"Well, that's fine. I was about to go to the castle to show you in person anyway." Mother shrugged, as if the matter were a passing thought instead of a decision that would change the course of my life.
"That's a great idea," the King said smoothly. "Why don't we go to the castle? We can talk all we want there."
"Come, sweetheart, let's go." Mother waved her hand at me, calm as always, her expression unreadable but her tone light.
"I am coming, Mother." I stood up quickly, robes still heavy around me, the stiff cloth brushing against my legs as I moved. In my excitement I forgot what I was wearing.
"Wait, you need to change first." The head priest's voice cut across the air like a warning bell.
"Ooh, yeah." I looked down at myself, grabbed the edges of the ceremonial robe, and started tugging it off. The fabric resisted, threads snapping, until—rip.
"Don't change here!?" Dean shouted hurriedly, his hand half-reaching out before he stopped himself, face already red with exasperation.
"It's fine. I never changed my clothes; I just put this over it," I said simply, letting the robe fall to the floor. Underneath was the simple dress I'd been wearing beforehand. With no shame, I bent, picked up the torn robe, and handed it back to the stunned head priest.
"..." His lips pressed together, but he said nothing.
Not waiting for anyone else, I ran toward Dean, who stood stiffly next to the King, his hand resting almost absently on his sword hilt.
"Okay, let us take my carriage to the castle," the King said, already turning, robes trailing like he owned not just the land but the air itself.
Taking Dean's hand, I leaned close, whispering up at him. "What did he mean about a weapon?"
Dean's jaw tightened. "Not now, Stacy," he muttered, pulling me along as if to prevent more questions.
"Stacy, sit here with your uncle," the King said once we reached the carriage, patting his knee as though I were still a toddler.
Confused, I looked at Dean.
"Un," he said with a short nod.
Seeing no objection, I climbed onto the king's lap, the cushions beneath us sinking a little under the added weight. His body smelled faintly of polished steel and expensive wine.
"Well, Stacy, how does it feel sitting on a king's lap?" His voice was full of amusement, as if he'd been waiting to ask that all day.
"Weird." That was all I said.
"Hah. Honest, aren't you?" He chuckled, then turned his attention to Mother. "Sis, how has it been?"
"It has been great. I am close to having another breakthrough in my training." Mother smiled faintly, the kind that carried both pride and challenge.
"That's good to hear."
The two of them kept up a stream of small talk, words bouncing back and forth in practiced rhythm, until the carriage rocked to a halt.
[Castle Gates]
The sight before me stole my breath.
I had seen the castle from a distance, its white spires piercing the sky like the teeth of a giant beast. But up close, it was something else entirely. The walls loomed impossibly high, stone upon stone layered with care, the banners of the kingdom swaying in the late afternoon breeze. Light reflected off the polished marble steps, almost blinding.
Our mansion, which I always thought was far too large for our small family, suddenly seemed like a dollhouse. The castle wasn't just bigger; it was overwhelming, built to crush any who dared to stand against the king's authority.
"I knew the castle was big, but why is it this big?" I asked aloud.
"Haha, it is to show that the king is almighty and how important he is. You can almost say it is to compensate for something, hehe." It wasn't the King who answered, but Mother. She spoke lightly, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Ugh... why do you have to be so mean, Sis?" The king groaned, his expression twisting into a parody of being wronged.
"Can't we move on? I wanted to start with Stacy's training today." Dean's voice cut through the banter, sharp and tired.
"Hmm? Yeah, let's get to business," the King said with a raised eyebrow.
We followed him through the enormous doors, each one so tall I thought they could let a dragon stride through without ducking. Inside, the air smelled of polished wood and burning incense, the stone floors echoing with our footsteps.
[Drawing Room]
The room was lavish but cold. Velvet curtains framed tall windows, and chandeliers burned overhead, but it felt less like a home and more like a stage.
I sat between Dean and Mother on the long couch, my legs dangling above the ground. The king stood opposite, hands clasped behind his back.
"Does anyone want something to drink? Stacy?" he asked, voice smooth but distant.
"No, thank you." I declined politely.
"If you say so." With a casual wave, he dismissed the maids. The heavy door shut with a soft click, sealing us inside. His tone changed immediately, the warmth fading from his face. "Now, moving to the business talks. You both know the deal we had."
"Yes." My parents spoke together, voices steady.
"Then we understand that Stacy becomes the property of the kingdom from today onwards."
My stomach clenched, but I forced my face to stay neutral.
"Your majesty, she is just five years old. I know you want to use her Soul Link skill, but she is too young to be effective with it," Dean said, tension thick in his words.
"You don't need to worry about that. I will have one of the older ones teach her," the king replied easily.
"Brother, you should not be rushing this," Mother said, her face still emotionless, her voice calm but cutting. "There is no way that a five-year-old will survive mentally after using that skill on traumas."
"IO! What are we talking about? Can someone explain it to me?" I burst out, unable to hold the silence any longer.
"Well, honey," the King said without even softening his tone, "your parents were not really allowed to marry, but I made a deal with them. The deal was that if one of their children had an outstanding skill, I, the king, could take one of them for myself."
"I see." I frowned. "If you take me, my siblings won't be taken away?"
"Yes. I only get one child."
"I understand you want me because of my Soul Link. But what is Mana Fortification? Isn't that also rare?"
The king tilted his head. "Now that you mention it, what are all your skills? I stopped reading after the Soul Link."
All three of us stared at him.
"...What?" he said.
"Really, Brother? You have not even changed after becoming king. Still doing things before thinking." Mother sighed, shaking her head. She turned to me. "Well, she has three skills. Illusions—it's rare, but Mana Fortification is rarer. It is almost at the same level as Soul Link. Mana Fortification strengthens your spells and all mana that leaves your body. Still, the problem is that you don't have an element, so Mana Fortification is useless in your hands."
"That's not always true. What if she infuses her weapons with her mana? What then?" Dean asked.
"That's impossible. To do that, she must have perfect mana control, which will take years. She would also need weapons strong enough to withstand her mana output. Those would need to be very high quality." Mother's voice was calm, but her eyes flicked toward me with a glimmer of calculation.
While they spoke, my thoughts raced.
I will offer myself up to save my siblings, but I need insurance. With harsh training for five years, I can do it. I'll be strong enough mentally to withstand most traumas. But how do I secure those years…?
Looking up at the king, I drew in a breath. "I have an idea."
The room turned toward me.
"There is no way that I will survive mentally if I use my skill on traumas right now. I will be useless in no time if you force me to start. But if you give me ten years to build myself, to harden my mentality, I will last longer than anyone else. I promise you that."
The king tapped his chin, eyes narrowing. Mother's face remained calm, but I caught the faintest spark of approval in her gaze. Dean, meanwhile, had his mouth open like he couldn't believe the words coming from me.
"Ten years? That is too long," the King said. "The next war will likely start in six. Do you have a better plan?"
"Five years of intense training," Mother interrupted before I could speak. "That will be enough. We will train her ourselves."
"Hmm. That sounds better. The two best knights of the Federation are training her intensely—she may become strong in combat as well as mentally. That will work." The king laughed, pleased with himself. "See, Stacy? That's how you make a good deal."
I smiled back faintly.
"I want a contract." Mother and I spoke at the same time, then glanced at each other and chuckled.
"Fine." Snapping his fingers, the king summoned a maid. She entered with a golden tray bearing parchment and ink.
"I'm too lazy to write. You do it," he said, pointing at her.
The maid bowed and began to write the terms as dictated.
When the contract was finished, each of us signed. The weight of my signature felt heavier than the quill itself.
[Outside the Castle Gates]
The evening air was cooler now, shadows stretching long across the cobblestones.
Dean rounded on us the moment we stepped past the gates. "What just happened!?"
"You are so slow," Mother replied with her usual calm smile. "We got Stacy for five years."
She turned to me, her eyes softening just a fraction. "That was a great plan, Stacy. Thinking about the future even when you are only five years old—you really are my daughter."
"Thank you, Mother." My chest warmed under her rare praise.
"Well, no time to waste," she continued, her smile sharpening. "We need to start with your Spartan training."
I blinked. "Spartan...?"
Dean muttered under his breath, "Are we going to tell her about it?"
"Weapon Master?" Mother tilted her head. At his nod, she looked at me, then back at him. "We can tell her on the way back."
Her tone was casual, but something about the glint in her eyes made my stomach twist.