Shackled Exalted

Aoife

Pale walls modestly adorned by portraits and water-colored paintings. Wooden floors covered by linen carpets. Furniture of all sizes and shapes filled the otherwise empty space, creating a vague appearance of a home that was readily lived in.

In reality, this quaint, sterile mansion housed just two people—a sickly mother and her adolescent daughter.

Aoife found herself adrift in the memories of a distant past. It was a dream that she had often, reminiscing of simpler times when she hadn't yet lost her innocence. A time when her worldview wasn't yet tainted by cruel reality. When her biggest troubles of the day were accidentally spilling the cup of tea made for her ailing mother or staining her pretty little dresses while playing in the courtyard.

For the longest time, her entire world was her mother and this mansion. There were, of course, a few servants on the premise to service their needs. The leader of them was a butler named Horace. He was a stout man of few words and preferred to let his actions speak rather than partake in frivolous exchanges. For him, words were his last resort to communicate things that gestures and written instructions cannot.

Despite the years he had served her, Aoife never grew fond of him. Horace made himself difficult to like, especially during her adolescent years. All of her attempts as a child to get to know him were quickly dismissed with cold indifference or a pair of stern, distasteful eyes.

She wouldn't know the meaning behind the gaze until she grew older.

Her father would come by once in every so often. Each visit was the same—he would have a brief conversation with her mother, exchange with a few words with Horace before shooting her a disappointed look. When Aoife asked her mother why her father was never around, she would simply be told that he was busy as the king.

When she was a bit older, she learned the significance of that title and what it meant to be born to a man who ruled a nation. For the first time, Aoife was forced to step foot into the royal palace—into a world beyond just the mansion and her loving mother. It didn't take long before she found everyone staring at her with a familiar gaze.

They all have Horace's eyes.

Disappointment. Resentment. Disgust.

Being the King's daughter came with expectations. Expectations that she apparently had failed to meet—not because of her incompetency but because of her blood inheritance. Something that she had no control over. From the moment she was conceived till now, Aoife had failed to awaken the talents of her beloved mother.

Aoife was Ordinary.

She was flawed.

She was a defective.

She became an irrevocable stain that forever blemished the royal family's prestige.

And the eyes—they never stopped staring at her. Everywhere she went, they followed. Soon, they were accompanied by harsh whispers and humiliating remarks.

Louder and louder, the voices grew, transforming into a cacophony that gleefully mocked her for existing. Aoife closed her eyes and shut her ears. The malice was too much for a young girl to bear.

When that didn't work, she clawed at her eyes and screamed as loud as she could to silence the voices.

But even then, they still wouldn't disappear.

***

Aoife's eyes shot open. The voices instantly ceased. There was suddenly no more malicious whispers and jeers cackling in her ears. No vengeful gazes trailing her every move, following her wherever she went.

Nothing.

A nightmare?

She felt the loud thump of her heart, drumming against the roof of her ribcage, pounding frantically as if she was in danger. It was a visceral reaction born of a turbulent childhood mauled by resentment and rejection.

As her heart calmed, she winced at the moonlight streaming onto her face from above. A dull pain radiated from the back of her skull. A small lump throbbed at the base of her head, pressing against the cold stony surface beneath her. Her eyesight blurred as she looked around. She was still dazed.

Ruined stone coated in moss boxed in her surroundings. A crevice on the rooftop exposed the ominous moon in full bloom. Everywhere else was dark. It took awhile for her to remember that she was supposed to be in a banquet hall, attending an event organized by Exalted Academy. Not some dilapidated ruins in the middle of nowhere.

Where am I?

Panic swelled to her chest before the memories came roaring back. She recalled being alone with Emil in a private room when all hell broke loose. It was Melody who suddenly broke down the walls and intruded. She and Emil fought. He lost and then—

Blank.

Her memories ended there.

I guess I was kidnapped.

Aoife was not unfamiliar with being alone in a hostile environment, but this was a novel experience. Being kidnapped was not how she envisioned her first major appearance as a legitimized princess of the royal family would go.

Maybe this was an omen for the treacherous fate that awaited her. Aoife almost wished that she could have remained illegitimate.

Though I doubt Father would have allowed me to freeload much longer.

Once her mother passed, the foundation of her loose bond with her father was severed. He might as well have been a stranger. Aoife expected to be kicked out of her childhood mansion at some point.

Therefore, her ascension to a legitimate member of the royal family came as a shock—both to her and to the royal court. When she looked into the reasons why, she suddenly wasn't surprised. It was a pragmatic decision. The royal family's grasp on Ardair was slipping as the nobles and institutions around them became increasingly more powerful. This generation of elites were too ambitious, too wealthy, and too greedy for authority.

The royal family was in dire need of allies. Her legitimacy was a contingency plan in case the royal family's allegiance with the Belle family was insufficient.

And then Rory went and got his marriage annulled.

Aoife closed her eyes to put an end to the noisy thoughts. She had been trying to distract herself from the situation she found herself in. The throbbing headaches eventually stopped. The disorientation of her senses ceased. Ready to confront reality, she opened her eyes with renewed clarity.

The ruins were eerily quiet. The entire time Aoife had been lying still, listening keenly for sounds around her. Aside from the faint crackling a nearby firepit, she heard nothing else of importance. Tired of being assaulted by the dank stench of these ruins, she decided to sit up.

…Maybe they're not monitoring me?

If she was favored by fortune, then perhaps she might just be able to sneak out undetected.

"Stay right there, princess."

Well, so much for that.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Aoife froze at the sound of the female voice. She turned to the source, finding herself looking at a Gharian lady. The petite woman's eyes were closed and she was seated on the ground cross-legged beside the burning firepit.

How did she even notice me?

"I recommend staying put until you're ready to be received. I might not look like much, but I can guarantee that you won't have a pleasant time if you decide to disobey."

Aoife caught a hint of venom in her voice. There was something visceral beyond just a thinly veiled threat to keep her obedient.

Well, whatever. Even if she didn't say anything, I doubt I'll be able to sneak past him.

In a few meters behind the Gharian lady, there was a large warrior guarding the entrance of the ruins. Aoife had never seen someone that large before aside from maybe the head of the Lionheart family.

Escape was impossible from the beginning. She sighed, resigned to her fate. A new set of footsteps to her left caught her attention.

"Oh! You're awake."

She flinched at the familiar voice. It was Melody.

The young lady strolled towards her, a slight skip to her steps, beaming with an inappropriate nonchalance. Aoife had always found her a bit eccentric when they were working together to commentate for the Clash of Dawn. Those light-hearted feelings were now gone.

"How are you feeling? Hopefully I didn't hit you too hard," Melody asked sweetly.

Aoife didn't know how to respond, so she chose to remain silent. She had nothing she wanted to say to the person who kidnapped her.

"It was necessary, you know? I didn't really want to do it. But I had to make sure you didn't protest while I was carrying you here," Melody continued. Without warning, she reached out with her hands.

Aoife immediately slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch me," she mumbled, more furious than she expected.

The reaction was instinctive. She immediately felt her throat begin to heat up. Tears suddenly clouded her eyes. Although the time they spent together was short, she couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Aoife, I—"

"And don't call me that either. You have no right to," she spat.

A tense silence lingered. Melody shrank, stepping backwards, visibly dismayed. Aoife was not oblivious to the fact that she had just smacked away the hands of a murderer who killed several Academy staff in order to reach her. Even so, she did not hesitate to show her indignation.

If she wanted to, she would have killed me already.

For whatever reason, her pathetic excuse of a life still had some value to these people. Whatever it was, it gave her some leverage to lash out as she pleased. For now, anyway.

In her periphery, another person emerged from one of the bend of ruins. They were tall and their skin was ghastly pale. Their long hair was white, glistening with a snow-like reflection underneath the moonlight. Aoife couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman. Instinctively, she gulped as they came close. A strange tension clawed up her spine. The hair on her arms rose, alarmed by the androgynous person's presence.

"Hello, Your Highness," the person greeted her with the timbre of a man.

Aoife shuddered. The uncanny weight of the crimson eyes peering at her from beneath the forest of white hair was suffocating.

One of the man's eyes was watching her with an unsettling tenderness. The other, however, gleamed with malice. Wary and confused, she unconsciously leaned back. The incongruity in the man's gaze was terrifying.

"I'm Kleine. You already know Melody. The one sitting on the ground is Karni. And the last one standing by the entrance is Nagi. It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"…You speak as if I am a guest. Like I could care less about the names of my kidnappers," Aoife hissed, trying to hide her fear by projecting strength. The slight tremble in her voice, however, made her belligerence significantly less convincing.

As if noticing her unease, Kleine broke out into a creepy smile. "Oh, but you should. It would be a shame if you had nothing of value to present to the Lionhearts and the Council once you're released from your cage."

Release? What is this man talking about?

"…You're going to free me?"

"Yes. Eventually. It was never our intentions to keep you captive for long."

"Then what the hell am I doing here? Just what are you planning?! Who even are you people?!" Aoife asked, her voice rising with emotions. The questions on her mind poured of her mouth. Kleine's strange statements tugged on her anxiety.

The man's smile grew wider.

"Good, you're asking questions. Ignorance is one of the greatest disease plaguing this kingdom. It's a relief to know that the princess isn't so foolish," Kleine said as he lowered himself into a theatrical bow, "We're Vigil, a group of Exalted dedicated to the reformation of Ardair. Our goal is burn down the rotten and festering foundations of this wretched kingdom, so that it can be built anew."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

Aoife found the statement so outrageous that she lost the trained mannerisms that had been drilled into her head.

"Oh, please. Don't pretend as if you're ignorant of this kingdom's affairs, princess. You know very well how entrenched corruption is within this nation. Every elite faction, from the nobles to the institutions, are siphoning wealth to enrich their pockets. That wealth is then converted into power and influence through the control of Exalted. The elite's unchecked growth is becoming difficult for Steiger and the royal family to contain. That's why you were legitimized after all. To provide the royal family an avenue to consolidate power and bring back some semblance of control."

"…You're very well-informed." Aoife clenched her jaws.

Nothing that Kleine said was incorrect.

The elites of Ardair were growing too fast compared to the waning influence of the royal family. The checks and balances that the royal family imposed through the controlled circulation of Azurite no longer had the same impacts as it used to.

The reason was because the elites had been carefully stockpiling their Azurite reserves. Over the past two generations, those with ambition continued to build their supply of Azurite in order to break their dependence on the royal family. The previous generation of the royal family was short-sighted and greedy, selling Azurite like a commodity and indulging in their abundance. They were too drunk on their own wealth to realize the ramifications of their actions.

The consequence of that greed was now being paid by Aoife and her half-siblings.

Since the Azurite stockpiles of the elites were obtained legally, there was no justification for Steiger to act. And forcefully impounding Azurite would only earn the ire of the now powerful elites. One wrong move and things could quickly escalate to a civil war.

A war that the royal family wasn't convinced that it could win. Not wanting to risk that possibility, Aoife's father was content to maintain the status quo. The result was a slow, gradual decline of the royal family's influence.

But it was the civilians and commoners that felt this decline the most. Incentivized to generate wealth at all costs, the elites of Ardair began to exploit its commoners. Increased taxation, market manipulation, introduction of gambling dens and black markets—there were a plethora of methodologies employed to siphon wealth into their own hands.

Aoife was no stranger to this. She witnessed the pervasiveness of Ardair's decline firsthand when she was roaming Lower Dannan in secrecy. The people were on edge and angry—a fact exacerbated by a recent period of bad harvests.

"I don't disagree with anything you've said, but I can't agree with your methods," she said, fighting to keep her nervousness in check, "Clearly, you have no qualms murdering your way towards your goals."

"Murder is fast and simple. All you need to do is sacrifice your moral boundaries. Otherwise, your alternative is to hope that the Crown Prince's talents can keep this generation of elites at bay until they die from old age. That is, if they don't usurp the royal family before then."

"If you forcefully kill someone with that much influence and remove their authority, you will do nothing but create a power vacuum for others to fight over! You're inviting war! There will be indiscriminate chaos and lives lost!"

"And that's the point," Kleine's eyes gleamed with insanity. "The elites of this nation are like parasites, suckling on the vitality of this nation. They're powerful. Unrelentless. Persistent. The only way to get rid of them is with unfettered violence."

Aoife was taken aback, startled by Kleine's sudden intensity.

"Unless, princess, you have a better idea?"

Her mind froze at the unexpected retort.

"You're not ignorant. You're aware of the problem. And yet, you've done nothing to try and cure Ardair of its illness."

He's blaming me?

She was a nobody. She might have been a legitimate princess now, but until recently, she was just a bastard child who lost her mother.

"I was illegitimate for the longest time! And even now, I have no influence! The court shuns me like I'm a monster! I have no power. No connections. Nothing! What could I possibly do?!"

Kleine let out a mad cackle. "You are a princess, are you not?! That's better than me who was just one of the many orphans left to rot in this kingdom. And yet, here I am, making history by making the Academy and Council shake in fear."

Words lingered on Aoife's tongue. Heat swelled to her throat. She wanted to refute, but somehow, she couldn't find the right words to fire back.

"You know what I think, princess?" Kleine sneered at her. "I think you're simply learned that it's okay to be helpless."

Aoife trembled. The accusation thundered in her ears.

"Kleine," the lady named Karni suddenly spoke up. Her eyes were still shut. "You're going to run out of time at this rate."

"Well, I supposed I've said enough," Kleine stated as he stepped closer towards Aoife, "Princess, we bought you here for a reason. I promise to let you go if you cooperate."

"I think not," Aoife snapped without hesitation, "I want nothing to do with your cause."

"Fair enough. I suppose that's on me for derailing the focus of our talk." Kleine suddenly turned to the Gharian lady. "Karni, if you will."

Karni was hesitant. "Are you sure about this? Can't you just force her to be obedient?"

Aoife suddenly had a bad feeling about what was to happen.

"Restraining her against her will be tough, even for me. I rather not exhaust myself."

"…Fine."

Immediately, a stampede of light footsteps suddenly echoed across the ruins. The sounds were accompanied by faint squeaks and squeals. Confused, Aoife was about to turn around—when she suddenly found herself unable to move.

Huh?

Without warning, she was suddenly levitating in the air. She floundered, flailing, trying to free herself from the invisible force that kept her afloat. As if a pair of phantom hands had grabbed her by the collars, she was dragged towards a narrow backroom within the ruins.

The squeaking grew louder. Aoife looked down. The floor of the room was crowded with movement.

Rats.

"I'll come get you in just a few minutes."

The door shut.

The invisible force keeping her airborne suddenly ceased. Aoife dropped to the ground. The rats immediately stopped moving, as if registering her presence for the first time.

Then, they swarmed her.

She screamed.