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This is a fairy tale from long in the past. More distant than the sea—

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was so golden as to make the Moon jealous. Her eyes were so bright as to make the stars fade. Her voice was so sweet that it put songbirds to shame. Tales of her beauty resounded across the seven continents. Men came from all over the world to seek the princess’s hand in marriage.

The princess decreed:

“To the one who gives me the most wondrous gift—let me grant him my love.”

Many men came and presented her with dazzling gifts. Gold, silver, and gemstones were beneath mention. A hundred fiefdoms, a thousand castles, ten thousand servants—all were given to the princess.

But the princess was unmoved.

“Please, I would like something more lustrous. Something still more wondrous.”

More men came and presented her gifts without equal. Words of love matchless in the world were beneath mention. Secret treasures matchless on Earth and divine treasures matchless in Heaven were given to the princess.

But the princess was not satisfied. No beauty was beautiful to the princess. No love was surprising to the princess. No treasure was new to the princess.

—There was nothing in the world that could impress the princess. And still the princess insisted:

“Come—is there not something still more wondrous?”

—And then, one day, a certain prince came before the princess. This prince was different from any the princess had seen before. He was young and strapping, yet shabby in guise. It appeared that he had nothing—no treasure of any sort. But then the prince showed her a small, small treasure.

“Princess, let me present you with a treasure you have surely never seen.”

The treasure he held out was more wondrous and beautiful than anything in the world. The princess let out a breath of astonishment. She swore her love to the prince. And the treasure was—

……

“This is it! This is ‘true love’!” she cried, slamming shut the book in her hands. And so, seeking true love, she fell into a long sleep, waiting for the day when the man bringing that small treasure she’d heard of in the fairy tale would appear before her.

—Ignorant of what was to come.

What she had been reading was a fairy tale. But what she sought through sleep was no mere tale, no story. Long in the past, more distant than the sea, fully eight hundred years ago—

—It was a historical fact, one at which no Ixseed could help but stifle a laugh.