The setting sun poured down like molten gold, dyeing the horizon with a few streaks of blood-orange. Around, all was still and quiet.
On the forest path, withered fallen leaves formed a light brown carpet beneath their feet. The group’s footsteps rang out crisp and faint. These were uprising soldiers from the villages, clad in simple clothes, clutching homemade weapons, moving hastily as they quietly shifted their position.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, stirring the forest sounds. The young leader quickly scanned the surroundings before finally letting out a relieved breath.
“Keep moving.”
At this command, the group set off once more, their steps now more orderly and coordinated.
Phil lay limply on the donkey’s back. Her ears drooped, strands of hair damp with sweat stuck to her forehead. Her gaze was heavy with exhaustion.
By now, she had seen the harsh truth clearly.
She had been used and once they were done with her, mercilessly discarded.
And the mastermind behind it all was none other than the Blood Princess Moria, the very Blood Clan princess the servants had long worshipped in their hearts.
Ever since being sent by her parents to Anxing Academy, she had studied diligently and seriously. Almost every subject she took was with excellent results, and only then had she earned the qualification to work in the Castle.
Phil still remembered the religious classroom in the academy, where a grim-faced Blood Clan teacher told them that if they chose to worship the Divine Abyss Goddess and dedicated their lives to the Blood Clan, they would receive the goddess’s grace and gain the qualification for eternal soul life.
So, she approached her work with meticulous care, fulfilling her duties diligently, flattering and currying favor with the Blood Clan, even going so far as to sabotage other maids just to earn the Blood Clan’s favor. She had even harmed the only girl in the Castle willing to treat her sincerely—Su Ling.
But in the end, this was the outcome she received.
All her efforts so far had gained no recognition. She was forever the despised pawn of the Blood Clan—trampled on and toyed with mercilessly, without a shred of dignity.
When exactly had it all started to turn out this way?
Her nose prickled and tears threatened to fall.
She was not the kind to flatter or betray. When had she become someone who would abandon all for the Blood Clan?
“What’s wrong, young miss? Homesick?”
Suddenly, a rough hand gently patted her back. Phil turned her reddened eyes to look. It was an elderly village woman holding the donkey’s reins, and the dog ears atop her head showed she was also of the Beastfolk race like her.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through, but don’t worry,” the old woman said with a toothless smile, “There are no Blood Clan folks here. Once you come here, we’re all one family.”
Phil sniffled but said nothing, only giving a slight nod.
That’s right. She was nothing but a palace maid, while these gaunt, weathered peasants—despite their frail bodies stood up to resist the Blood Clan’s rule. What courage and determination that took!
Phil understood that the torture and oppression they endured were beyond anything she could imagine.
“They’re just little bugs. No matter how many, a few stomps and they should disappear,” Moria said, holding a gold-patterned pumpkin teacup, golden curls cascading over her shoulders, sitting gracefully in the pavilion of the Palace’s Court Garden.
“The recent small-scale uprisings have been crushed several times by the Knight Order led by the Count. They’ve mostly died down now. Dear sister, you really should stop worrying so much. The kingdom’s affairs don’t need your interference just take care of yourself.”
As she spoke, Moria took a delicate sip of her rose tea, a shimmer of moisture shining on her red lips.
“I never intended to interfere in your matters,” Sista said as she put down the newspaper she held, “I was only reading the news. But you, sister, working so hard every day and still keeping track of me you really should be called meddlesome.”
A fleeting mix of irritation and awkwardness crossed Moria’s face. She bit her lip but quickly masked it with a smile, her well-maintained silky fingers lightly tracing the edge of the teacup.
“Sista, you’re still as blunt as ever. It’s time to change that bad temper of yours.”
“I don’t think I need to change anything. This position is yours now. Goodbye.” With that, Sista folded the newspaper, tucked it away, glanced coldly once at Moria sitting in the pavilion, then rose and left the garden without looking back.
What Moria said did have some truth. Considering the current situation, the human faction’s uprisings posed no real threat.
After all, the human race of the Kingdom of Ansels was at the bottom of society. They went hungry and poorly clothed, struggling just to survive let alone use crude weapons to attack the Blood Clan’s formal armies.
Not only that, but since human uprisings were conducted on a small village-by-village basis, they were scattered and unorganized, lacking leaders with military knowledge.
Therefore, the Knight Order led by Count Se Nur could easily crush them one by one, often capturing entire groups of rebels with no injuries to the Blood Clan’s forces.
But even if they could suppress human forces, the human spirit was not so easily crushed.
As long as hatred for the Blood Clan remained in their hearts, small-scale uprisings would continue in waves.
Sista pressed her fingertips to her brow, feeling that dwelling on this was useless. At that moment, the bell tower chimed the afternoon hour.
She walked among the rose bushes, gazing at the pale pink blossoms with some dissatisfaction.
“Why hasn’t that maid arrived yet?”
Just as she voiced her complaint, a petite silver-haired girl came running from afar, panting and holding an exquisite woven basket.
“You’re only arriving now?” Sista deliberately avoided Su Ling’s gaze, staring into the distance, speaking coldly and flatly.
“Huff… huff… Her Highness, sorry, am I late again?” Su Ling’s heart skipped. She quietly watched Sista’s face and saw the Blood Princess looked somewhat disappointed.
“You’re not late. The timing is just right,” Sista said as she stepped onto the winding path out of the garden, moving forward. “But if possible, I hope next time you can come earlier than I ask.”
“Y-Yes, I understand.”
Su Ling was a bit puzzled and didn’t quite understand why Sista suddenly said that.
Lately, the Princess Her Highness had become increasingly difficult to read. Though there was nothing special to do, Sista often asked her to accompany her, with reasons that were strange and varied.
Sometimes it was for afternoon tea together, arranging flowers; sometimes for walking in the garden, carrying her basket; the most absurd time was at dawn, when Sista thought the sunlight streaming through the curtains was too harsh and made her stand by the window for half an hour to block the light.
Spare me!
Su Ling grumbled silently in her heart.