Chapter 593: The Fearless Princess ( 593 )

Liana and Gloria rode in silence, calmly following behind as Princess Felicia led the way on her Pekko, her posture straight and dignified as ever.

Ahead, the outline of Marrenthold’s stronghold came into view—a modest town fortified with tall wooden walls, stone towers, and a wide gate just barely open.

At the gate itself, one guard sat on a barrel, dozing with his helmet tilted forward, snoring faintly.

But up on the walls—on the watchtower and above the battlements—keen eyes spotted the approaching figures.

Two riders with silver hair.

One with long black hair.

And one of them—her aura regal, her expression like chiseled ice—was unmistakable.

“…T-The scary princess is here…”

That whisper traveled faster than any alarm bell.

Without a single shout, the panic began.

“Tuck your uniform!”

“Armor—polish it! Now!”

“Boots—wipe the mud off! ”

“Your sword’s upside down, idiot—fix it!”

“I—I forgot my shield!”

They scrambled like frightened animals. Cloth was pulled taut, belts adjusted in frantic silence. One guard ran past with a boot in each hand, still trying to hop into them while another furiously rubbed dust off his breastplate.

All without a single spoken command.

Because they knew.

This wasn’t just a visit.

This was Felicia.

And if even one thing was crooked, smudged, or misaligned… there would be no mercy.

At the gate, the guard dozing off on the barrel stirred slightly when his partner nudged him.

“Hey. You.”

“Hmm…?”

“There’s a visitor. You handle it. I’m going back to sleep.”

The sleepy one groaned, scratching his neck. “Me again? Damn you…”

With a yawn, he sat up, rubbing his eyes lazily.

But his partner suddenly went stiff.

His eyes locked onto the approaching group.

His voice dropped to a whisper—barely audible.

“A-Ah… Princess Felicia…”

“Hah?” the sleepy guard scoffed, eyes still half-closed. “Heh~ I know you’re trying to scare me so I have to wake up. Clever.”

The partner didn’t respond.

The silence lingered.

Unnatural. Heavy.

“Hmm?” the sleepy guard frowned. “Hey… what’s wrong? Why’d you go silent all of a sudden?”

Still no reply.

“Aha… Don’t tell me you’re trying to—”

He opened his eyes fully.

And froze.

Right there, just a few meters away, was a silver-haired girl atop a Pekko, her golden eyes glowing faintly under the light.

Her posture was regal.

Her expression unreadable.

The aura she exuded was unmistakable.

“Ah…”

“P-Princess Felicia…!” he croaked, instantly bolting to his feet and tripping over the barrel.

“Both of you. Kneel.”

Felicia’s voice rang out, sharp. Commanding. Furious.

The two gate guards immediately dropped to their knees, one of them shaking so hard his helmet slipped sideways.

Above, on the walls, panic erupted in silence.

“She shouted…” one soldier whispered, hiding behind a parapet. “She shouted!”

“She never shouts,” another whimpered, ducking behind a stack of spare arrows. “We’re doomed. We’re so doomed.”

“Someone find Captain Juraban,” muttered a trembling voice. “Now. Right now. Before she reaches the front gate!”

Another soldier whispered, “I think he’s still in bed.”

“Then wake him!”

Back at the gate, Felicia sat tall atop her Pekko, golden eyes narrowed as she stared down at the two miserable guards.

Their uniforms were wrinkled.

Their boots were unlaced.

And worst of all—they failed protocol.

“Push-ups.” Felicia’s voice was like cold steel.

The two guards flinched.

“One hundred times.” she said, her tone leaving no room for mercy.

“Y–Yes, Princess!!” they both shouted in perfect sync, already dropping flat to the ground.

Their arms trembled before they even began.

“One! Two!”

“Louder,” Felicia said calmly, staring down at them.

“ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!”

The entire wall above fell dead silent.

Soldiers peered out from behind stone and wood, watching the scene unfold like a battlefield execution. None dared move.

“Oh Ancestors… this is worse than punishment drills…”

Felicia, arms crossed atop her Pekko, didn’t blink. She simply watched, perfectly still, as the two guards gasped for breath at push-up number twelve.

Meanwhile, deep within the inner barracks of Marrenthold…

Captain Juraban yawned, dragging himself out of bed with all the energy of a lazy mountain bear. His hair was unkempt and wild, sticking up in all directions. His officer’s coat was tossed over one shoulder, barely hanging, and his undershirt was inside-out.

With half-lidded eyes, he sat on the edge of his bed and blindly tried to shove his feet into his boots—muttering curses as he missed the first time, then managed to shove one boot on sideways.

“…Hmm? What now?” he mumbled, scratching his chest.

The barracks were unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

Normally there’d be clanking armor, barking soldiers, maybe even some laughter or complaining. But today… silence.

Juraban stepped outside, squinting at the bright morning light. “Why is everyone so stiff today…?”

He tilted his head.

“Huh… the tower guards are standing at full attention…”

Then he squinted again.

“…Are their armors… shiny? Since when do those idiots polish anything?”

Yawning, he began to stroll casually toward the front gate, stretching his arms over his head.

“I think today… I’ll send those two rookies out to hunt meat or something. Need some grilled—”

Then he stopped.

And stared.

And blinked.

There, at the gate, stood Princess Felicia—dead center, mounted on her Pekko, golden eyes locked ahead like a goddess of judgment.

Two guards in front of her were on the ground, halfway through a shaky set of push-ups, gasping for breath.

On the walls, not a single soul dared move.

Juraban’s sleepy expression drained.

“…Ah.”

He stared for a second longer.

Then slowly turned on his heel—planning his silent retreat back into the shadows of the barracks.

“Captain Juraban.”

He froze.

A drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

“…Crap. I’m dead.”

He turned back around with the stiffest posture he could manage—trying to fix his coat, flatten his hair, and adjust his lopsided boot all at once.

Felicia’s voice rang out again, cold and absolute.

“Push-ups. One hundred times.”

The color drained from his face.

“Yes, Princess!”

He dropped like a sack of bricks, landing beside the two trembling gate guards still struggling at number forty-something.

The three of them now formed a neat, miserable row.

Up on the wall, the soldiers watched in absolute silence.

Not a single laugh.

Not a whisper.

Not a blink.

One of them slowly ducked behind a crate and whispered, “If we pretend we don’t see it… maybe we won’t get next…”

( End Of Chapter )

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