Danschel’s second princess, Anos, rode her horse along a forest path, dressed in the customary attire of the Empire’s upper Nobles: she wore a black, gold-trimd rider’s jacket, light-brown gloves specifically designed for riding, white satin riding breeches that enveloped her legs, and light black greaves at the calves protected her feet in exquisite black boots.
Anos looked straight ahead, her forehead dotted with fine, pearl-like sweat after just finishing a hunt, her long, slender neck complenting her silver-white, marble-like complexion, making her seem sculpted. A breastplate hung over her rider’s jacket, protecting only the right half of her chest, the garnt’s tailcoat-like hem tied with a belt, hanging with silver tassels and an inscribed silver plaque bearing her full na—Anos... Leo Delos.
Additionally, a Scripture read: "This grace is enough for us to squander."
Three companions, one woman and two n, rode horses behind the princess. Behind these three mounted companions, there were actually a few servants on foot, but they had been left behind, so distance from here.
Anos adjusted the ribbon at the back of her head, her hair normally left loose, but tied up for horseback riding during hunts, which she was not quite used to.
The ribbon was purple, a color of nobility in Danschel, more precious even than gold compared to purple and red.
Her brilliant, light-red eyes gazed forward, her brows imbued with valor, a beauty that could be considered the perfect epito of Danschel’s people.
"How much longer, Herodotus?"
Anos pulled on the reins and asked the companion beside her.
"It should be almost ti, Your Highness."
The companion nad Herodotus said, reminding her:
"You should be behind us, walking in front... carries so dangers."
Anos, without a glance aside, said flatly:
"I am not afraid of danger.
Moreover, it is only if I ride ahead that they will think there is an opportunity to strike.
Herodotus, spare the unnecessary words."
Herodotus took a deep breath, knowing he could not change the princess’s mind alone.
The "they" in princess Anos’s mouth were assassins lurking on the road, ready to strike.
Even though the Delos family had passed on the throne for ninety years, bearing the faces of two generations of Emperors on coins, they were still relatively weak compared to other great families of Danschel who have served as Emperors over the generations.
Demonstrated in the royal court, even Emperor Leo XI, despite ruling for nearly thirty years, still had countless political enemies.
Even to the extent of attempting to assassinate his discontented daughter, Anos.
At this mont, the white horse beneath her seed to sense sothing, shaking its tail and neighing restlessly.
The air slowly fell silent, the two other companions beside the princess, Olivia and Mihal, tightened their reins, moving their horses forward a few steps to guard Anos on both sides.
Anos’s expression remained calm; she had long been prepared for this assassination.
A gentle breeze swept by.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a crossbow bolt flew from the bushes, heading straight for Anos’s face, aiming to pierce her brow and take the life of the Princess.
"Rosa."
Anos uttered the word.
In an instant, the bolt speeding toward her forehead drastically slowed down in mid-air, to less than a third of its original speed. Anos reached out, pinching the wooden shaft of the slowly soaring bolt between her index finger and thumb, then carelessly tossed it to the ground.
As that bolt was fired, a dense cry erupted from the tightly packed coffins, the Princess’s party’s horses neighed, and although the three attendants were not panicked, after their initial shock, they quickly reacted. Two drew their longswords, and one pulled out a crossbow, moving to either side.
The ambushers appeared to be bandits entrenched in this area; their clothing disheveled, with only a few wearing light armor. Mihal fired three bolts in rapid succession— one missed, but two hit, and those two bandits fell to the ground, motionless.
The two sword-bearing attendants on horseback responded calmly, chanting the Ancient Language they each mastered. Relying on their horses’ speed, they rode back and forth between the bushes and the road, cutting down the enemies, while Anos closely followed them, coldly watching the enemy’s blood splatter onto her white horse, soiling her expensive clothing.
More than twenty bandits, in front of the three horse-mounted attendants, seed like chicks toyed with by an eagle. On the battlefield, infantry often rely on large formations to counter cavalry, but once the infantry is scattered, no matter how many n or how excellent the equipnt, they are rely lambs to the slaughter—especially since these bandits were far too few to form any formation and lacked the blessing of the Ancient Language.
After several rounds of charging, the ambushing bandits were quickly overwheld with terror, pulling their legs to flee, completely lacking their initial montum.
At Anos’s suggestion, the three attendants didn’t plan to let these bandits go. After all, capturing more prisoners would be ideal to find out who was trying to assassinate the empire’s Princess.
The three attendants chased down the remaining bandits, with Anos closely behind. And that’s when disaster struck.
Anos’s scalp tingled first, and she suddenly had an ominous premonition, then yanked the horse’s reins, stopping the white horse from moving forward.
Suddenly, the ground beneath cracked open violently, and thick Earth Spikes shot out like wildly growing plants. The white horse was startled, its fearful neighing startling birds in the forest.
Anos urgently looked up and saw the three attendants who had charged ahead, Earth Spikes sprouting simultaneously beneath their horses. In an instant, two horses were gutted open, while one horse, reacting incredibly fast, leaped to avoid them.
Both attendants were thrown from their horses, and Mihal was particularly unlucky; as he fell, his head hit the ground, his neck snapping with a crisp sound. He let out a hoarse scream of pain, then only weak moans remained.
Anos looked around. Then, with her eagle-like gaze, she noticed sothing flickering deep in the bushes to her left.
This assassination attempt... was not as simple as she had imagined.
Anos took a deep breath. She slapped her horse, drew her longsword from her waist, and charged towards the flickering garnt in the bushes with unimaginable speed.
The hidden assailant instantly retreated deeper into the bushes. Earth Spikes abruptly sprouted on the path where Anos advanced. Dodging one, ten more appeared. These spikes were not tall enough to gut the horse directly, but their relentless succession was enough to pierce the horse’s hooves.
The white horse cried out in pain, struggling so much that it suddenly swayed from side to side, throwing Anos off its back.
Anos’s eyes widened as she fell hard from the horse onto the ground, the spikes piercing her rider’s outfit and hitting the Secret Silver Chain Armor underneath.
The Princess looked disheveled and in a perilous state as one deadly danger followed another.
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