Daughter of the Emperor

It happened the year when I was three years old, nearing four.

When the conquest of Pretzia ended, Caitel did not start other wars. When the warmongering emperor ceased his campaign, all neighboring countries which were shivering in fear happily shouted, “hooray!”

Well, that’s what I would have done, too. Maybe I’d add something to it and made it an annual holiday. Saying, “this is a day to celebrate.”

Anyway, unlike neighboring countries that were formerly a tragic sight to behold, the responses of our country’s nobility had been consistent. Six months was the limit, and once the king felt even a twinge of boredom, then he would seek the stench of death again. Tsk tsk tsk, did they really believe that?

… it’s not a completely false statement, but you know…

That was already four years ago. Unlike the beginning of our peaceful years, all kinds of speculations were on everyone’s lips that the emperor might have finally come to his senses. They were talking about how, perhaps, having a daughter had finally awakened the essence of humanity within him. It’s all bullshit, of course.

Oh, who said my dad was human? My father was a madman!

“Assisi, do you know the reason why he quit the war?”

“Isn’t it because the princess was born?”

… No, I couldn’t believe that at all.

How could that lunatic quit his thirst for war just because of me? It was absolutely ridiculous.

As I drew my face quiveringly, Assisi questioned my reaction. I didn’t think that it was right, but I couldn’t say this to the naive Assisi. Somehow from the moment I first met Assisi, he had viewed me as his very beloved and innocent daughter. How did he come to such an enormous illusion?

Everything…

… That I had done to live…

… Was because of my…

…My tearful efforts!

Assisi should get that on his head!

Well, Assisi didn’t know that my father choked my neck the moment he saw me. This was a very thoughtful way of saying that he was trying to kill me. I remembered that my childhood was like walking on thin ice. If it wasn’t me, then anyone would have died. Go, me!

“Are you all right?”

“Uh? Oh, yeah.”

“Are your legs not hurting?”

I looked back at Assisi.

“Assisi, are you aware that you’re asking that every five seconds?”

“…”

Assisi became silent. He looked embarrassed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he looked away from my eyes.

It was effortless to know Assisi well. How could I be so clear-cut? Unlike anyone else, I could see through him so clearly, and ironically, that was the problem. What should I do with such a pure man?