Tyrant: Simpleton

The soft hum of the carriage wheels turning against the cobbled roads echoed through the interior, a sound that accompanied Samantha’s thoughts as she gazed through the window. She had long since stopped noticing the lush landscapes that unfolded outside, the gentle swaying of trees, and the distant mountains looming in the horizon. For her, everything was a blur, as though the world was a painting on the verge of being lost to time. The journey to the royal capital, to Alham, was but another long stretch of waiting. The road stretched on for a week, an endless parade of greenery, villages, and rough terrains, which she passed by with an air of indifference, her thoughts consumed by her greater purpose.

Her father, Lord Grutus, had seen fit to send her to the prestigious academy of Alham, a place where future rulers and the elite of the kingdom were trained. As the daughter of a Duke, she was afforded such privileges, and it was an opportunity Samantha knew she had to seize—though not for the reasons most would expect. Her choice of course had raised eyebrows: Educator. A teacher. On the surface, it was a harmless, even honorable profession. But beneath the simplicity of the title lay her true intent.

The course was the perfect guise for someone of her stature. A simple, unassuming role that would allow her to gather information, observe the inner workings of the academy, and most importantly, conceal herself from the ever-watchful eyes of politics. She had little interest in making waves just yet. No, for now, she would remain like a shadow in plain sight, a mere whisper among the students and faculty, biding her time, gathering strength.

Her regenerative abilities, a gift—or perhaps a curse—made her essentially ageless. Time moved for others, but for her, it was like an unhurried river, winding and slow, never a threat. She had all the time in the world. Immortality could wait for the right moment. And that moment, Samantha knew, would come soon enough. But for now, she played the long game, hiding her true self beneath layers of simplicity and naivety, letting the world believe she was just another young woman on the path to a modest career.

The carriage continued its slow march toward the capital, and with it, her thoughts turned inward. The wind carried the scent of distant fields and the faint traces of smoke from far-off villages. It was the scent of life itself, of the world she was preparing to reshape. But even as her body relaxed against the plush cushions of the carriage, a certain unease began to coil in her chest. The royal capital, Dantra, was not a place for simple souls. It was a sprawling, throbbing heart of power, wealth, and politics. The tension in the air was palpable, the undercurrents of intrigue and ambition thicker than the very streets themselves.

Samantha had grown accustomed to the weight of such places, to the glimmers of opulence hiding darker truths beneath their gilded surfaces. The court of the king, the city’s nobility, the merchants who controlled trade routes—all were puppets dancing on strings they barely understood, their strings pulled by powers far greater than their own. And yet, as she prepared to enter this lion’s den, she felt no fear. No anxiety. It was all just part of the game. She had already seen the strings. All she had to do now was tug on them, gently at first, until the whole world unraveled.

By the time they reached the capital, the sun had begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the majestic stone buildings and towering spires that marked the city’s skyline. Dantra, the capital, lived up to its name. It was a city of contradictions: grandiose and yet brittle, pristine and yet decaying. The air was thick with the scent of wealth, of stone, iron, and unspoken promises. Carriages with gilded wheels rolled past noblemen and women who walked with the air of kings, while beggars huddled on the edges of the streets, their existence little more than a footnote in the city’s grand story.

The city stretched before her like a beast, sprawling and alive, its streets brimming with commerce, scholars, and soldiers. Samantha’s gaze remained calm, but her mind raced, processing every inch of the city, every movement of the people. She had been here before, in the city of power and deceit. But this time, she was different. This time, she was not the ruler, but the one biding her time.

Her destination was a stone building with towering gates—her new home, her temporary sanctuary. The academy dormitories were nestled within the walls of the royal campus, an imposing structure that offered comfort to its students, though Samantha found it little more than another gilded cage. She stepped out of the carriage, her heels clicking sharply against the cobbled streets, the sound punctuating the silence around her. Fifty knights, her protectors, stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the last rays of the sun.

With a wave of her hand, she signaled for them to stand down. She had no need for their protection here. This was a new chapter of her life, and she was a master of her own fate. She entered the academy grounds with a calm and calculated step, her face a mask of innocence. But beneath the composed exterior, she was calculating, as always. The academy was a haven for young minds, a breeding ground for the future elite. Yet in this place of supposed learning, Samantha could already feel the currents of power swirling beneath the surface, the whispers of ambition, the clashes of egos, all masked by the polite smiles of the academy’s inhabitants.

Upon entering her dormitory room, she was greeted by a view of the city from above, the sprawl of Dantra visible in its full glory. The sunlight bathed the room in warmth, but Samantha barely noticed. The sensation of her new surroundings was already fading, a distant memory to her mind as she settled herself into her new life. She let her belongings fall into place, each piece a reflection of the persona she was about to create.

Samantha knew she would have to play the part. She could not reveal who she truly was—not yet. To do so would be madness. She needed time to study, to learn. To build her network and wait for the right moment to strike.

The act began the moment she entered the academy. Samantha Grutus was no more than a simpleton girl, naïve and unassuming. She would be the quiet student, the one who spoke only when spoken to, the one who learned without ever revealing the extent of her knowledge. She would dress in simple clothing, blend into the background, and pretend to be like everyone else. In the eyes of her peers, she would be just another young woman looking to find her place in the world.

The night stretched on, and after a simple meal, she collapsed into her bed, the warmth of the sheets wrapping her in their comfort. She closed her eyes, her mind racing with the endless possibilities that awaited her. But for now, she would sleep, for sleep was a tool, as much a part of her strategy as any weapon or spell.

And as she drifted off into slumber, the weight of her true purpose hung over her like a shadow, waiting, patient. The world was her gameboard, and soon, the pieces would move.

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