The Duke welcomed me into his cabin—or was it an office, even though we were on a ship? As I stepped inside, the crashing waves against the hull seemed to vanish, like I’d passed through a door into a bar. The space was far larger than Lucas’s apartment in reality, complete with a bed covered in pristine white curtains. The Duke himself sat at a table near the door, flanked by towering bookcases crammed with volumes.
Before I could ask how the books stayed put on a rocking ship, he smiled at my startled expression. Gesturing to the chair across from him, he said, “Sit down, Baronetess, and tell me how you fared.”
I nodded quickly and sat down. The chair creaked beneath me. What? Aren’t I super light now? Should I worry about—Charlie! Focus! The Duke’s expectant gaze, arms crossed, reminded me to stay on track.
“I met Queen Irwen,” I said, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate effort. Success! “The barrier holding her is failing; it won’t hold much longer. She told me herself.”
A delighted, almost amused smile spread across his face. “I expected as much when I heard about the floaters.” His eyes darted to my tiara, and his smile deepened. “I take it she recognized her daughter and crowned you as a princess, then?”
My body tensed. A shiver ran down my spine, cold sweat forming on my temples. “I… Duke, this is… I didn’t…”
“You didn’t what, precisely?” he asked, his approving smile adding to my unease.
“I mean, uncle? I did not betray the empire…” I murmured, my voice trembling as I avoided his gaze, my eyes darting toward the bed instead.
“I know, child. Trust me, I would know.” With a swift motion, he opened a drawer and pulled out a crumpled, yellowed document. Its ink was faded, black in most places, but with a faint bluish hue in others. “Before the traitor imprisoned your mother, she wrote me this letter. She expressed her disappointment in me and declared that if I helped her reclaim our ancestral lands, she would pardon me.”
He placed the letter on the table in front of me with a smug expression; the motion accompanied by a dull thud.
I stared at the paper, but the elegant handwriting was nearly indecipherable. Written in ancient royal Elven, it was far beyond my grasp—I was fluent only in common and modern royal Elven. My lips parted to protest, but his piercing gaze silenced me before I could speak. Reluctantly, I leaned forward to examine the letter.
Some words were familiar, vaguely resembling modern Elven, but the faded ink and her intricate script made it impossible to fully decipher. Not that any player would do better; the game’s translators worked for spoken languages, not written ones. “Sorry,” I admitted, “I can make out a few words… Something about ‘under billows,’ ‘assay,’ and ‘riders on palfrey.’ But I can’t say I understand what it means.”
The Duke’s grin widened. “I’m surprised you could read even that much. You truly are my niece.” He pointed to a section written in the bluish ink. “Here. She wrote she may become a myth and asked me to seed her stories into our populace.”
No way. My eyes widened as the realization hit me. So that’s why I’ve heard so much about her deeds, even deep in imperial lands.
“A myth?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “You’re telling me she’s…”
“Our true Queen,” the Duke replied without hesitation.
“No, I meant—are the stories about her fighting Demons or defending us in the Dragon Wars true?”
His curt nod confirmed it. He returned the paper to his drawer, his expression unreadable. “I spread her deeds to build her myth, and now it has come to fruition. Sitra has recognized her as a mythical Queen. The barrier can hold a legend, but it cannot hold a myth. She will reclaim our kingdom from the human usurpers.”
I bit my lip, the gears in my mind spinning. A civil war. It was both a disaster and an opportunity—my ticket to greatness, power, and, most importantly, money. I bit my lip, because there was something unspoken in his words, something that was upsetting me and something that the Captain would have a bad feeling about. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because you own an East fortification,” he said, his voice heavy as he leaned forward in his chair. His expression darkened, sending a shiver down my spine. “That’s why I acknowledged you as a noble, my dear niece. You can aid us.”
“I won’t fight her, if that’s what you’re asking!” I blurted out.
His approving smile twisted into something far more dangerous, and I swore I saw a flash of ice behind his eyes. It reminded me of the time I stumbled into a freezer full of whiskey—by accident, mind you.
“You will fight her,” he said, his voice dropping in pitch.
Panic overtook me as I shot up from the chair, backing away from his intense stare. “But wouldn’t—”
“With all the strength you can muster,” he interrupted, his gaze drilling into me as though searching for a truth I didn’t have. His presence felt suffocating, and I collapsed back into the creaking chair, powerless to resist. “You will accept her formal declaration of war and fight her army. For that, I will lend you a local infantry.”
“I can’t do that,” I protested, shaking my head violently until I had to grab the edge of the table to steady myself. “Absolutely not! That would give her a casus belli, and the gods wouldn’t grant the empire the Defender’s Blessing!”
To my frantic words, he laughed. A deep, chilling sound. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed my objections. “She already has it, child.”
“Uncle, with all due respect—no, she does not,” I said carefully, forcing myself to think. My voice wavered, but I held on. “She needs to declare war against a worthy enemy, and no one with a large enough army would stay in her path. It’s suicide.”
For the first time in our meeting, his composure cracked, and a flicker of hostility crossed his face. “Not only are you powerful, but you’ve studied the God of War’s rules,” he said with a sneer. “You are my niece. You will accept her declaration.”
“Or…” My voice faltered, a thousand dire options flashing through my mind.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“It is within my power to imprison you,” he said with a victorious smile. “But I am not heartless. When you return to the capital, it will be as a hero who saved thousands of villagers.”
“You won’t evacuate them?”
“I should have known the princess cares more for her people than herself,” he mused. “I cannot evacuate them. It pains me, but the sacrifices have been made. This plan has been in motion for hundreds of years—we established the settlements along the river solely for this reason.
“So when I return to the empire…” I met his gaze, my voice hollow, my body weighed down by resignation.
He nodded. “The Emperor will make you a Baroness.”
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll do it.” Was it foolish? Probably. But rising in the nobility so quickly was tempting. Not to mention the prospect of fighting Irwen in what might become the first epic battle in Rimelion. Could a gamer girl like me ask for anything better? “May I ask something else?”
“Speak, child.”
This was my chance. I’d just agreed to something dangerous; maybe he’d be inclined to help. “There’s a Fire Tamer’s lair, and I want to eliminate the threat. Could you lend me a ship to get there faster?”
Without a word, he reached into another drawer and pulled out a tin-colored sheet of paper. “A company will aid you in this heroic task,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Only a true Elven princess would be reckless enough to challenge a Fire Tamer while Irwen looms on the horizon.”
He scribbled something onto the paper, rolled it up, and sealed it with his ring. “Take this to the Guard Captain at the garrison in Village Number Seventeen. It’s the nearest port to his lair. Without the floaters, the journey should only take a few hours.”
Standing at the bow of the capital ship, I gazed into the distance, letting the wind tousle my hair as I lingered there, hidden from view. After an hour of sailing, the salty tang of the sea gave way to muggy humidity, making me sweat more than I wanted. My clothes clung to me in the oppressive air, and the sailors’ leering glances didn’t help. Why does that bother me so much? It shouldn’t, right?
Without the constant threat of floaters, boredom settled in, and I sighed, knowing I was falling further behind the rankers. Leaning over the railing, I watched the water swish below. Level seven and still miles from level ten. Some Exploiter you are.
“I guess it’s time to try my title. That’ll cheer me up!” I said to the water with a forced grin.
System, please activate titular title: Princess.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[Congratulation! You are now Princess Princess]
[Error! Syntax check failed! Reverting changes…]
[Error! Reverting changes failed, name active, isolating transaction…]</td>
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The first message was expected. Every one after that? Injected raw panic straight into my veins. Hey, it’s not even my exploit! Not my fault she wanted the name Princess!
Suddenly, the ship disappeared, replaced by a white void—a nothingness so absolute it felt like it was swallowing me whole. Reaching out, I felt only cool, damp mist against my skin.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[Isolated. Manual action required, contacting support…]</td>
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Not so fast! Don’t wanna some random guy to ban me. System contact: Damon, password #enlo-57945#
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[DEBUG ACTIVE: contacting #57945#]</td>
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The void flickered as the world adjusted, and within moments, Damon materialized in front of me. To my surprise, he wore his usual clothes, even in the virtual world. His sharp gaze scanned the situation, and his mouth fell open when he saw me. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Hi Damon. How are you?”
He stepped closer, his eyes trailing over my face, chest, legs, and back to my chest. “John… No, Cha-Charlie? Is that you?”
Shrugging, I said, “Yes, me!”
“CHARLIE!” His yell startled me. “You’re SO dumb! You started a debug session?”
In a blink, a chair materialized beneath him, and his hands flailed over virtual keyboards as he worked.
“What?” I snapped back, irritation bubbling up. “It wasn’t my fault the system crashed. It was your bad code!”
Damon froze, his fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, he turned to glare at me. “No. It. Was. Not. Our fault.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth. “The system logs everything, so I need to be careful,” he muttered, clearly frustrated.
“How dumb were you to pick the name Princess?” he spat, jumping from the chair and stomping toward me. “You KNEW it would conflict with the title, didn’t you? You weren’t our number one exploiter for nothing! But are they blaming you? No, no, they’re screaming at ME! They docked my salary because of YOU! And now you’ve got the audacity to call me to fix your mess?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a small, genuine smile; I hadn’t realized the trouble I’d caused him. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Too late for that!” he barked, grabbing my forearm and pulling me forward. His strength far outmatched mine, and I stumbled. He pushed me back, his hand hitting my chest hard enough to scratch a few hit points away.
“NoobDamon, what the hell?” I snapped, using his old nickname in a desperate attempt to calm him. My voice turned icy, like Irwen’s. “Stop it! It’s me, John!”
But the Damon I knew was gone. His timid demeanor replaced with something dark, angry. “Shut up! It’s all your fault!” he yelled, his eyes blazing with rage.
I froze, unable to process his transformation. Then he raised his hand and struck me across the face.
The pain was immediate and sharp, spreading through my skull like fire. The reality limiter set to 100% made it unbearable. At his GM level—over 300—the force sent me flying, crashing onto the cold, hard floor.
Blood dripped from my mouth as a deafening ringing filled my ears. I tried to say his name, but my jaw throbbed too much to form the words. My body refused to respond. Before I could move, darkness swallowed me whole.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[You died]</td>
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