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Life has always been no more than a joke.

You were fated by your blood to become one of the Lancer Corps.

That blood of yours. A nice gift by your late father 28 years ago. It allows you feats unthinkable to most other humans. Raw strength and litheness, brought about by your ancestors’ close relationship with dragons and wyverns, refined into the magnificent martial arts by the ancient order of the Dragoons.

Of all the abilities the lancers have, their most famous (and you dare say, most dashing) one is the Jump. The lancers’ dominion over wind and their unnatural bodily strength let them jump into the skies and fall like birds of prey on top of their foes. Peasants and nobles alike rejoice at the sight of flying lancers, seeking to prove their martial prowess, and also to impress those whose bed they’d like to warm.

As for you? What makes you different from your fellows? Nothing, really. You proudly don the dark blue armor of the Lancers. You enjoy the raw talent your blood has given you. You take those who strike your fancy to bed. You do your job for the monarch.

Monarch. You keep that word neutral in your mind, because you once served a King (May he rest in peace) and now you serve a Queen. The man was struck by a sudden illness at the age of 50 and died. His only daughter, already 28 (and yet still not married, or having taken any serious lover) is now about to don the crown of the Kingdom of Luehr on her head.

But you must confess to yourself: Truth be told, the Princess, now Queen, is the one woman that makes your heart skip a beat. This was so ever since you were a young man. At the tender age of 16, you were assigned as her personal bodyguard. You spent a few weeks courting her majesty, but she denied you a kiss, and was the first girl to follow that up with a slap on the cheek so hard that the mark refused to leave for the next week. A shocking event, it was not as if royals were denied the option of having paramours, and in truth, many took their lancers as lovers if only for a time. Yet she denied you. So suddenly, so harshly...

Life is just a joke, because not matter how hard you try to stop thinking of her, to sate your desire by involving yourself with others, to keep your head high and proud because of your bloodline… It’s her you unabashedly love and desire, and the one your mind muses over in the deepest hours of sleepless nights.

Her flaming red hair, her eyes of agate. Her soft pale skin. She wore today a glittered golden gown laced in red, likely the most expensive in the realm. The door behind her closes.

“Valter.” Her voice had always been one of authority.

NFT

#1707

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