The interior of the marble castle was adorned with a beautiful garden.

Amid towering columns where rose vines bloomed profusely, Myrthi’s palace stood quietly on one side of the grounds, like a secret garden. It was during the season when the flowers in the garden were in full bloom that a letter arrived at my palace. This happened not long after the successful conclusion of my coming-of-age ceremony. The letter, written in elegant cursive, was an invitation to a grand tournament, but the expressions of some around Myrthi soured like decaying fertilizer meant for flowers. They looked as though someone had thoroughly humiliated them.

It was no exaggeration. The phrases in the invitation were enough to irritate the nerves of every lady-in-waiting, particularly those led by Orzette.

"We invite Princess Myrthi to a jousting tournament in celebration of her coming-of-age. Ekild I."

This invitation, sent by the king himself, caused an uproar.

“How could this happen?”
“His Majesty has truly gone too far this time!”
“Was he really that envious?”

Orzette and the ladies-in-waiting vented their indignation. Even some of the guards were present, individuals who had been loyal to me since childhood and had guided me like family. Their faces, too, reflected the simmering discontent. I felt a sudden surge of affection for them and couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Yes, it’s a message meant to humiliate me,” I said lightly.

“Princess! You shouldn’t say such things!”
“That’s exactly the kind of language to use in this situation,” Orzette exclaimed, rising in defense of my words.

I was startled—not only by what I had said but also by Orzette standing so boldly by my side.

“L-Lady Orzette?”
“Just watch. No matter how much they try to bring you down, they won’t have their way!”

“But... you shouldn’t say something like... humiliate me...” I stammered, attempting to intervene. Yet before I could complete my thought, Orzette, with her fist clenched and her voice raised, declared:

“No matter what, the victor of the coming-of-age ceremony was the princess!”
“That’s right!” another chimed in.
“And Prince Euphil! What perfect timing he had!”

The ladies-in-waiting began whispering amongst themselves, their indignation fueling the lively atmosphere. It became nearly impossible to interject. Their outburst had its roots in a specific grievance.

That day at my coming-of-age ceremony, when Euphil’s diamond dress was unveiled, the nobles were awestruck. Yet, contrary to the collective admiration, the sound of grinding teeth came from none other than the king. Amid the murmurs of awe surrounding the glittering dress, the king’s audible displeasure was unmistakable.

It was clear the king disapproved of my diamond dress. His glare alternated between me and the gown, his veins bulging in frustration. It was as though Euphil’s shadow loomed before his eyes. He stared at me and the gown as if wrestling with memories he could not suppress.

The dress, however, deserved every bit of admiration. Even Gelbart, usually unfazed, gawked in disbelief as though thinking, That dress? Really? I approached it slowly, running my fingers over the gem-studded surface. The diamonds, finely polished, felt unexpectedly smooth to the touch.

“Euphil,” I murmured, resting my cheek against the shimmering surface as I recalled my old friend, the water sprite. The dress seemed to embody her spirit, radiating beauty and grace.

“What is it called?” I asked the dark-haired man who had brought the dress.

The man, ever stoic, merely looked at the king, whose hostility was palpable. His lips moved faintly.

“Akel,” he answered.

“Akel. Please tell my brother that Myrthi is overjoyed,” I said.

At this, Akel offered the faintest smile—a rare expression for him, but unmistakable nonetheless. He nodded, and as I touched the gown, Euphil’s face lingered in my mind.

I was not the only one thinking of Euphil. Soon, the king’s trembling turned into loud laughter.

“Ha! Ha ha ha!” he bellowed, stepping forward as though performing a play.

“Even a prince from afar celebrates the princess’s birthday! How could I do any less?”

Orzette and Gelbart stiffened anxiously, while I, facing away from the king, continued to admire the gown.

The king’s voice grew louder, almost menacing, as he clapped his hands twice.

“Let a jousting tournament be held! A festival in honor of the princess!”

“Your Majesty! Does that mean—”

“Of course, experienced knights shall not participate. Only newly appointed knights will compete in this tournament!”

“Your Majesty!”

“I am weary now. Prepare for the joust. That is the king’s decree!” he declared before abruptly leaving the gathering, even though the party was far from over.

The queen, too, after glancing between me and the diamond dress, bit her lip and followed the king out. Their departure mattered little; the ball continued. Yet Orzette and Gelbart’s expressions were filled with barely restrained curses.

Gelbart, ever sharp-tongued, muttered something akin to, “That man’s brain is like grime under a toenail.” The old knight had a flair for inventive insults.

The reason for their frustration was clear when one understood the rules of jousting. Jousting tournaments were single-elimination competitions fought on horseback. Each family sent a knight to represent them in one-on-one combat, held in an arena resembling a colosseum.