...
...
At the same time.
In the back courtyard of the palace, on the Royal Family's training grounds.
Under the afternoon sun, the tall and elegant Eldest Princess Atrey, holding an exquisite longsword in her hand, leaned against a chair, panting heavily.
A maid carefully wiped away the sweat from the princess's forehead and respectfully brought a silver cup filled with fruit wine to her lips.
Atrey took a couple of sips, then stood up and looked at the man with white hair sitting nearby.
The wrinkles on the man's face made him appear to be sixty or seventy years old.
But his spirit was vigorous, and his sharp eyes gleamed with intelligence.
"Come on, Master Carlos."
Atrey wore a smile, her attitude very respectful,
"At your service, Your Highness."
Carlos stood up, and the Eldest Princess Atrey took the initiative to move further away from the rest area and stood firmly.
