FSW Chapter 2

Standing before the mirror, Nishina slowly traced over her own face.

Hair black as ebony, deep blue eyes, red lips, and white skin. These were the imperial family's own traits—features the Emperor carried, and the prince carried too. Even though she saw them every day, without needing a mirror at all, they somehow felt unfamiliar now.

Her gaze lingered on her pale skin, and, cautious, she brushed a hand across her cheek. Her translucent skin resembled white snow—but she was not Snow White. The moment that thought settled in, her hand dropped, listless, to her side. What pulled her hand down wasn't disappointment. It was helplessness.

She'd set the goal boldly enough. But even after a whole night of turning it over, she hadn't found a single certain way forward. It felt like having to scale a towering wall with bare hands. And the whole wall, top to bottom, was covered in thorns. In short—there was no clear answer.

First: persuading the Emperor. That was the first goal.

As a father, he was kind—but as Dargan Royce Arthur of White Snow, as the Emperor of the Snow Empire, that was a different matter entirely. As a ruler, he was every bit as resolute and cold as the previous Emperor, notorious for his reign of terror.

The succession was not a father's choice to make. It was the Emperor's. However earnestly she might plead as a mere subject, he would likely dismiss it easily enough.

So she needed people who would stand with her. Meaning—she'd have to persuade her mother first, and the retainers who supported her, before anything else.

And second: not earning her brother's hatred. This one—

Just remembering the rage she'd faced that day, and whatever courage she had snuffed out before she could even try.

Was it already too late? She forced the wretched thought away.

Which left only the third goal—

Even that one wasn't as though earning "his pity"—the man who would become her brother's knight—would come easily. In the book, he'd been described as though he felt nothing at all. Even if she did build some rapport with him—the moment his lord gave the order, he'd take up the sword without a second's hesitation. No question.

The sigh she had held back, and held back again, finally wrenched itself from her. Nishina buried her face in both hands. Everything ahead of her was pitch dark. However much of her memory had returned, she was still, after all, only fourteen years old.

She wasn't young enough to throw tantrums—but she wasn't old enough to be shouldering the future, either.

But what choice did she have.

The weight pressing on her shoulders was heavy beyond bearing—but she couldn't just stagnate here and rot.

Steeling her resolve, Nishina straightened her spine. She couldn't promise how it would end. But she had to begin.

Breakfast was usually a light affair—fruit and bread the maids brought her—but once a week, she shared something closer to a full meal with the Emperor and the Imperial Consort. He seemed to want to make it a more frequent thing, but the Emperor of the empire was far too busy to spare the time every day.

Even so, this was already the second such meal this week, and Nishina clicked her tongue to herself over it. The aide beside the steward couldn't keep still—clearly, work had been shoved aside to be here.

"Um—Father. I know there are urgent affairs of state waiting…."

"Nothing urgent."

At the flat dismissal, grievance filled the aide's eyes. Clearly something was urgent enough that he couldn't even spare time for a relaxed meal. As she cast a sympathetic glance toward the aide, thoroughly ignored, the Imperial Consort beside her, her face full of worry, urged her to eat.

"Shina, this is chicken stewed with medicinal herbs—eat just a little more, won't you? Hm?"

She watched, quiet, as her mother bustled about pushing nourishing dishes closer, then picked her spoon back up. She was already full, but faced with two pairs of worried eyes, there was simply no way to refuse.

In the end, she crammed food all the way up to her throat before the overlong morning meal finally ended. The Emperor, who hadn't touched the post-meal tea, kept that same watching gaze on her and asked, worried.

"The physician says there's no problem, but—are you truly feeling all right?"

"Yes. I've just been staying up too late reading lately, that's all."

Accumulated fatigue. That was the only diagnosis the physician had given for her collapsing without cause. Given how long she'd stayed asleep for, it seemed a strange verdict—but there was no way to confess that she'd slept so long only because she'd been recovering her memories.

"I suppose I should have been building up my stamina all along."

She said it lightly, and the Emperor nodded along in agreement.

"Yes—the physician said building up your stamina would be good for your health too."

"Which is why—I was thinking I might learn the sword."

"The sword?"

The Emperor's question came back edged with surprise.

Fair enough. Unlike Aiden, who had started swordsmanship training long ago, Nishina had always refused to learn it, insisting she had neither talent nor interest in martial arts.

But this was an important first step toward her goal. Eyes bright, Nishina leaned her whole upper body toward the Emperor to press her case.

"Yes! I couldn't hope to become a great swordswoman, but wouldn't it at least help build up my stamina?"

"Well, that's true, but…"

A healthy body and enough skill with a blade to defend oneself were among the virtues expected of an heir. Of course, even without learning swordsmanship, she would eventually master spirit magic in a few years' time regardless.

Either way, the sudden proposal seemed to have genuinely thrown the Emperor. After a moment's consideration, he nodded.

It wasn't as though she were asking to do anything wrong, and if it was for the sake of her health, he had no reason to refuse.

"Then Sir Hilton could—"

"No!"

Her outburst came louder than she'd meant, and both the Emperor, mid-sentence, and the man himself, standing silent behind her, widened their eyes in surprise.

Realizing she'd raised her voice too much, Nishina cleared her throat and hurried to add more.

"I mean—Sir Hilton is your knight, Father. If he's too skilled, someone as ordinary as me might have trouble keeping up."

Sir Hilton belonged to the Royal Guard, but seven years ago, by the Emperor's own order, he had been assigned as Nishina's escort knight. Which meant, at his core, he was still the Emperor's own direct knight. Simply being an imperial knight was proof enough of considerable skill, but a knight who served the Emperor personally was on an entirely different level. In other words, he ranked among the finest in the empire.

"Even so, wouldn't it be better to learn from the finest in the field—"

"The height difference would make sparring awkward too."

Nishina cut the Emperor off, firm, and added the reason without missing a beat.

"…You're planning to spar, too?"

The Imperial Consort's question came out startled, but Nishina nodded, matter-of-fact, as though it were only natural. The Emperor's mouth fell shut, apparently not expecting her to be planning to learn quite this seriously.

But then, who learned swordsmanship without ever sparring, even once? She might not manage more than a few exchanges, but that was every beginner's fantasy. She couldn't give that up.

"Of course, sparring would have to wait until I've built up some skill first."

"Then, another knight—"

"The other knights are all busy protecting the empire and the palace—I'd feel terrible taking up their time for my own personal reasons. So I think it would be better to have someone who isn't a full knight yet. An apprentice knight."

She tacked on the reason and, quietly, slipped in what she'd actually meant to say. Right—all of this, every bit of it, was just to get a foothold with that person. No—with the hunter.

According to the story, the hunter would not become a full knight until seventeen—an unusually fast rise, achieved only two years after entering the palace. Which meant, right now, he'd still be an apprentice.

"An apprentice knight in the Imperial Order would certainly have enough skill to teach me, our heights would match well enough for sparring, and—Father, you've always told me I should make friends my own age. Wouldn't it kill two birds with one stone if he and I became good friends?"

Apprentice knights belonging to the Imperial Order were, without exception, sons of noble houses who had trained toward knighthood since childhood. Whatever their rank or skill, none of that would matter for becoming the Princess's friend and mentor both.

But a boy. Her age.

The Emperor's brows drew together on their own. He'd agreed with the Imperial Consort's wish that Nishina make some friends, and said as much—but he had certainly not meant a boy that way.

Just before a firm refusal could leave his mouth, Nishina opened her eyes wide and looked up at him, pleading.

"Please."

The Emperor could not refuse his daughter's request when she begged him like that. In the end, a sigh of resignation seeped out through his lips.

"I'll allow it for one month, to start. If it doesn't prove helpful after that, you're to accept instruction from Sir Hilton without complaint. Understood?"

"Yes! Thank you, Father!"

Seeing that bright, unguarded smile evaporated even the last trace of his reluctance. The Emperor smiled back, warm, and finally picked up his teacup.

Aside from one escort knight rejected to his face, it had been, altogether, a rather peaceful morning.

"Ugh, do I really have to drink it?"

"You do."

Joy, unmoved, pushed the medicine bowl closer. The murky liquid smelled foul, and its color was worse still. If fruit juice sat aging for a thousand years, maybe it would look like this.

It was galling to have to take medicine when she wasn't even ill—but Joy seemed determined not to grant permission to go out until this bowl was empty.

Pinching her nose like she was drinking poison, she gulped the medicine down in great mouthfuls. Her face twisted at the bitterness, and, right on cue, Joy popped an unwrapped candy into her mouth. Only after rolling it a few times did the taste of the medicine finally fade.

"Can I go out now?"

"Of course."

Once you're properly dressed, that is.

Joy's mouth curved up, and she added the rest in a distinctly ominous tone.

She hadn't come to breakfast in her nightclothes—so what on earth was there to get dressed-up for? Nishina glanced down at herself, puzzled, but nothing seemed wrong. Before she could get a word out, though, at Joy's signal, the maids filed in one after another, already carrying armfuls of clothes and accessories, as if they'd been waiting for exactly this moment.

At the sight of the room filling up in an instant, Nishina shut her eyes. If she had to try on all of that, she'd be back in a sickbed for certain. Very fortunately, Joy finished her selection with nothing more than a meticulous pass over the pile.

Given that she'd only recently gotten out of bed, a comfortable chemise dress was selected. She was dressed in a white dress with a touch of blue ribbon at the waist, her hair braided neatly to one side after being brushed with scented oil.

Days out of the sun had left her already-pale skin looking paler still, so a light touch of color to her cheeks and lips finished the styling.

"Perfect!"

Joy nodded, satisfied. She had no eye for clothes or accessories, so she couldn't see much difference herself—but Ellis, who'd done her hair, was smiling just as happily, so it probably wasn't an exaggeration.

Self-conscious, Nishina looked away from the mirror and got up at once. Well—she had the permission. She meant to go find him straight away.

"I'll be back!"

Seen off by them, Nishina picked up the basket she'd had prepared in advance and left the room.