Step by step, they made their way down the carpet, their progress so slow it seemed a snail could have overtaken them.
"By the way, Sister, how long have we been walking?" Ray asked, sounding both curious and slightly exhausted.
Grace glanced at him. "Why?"
Ray looked ahead at the seemingly endless stretch of carpet.
"It feels like we've been walking for ten minutes, and we're not even halfway there yet."
Grace blinked.
"...Wait, really?"
"Yeah..." Ray said, scanning the vast hall ahead. "Want me to look back and see how far we've come?"
Grace immediately tensed.
"No!" she hissed. "A noble must always keep their gaze forward, never behind."
Ray blinked.
"Okay," he replied casually.
.
.
.
"Maybe..." Grace said after a moment. "Maybe you should take a quick look."
Ray glanced at her. "What happened to your whole 'nobles never look behind them' lecture?"
Grace's eye twitched.
"We can revisit that topic later," she muttered, suddenly far less confident in her own rule.
Ray stole a glance over his shoulder.
"...I've got bad news."
Grace immediately frowned. "How bad?"
"We've only made it about a quarter of the way."
A horrified silence followed.
Rui let out a dramatic groan.
"No... no, that's impossible." She clutched her chest as if mortally wounded. "My legs are already at their limit. Leave me behind."
She raised a trembling hand toward the distant thrones.
"Tell the future heir I fought with honor," she said solemnly. "And that my final battle was against a hallway."
Grace turned toward them, smoothing the faint irritation from her features and replacing it with a look of dignified composure.
"Rui," she began, her voice calm yet firm, "you do realize that I'm the heir to the throne, don't you? The future ruler of this empire."
She gestured toward the seemingly endless stretch of hall ahead.
"And if I can walk this entire distance without complaint, then surely my brave and capable siblings can manage a few more steps."
A silence followed.
Ray and Rui stared at her.
Blankly.
Neither blinked. Neither spoke.
It was the sort of look that conveyed a very simple message:
We understood every word. We simply found none of it motivating.
Grace's eye twitched.
She continued, her tone softening though her resolve remained unshaken.
"Being the heir doesn't make things easier," she said. "It means carrying on even when it's difficult. It means standing tall while everyone is watching, even when your legs feel like jelly."
Straightening her back, she lifted her chin with practiced grace.
"So come on. We keep our heads high, smile when necessary, and continue forward. Surely a little walk isn't enough to defeat us."
Rui let out a wounded groan.
"A little walk? This isn't a walk—it's a pilgrimage."
"This hallway might actually be endless," Ray remarked, staring into the distance.
Rui nodded solemnly.
"Maybe that's the whole point. So no one ever actually reaches the throne."
For a moment, Grace considered the possibility.
Then she sighed.
"At this point," she muttered under her breath, "we might actually need a royal carriage just to get across this hall."
.
.
.
"Um... Sister?" Ray said, squinting into the distance. "Why does that man up ahead look exactly like Welfred?"
A heavy silence followed.
"Because," Grace replied at last, her voice utterly flat, "that is Welfred."
Rui froze.
"What?!"
She looked at Welfred. Then at the seemingly endless stretch of carpet. Then back at Welfred.
"How is that possible?" She cried. "He took the longer path and still got there before us!"
"Maybe it's that thing he's always going on about," Ray said thoughtfully. "You know—how keeping a straight face keeps you young."
Rui stared at him.
"That's supposed to be for your skin!"
Ray shrugged.
"Maybe it works on the legs too."
Rui fell silent.
"...That would explain a lot."
Ray and Rui exchanged a meaningful look.
Without a word, they straightened their backs and adopted identical expressions of absolute seriousness. Their brows knitted together, their jaws tightened, and their eyes fixed on the distant throne as though preparing for a life-or-death campaign.
Grace eyed them suspiciously.
"...What are you doing?"
Neither answered.
The expressions only grew more intense.
At last, they spoke in perfect unison—their voices calm, solemn, and utterly ridiculous.
"We are practicing the Never-Ending Youth Technique, as taught by our master... Welfred."
A long silence followed.
Grace stared at them.
Then she stared a little longer.
Finally, she let out a slow sigh and rubbed her temple.
"When," she muttered under her breath, "did my life become this absurd?"
.
.
.
They eventually abandoned their pursuit of eternal youth after realizing the only thing growing younger was their patience.
.
.
.
Welfred stood at the right side of the grand staircase, just before the second platform. Beside him stood the Lord Commander, the two Royal Advisers, and the Knight Commanders, their presence lending a quiet gravity to the occasion.
Across from them, their counterparts occupied the corresponding positions on the opposite side, arranged according to long-standing court tradition. The formation was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
The absence of the Second Minister left a conspicuous gap in the otherwise symmetrical arrangement—a detail that did not escape the notice of the gathered dignitaries.
Grace noticed the absence as well. Her gaze lingered on the empty space, curiosity flickering across her features.
"Where is—"
Before she could finish, Rui cut in.
"Sister, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get there."
Her voice already carried the drowsy tone of someone halfway to sleep.
"Rui, no. Do not fall asleep while we're walking."
"We're almost there," she added, though she was no longer entirely convinced of that herself.
Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "And more importantly... how are you even capable of sleeping while walking?"
"She absolutely can," Ray said dryly. "Trust me, Sis. Rui could fall asleep in the middle of a sword fight."
A smirk tugged at Grace's lips.
"Impressive. Perhaps she's secretly training to become the world's first champion sleep-walker."
Rui's sleepy smile immediately widened with pride, as though she'd just received a prestigious title.
Ray looked from Rui to Grace, then back again.
(Not you too, Sister.)
.
.
.
After an eternity of awkward shuffling and questionable small talk, they finally arrived— somehow still friends and still upright.
The high officials stepped forward and offered a ceremonial bow with practiced grace. Grace, Ray, and Rui returned the gesture in kind, the silent exchange serving as a formal acknowledgment of rank and respect.
They ascended the stairs and took their places. The three settled onto their thrones while Welfred stood a step ahead between Grace and Rui. The two Lord Commanders assumed their posts at the front, just above the second dais.
Below them, the royal advisers stood at the fore of the second platform, with the knight commanders lined up in orderly ranks behind.
Welfred began the ceremonial address, his voice calm and commanding.
"On this auspicious day..."
The Crown Hall fell silent as his words echoed through the grand chamber, capturing the attention of all present.
As Welfred spoke, a manservant approached the dais carrying a scarlet velvet cushion. Upon it rested a magnificent crown of gold, velvet, fur, and precious gemstones, gleaming beneath the hall's lights— a timeless symbol of sovereignty and power.
With solemn care, Welfred lifted the crown and placed it upon her head.
"By imperial decree, and in the presence of all assembled," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the hall, "I hereby crown Grace Elenhart as the rightful Empress of Elenor!"
.
.
.
{ Elenor, the oldest and most prestigious realm on the continent, derived its name from its first ruler, the legendary founder Daenric Elenor, whose reign laid the foundations of the empire.
Unlike other powers that rose through conquest, Elenor expanded through soft power, offering guidance, wealth, and stability. They built new kingdoms and nurtured others, sometimes ruling directly with their own governors, and at other times entrusting native rulers to govern under Elenor's protection and influence.
This balance of dominance and diplomacy made Elenor the center of the continent, a realm respected as much as it was feared. Its monarchs held such authority that if an emperor or empress so willed, they could seize any neighboring land with ease. For Elenor commanded the largest army ever assembled, unmatched in both size and discipline.
Yet their power was not only military. Elenor's lands brimmed with resources, fertile fields, and rich mines. Its cities stood as the trade capital of the continent, drawing merchants from every corner of the known world. Wealth flowed endlessly through its markets, making Elenor the richest and most influential nation of all.
To rule Elenor was to rule the continent itself. Its throne was the ultimate prize, so coveted that bloodlines turned against themselves, and rival nations plotted ceaselessly to place their claimant upon it. The Crown of Elenor was both a blessing and a curse—uniting the continent under a single power, yet forever tempting ambition, betrayal, and bloodshed.
Such was the history every child of Elenor was taught from the moment they could read. }