Runaway Princess

Graham’s hands were shaking.

His fingers twitched like a bell struck at the cusp of noon.

Barely a minute had passed since he had crashed the white-silver cheval into the embassy courtyard. Maya had stepped out beside him, whole and unharmed, same as he.

He wasn’t afraid of the embassy guards approaching him and her. He knew hadn’t killed anyone, bystander or pursuer.

So why couldn’t he stop shaking?

“Oh my god.”

It finally dawned on him.

Maya kissed me.

Blood rushed to his hands, his arms, his everything. He wasn’t bleeding—no, cuts, bruises, nothing. And yet, his veins burned like fire, his heart a war drum.

Since when did he last feel this alive?

“Akkwood, what is the meaning of this? What have you done to my wall? And what is this machine you brought in?”

The voice—sharp, nasal, and laced with self-importance—dragged him back from the clouds. Espada City’s ambassador: All silk and arrogance, with a high-pitched edge that made him sound more like a petulant child than a dignitary.

Graham shook off the lingering adrenaline and took in his surroundings.

The embassy’s tall silver gates loomed behind him, their polished sheen catching the last strays of daylight. The hedge gardens, trimmed to perfection, framed the thoroughfares like a royal estate. And there beside him stood the three-story-brick mansion—the embassy itself. Its stately presence made the situation feel more precarious than it should be.

His Excellency, High Commissioner Zenonas.

The man was stripped down to just his dress shirt and slacks, though the damp patches on his sides and back betrayed the fact that he’d worn a full suit earlier. His face, all sharp angles and planes, only served to exaggerate the prominence of his hooked nose.

Flanking him were two guards clad in West Astonia’s unmistakable yellow and red uniforms, standing like statues, their hands resting over their ornate rifles.

“Sorry about the wall, Your Excellency.” Graham glanced at Maya, then smiled nervously. “We can explain.”

A short, middle aged man with a bushy beard popped into view from behind one of the guards. He gave a pilot bow, his keen eyes already assessing the situation.

“I heard there was quite a ruckus in town. That wouldn’t happen to be your doing, would it, mister Akkwood?”

Graham sighed. “Well, Sir Paleksis, you could say that. But I have a helluva story for you.”

Maya stepped forward, cutting the men’s conversation short. She shook the dust off the hem of her skirt. “I take responsibility for this mess. I have been pursued by Sankaku cutthroats for days now, and now I come seeking refuge in your Embassy.”

“Sankaku cutthroats? This far into the European continental? How is this possible?” Zenonas’ eyes narrowed. “If what you say is true, of course.”

“Well…”

Maya grit her teeth. Her fingers curled around the silver necklace on her chest. She shook, knowing that identifying herself could have… unpredictable consequences if she told the wrong person.

Graham gave her a knowing nod, a sign that she could tell the truth if need be—and that she’d be safe.

“My name is Maya Hamasaki. That name should be explanation enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hamasaki?” Zenonas’ eyes narrowed. “That Maya Hamasaki? Scion of the Sankaku family, and now young actress?”

“Yes. I assure you, I am that scion.”

Graham’s lip tightened. A Sankaku scion? All the ruckus earlier seemed a little less crazy now. He wanted to speak, but doing so would rock the already unsteady boat.

“You do not look like Maya Hamasaki, though. If I recall, that girl had black hair, and you are… not quite so.”

“Ah. Of course.” Maya pulled a tuft of hair with her palm, then side-eyed the Lionheart. “I tried to be incognito, but it appears my method of travel was too much of a giveaway.”

Zenonas eyed the Lionheart as well. There were too many holes in her story, and bringing an unknown cheval into the embassy grounds was grounds of suspicion. He raised a palm. At the signal, the guards around him flashed their guns at Graham and Maya.

“A heavy claim— a tall tale that someone with vested interests in our national security might tell. I suppose you don’t have proof to prove it?”

Maya hid a curled fist behind her, as if to crush a regret. “I… have none. I’ve nothing but the clothes on my back, and that cheval. But please, if you hear my story out, the pieces will come together.”

“Your Excellency. Please,” Graham pleaded with a bowed head. “Hear her out. I can guarantee you it’s the real Maya Hamasaki. No doubt about it.”

Paleksis knew that if Graham was willing to bow his head like this, it meant utmost sincerity. As to whether Graham was right or a victim of the girl’s trickery, he didn’t know.

He wanted to hear him out.

Paleksis stepped to Zenonas’ side, voice shaky. “I do not trust the girl, same as you, Your Excellency. But as someone who has handled Akkwood’s affairs for years, I implore you to reconsider.”

Zenonas exhaled sharply. With a flick of his fingers, the guards lowered their weapons. “Very well. But if this turns out to be sedition, Paleksis, your head will be the first to roll.”

He turned on his heel. “Inside. Now.”

Maya bowed deep. “Thank you. It would be much safer to speak indoors.”

The embassy’s interior was an odd clash of grandeur and modernity. Romanesque pillars stood beside massive televisions screens cycling through weather reports and foreign time zones.

They were led into a meeting room, the long table at the heart of it flanked by satin curtains fluttering in an afternoon breeze. The room smelled of the daffodils from the outside, and the mint from the inside.

Graham had sat here many times before—for Chevalier-related reasons only, of course. But now? No papers, no exams. Just a woman at his side.

Zenonas settled into his seat across the table, his mere presence radiating conceitedness.

“So, do tell—official business, or personal? I didn’t come down here to mediate a lover’s spat, Akkwood.” Zenonas drawled, words oozing with aristocratic disdain.

“L-lover?” Graham stiffened. “She’s… not my girlfriend.”

He wished he was.

“She had an accident. That white cheval outside? I used that to get her here. It had to be done.” He said.

Maya rose, shedding the informal air as she straightened her posture. “Your Excellency. My visit is not personal, nor is it entirely professional. I hail from Gipan, transferred to Amerika, and now I have flown across the Atlantic, seeking refuge in your country.”

That word. Refuge. It struck Zenonas like a sudden draft. Such was not a word used lightly. Calamity. War. Crisis. No matter the context, it almost always spelled trouble.

From the corner of her eye, Maya noticed what few guards were there sliding their hands over their guns. Cold sweat dribbled down her back.

This place wasn’t welcoming for aggressive corporate mercs—but it seemed like it wasn’t for refugees, either.

“So, let’s say you are that Maya Hamasaki. What reason would you have coming here, crossing an ocean just to seek refuge here?”

Maya’s voice shook, unsure of how she could defuse the situation. “I-I am being pursued by corporate mercs, from Gipan and Amerika both. And just a few hours ago, other unrelated, independent parties here as well.”

She kept her gaze affixed on the high commissioner. A look and her word is all she had.

Zenonas scowled, incredulous. “Explain.”

“I-I knew my escape from home would have consequences. I was ready to face them. But I didn’t expect them to send all these cutthroats after me, let alone other third parties. It is madness. I—”

“These things do not happen for no reason.”

Zenonas cupped his chin, as if he’s had a breakthrough. “I believe you’re downplaying the weight of your escape. I believe there’s a missing piece here—a piece of the puzzle you’re willingly not telling us.”

Maya curled her hand into a fist again, but she was running out of regrets—and ideas, to crush. “...Yes. You’re right. But there are secrets I can’t bear to say. Not right now, at least. I come in good faith. If you give me the time and refuge, then…”

“Trust is a two way street, Hamasaki. You expect us to trust you in turn?”

“I don’t have to stay long.” Maya shook her head. “I just need a place to stay before my real contacts show up. I will be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Your real contacts? Who are they?”

“My personal bodyguards.”

Zenonas began tapping the table with a finger—then two, then three, until his entire set of digits started surging with impatience. Maya was a brick wall—and Zenonas was in the business of tearing them down.

“So… that cheval outside.” He said, his voice lower now, as he attempted to reset the conversation. “A rare older model, that thing is. Rare, yet very, very competently made. So you say you flew in from Amerika, but to bring that machine in should’ve been an impossible task. You must have had backers coming in here.”

“That cheval took me over the Atlantic. My bodyguards are to follow, maybe in a few days.”

“Nonsense. Just you and that cheval?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible. Surely you’re joking. A cheval capable of transatlantic travel is nothing but a myth.” Zenonas cocked his head, convincing he was hearing another tall tale.

“I’ve had enough of this prattle. You’ve already wasted too much of my time.” Zenonas hand flew into the air. He intended to signal the guards. “Guards, please—”

“Lionheart.” Graham stood up and interrupted.

“What?”

“You haven’t seen that cheval in action, but I have. I can believe it.”

Even for Graham, believing that the Lionheart, let alone any cheval, was capable of transatlantic travel was a stretch. But after what he’d seen barely an hour ago, of what the Lionheart could do—

“Your Excellency, if you were there where I was, and you’d seen it, felt it… you might think otherwise. The cheval—the Lionheart—it’s special. It’s not like any other cheval. I fought my way here with it, and it was… nothing like I’ve ever piloted before.”

“Gram…!”

Maya looked up. She hadn’t realized she’d already clasped the silver necklace by her chest. She held it close, instinctively. She was ready to use it, to divulge a secret held even closer.

“Akkwood, what are you talking about? If this girl is Hamasaki, then I’m certain you know, she’s an actress. Creating fiction is what she excels in. You believe all this?”

“Maya… she’s in real danger. She’s not some kind of spy or whatever. Those people out there…” Graham bit his lip. “I fought them. They wanted to harm her, take her… and when we got here, they knew they couldn’t put a hand on her. But if she goes out again, without us, it’ll happen again. I don’t want that.”

Zenonas slammed the table, rattling the flower vase in the middle of it. “This isn’t about what you want. This is a matter of national security, and we cannot have your emotions—”

“Wait.”

Maya took a step forward, towards Zenonas. She strode with practiced poise, all while gripping the piece of silver on her chest. When she reached the High Commissioner, she gave him a brief moment to examine it.

It was a necklace tied to a small, silver tube, no larger than a seamstress’ thumb. Etched into it, with an intricacy that spoke of deliberate, painstaking craftsmanship, were the words:

‘Absente bello, pax eterna sit’.

In the absence of war, let there be peace eternal.

It couldn’t be.

The High Commissioner couldn’t believe his eyes.

The words themselves were nothing more than fanciful poetry, written in Latin. However, the fact that Maya carried something with those words—

And the Solari Silver they were etched in—

“Is that…?”

“It is what you think it is.” Courage had replaced Maya’s pensiveness. She stared daggers in Zenonas eyes, and allowed herself a cunning smirk.

“Do we have an accord?”

Graham couldn’t tell what was going on. It was as if an invisible cage had formed around the High Commissioner. Gone were his grandiose, self-important movements, his willingness to talk down on others.

Maya had just turned the tide, somehow, and Graham was none the wiser.

“What happened…?”

Zenonas slinked towards Maya, almost tripping over himself. His gaze homed in on the necklace, his face leaning too close to her chest—unacceptably so.

“This is a genuine article.” He remarked, almost in a whisper. “How did you come to possess this? If you have this, then your story of the men pursuing you, and…”

“Pure Solari Silver, I assure you.”

Zenonas couldn’t peel his eyes off the necklace’s shimmer. “Yes… yes indeed.”

Zenonas reached for the necklace.

Maya squeezed her eyes shut. At the moment, the line between her mission and her dignity blurred. She no longer cared if this unpleasant man intended to inspect her pendant—or his hand would wander somewhere worse.

If enduring this meant safety from ‘them’, so be it.

Graham shot to his feet. This was too much—even for the High Commission!

Then—a slap.

A sharp, stinging force shoved Zenonas’ hand away.

Maya heard the impact. She opened her eyes. She expected his appalling touch, but nothing. Zenonas wrenched their hand close, the top of his palm red.

“Your manners, High Commissioner. With that attitude, it’s no wonder you remain unmarried.”

A young woman materialized between Maya and the middle-aged man, her presence as effortless as a shadow slipping in place. Snow-white hair cascaded past her shoulders, a stark contrast to the crisp-jet black military dress she wore. Her violet eyes, like polished amethyst daggers, cut through the room with needle-sharp precision. Yet, her lips curled in a haughty grin, as if she had already won whatever game was being played.

There was something almost ghostly about her, not just in appearance, but in the way she seemed to exist—like she had simply stepped into this moment rather than arrived.

“Excuse me, Maya. Some public officials just don’t have any decorum these days.”

Not again.

Maya flinched. She took a step back. She scanned the room as if looking for an open window—crack in the wall—anything, to get away from this woman.

Zenonas froze, as if the snow of the woman’s hair had rooted him in place. His ego, once proud and haughty, was now flattened, deflated like a balloon.

The room had changed, and there was Graham, incognizant to the developments.

Actually—when did she get here?

He didn’t know if he had simply been distracted by Zenonas and Maya, or if that girl was just that good—or if she was truly some kind of spirit.

“What’s gotten into both of you?” Graham turned to face the new arrival. “Is this your contact, Maya?”

Zenonas head sank into his chest, his voice now an octave higher. “W-what brings you here, milady?”

The girl playfully brushed a finger over her lips, “I was told a rat had escaped the cage, and that rat now scurries through the embassy.”

“Rat…?”

Maya’s fear twisted into something sharper. Rat? The audacity. How dare she.

“You came all this way for me? I’m flattered. I don’t suppose you and those… men, are working in tandem, are you?”

“Men?” The woman scoffed. An absurd accusation. “Heavens, no! I am above risking civilian lives just to chase down one girl. When you have the means I do, tracing you is but a simple matter.”

“Your means…?”

A shift. A prickled at the edge of Maya’s senses.

Graham felt it too.

Something was off.

There.

A tiny red light under Maya’s sole. It blinked rhythmically, at 2 second intervals. The afternoon light and all the chaos must’ve masked it all this time. She should’ve noticed otherwise.

“Maya, your foot…!”

She didn’t wait.

She stomped, hard, crushing it like an insect. A sharp crack. Shattered aluminum fragments scattered across the carpet. The blinking stopped.

“A tracker?”

Graham stepped between the girl and Maya, his stance firm.

“I’m guessing you’re not her contact. You’re after her too, huh?”

“Oh?” Leticia arched her brow. She looked at Graham like he were a piece of human trash. “And who might you be?”

Graham puffed his chest, thumbing at himself. “Graham Akkwood. Who the hell are you?”

“Akkwood?” The lady tilted her chin up. “So I have an Akkwood and a real flesh-and-blood celebrity in the same room. How quaint.”

“You know me?”

“Son of Siegfriend Akkwood—the man who held the title of Solaris Knight for but a day. I, too, aim for that title, but unlike he, I intend to keep it until the day I die.”

Graham wasn’t the biggest fan of his father, but he wasn’t about to let that kind of slander slide.

“You know me. So what?” Graham thumbed his nose. “Where do you get running your mouth about my old man?”

The lady curtsied, tracing the edges of an invisible dress, her smirk sharpening.

“Leticia Crossings. Mobile Chevalier student, top of my class. I stand at the National Ranking at a rank of B12.”

B12.

Among the Chevaliers in the Astonian nations during the 12th CWG, that rank meant one thing—she was no joke. She was just shy of the pinnacle: the pinnacle of A rank.

Graham should’ve been impressed. He wasn’t.

Not towards someone like her.

“So?”

Zenonas flailed into view, coming between him and Leticia, his voice still pitched an octave too high. “Lady Leticia is the pride and joy of Espada City! Our youngest B-rank this year. I implore you—no, demand you to show some respect!”

Graham barely spared him a glance. His eyes locked onto the ghostly woman ahead.

“I don’t respect people like her. I don’t respect someone who threatens others. And I sure as hell don’t respect someone who disrespects my old man.”

Leticia laughed. “Oh, please. You’ve been staring daggers at me this whole time. And for Maya of all people—how cute. As far as I know, divas can’t have dogs for boyfriends.”

Graham bristled. “What did you say?”

Leticia inched closer, unafraid of the rage emanating from Graham. “You have no idea what that girl’s agenda is, do you? You’re being used. You shouldn’t be so trusting of people who wear masks as a career, you know?”

“Like you’re any more trustworthy.” Graham shot back. “You just appeared out of thin air and swatted His Excellency like it was nothing. Aren’t you the weird one here?”

His words hung in the air.

No movement.

Graham twitched as he snuck a glance at the guards. The same guards who, moments ago, looked just about ready to put a bullet through Maya’s head. Now inert, silent. Just like Zenonas.

What kinda leverage did she have on them? To keep them cowed like this?

“Enough of this.”

Graham blinked. The genial smile that played on Leticia’s lips were gone. Vanished. She inched closer and closer, with no one having the power—or will, to stop her.

“I simply came for Maya, and her alone. Let’s not waste our time here.”

“Fuck off.”

Leticia’s hand shot out. She yanked Graham by the collar. Her breath was warm, but her voice? Ice.

“You see all these men around us? Look at them. Subdued by my sheer presence. Play with me, and you play with fire. In due time, Akkwood, you too will learn to curl your tongue in my presence.”

“And how’re you gonna do that?” Graham stared her down, stone faced.

“Akkwood. First, we begin with your name. Then I—”

“That’s enough.” Maya seized Leticia’s hand off Graham.

Graham blinked. “Maya, don’t.”

Maya stood stately, purging herself of any doubt or fear she had of Leticia. She couldn’t stand seeing Graham like this. She’d only known him for a few hours, but he was the first person in this foreign land to stick his neck out for her. For this much, for this long.

“She’s right, Gram. You really don’t know my agenda. And maybe you’re playing with fire.” She flipped the hair off her eyes—those eyes staring directly at Leticia’s. “I did run from her. But it looks like I won’t be rid of her until I settle things now.”

“Wait…” Graham shook himself. “So you…?”

“Lady fighter and sharpshooter of San Ysidro. When I slipped past you— vanished for a day under your watchful eye—I hurt your pride, did I not?”

Leticia clicked her tongue. A crack in the armor. But she recovered fast. “And what makes you say that?”

“I pride myself in my mission. Your mission is pride. If you knew I had disappeared, you’d have found me the moment I was gone. You placed the tracker on me, yes?”

“What’s your point?”

Maya smiled. Not a kind one.

“Leticia Crossings never misses a shot. No rat escapes her watchful eye. And yet I— eluded you.” Maya continued, voice smooth as glass. “You didn’t turn on the tracker right away. Not until you got desperate.”

She hit a nerve.

“...And what of it?”

Maya tutted. “Why don’t we give you a chance to restore your pride?”

“Do tell.” Any hint of haughtiness had left her eyes—only a cold anger remained.

Maya shifted her gaze from person to person. First Leticia, then Graham, then every other man in the room. Then—back again.

“If I lose, I will go back with you. Sell me, use me, whatever you wanted to do with me, I will have no choice but to comply.”

She took a step forward.

“But if I win, however, you will have to leave me alone. Never bother me again.”

A hush fell over the room. They knew, Graham and Leticia both. They knew where this was going.

And only one of them liked it.

“In front of all the witnesses here,” Maya declared. “With Graham as my representative—”

Her next words rang out like a gunshot.

“I challenge Leticia Crossings to an Honor Battle—where the price is my freedom.”