Benjamin strode into the grand hall with his hand gently resting on the shoulder of young Sylteena, who looked up at the sea of nobles and elites gathered before them. Her wide eyes flickered between the finely dressed men and women, whispering among themselves with subtle disdain and hidden smiles.
"Look there, Ena," Benjamin said softly, nodding toward a cluster of duchesses murmuring behind a delicate fan in a corner, "Those are the famous Whittington sisters, known for their endless gossip and sharp tongues."
Sylteena tilted her head in curiosity.
Benjamin smiled, shifting his gaze. "And over there," he continued, "Is Lord Pendrick, who once lost a fortune on a foolish bet and still manages to pretend it never happened."
Sylteena giggled, eyes sparkling.
Benjamin crouched slightly to her level, voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, Sylteena, I want to tell you a secret."
She leaned in closer, her eyes already gleeing in eagerness. "What, Papa?"
"When you deal with nobles, elites, or royal folk," he began, "You must always know how to water their pride when you need something from them... Or want to hide something from them."
Sylteena blinked. "Water their pride?"
He nodded. "Yes. You see, you have to make them feel important. Like they're above you in everything, even if you're just as much of an elite as they are. Always find a way to make them feel better about themselves."
"In everything?" she asked, scrunching her nose.
Benjamin chuckled. "Not everything, but enough to keep them feeling special. That way, they'll listen to you without realizing they're the ones being played."
Sylteena thought for a moment before frowning. "Isn't that what servants do? Like... Just bow and lick their boots?"
Benjamin shook his head firmly. "No, no, my darling Ena." He gently pinched her cheek. "That's not the same. Licking boots is foolish and cheap. A poor move pulled by commoners. What you do instead is glitter their footsteps — make it seem like they're made of gold — without losing your own shine."
Sylteena's eyes widened. "Glitter their footsteps?"
"Yes," Benjamin said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "A true leader knows how to make others feel good about themselves without losing their own dignity. Because the world, my darling, is dangerous... Especially for someone like you."
Sylteena's smile faltered as she caught the weight behind her father's words.
She wasn't too young and foolish to miss the vile scorn her existence attracted.
Benjamin's tone softened but stayed firm. "Remember, when you try to win favor, pretend you're unaffected. If you show you care too much, they'll think they have power over you — and that makes them bold. But if you stay calm and distant, it frustrates them. That is when you can control their feelings. Turn it to your advantage or, if you slip, earn their wrath."
Sylteena nodded slowly.
"But, Papa," she asked quietly, "What if I don't know someone? How do I know what makes them happy to use to... Glitter their footsteps or make them feel special?"
Benjamin smiled, proud. "Ah, that's where the real work begins, Ena. You gather every detail you can about them. Their likes, dislikes, fears, secrets. The more you know, the easier it is to find their cracks."
Sylteena's eyes gleamed with newfound understanding.
"Because," Benjamin finished, voice lowering, "Everyone can be controlled, my darling. You just need to know which strings to pull."
He then stood up again, holding her hand firmly as he led her between the distinguished crowd. "That's the work of a good leader. And one day, when it's your turn, you'll need these lessons more than anything."
Sylteena glanced up at her father with the resolve and pride of the little duchess-to-be. "I'll remember it, Papa. I'll make sure of it!" Her voice was laced with excitement.
Benjamin smiled with a soft chuckle. "Good. Now, let's see what other juicy gossips we can unlock from these snakes around."
• • •
In the Welerian Library...
With the orange glow of the torches illuminating the dusk-shrouded shelves of the library, the three figures stood at the long table at the center.
Sylteena, along with the other two, had their eyes fixed on the tar-colored potion bottle set next to the hide bag that was clipped shut.
The room, despite the warmth of the torches and closed windows, had a dreaded chill within the air that held all of them in silence for moments to pass.
Philip decided to break the thick ice. "Are you sure you can do this, My Lady?"
"I have to." Her voice was assertive and firm.
"What is the guarantee the forest hounds will not rip you to pieces the moment they find you?"
"Because they fear the SQ far more than starvation."
"And just if they damage you in the process of taking you to the SQ?" Darian asked with a dark tone, as if trying to pick apart her plan for faults she might have missed.
"According to the hounds' behavior, it is regarded as disrespectful to the SQ to tamper with its meal."
Darian looked away as he let out a disdainful grunt, obviously not convinced by her confidence despite the crudeness of her plan.
"What about your way back home?" Philip leaned forward with a concerned grimace. "How will you return home? What if the hounds attack you after you leave the Sliqruki presence?"
"The Sliqruki will ensure me a safe, quick trip back. Just like it did last time."
Both men's shoulders remained tense with uncertainty about everything so far.
Sylteena then turned to Darian. "Go out and get the horse ready. We will not go with the carriage to best avoid attention."
He forced a nod.
Looking back at the bag with the important items she needed for her little risk mission, along with the potion, she then took a deep breath. "I will return to the prince's chamber to freshen up and lay down. Once I am sure the prince is fast asleep, I will leave."
"Won't that attract the prince's questions?" Philip asked.
"Again, he does not care. I am only going back to lessen the suspicion like I am up to something within the library."
She finally looked back at her loyal, reluctant knight; who, even despite his helmet not leaving his skull, she could feel his hard scorn behind the metal shield — a scorn that burrowed spite into every word she had been saying so far.
She offered a light smile. "Please take these and wait for me at the stable. I will meet you there at midnight."
His helmet creaked lightly as he looked down, then back at her. His fists clenched. "Yes, Your Highness…"
And with that, Sylteena finally stepped away from the table and bid them farewell for the meantime, as she made her way toward the door — the trail of their gaze following her.
As the library door slammed shut, Darian remained still, his glare fixed on the wooden doors. His fists only tightened.
"She's just like her father..."
The sudden words of Philip forced his head to turn in his direction. Darian caught sight of the sad grimace on the middle-aged face.
Philip gave a bitter smile as he still watched the door. "He was this invested in his research... Even more. I do not blame her for her persistence. It's a part of her."
Tempted to retort back at the bizarreness of the whole plan, Darian held back his tongue in restraint — not to badmouth a member of the royal family he is loyal to — swallowing his bitter complaints.
But that didn't stop Philip from saying, "That is why I do not blame her for wanting to find out the truth."
Darian looked up with piqued curiosity.
Philip finally turned to him. "She's willing to go this far only so she can finish her father's most cherished legacy..."
But still! The head knight wanted to snap.
"... So she can find out who spilled the blood of her father that cost her the life she once knew."
Darian froze.
Philip nodded. "Whoever killed her father is the reason she is now left alone in the misery she endures daily. Since her childhood."
The knight took a moment to only stare before lowering his gaze to say, "I heard the rumors..."
"And I am sure there are many more you are yet to hear about her. Justifying her misery and maltreatment to be divine punishment."
"Bullshit," Darian snarled.
"Exactly why she needs to do this..." His brown eyes softened in both fear and empathy. "As heavy as it weighs on me to say this... Let her at least have this choice in her life for once."
Darian's shoulders dropped.