The girl lightly laughed as she jumped down from the gilded chair, standing before the still kneeling maid, her petite shadow cast over her back.
"—You know what to do, right?"
"Slave... Slave understands." The palace maid's voice was almost inaudible, she dared not lift her head, as if her throat was gently clamped by the fangs of the Dragon, cold sweat emerging like raindrops, spreading into the bloodstains on the carpet.
The Princess laughed with satisfaction, her voice gradually receding.
"Ah, these pastries are for you, after all, it was the last dish personally made by the steward. Don't waste them—after eating, remember to tell him your thoughts."
As for such trivial matters as changing the carpet, naturally, she did not need to specifically instruct.
What if she sees bloodstains on the carpet next time?
Then it's not the carpet, but perhaps some people's heads that won't be needed.
[Route to National Destruction]
1.5. Reckless Militarism
2.6. Extravagance
