All's Fair in Warfare Ch. 01

Ardoune was more or less your average fairytale kingdom. Its citizens lived together in a peaceful harmony. They had one of the best military defense systems in the world. They were flourishing economically. And their crown princess was soon to be reigning over them as queen.

From afar, you wouldn't be able to notice that Julia was indeed the princess, as her everyday appearance doesn't deviate much from that of an average woman. Her toned frame stands at a median height of 5' 6''. Her complexion is a tawny, peach-like color with golden undertones. Her hair cascades down to the middle of her back in soft chocolate waves. Her eyes, filled with all the wisdom of a maturing princess, are a stark and bright gray.

Despite her good looks and high societal stature, Julia was anything but a snob. That was reserved for the so-called noblemen. From a very young age, she made it a point to emphasize the fact that she is just a person and that she can lead as close to a normal life as possible, just like her subjects. She adamantly refused to receive special treatment. She rejected the idea of bodyguards shadowing her every move. She wanted to show the world that she was different. It was because of this humility that she was so dearly loved by many. It was, however, also the reason she was so despised.

Bordering Ardoune's eastern flank was a bitter and cruel kingdom. This kingdom harbored many different cultures, some less human than others. They believed in all sorts of sorcery, ranging from the healing effects of dwarven alcohol to the dark wizardry of forgotten mages. The further away from the inner ring of the kingdom, the less humanoid they appeared. Usually. They called themselves the kingdom of Rymore.

For over two hundred years, generation upon generation aggravated the tension between the two kingdoms. The relationship became severely strained to the point where carefully organized genocides began to form. That was unacceptable. No longer would such behavior be tolerated. The royal families ordered an immediate emergency meeting so that a treaty would be set in place: no Rymorian was to ever cross the visible boundary line into Ardoune, and vice versa.

As the years went by, much of the fighting ceased, although there is a miniscule amount of areas were arguments still flair up. But, for the time being, both royal families and their subjects had the luxury of safety.

And so, twenty years later, the coronation preparations began.

"Julianne! Up, up, up! There's no time to waste! We must get you ready for the ball!" Iliana ripped the covers from Julia's death grip.

Irritated, Julia flipped onto her stomach so that her face was buried in her pillow.

Iliana frowned. "This is not the time for your silly nap antics, young lady. The Courtship Ball is in less than two hours, yet here you are, not even close to being ready!"

Iliana Crescent used to be an orphaned peasant living in the more dilapidated area of the kingdom. One day, she encountered the two-year-old Julia with her regal parents as they personally sought to better the living standards of the outer ring. Julia took an immediate and affectionate liking to her. Iliana was so honored that, when the child started bawling upon their departure, she humbly offered to serve as a caretaker to her. The king and queen gladly accepted.

"Go away," came Julia's muffled, leave-me-alone voice.

"No. You are going to this ball whether you like it or not." Iliana latched onto Julia's right arm and forcefully yanked her out of bed.

Julia fell to the ground with a thump. She looked like a mess. Her low ponytail was coming undone. Her eyes were watery, clouded with a thick grogginess. Her nose was a tad runny, but that was because she was fighting a minor cold. She was a mess—albeit a hot one.

Iliana dragged the sleepy princess to her dressing room, where the stylist eagerly awaited her arrival. In a little over an hour, his skills managed to conceal Julia's sick appearance astoundingly well. He applied products made specifically for her skin tone. He clipped and filed her nails to perfection, then painted a glossy layer of red cutex. He pinned her hair up in a delicately twisted bun perched on top of her head, making sure to curl her side bangs to the left side of her face. Then he clothed her in a long flowing dress the color of dark cherries, a shade darker than the flavored lipstick on her lips. He adorned her in bright silver jewelry—exquisite earrings, an enchanting ruby necklace and, of course, her tiara.

Iliana squealed in delight. "You look beautiful!"

Julia managed a small smile as she twirled in front of the mirror. As she came to a stop, she winced and clutched her head. Iliana panicked.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just have to get used to dancing with a headache, that's all."

Iliana frowned, but said nothing more.

~

"Tonight is the night," said Vladimir, his voice a low, menacing hiss. The Grand Duke of Rymore had a nasty grin on his face. His plan to overthrow the king and queen was finally being put into action. He would finally be able to rightfully claim the throne and rule both Rymore and Ardoune as the ultimate and unstoppable dictator.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" The prince had his doubts about his uncle's state of mind. This mission was a cold-blooded search for vengeance. But according to the prince, it was vengeance against just Ardoune and not his own kingdom, so he was fine with it. He adjusted the black skintight clothing clinging to his skin then crossed his arms across his chest.

"Of course it will, Nethaniel. Why would it not? As long as you can convince them that you'll kill her if they intervene, everything will go smoothly." The grin was still plastered on his face.

Neth nodded slowly. He placed his knife in its sheath on a belt around his waist, pulled his ski mask on, and ran off towards Cener Palace. The village he was in wasn't too far from the palace, so he reached it in no time. He was in maximum stealth mode when he reached his destination, darting behind trees and bushes at the sight of a palace guard. Despite his efforts to remain unnoticed, a twig cracked beneath him just as a guard was making his rounds.

The guard whipped around aimlessly, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. "Who's there?"

Neth took a deep breath and lunged out at the guard. Before he could yell or put a hand on his sword, the guard was knocked unconscious by a hard blow to the head.

Neth surveyed his surroundings. Good, it's clear, he thought inwardly. He dashed into the building through the palace's large doors, propped ajar by the guard. He had no trouble working his way toward the ballroom; the large, barren hallways had a bad habit of echoing even the smallest of sounds. This is it, he told himself. I'm about to commit treason. He took another deep breath as he slowly entered the golden double doors of the ballroom. A few heads turned immediately to him, and their faces registered confusion. But a few weren't enough for him. He needed for everyone's eyes to feast on what he was about to do.

He pushed and shoved his way through many different sizes of people mostly focused on the center of the room. After a couple minutes he finally reached the front.

There she was, the Crown Princess of Ardoune, twirling gracefully in the arms of a lord's son. Neth was momentarily mesmerized by the natural essence of her innocent beauty. None of the women in his kingdom looked like she did. But this wasn't the time for him to dwell on that—he'd have plenty of time later on. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and lunged out with his knife at the young man twirling the princess, being extra careful not to harm her in the process of slaughtering him. The knife pierced him directly in the heart; he died instantly, crumpling to the floor in a heavy heap.

The princess kept spinning for a mere millisecond longer before the absence of her partner caused her to lose her momentum and balance. Those losses combined with the searing pain of her headache, and she fell right into Net's arms. A collective gasp rippled through the audience as they began to realize what was unfolding before them. The soft music stopped abruptly. The room fell silent.

The king's voice boomed angrily, "What is the meaning of this?"

Neth looked him right in the eye. He wrapped an arm around the princess's waist and pulled her into him, placing the cool, hard blade of his knife against the soft flesh of the hollow of her neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath and noticed how she held it.

"Listen closely, because I will not tolerate anything less than what I demand." His voice echoed off the walls and the ceiling. "If you try to stop me, I'll kill her, just like I killed him. If you go looking for her, I will kill her with no hesitation." He tightened his grip on her; she was beginning to squirm. The king opened his mouth to retort, but the queen grabbed his hand and squeezed it, a silent plea for him to swallow his pride. Neth smirked.

The people wasted no time in clearing path for him as he dragged their beloved princess away. Once in the hallway, he holstered his knife, scooped her into his arms, and sprinted back to his uncle.

Julia was trembling with unease as she tried to pinpoint who he was and why this was happening to her. Before she knew it, she was given the perfect chance to do just that when her captor came to a sudden halt in front of a shack, set her down softly on her bosom, and removed his mask.

He looks so familiar, she thought. She silently scrutinized him as he conversed with a lardy old man in a language she didn't recognize. She noticed the way his skin, almost unnaturally pale, softly reflected the moonlight. It was kind of pretty, almost. She wondered why his teeth were so white. They whiter than the Ice Mountain covered in blinding snow. Then she noticed something. Whenever he smiled, however infrequently and briefly, she caught a quick glimpse of the alignment of his teeth. Not only were they ridiculously straight, but also his canines seemed a little bit longer and a little bit pointier than usual. Her jaw dropped at the realization of whom she was dealing with.

"You're a vampire," she said coolly, attempting to mask the fear in her voice.

He heard it anyway. His eyes flickered in her direction and a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. "Good girl. You catch on quickly."