening against his skull.
“Be more careful next time. Kids are always up in the clouds,”
he grumbled, without giving her a second look. He continued on with heavy steps, disappearing into the crowd.
Anthea let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
—Welcome to reality—
she thought wryly.
Recovered from the scare, she finally lifted her gaze, and the city revealed itself to her in all its splendor.
The noise of urban activity wrapped around her immediately. Horses galloped along the cobblestone streets, ridden skillfully by riders weaving around elegantly designed carriages and the pedestrians crowding the sidewalks.
Something caught her attention right away, a mundane but jarring detail: the clothing.
—Pants?—
she blinked, confused.
Where she came from, or at least from what she had seen in the palace, long tunics were the absolute norm. Seeing so many people wearing pants and skirts was shocking at first, almost reminding her of modern clothing from her past life. However, when she looked more closely, she realized it wasn’t a total break from her homeland’s aesthetic. The patterns, fabrics, and adornments were undeniably similar to those in the palace.
—It must be that fashion in the palace doesn’t move forward—
she theorized to herself.
—Over there they’re still clinging to the tradition of tunics, while out here the trend has evolved toward the practicality of pants and skirts, but keeping the same artistic style.
She looked up at the buildings around her. They were tall and imposing, built from pale stone. Their forms reminded her of a strange but harmonious fusion: the verticality and pointed arches of Gothic architecture combined with the solidity and columns of Roman design.
—Now that I think about it… my own palace has a lot of Roman influence—
she reflected, tilting her head.
—I’d never really noticed until now. I guess I was too busy trying not to act suspicious.
Most surprising of all, though, was how the stone intertwined with nature. Vibrantly colored flowers cascaded from every balcony, and leafy trees lined the avenues, softening the harshness of the architecture. Despite the constant movement, the atmosphere had a calm, pretty quality. For a moment, the tree-lined streets made her feel as if she were in a large, cozy town rather than an imperial capital.
But that illusion broke instantly the moment she lowered her gaze to the sea of people. The density of the crowd reminded her mercilessly that she was in a massive metropolis.
And what a crowd it was.
There weren’t only humans. It was a true parade of species, a living demonstration of the empire’s reach. She saw elves with fine features walking with innate elegance, stout dwarves with braided beards arguing loudly, lizard-men whose scales gleamed under the sunlight, and halflings darting nimbly between the legs of taller passersby. It was wonderful chaos, diverse and vibrant.
Anthea took a deep breath and took her first step into the tide of people. She adjusted the hood of her tunic, covering her face enough to look mysterious but not so much as to look like a cultist.
—Here we go. Operation: Blend In—
she thought, rather tense.
She moved forward with the constant fear that her clothes would stand out too much in the crowd. She expected someone to stop and stare at her at any moment, but… nothing. No one paid her the slightest attention. People passed her as if she were just another lamppost. When she realized she wasn’t drawing any attention at all, she let out a sigh of relief.
—It works!—
she celebrated internally, puffing her chest with pride.
She looked herself over for a moment. Despite having chosen the least noticeable clothing in her wardrobe and it being the only option available, she still felt satisfied at being able to pass unnoticed among the crowd.
—I’m a disguise genius. A social chameleon. I could pass for—…
BOOM!
Her confidence lasted exactly three seconds.
Something—or someone—slammed into her with the enthusiastic force of a cannonball. Anthea, whose center of gravity was still in the process of recalibrating, went flying backward and landed on her backside on the cobblestones.
“Ow!”
she complained, rubbing the sore spot as the world spun.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
an urgent voice exclaimed.
Anthea looked up, still dazed, and froze.
In front of her, reaching out a hand, was a human girl who looked like she had stepped out of an Idol Pop dream.
Her short hair was a soft pastel pink, with slightly messy strands framing a face with delicate features. But what really caught her attention were her eyes: two big amber orbs shining with an almost supernatural intensity, reflecting genuine concern.
She wore what looked like a uniform: an elegant set of immaculate white and blue, accented with black details and edging that gave her a charming, youthful air.
Anthea blinked.
—Oh. She’s… really cute…—
she thought, and her brain, which in her previous life had belonged to an average man, immediately short-circuited.
The girl helped her up with an energetic tug.
“I’m really sorry! I’m super late!”
the girl said, pressing her hands together in an adorable apologetic gesture before turning and darting off like a pink rocket, disappearing into the crowd.
Anthea just stood there, her hand still extended in the air, blinking like an owl.
—What… just happened?—
She shook her head, trying to reboot her system.
It was ridiculous. She saw Thalia every day, and Thalia was objectively beautiful enough to start wars and bring down empires with a single blink. But Thalia was so professional, so efficient, so… “high-end palace furniture,” that Anthea barely registered her attractiveness.
But this girl… This girl was a direct attack on her weak points. She had a vibrant energy and an idol-pop beauty that left Anthea babbling (mentally, thankfully).
—Get a grip—
she scolded herself, smoothing her tunic.
You’re an immortal princess, not a teenager at their first anime convention. A little dignity, please.
She was about to continue on her way (more carefully this time) when something on the ground caught her attention. There, at the point of impact, was a small, chubby leather object.
She crouched and picked it up. It was a wallet. Heavy.
“Wow, the pink girl dropped it,”
she murmured, weighing it in her hand.
She opened the clasp a little and saw the unmistakable gleam of gold and silver coins. Money. A lot of money. Or at least enough to buy a lot of snacks.
Anthea looked in the direction the girl had run.
—I should return it—
she thought solemnly.
—It’s the right thing to do. An act of good citizenship.
Then a small smile formed on her lips.
—And while I’m at it… well, it wouldn’t hurt to see those amber eyes again, right? It’s purely… uh… anthropological research on the city’s inhabitants. Yes. That.—
With renewed determination (and a questionable excuse), Anthea plunged into the crowd.
“Hey! Wait!”
she shouted, trying to get her attention.
