The Arrival of the First Imperial Princess Victoria
The corridor stretching from the greenhouse attached to the king's office to the Grand Audience Hall was utter pandemonium.
The Grand Audience Hall, which had seemed endlessly grand and beautiful in times of peace, now felt like nothing more than a vast, cold tomb. Pale-faced civil and military officials clustered together, the royal family huddled in terror like refugees.
The king slumped on the jade throne stared into empty space with unfocused eyes. The ministers arrayed below him trembled violently, not one daring to speak.
Joseph the prince, the princess, and I stood on the dais right beside the throne, holding our breaths.
‘Why the hell was I dragged into this?’
My mother clutched the Queen's hand, shivering uncontrollably, while I held Ellie's hand, which shook like an aspen leaf.
Bang-!!
At that moment, the massive iron doors of the Grand Audience Hall flew open with a savage crash.
Striding across the threshold came imperial soldiers clad head to toe in pitch-black armor, trailing the thick stench of fresh blood.
"St-stop! This is His Majesty's presence! Lay down your arms at once...!"
The palace guards by the door crossed their spears and shouted.
But their voices cracked, laced with raw fear.
“……”
The black-armored soldiers didn't break stride.
From beneath their helmets gleamed eyes brimming with killing intent, the kind that had doubtlessly torn dozens of men apart. They simply stared down the guards.
Before that horrifying glare and overwhelming bulk, the guards trailed off, slinking back in silence to clear the path.
A mere handful of imperial troops had utterly violated the kingdom's heart with intimidation alone.
Clank, clank.
Blood-caked boots ground across the marble floor, advancing right up to the throne.
The knight at their head, a massive sword at her waist, flung off her helmet.
Clang-!
Above the dark helmet tumbling across the floor, raven-black hair spilled down like a waterfall, freed from confinement.
In that instant, choked gasps erupted throughout the Grand Audience Hall.
I too drew in a sharp breath without thinking.
‘…She's gorgeous.’
The face hidden in the helmet was breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful.
Smooth, bold features; pale cheeks flecked with blood; and above all, cool purple eyes burning with fierce, predatory intensity, like a beast eyeing prey.
She was a woman of savage, noble beauty that defied any word but heroine.
"My name is Victoria von Arzenheim."
Her voice was glacial, booming with force that shook the air itself.
"First daughter of His great Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army and Vanguard Captain. I stand here as emissary to convey His Majesty's will to this wretched Sterling Kingdom."
The Empire's First Imperial Princess. The Reaper of the Battlefield.
I remembered her. She'd appeared briefly in the original novel, trampling and toying with the shattered princess.
Victoria gazed haughtily up at the trembling king on his throne, chin lifted arrogantly.
"The herald I sent ahead should've informed you of surrender. You had ample time to assess and deliberate before my forces kicked in the castle gates."
"Em-emissary... The herald arrived less than an hour ago. Th-that's why..."
As the king stammered excuses, naked contempt flared in Victoria's purple eyes.
She sneered derisively.
"For frontline news to take this long to reach the capital. A feeble, incompetent nation without even a proper relay system. No wonder my single cavalry couldn't be stopped despite twenty-to-one odds—they got butchered."
The military officials flushed at the irrefutable humiliation, but none dared speak.
Victoria clicked her tongue sharply.
"No more wasting time. Surrender or death. Choose."
"I... surrender. Blame my incompetence if you must, but please spare the innocent populace. We submit to the Empire's judgment."
The throne's master bowed his head, proclaiming surrender.
Stifled sobs broke out across the hall.
Victoria stood crookedly, hand on her sword hilt, eyeing the king with mocking scorn.
"Cowardly and pathetic. The perfect specimen of weaklings without a shred of resolve or fight to defend their realm. But... whatever. Since you've grasped your place and groveled so perfectly, I'll call you a wise monarch. You've saved us the slaughter."
She promptly recited the merciless surrender terms.
"First, open all Sterling Kingdom ports free of charge to the Imperial Army and trade vessels. Second, offer forty percent of the kingdom's annual tax revenue as tribute to the Empire. Third, cede to the Empire first refusal on all mana crystals and local specialties produced here."
Each clause was brutal, but the king could only nod, biting his lips till they bled.
"And finally."
Victoria's gaze slid past the throne to us standing beside it.
"One of Sterling's royal offspring will come to the Empire as a hostage—semi-permanent guarantee. Should the kingdom's loyalty waver or any disloyalty detected even once, the hostage in the Imperial Palace will suffer fitting agony on the spot. Then beheaded, body brined in salt, and shipped back to your kingdom."
"Urgh...!"
A pained groan escaped the king.
Victoria impassively scanned me, Joseph, and Ellie by turns, speaking dryly like appraising goods.
"One bit of personal advice: Of those two princes there, send the non-heir. That proves your sincerity."
‘…Hang on, she thinks I'm a prince?’
A chill spidered down my spine.
Being yanked mid-tea party and stuck right by the royals had sparked the mix-up.
"Send the daughter as hostage? We'd take her. But His Imperial Majesty would judge Sterling's fealty to the Empire gravely wanting."
"Wh-what do you mean! Son or daughter, they're equally precious blood to me!"
The king raised his voice, but Victoria's gaze iced over colder.
"Don't lie. In crushing countless realms, we've seen endless trash kings sacrifice daughters like luggage to save their hides. Never one offering a son. At least not in my experience."
Her chill voice froze the hall solid.
"Send the girl if you like. But mark this: A hostage sent with such deceit will endure horrors beyond imagination in the Empire."
The princess paled and slumped to the floor.
This was the opening of the original novel I Became the Imperial Family's Plaything.
Her warning was no bluff—it promised the princess's exact nightmarish torments from the story.
‘…After breaking her body and mind till she was a shell of a person, they sent her back. She spent her days raising a child whose father she never knew...’
Ellie sniffling in the corner gnawed at me.
"It's done. Serve the Empire loyally henceforth. Devote yourselves."
With that, Victoria snatched her fallen helmet and jammed it back on.
Purple eyes flashed through the visor slit.
"Best not dream of betraying the Empire. If ill thoughts stir..."
She casually dropped a dark pouch from her belt to the floor.
Thud.
The blood-drenched sack split, spilling a gruesomely severed head.
Eyes rolled back in death—it was Lancaster Margrave, the kingdom's northern bulwark.
"The kingdom's tribute heads won't end with this one."
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!"
As the head rolled to the throne's base, screams rent the air.
The Queen, staring straight at the ragged neck, foamed and fainted dead away. Surviving ministers collapsed, heaving and retching.
Leaving the enemy's heart in chaos, Princess Victoria turned without a backward glance and strode from the Grand Audience Hall.