"Yila is much more skilled than me..."
More than once, Yose had sighed this way in front of his daughter. With his scruffy bearded face, the old knight always had a great sense of humor as a king, but only in front of his daughter did he show a hint of fatherly authority.
It was the authority of a father, not of a king.
Even though he was talking to the child destined to inherit his throne, he was speaking about rebellion. Yet, neither he nor Isabella cared, as they were both used to it.
Isabella had grown accustomed to it as well.
"When I die, I will tell Yila, 'If Isabella can't handle it, then you become the king.' At that time, don't resent your father, little Isabella."
"Hmph."
Although it was a prideful snort, little Isabella really did not want to become the king. After all, her father seemed exhausted every day and never had time to play with her. She did not want to be the so-called king.
Too tiring and too boring.
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