I Ran Away To Evil: Book 2 & 3 - A Cozy LitRPG RomCom

Chapter 1: Henrietta - Gosh-Darned Isn't Very Vicious



Henrietta's POV:

"How can you be so naive, Henri?" My father, King Simon Doryn of Drendil, nearly spat at me in frustration. Not an uncommon occurrence. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times–"

"-- people are tools, and you're a fool for trusting them."

"-- people are tools, and I'm a fool for trusting them."

I quoted him under my breath as he spoke, shuffling my feet and resisting the urge to roll my eyes at him. Not proper behaviour for a Warrior Crown Princess and all that.

He continued, "That is why you can't show mercy to the lesser folk, Henri. They will simply walk all over you."

So said my father, crushing the hand of a maid under his boot. She had the misfortune of spilling tea on the breakfast table. Thank goodness she wasn't screaming or making a fuss; that would have set father off. Nothing I said was going to save her, but I still tried. I even took a different approach this time!

"Father, you are absolutely right. This gosh-darned maid is keeping you from your morning audience and needs to be punished for insulting the royal family." I was never the best at being vicious; who said gosh-darned? Oh well, I continued, "Let me show you what I'm capable of, and leave her punishment to me."

You have attempted to use the Skill: Bureaucracy. You have succeeded.

And against all odds, it worked. My father stopped stepping on the poor woman and looked me up and down. "Are you finally going to stop being useless and take your duties seriously? How much did we sacrifice to raise you as the Heir, and you only understand now? You…"

I bit my lip and thought of other things as father continued a long repeated diatribe of my faults.

They didn't really have a choice but to make me the heir. I was their only child, and my cousin Francis couldn't add two numbers together. He was twenty seven, nine years older than me, and they’d given up on him long before I was even born… and so, I was trained as the son my father could never have.

If you counted being locked in a closet when I didn't sit still training.

Granted, sword lessons were pretty princely, and after a decade of intensive study by the best of the best, I could honestly say that my Skills were first-class. I also had some royal treasures that gave neat bonus modifiers.

I was still a disappointment for not unlocking the [Magic] Skill, but I just couldn't focus long enough for spellcasting. It was easier to get thrown into a Dungeon and fight until I passed out.

Memorising complex formulae wasn't my cup of tea…

"Do you understand, Henri?"

I had gotten distracted and not followed along at all, so I said simply, "Yes Father. I'll deal with this bug and you'll never see her again. I promise."

He said, "See that you do." And I was suddenly alone with a crying maid bleeding on the carpet. She looked up at me with terror.

"So," I tried to smile naturally and probably looked like I was sucking on lemons. I mentally counted the coins in my pocket and wondered whether it would make for a good severance package. "Want me to let you out the West Gate or the South?"

"What?"

"What?"

***

"Henri!" Queen Thalia screeched with a voice like a particularly obnoxious tea kettle. "Henri, get down here this instant!"

My mother was kinder than my father. She would ruin your life but still leave you with your life.

You suffered more that way.

I jumped the second floor bannister unceremoniously and landed gently in the mezzanine of the Royal Suite. The maid sent to fetch me was still only half way up the grand stair.

My mother was in the Tulip Parlour. I entered just in time to cut off a third loud summons.

"Yes Mother, I'm here."

"Your lapel is crooked." She frowned, glaring me up and down. "If you can't be beautiful you can at least be tidy."

"Sorry Mother."

"Honestly dear, you will need to look the part when you leave. We can't have anyone speaking ill of the royal family because you can't keep up appearances."

One word stood out. When Mother summoned me, it was always important to listen carefully for the exact reason. Sometimes it got lost in between all of the helpful recommendations she gave me on how I could be a better version of, well, me.

"Leave?"

"Your father just announced it on the King's Crystal." Queen Thalia's eyes smiled a moment of genuine happiness and my heart hurt. Not for the first time, I wished I'd been born with her gorgeous raven black hair or blue eyes. She had high cheekbones and a cut beauty that made anyone look twice.

Not to say I was ugly, mind. I liked to think my fluffy brown hair and soft brown eyes made me perfectly respectable.

Mother snapped open her fanciest fan and hid her smile. "Our kingdom is still struggling with the Dark Magician King. His evil golems have been spotted patrolling our borders closer than ever, and something must be done."

The Dark Magician King, also known as Evil Overlord, Dark Overlord, His Royal Viciousness or Arcane Sage Keith Monfort of Nilheim, had ruled the Dark Enchanted Forest for as long as I could remember. He'd actually come to my tenth birthday party and cursed one of the palace fountains to pour blood instead of water. I'd thought that was really something, but Mother fainted.

Apparently, Keith hadn't liked the assassins my father sent him.

"So what must be done?"

"Your chance to redeem yourself." Mother said. "The Court Astrologer [Divined] that you will be our Hero to vanquish the Dark Lord."

"I have to kill King Keith?" This was madness. "But what if I fail? I'm barely a Level 60 Sword Master and nowhere near a Sword Saint! Isn't he a Level 80 Arcane Sage?"

"If you fail, then you wasted all the benefits we gave you growing up." Mother sniffed. "Your cousin married last year and we've received good news. Even if Francis proved too dumb to train, I'm sure his son won't fail us."

Ah. I guess that's that then. Time to pack my bags. I had a feeling if I fought this, I'd find poison in my food or a bag on my head as they physically threw me into enemy lines.

I chose to walk out of there on my own two feet. I'd take my chances with any number of Dark Lords over my mother.


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