⟬ Flashback: Elven War Camp, half-a-malm away from the Tree God's Forest, the previous evening. ⟭
Imperia sat still on a smooth rock, keeping still as one of her men re-braided her silver hair.
Even with the gentle babbling of the nearby brook keeping her at ease, she grit her teeth at her attendant's roughness. It was a headache to always wear them so tightly... but it got in the way, otherwise.
Every now and again she considered cutting it short... but long hair was something of a status symbol in House Vulkoori.
Mother would have thrown a fit.
"Is everything alright, Princess?" The bladesman asked.
She turned up to glare at him, activating the magic in her eyes, "Be silent, Warrior. Just ⌈Do As You're Told⌋..."
The filthy male flinched, but he bowed in obeisance as the compulsion enchantment took hold... and as proper decorum dictated.
"As you wish, milady."
Mina - “What’cha thinkin’ bout, Master?”
Krysaos - “Hah. I was just wonderin’ whether or not Princess Imperia’ll behave with us goin’ ahead?”
Mina - “Master... since when have you started to call her... ‘Princess’?
...
Bizdiil: Imperia's attendant and commander of her forces.