The Lady with the Golden Key

Lady Irina bursts into the kitchen, her face a mask of anger. "What is going on here?" she demands, her voice echoing through the room. She looks down at Lexzandra with contempt. "What do you think you're doing, Princess?"

Lady Irina, the overseer of the palace's internal affairs, is a woman whose presence demands attention and respect, albeit begrudgingly. She is tall and statuesque, with an imposing figure that carries an air of authority.

Her long, raven-black hair is always impeccably styled, made into a loose updo, a stark contrast to the pale complexion of her face. Her sharp, high cheekbones and narrow, piercing eyes add to her severe and formidable appearance.

Her dresses are always perfectly tailored, accentuating her commanding presence, and she often accessorizes with elaborate jewelry that adds a touch of ostentation to her already striking appearance.

Lexzandra meets Lady Irina's glare without flinching. The old Lexzandra would have cowered under her icy stare, but not now. "Lady Irina," she begins, her voice calm and mature, "I am the princess of this palace, and it is my duty to ensure that everything is running smoothly. I have every right to inspect the kitchen and question the resources allocated to my palace."

Lady Irina's eyes widen in shock at Lexzandra's newfound assertiveness. "How dare you speak to me like that!" she yells, her voice trembling with rage. "You are nothing but a spoiled child who knows nothing of responsibility or duty. To disrespect me in this manner is unforgivable!"

"Whatever" Lexzandra snaps, clearly frustrated by the turn of events. She motions the guards to take Randolf away from here.

The guards are half hesitant and half scared. They are more scared of Lady Irina than the princess because, obviously, she holds more power than her. Moreover, the crown prince also values Lady Irina deeply, however, they simply cannot disregard the orders of a royal member.

Lady Irina glares at Lexzandra for a long moment before finally stepping back, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Very well, Princess. But remember, actions have consequences."

Lexzandra nods, acknowledging the thinly veiled threat. "Indeed, they do. Now, let's proceed."

As the guards lead the cook away, Lexzandra turns to Lady Irina, her voice calm but firm. "I expect the kitchen to be cleaned and properly maintained. From now on, I will personally oversee the allocation of resources and ensure that everything is up to standard."

Lady Irina's eyes narrow, her expression hardening. "You do not have the authority to make such decisions, Princess," she says icily. "If you wish to take control of these matters, you will need the permission of the Crown Prince. Until then, I remain in charge."

Lexzandra meets Lady Irina's gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "Then I will seek the Crown Prince's permission. The current state of affairs is unacceptable, and I will not stand by while my palace is neglected."

Lady Irina's lips curl into a faint, mocking smile. "Good luck with that, Princess. The Crown Prince is not easily swayed by the whims of a girl who has shown little interest in her duties until now."

Lexzandra grinds her teeth but refuses to back down. "We shall see about that," she replies, turning on her heel and leaving the kitchen.

___

Reaching her room, Lexzandra sighs heavily, almost collapsing onto the bed in an exaggerated display of exhaustion. "Well, that was certainly a thrilling adventure," she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Who knew inspecting a kitchen could be so damn hard?"

She flops onto her back, her limbs splayed out like a damsel in distress. "Lady Irina looked so terrifying," she continues, "I swear, she could give the Wicked Witch of the West a run for her money."

Lexzandra chuckles at her own melodrama, but there's a hint of truth behind her jest. Standing up to Lady Irina did take some courage, even if it was mostly fueled by frustration and righteous indignation. "Well, at least I survived the encounter," she quips, propping herself up on her elbows. "Now, onto the next thrilling installment of 'Lexzandra Takes On Palace Politics.'"

She paces her room, her mind whirring with plans and strategies. Lady Irina's haughty face looms in her thoughts, a constant reminder of the uphill battle she faces.

Lexzandra knows she needs to act swiftly and decisively.

Confronting Lady Irina directly had been a necessary first step, but it's clear that more significant action is needed to secure her position and resources. She stops pacing and sits at her desk, her fingers drumming lightly against the wooden surface as she considers her options.

"The crown prince…" she ponders, considering her brother Nikolai. Although he technically oversees palace affairs and could wield the authority needed to counter Lady Irina, Lexzandra quickly dismisses the idea.

Nikolai has always been dismissive of her, seeing her as little more than a nuisance. Approaching him would likely result in further mockery and resistance, especially given his loyalty to Lady Irina.

Instead, her thoughts turn to her father, the king. Though he has neglected her for years, he still holds the ultimate authority.

Convincing him of Lady Irina's treachery and the need for proper resource allocation would have a more lasting impact. The task feels daunting; her relationship with the king is strained, to say the least.

She knows she needs evidence, concrete proof to bring to her father and expose Lady Irina's deceit. "If I'm going to confront the king, I need to be armed with facts, not just accusations," she decides.

She stands up, her resolve firm, and calls for Elara.

A few minutes later, Elara comes rushing in, breathless and disheveled. Lexzandra feels a pang of concern for the maid who has served her loyally. "Elara, are you alright?" she asks, noting the maid's flushed cheeks and heaving breaths.

"I'm fine, Your Highness," Elara replies, trying to catch her breath. "What do you need?"

Lexzandra's gaze softens as she looks at Elara. She realizes that Elara is the only one serving her, a stark contrast to the retinue of attendants a princess should have. The absence of ladies-in-waiting, the lack of proper staff—it's a glaring oversight that speaks volumes about how she has been neglected.

Anger bubbles up inside her. How could no one care enough to provide her with the basic support and respect her position deserves?

"Elara," Lexzandra begins, her voice steady but tinged with underlying frustration, "who serves me other than you? Where are my ladies-in-waiting? Where is the rest of the staff that should be attending to a princess?"

Elara hesitates, her eyes flickering with discomfort. "Your Highness, there are no ladies-in-waiting assigned to you. It's just me and a few other servants who handle the basic chores."

Lexzandra's jaw tightens. "Just you? And a few servants? Why has no one bothered to think about the princess's needs?"

Elara lowers her gaze, unsure of how to respond. "I don't know, Your Highness."

Lexzandra sighs heavily, frustration churning within her.

'I will need to speak of this matter to the king,' she thinks, her resolve hardening.

The neglect is not acceptable, and she knows she must confront her father about the lack of support and proper care. This is more than just about her well-being; it's about asserting her rightful place and ensuring she is treated with the respect and dignity she deserves as a princess.

"Nevermind. Elara, I need you to help me with something important," Lexzandra says, "I need to see the record books where all the accounts and resources for the princess's palace are stored."

Elara looks a bit surprised but nods. "Of course, Princess. I'll fetch the head maid. She'll have the keys to the archives."

Minutes later, Lexzandra finds herself in a dimly lit room filled with shelves of dusty ledgers and parchment scrolls. The head maid, Madam Maria, hands her the key to the record books with a curious look. "Princess, why are you doing this now?" Madam Maria must have lost all hope on Lexzandra but to see her presenting herself maturely and calmly is new but also uncertaining.

Lexzandra meets her gaze, "Because I've realized it's time for a change, Madam Maria. I need to understand what's been happening in my palace."

The Head Maid nods, her expression softening slightly. "Very well, Princess. The records you need are in this section. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

Lexzandra thanks her and begins to sift through the documents, feeling a mix of trepidation and excitement.

The air is thick with the scent of old paper and ink, and the silence is only broken by the occasional rustle of parchment.

Hours pass as she pores over the ledgers, her eyes scanning for discrepancies, her mind piecing together the puzzle of missing resources.

"Here it is," she whispers to herself, finally finding the evidence she needs. The records clearly show that a significant portion of the funds allocated to her palace has been siphoned off, likely into Lady Irina's pockets. Lexzandra's heart pounds with both anger and triumph.

She now has the proof she needs.

As she closes the last ledger, Lexzandra leans back in her chair, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Lady Irina, your days of deceit are numbered," she murmurs, feeling a surge of confidence.

The next step is to present her findings to the king. But Lexzandra knows this won't be easy. The task ahead requires not just evidence, but also tact and diplomacy.

Returning to her room, Lexzandra contemplates her approach.

"I need to be calm and collected. I can't afford to let my emotions get the better of me," she thinks, taking a deep breath. She rehearses her arguments, ensuring she can present her case convincingly and without a trace of doubt.