ã€ŠReincarnated Renegadeã€‹


 Preface + Content Warning

    Content Warning

    This Novel contains suggested themes and content that may not be appropriate and offend some viewers.

    Foremost is Suicidal Ideation and Self-Harm.

    If you or someone you know is thinking about harming themselves or someone else, please seek help and/or call the suicide hotline at any time.

    National Sucicide Prevention Lifeline

    800-273-8255

    Other content warnings include mild-moderate cursing, instances of abuse, and mild violence.

    This is a book about self-reflection and overcoming odds. Night can cast a long shadow, but there is always a sunrise around the corner.

    Preface

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    This novel is a mixture of niche genre¡¯s that you may or may not be aware of. The broad genre is fantasy and romance. The sub genres are ¡°reincarnation¡± and ¡°LitRPG¡±.

    The Reincarnation genre isn¡¯t exactly spiritual. Through one means or another, the main character reincarnates into a different body, often in a world entirely unlike Earth. So take note that in this sub-genre, there is often an adjustment period regarding the change of environment and/or body.

    LitRPG (Literary Role Playing Game) or Gamelit (Game Literature), are both terms that refer to a novel involving a game-like setting. This is usually one of two examples. The first is the character is physically in a video game, like the famous Ready Player One. The second example is when ¡°stats¡± or game like elements are introduced.

    (Stats are the statistical values of a character¡¯s attributes. Ex: In the tabletop game, Dungeon and Dragons, there are characteristics such as ¡°Strength¡± and ¡°Constitution¡± that are quantified by numbers. This makes the progression of power appear more linear and become easier to follow.)

    For this novel, only quests are introduced. One of the main characters receives ¡°quests¡± via a game window that helps move the story in the right direction.

    These quirks may be jarring at first, but hopefully this preface has alleviated any initial concerns you may have.

 Melody (1)

    "Close the doors."

    "Lord?"

    "Do it."

    Bellavarn looked around the room. He awoke on a cozy king-size bed with an abundance of plush pillows. The four corner bedposts raised several feet in the air to support crimson draperies.

    Moving over to a nearby dresser, he examined himself. Dirty blond hair cut short and cleanly.

    Refined features. Straight nose, clear blue eyes, porcelain skin... No facial hair? No, just groomed extremely close. Age? The babyface makes it difficult. Definitely over 16. Probably less than 25.

    Bellavarn removed his thin nightshirt. There was a tiny peep from the maid.

    Well-toned, decent musculature. No sign of body hair. Maybe it is just light?

    He ran a hand over his pectorals.

    Nope. No hair.

    Unfortunately, no abs. Well, he didn''t expect it.

    How tall am I?

    Another thing he couldn''t compare. He looked at the maid. Melody was how she introduced herself when asked.

    "How tall are you, Melody? Measurement in feet and inches, please."

    The brunette maid in traditional black and white garments jumped a bit before stammering.

    "I-I-I am five feet tall with about another six inches."

    "Five foot six. Hmm..."

    Bellavarn put back on his shirt then moved over to stand next to the maid.

    "I want to check my height; please stand next to me. You may face whatever way you find the most comfortable. I won''t move anything below my neck, you have my word."

    The maid rubbed her hands together, and her expression looked terrified. Did he have some reputation? Add it to the list of questions.

    Fortunately, Melody came up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bellavarn noted this was probably the least promiscuous way to do this and mentally approved of her judgment.

    Craning his neck, he got the rough estimate that he was probably over six feet. Not well over, but there was enough of a difference.

    "Hmm... I''m pretty tall.

    He stared at the swirl''s in Melody''s brown hair.

    "Okay, Melody. you may step back now."

    Melody complied. While her face remained unseen as she ducked her head, the tone in her voice made it clear she was uncomfortable.

    "Young Master, may I ask what this is about? I was only to bring you breakfast."

    Bellavarn took her words but didn''t immediately respond. If he was a Lord, or even a young master, she could wait some moments longer while he adjusted to his surroundings. When he moved back to the dresser as examined the drawers, he found a small notebook. His long fingers ran over the letters appearing on the cover.

    It''s not a language I''ve seen before.

    Bellavarn spoke with forced authority.

    "You address me as your lord, and then young master, which is it?"

    This could be a potential landmine.

    "Your-Your Father is the lord, of course. But we''ve been ordered to speak to you with the same regard.."

    Ordered? By me or someone else?

    "Arrogance."

    He whispered.

    "Lord?"

    "Stop that. Call me by my name."

    "Young Master, I could never-"

    "My name!"

    "Yes! M-master, Bellavarn."

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    His name remained the same even in this life. Should he count it as a blessing?

    "Ditch the master. Use my full name, please."

    Melody''s voice somehow became even smaller, but she said the words all the same.

    "Yes... Bellavarn Sallow."

    Bellavarn gave a kind smile to the maid. She looked entirely on edge. He didn''t wish to do this to her, but he had no one else to turn to.

    "Good. I need you to complete a task for me. You may decline if you wish; however, it will put me in a bind if you do."

    Melody seemed to wrestle internally for several long moments. Bellavarn was surprised because it should have been instinct for a maid to obey without objection. Maybe things work differently in this house.

    When she spoke, it was with a question.

    "If it is of importance, I will not fail."

    Bellavarn smiled, showing off his teeth.

    "Go outside and find someone trustworthy. Tell them to guard the door and then return."

    Melody straightened.

    "Should-should I ask one of the knights to guard the entrance? They would be more suited to the role."

    The statement caused Bellavarn to hesitate. The precedence of knights preluded many things. Questions popped up one after another. Were they loyal? Were they knights in clanky armor or were they magically in nature? How lofty was his status that there were multiple knights in the vicinity willing to guard this bedchamber at a moment''s notice?

    Sighing through his nose, Bellavarn waved a hand.

    "No. Adding an official guard to the door will raise suspicions. Have a maid or two loiter near the entrance. If someone approaches, tell them to cause a stir."

    With those words Bellavarn''s gaze turned serious. His piercing blue eyes stabbed into Melody.

    "Can I trust you?"

    At the moment, his entire world hinged on these words. That he had to ask at all proved his desperation. Melody seemed to gleam... something, from his words. So, after the slightest moment of hesitation, Melody nodded confidently. Her shoulders squared firmly when she grasped the folds of her uniform.

    "I understand. You can trust me."

    "Good, hurry, and then return. We need an hour alone. No! Make it two. If possible."

    "Understood."

    Melody hurried out, closing the door behind her.

    While he was alone, he reexamined the room. The room was lush in soft fabrics and tapestries, making for a very cozy space. The ceiling was tall, and the two narrow windows along the bedside wall edged the room''s two corners. The grey stonework behind all the fabrics and decorations felt cold to the touch.

    A wardrobe along the adjacent wall harbored all manner of clothes. Most of them appeared to be comfortable and soft fabrics. Pricey, but not overly colorful or as gaudy as Bellavarn thought they would be.

    A coat of arms rested on the wall opposite to the bed¡ªa bluebird carrying a branch with berries flying over a a mansion.

    Duke? Marquis? Baron? What is my status? Surely not a prince, Melody would have given that away immediately. However, if my father is the true lord of the house and I am the young master.... that makes me the direct heir. Unless I have siblings.

    Inspecting his body again, he was somewhat disappointed. His hands were delicate and without calluses. There was a tiny visible scar on his index finger, perhaps from a kitchen knife. These were hands made for arts, not swordsmanship. His body felt... light. Even the meager muscles Bellavarn once built while working part-time jobs had become boringly standard.

    Sighing, he resigned himself. It''s not like he wished for a second chance.

    Attention drawn back to his journal, Bellavarn idly flipped through. Most pages were brimming with words while others held sketches. Drawings of birds and flowers. Women. They were all well done.

    Bellavarn could remember a time when he spent the day sketching passing pedestrians on the bus. These were not the same. They were more sophisticated. Practiced. Like the person who drew them enjoyed it.

    It was leagues above where he was in his past life.

    He turned when the doors opened. Melody returned, appearing slightly red in the face.

    "Is it done?"

    "I... yes. I called in a favor. We should be alone for an hour."

    "An hour will do. Thank you."

    "What now lord- er. I mean, young mas- no. Bel-"

    Bellavarn cut her stammering off with a wave of his hand.

    "Stop it. I see it is difficult for you. Call me whatever you wish. You don''t even have to address me directly while we are alone."

    Melody appeared downcast.

    "Ah. Yes. Young master."

    "If you want, you can help yourself to my meal. It is getting cold, and I am not in the mood to eat it. Have you not been eating well lately? You look like you could use a bit more weight."

    Bellavarn belatedly realized his compliment could be an insult. Melody blushed deeply, her bangs hiding the rest of her expression.

    "I didn''t mean to offend you. I need to look over a couple of things before we talk and the food is a way for you to pass the time."

    "That is alright. I will wait."

    With permission, Bellavarn returned to the journal. He flipped a few more pages, trying to make sense of the written word. More pictures, more unfamiliar women. There was one that appeared several times. The woman wasn''t older; how should he say it? Mature was a better word. The facial features were elegant and familiar. Perhaps an older sister or his mother.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Melody shifting from foot to foot. She didn''t go over to the cart of breakfast but instead stood in place. Continuing to flip through the pages, he spoke.

    "Is there anything I can do to ease your mind?"

    Melody rubbed her hands together while hiding her neck in her shoulders. Bellavarn could see her mouth opening, but no words came out.

    "Melody. I don''t know what preconceptions you have, but whatever is running through your mind, erase it. I assume that your "friend" believes I am interested in you?"

    She yelped

    Right on the money.

    "You are wrong."

    "But you''re lordship has yet to take an interest in a woman outside the house. Even if I''m a servant, It is not wrong to-"

    Melody cut herself off and left her words open to interpretation.

    Well... It isn''t the worst-case scenario. At least I''m not a lecherous deviant.

    "I do not intend to lay a single finger on you. Right now, I need someone I can trust. You will do, for now."

    "Me?"

    Bellavarn nodded without looking. He noted the last page in the journal was of a small bird.

    "You were the one who walked through those doors and not another maid, butler, guest, or family member. Even if it is the wrong decision, it is the best one I can make at the moment."

    Melody''s head emerged from her shoulders, and she looked up, no longer holding so tightly onto her dress. She looked into Bellavarn''s eyes. After a while, Melody found whatever she was looking for. Her entire demeanor relaxed as she exhaled.

    "I see."

    Bellavarn watched her now. Waiting.

    Melody took her time to find the correct words to use.

    "Yes. You can trust me, Bellavarn."

    Melody showed off her first, bright smile. And Bellavarn''s heart skipped a single beat.

 Melody (2)

    "Amnesia?"

    Bellavarn nibbled on a biscuit. The desert was a pleasant surprise. Over-exercising his mental faculties made him peckish. The breakfast of eggs and bacon was a bit hardy, but the cookie was a welcome distraction.

    Crumbs fell onto his lap regardless of how careful he was. Melody still seemed skeptical of his explanation, but Bellavarn didn''t give up the game. It was half-true anyway.

    "I didn''t even know my name until you said it aloud."

    "Truly?"

    Bellavarn decided to swallow the rest of his desert rather than talk with his mouth full.

    "I''ve gleaned that I am a noble with significant lineage. My appearance, the grandness of the room, the coat of arms, my wardrobe, the presence of knights, and even your willingness to listen to my words all support the fact that I am a noble."

    "You got me to tell you your full name. That... That was clever."

    "If the Lord, my father, or anyone else figures out I have amnesia, it will cause problems. We need to discuss who I am so that I can play my role until my memories return. I can''t disappoint anyone''s expectations for me."

    Melody unconsciously went for the tea as she listened.

    "If that is the case... What is it you need to know? I only joined the Sallow house six months ago. We haven''t had that much interaction. It is a Duchal household, so there are a lot of duties to keep maids busy."

    "A Duke. Good to know. I don''t expect you to know everything; however, you must tell me..."

    Bellavarn pinched his cheeks.

    "How old am I?

    Melody laughed. It was a delightful tune.

    "You are 19. You had a birthday last month."

    "Oh. That is younger than I thought. Well. No help for it. I am 19, I suppose."

    Melody covered her mouth with a gloved hand, preventing laughter. It would be rude to insult a Duke''s son, memory intact or not.

    "Are there any families with equal or higher ranks than us? In fact, what kingdom is this, or is this an empire?"

    "Kingdom. There hasn''t been an Empire in millennia."

    "What is the name of the Kingdom?"

    "This is the Lionel Kingdom. The King is Francis Lionel II. He has two sons and two daughters."

    "Are there any other Ducal households?"

    "Two."

    =

    Later.

    Bellavarn built an accurate representation of his situation. He was the heir of a ducal household in a medium-sized kingdom. Him and his parents are currently away from their northern territories and are staying in the capital on business. Melody and many of the staff in this mansion were new hires screened by his mother, the Duchess.

    According to Melody, Bellavarn spent a lot of his time alone and only went out when mandatory. This was good news because it made it easier for Bellavarn to slip into his new shoes.

    The biggest bullets he needed to dodge were his Father and Mother. He had no siblings, much to his parents'' chagrin.

    Melody put a finger to her chin, thinking. The involuntary action was cute. Her hazel eyes peered off to Bellavarn''s left in thought. The way they glazed over indicated she was checking her memories.

    "The staff thinks you are kind, if quiet. You have close relationships with the cooks, and have a sweet tooth for desserts. The only other person that knows you well might be Oslo, the head butler."

    "What about the Knights? Can they use magic, or are they the more sword and shield variety?"

    Melody paused, tilting her head in confusion.

    "I believe some might have been magic knights before being employed, but their offcial duties are guarding the family and the household. They aren''t an army. Also, I think you''re misunderstanding magic."

    Bellavarn listened closely as she explained. Magic wasn''t exactly fireballs and lightning bolts. Knights could use magic to strengthen their muscles but that was it. Any other magic would be considered enchantment. There was an abundance of magical tools in this world that made life easier. Though, most of them were expensive beyond reach.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Melody continued

    "As to places you frequent. Hm. The gardeners say you spend a lot of time in the atrium. That''s when you''re not in here or the study."

    "Good, I should be able to avoid my parents then."

    Bellavarn noticed Melody''s staring at him oddly.

    "You''ve been distant from your parents. Um. There is a rumor that you are in a rebellious phase. They have tried setting up partners for you, but you''ve declined firmly every time as far as I know."

    Honestly, why was I worried in the first place? This is too easy.

    "Good, good. It seems that I am not as terrible a person as I first thought."

    Melody put a finger to her chin again.

    "What did you think of yourself, if not upstanding?"

    Bellavarn scratched his head and avoided eye contact. The thought seemed silly now.

    "All the soft and loose clothing, combined with the amount of drapery, numerous pillows, fancy bed... Plus your reaction when we first met. It all gave me an awful feeling that I was the kind of noble to use my status to get what he wants."

    There was a solid beat in-between her words that indicated sudden realization.

    "Oh. Oh! No, not at all. You''re nothing like that."

    Melody reached over to grab his arm in reassurance but stopped the action before making contact.

    "You are a kind person. Every one knows that.."

    Bellavarn gave a warm smile. Melody glowed, her eyes shining.

    Coughing once and standing, Bellavarn looked for a distraction.

    "Are you literate by chance?"

    "It is a requirement for being in service to the house. Why do you ask?"

    Running a hand over the journal, he chuckled.

    "Yet another thing I have forgotten how to do. Are you confident enough to teach me?"

    =

    The two of them made an excuse that Bellavarn had become sickly, unable to attend even family dinners. He spoke to his father through the door when he came by to check on him, explaining that Bellavarn would soon get over it and not to worry. Staying separate was a precaution Bellavarn insisted on.

    His Father, Duke Braster Sallow, was a kind and understanding father. He told Bellavarn that he would pick up his duties for a week. If Bellavarn didn''t get better by then, the Duke would summon the physician. Bellavarn gave his thanks and promised to pick up the slack when he got better.

    Both the thanks and promise were genuine on Bellavarn''s part.

    A second chance.

    A hand sliding down the door, his fingers felt the delicately carved grooves.

    Do I deserve it?

    =

    During the week, Bellavarn learned the written language with Melody''s help. She became his sole interaction with the outside world.

    The days blended together sweetly as he learned the ins and outs of this new world. The magic intrigued him. The stylus he used to write in his journal was one such oddity. The pen worked without ink. Not a miracle, or acutely magical, but surprisingly handy.

    Just imagine having to dip a quill in ink ever 10 seconds.

    When Bellavarn was alone, he would perform light exercises He abhorred getting sweaty, but the workouts staved off cabin fever in a time without internet access. The hours he spent sketching also helped. The differences between his style and the previous Bellavarn were extreme.

    Being left alone with his thoughts was driving him crazy. That''s why the time he spent with Melody became something he looked forward to every day. They spent most hours of the day in each other''s company. Chatting. Learning. Sampling tea and treats.

    Their studying had started with children''s books from the library. He laughed at how silly they were. Truly for children. They depicted scenes of knights slaying dragons or heroes saving damsels.

    Bellavarn kept trying to sound out the words as he learned them. His flubbing made Melody giggle uncontrollably.

    It was music to his ears.

    He realized he needed to escape soon. Otherwise, he would end up falling for her.

    =

    "That is a rare combination of letters that turn a statement into a question. It''s mostly used in poems, but it is also possible for it to occur accidentally. It makes correspondence complicated."

    Melody was a great teacher. She explained things succinctly using real-world analogies or applications. He regretted that their time together was reaching its end, but it was time he ventured outside and applied this new knowledge.

    "I can''t thank you enough, Melody. You''re a lifesaver."

    She gave the brightest smile he''d ever seen. It made him scramble to get his emotions under control. Pushing back his chair, Bellavarn stood and paced around the room. He stretched his arms and shoulders, eliciting a pop. Exhaling, he spoke with resolve.

    "I need to start pulling my weight. It is still the afternoon; I should see my father."

    Bellavarn looked at the door and then back at Melody.

    "Is there any way I can repay you?"

    Melody shook her head.

    "This is part of my job. Besides, I had fun. The experience reminded me of teaching my little sister."

    He raised an eyebrow.

    "You never mentioned any siblings."

    Melody''s eyes glazed over again.

    "Mhm. Two. My older sister takes care of the youngest while I work at the mansion."

    "I didn''t realize."

    Bellavarn looked around, getting an idea.

    "Wait. I need to give you something for all the effort you''ve put in. Something useable... Here. Take this."

    Bellavarn grabbed the stylus he''d been using for his writing and handed it to Melody.

    "You can keep it, or you can gift it to your sister. Or you can sell it for extra income. Magical items are expensive, or so I hear. I''ll talk to my father about giving you a hefty bonus too."

    ¡°All that isn¡¯t necessary. I¡¯m only doing my job.¡±

    "You deserve it. If it bothers you, think of it as a reward for outstanding service to the house."

    Melody reddened, wringing her hands again. Her face was hidden underneath brown bangs. Bellavarn stepped closer.

    "Melody? Is it too much or not enough? What''s wrong-mhm."

    His words were interrupted with a kiss. Shocked still, Bellavarn felt the warmth flowing from her lips, and he could feel her face heating up. He melted as she pressed up against his chest. When she retreated, both of their breathing was heavy. Bellavarn felt the cold absence more than anything.

    "I-"

    Melody sprinted out of the room.

    Bellavarn extended an arm, but it was too late. He watched her scurry through the open doors. A pair of passing maids glanced between him and the retreating Melody. They shared a knowing look.

    Damn.

    Melody managed to wrangle his heart free and run off with it. He didn''t plan for this to happen, but then, these things are never planned, are they? He was like this in his old world too, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

    "Alright, alright, don''t stare. The show''s over. Please inform my father that I have recovered enough to attend dinner."

    "Yes, young master."

    The maids echoed each other, curtsying and then moving off. Bellavarn closed the doors and fell against them.

    "My first kiss...stolen."

    The corners of his mouth inched upward until they locked in place.

 Melody (3)

    Bellavarn tossed his many outfits onto the bed. Dressing himself was a struggle in both lives. His sense of style consisted of whatever was comfortable.

    What was formal? What was acceptable? It was only a family dinner; his parents were good people. His father was exceptionally understanding. Bellavarn was looking forward to meeting his mother. Melody confirmed the person he drew in his journal was indeed the Duchess, except Melody stressed how scary the Duchess could be.

    I should have asked Melody what''s appropriate.

    Thinking back on the entire week spent in isolation, Bellavarn had no idea how it happened so fast. The week consisted of frivolities and shoulder bumping, but that was enough to capture his boyish heart.

    I should know better.

    What bothered him was that it wasn''t his first kiss. It was Sallow''s. Yet, Bellavarn still treated it as such.

    Something''s wrong.

    A tiny voice seemed to be yelling something. It never reached his ears, though. The cold absence on his lips still burned.

    Would he ever feel otherwise? Maybe wrapping Melody in his arms would cure him? His smile slid back into place at the thought.

    Clothes, though. He was stuck between a comfortable green outfit or a more respectable and form-fitting navy blue one.

    The doors to his room opened. Expecting Melody, he was caught flat-footed by a regal man instead.

    "Father! I''m glad to see you. I was just about to come to dinner. I was having trouble picking an outfit. I feel like my first time out in a week deserves some thought."

    Braster Sallow was a thin man with close-cropped blond hair and a well-maintained goatee. His eyes were a frozen blue, he wore prim and proper clothes, the correct and only choice for clothing among the nobility.

    Braster Sallow strode up to his son silently. Cold blue eyes bearing down.

    "See I''m all better now, see. Healthy as a horse."

    Bellavarn bounced on his feet and stretched a few times, showing off his flexibility. He stopped when it failed to remove his father''s mask.

    "What''s happened? Is it mother? She never visited, so I''ve been worried."

    Bellavarn felt his blood cool. His father was entirely unreadable. It was beyond nerve-wracking. This wasn''t how he imagined meeting his father for the first time. Their muffled conversations through the door had always been light and carefree.

    Now alarm bells rang. He was on the verge of panic when Braster spoke.

    The words were in a measured tone that brooked no argument or deviation.

    "Tell me the truth."

    Bellavarn''s brows furrowed in confusion. Could the Duke have caught on that Bellavarn was never sick? Did Melody let it slip?

    "About what, father?"

    He winced as Braster''s eyebrow twitched.

    "About the girl."

    "Melody? What do you- I mean... She has been incredibly helpful this past week. I was hoping we could give her some kind of bonus."

    Bellavarn realized he should be answering more simply and firmly, but this was the most unsettling encounter in his short re-life. What truth was his father searching for? Did the budding relationship between his son and a servant concern Braster this much?

    "You didn''t do anything to her?"

    "No. Of course not. I know you want me to find someone, and I... I believe I am starting to like Melody. A lot, actually."

    Bellavarn rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. He went on.

    "She is very understanding and patient with me. I didn''t intend for anything to happen at first, but we became closer this past week. I didn''t expect her to be the one to kiss me. It was shocking at first, but looking back, it''s quite cute of her-"

    "You never laid a finger on her?"

    "We might have bumped shoulders once or twice. But no, I never touched her."

    Braster''s deep blue eyes chilled him. It was like Bellavarn''s soul was open for reading.

    There was a long silence as his father eyed him but said no words. Bellavarn gulped under pressure but otherwise didn''t move or speak. Breaking the silence could summon an earthquake for all he knew.

    Braster''s gaze softened and he embraced Bellavarn. His father was slightly shorter than him, so the hug was as tight as it was short-lived. Braster pulled away before Bellavarn could shut his open mouth.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "I am sorry I doubted you, son. I know you wouldn''t do such a thing."

    "Father, I-"

    "We have a problem. Melody went to your mother, and she is inclined to believe the young girl''s words. Hell, I half-believe her. I am sorry again, Bellavarn."

    He apologized twice. Twice! For a duke to apologize, even to his son, was beyond imagination. Yet, he did so twice.

    Cold sweat crawled down Bellavarn''s neck.

    What the hell happened?

    =

    Bellavarn followed in his father''s steps. He still wore the loose nightshirt from when he was studying, not having time to change before Braster stormed out with a command to follow. They passed a few of the staff as they made their way. They stopped any gossiping and bowed low.

    "Father, I don''t know what happened, but before we get wherever we are going, I have to confess something."

    Braster turned on a heel, halting immediately and causing a near collision. His gaze was so cold it was scorching. Bellavarn inhaled a deep breath but knew that the truth, or at least the closest version of it, would be best going forward.

    "I lied. About being sick, that is. The truth is that a week ago, when I woke up and Melody brought me breakfast..."

    =

    "Amnesia?"

    "I couldn''t remember who I was. I was terrified of what would happen. It was clear I was of noble birth, so I knew appearances mattered. If someone got wind of it, it could have caused problems for the family. I didn''t want to be a burden. I recruited Melody to teach me things and we''ve spent the last week practicing reading, writing, and etiquette. It was only at the end that I felt anything."

    Bellavarn''s rambling trailed off, not knowing where else to go. Whatever was happening, whatever was going on, his father accepted and believed his words¡ªa stranger. At least in Bellavarn''s eyes.

    "Is that everything?"

    "As far as I can remember. It was actually an amazing experience meeting you. Again, that is."

    Braster gave the smallest of smirks.

    "Alright, good. Knowing that will help. Let us hurry to your mother. Things must have escalated in my absence."

    =

    Father and son arrived at the entrance hall. They stood on the landing of a grand staircase looking over the banister at the assembled group below. The doors to the mansion were wide open, welcoming the freezing weather¡ªguards in armor clustered in the doorway. Servants and staff spread out towards the edges of the room. In the center of it all were two figures.

    The first was a regal woman in a heavy fur coat. Her platinum blond hair shone with the reflection of winter snow. Her skin glimmered and her features personified perfection.

    Mother.

    Her beauty outshone even Sallow''s drawings of her. A certain proudness resonated deep within Bellavarn. Still, there was an undertone of danger in the Duchess'' posture that prevented him from calling out to her.

    The Duchess huddled against the second figure. The shorter girl was wrapped in a wool blanket and shivering uncontrollably. Bellavarn spotted the disheveled hair and the monochrome choker she wore. Melody glanced up and met his blue eyes.

    She screamed.

    =

    "For God''s sake, close the door, Oslo! Hush child, you are alright, you are safe."

    Bellavarn felt the world turn as he watched Melody crawl backward, screaming in hysteria.

    "Melody."

    It came out as a whisper. Arm reaching out instinctively, Bellavarn was about to take a step but a firm hand landed on his chest. Bellavarn turned to his father with pleading eyes.

    "I know. Remain silent if you are able."

    The cold eyes that seemed to pierce his soul earlier now felt solid and comforting. Bellavarn managed to slow his racing heart as he felt Braster''s sturdiness. It was a lifeline. And Bellavarn, he clung to it with all his strength.

    Braster proceeded down the staircase first.

    "Trisha, I''ve brought him."

    "I can see that. It''s only made the situation worse. There, come on, look at me. See. You are safe. Just sit tight and stay behind me. Okay? Okay."

    Trisha Sallow stood to her full height, facing off against Braster.

    "No explanation can excuse this kind of harm."

    "Our son is innocent. He had his heart wrenched away, nothing more."

    "Innocent? Innocent! Look at her. That girl can''t stop trembling from a mere glimpse of Bellavarn. What other evidence is needed? Should I show you the layers of bruises? The cuts and abrasions? You believe she gave herself a black eye?"

    Braster kept his attention on his wife, but Bellavarn was drifting in and out of focus.

    Melody? Sweet and innocent Melody?

    Closer now, he saw one of her eyes was all puffed up. Blood trickled onto the stone floor, her feet cut from stepping on glass. The bruises on her exposed legs.

    His blood boiled as his imagination took horrid turns.

    "Not satisfied! What about the blood? Not all of it comes from glass."

    Bellavarn felt the bubbles popping.

    Blood? Huh, Blood? From... NO. No. No one gets away.

    He could feel the pot boil over, hot tears running down his face as he looked at the sweet maid who ran away with his healing heart.

    A cold room. The chandelier reminded him of a swirling ceiling fan. His mother''s scarf looked remarkably like rope.

    It was too much. Too much to bear in silence. The fragile ego he built up was dissipating.

    "Who?"

    He whispered. All that was left was straws.

    "Who did this?"

    His voice was unnaturally steady for the amount of vehemence coating his words.

    "Who harmed her? Who did it? Who dared! Who-"

    He tried to move closer, but Melody started screaming again, clawing to get away.

    "Enough of that! You''ve done enough damage."

    His mother''s fury didn''t register as he stood there with his hand outstretched. He stared at Melody''s form and wept.

    Why was this happening? Why wasn''t his pain over? Why was he alive just to experience it all again?

    Bellavarn plummeted to his knees, unable to keep control as memories he tried to forget swarmed back in, coiling around him like red-hot irons. Furious and despondent tears streamed down his face.

    "Do you see your son? You don''t think he''s capable of faking that."

    "Surely you''re not blaming the victim for her own assault?"

    They continued arguing with one another. The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. The staff all whispered to one another¡ªeach forming their own opinions.

    Bellavarn lost contact with it all. His vision was blurry from emotion. Everything lost color and became turned monochrome.

    Like Melody''s dress...

    ...The one laying in tatters in the corner.

    The pain was too much for him. The days spent together. Laughing at silly things as they talked, accidentally brushing up against one another in their study sessions, both pretending to ignore the contact.

    That bright smile that lit up his day.

    A blushing face hiding underneath brown bangs.

    The warmth of lips on his.

    The cold absence.

    The longing.

    The image before him.

    It didn''t mesh.

    None of it fit.

    It wasn''t real. It couldn''t be. It was fake... Fiction. Fake! His father and mother. The mansion. A new life as a duke''s son. He was still hanging from his ceiling fan in his death throes as his life came to an end. Bellavarn was dead. He died that day. He was dead. Should be dead. Dead. Dead. Gone.

    Melody.

    He collapsed.

 Melody (4)

    Bellavarn woke to his father''s face.

    "Who? Where am I?"

    "You didn''t lose your memory again, did you?"

    Bellavarn looked around groggily. He felt. He felt something. Something. Missing? What was he missing? Memory? He... he was Bellavarn Sallow. Wasn''t he?

    It came back with an intake of air that floored him. He held his head as the memories overlapped. Bellavarn of Earth and Bellavarn Sallow.

    A small toy train. Playing with the Duchess''s icy blond curls. Sitting in depravity while waiting for a callback. Playing catch with his Dad. Attending his first social gathering. Falling in love for the first time. His parents'' funeral. Learning all about magic tools. Going to high school. Tutors drilling him about mathematics. Being cheated on. His father''s insistent questions. Dangling from a ceiling fan.

    Melody.

    Bellavarn coughed up a lung. He clawed at his throat, but there was no rope¡ªnothing to untie.

    "Bellavarn! What''s wrong?"

    Tears were running down without notice.

    "Father... Father. I- it. I can''t. I thought I was- I shouldn''t be..."

    His father sighed and wiped his son''s tears with a handkerchief. Deciding this is one of the moments to be a father and not a Duke. Braster held his son as he cried. Wailing away like a child, babbling and sniffling.

    "You''re alright, Bellavarn. None of it is your fault. It''ll all be alright. "

    =

    He remembered everything.

    Bellavarn stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror. Water ran down his face and neck. Normal mundane water. It clung to his skin.

    "Two lives."

    He stared at his reflection in the glass. The mirror was smooth and shaped, with no bubbles or irregularities.

    "Should I say it''s like back home, or is this world my real home?"

    Bellavarn resisted the urge to pick at a cut across his temple near his hairline. Collapsing dramatically had the side effect of banging his head against the floor. The small cut would likely leave a faint scar. Sallow''s second scar ever.

    How manly.

    He rubbed his head as he felt a headache coming on. The memories from both his lives merged and fought, battling for control. The memory of dying. Who was he? Was he Bellavarn or Sallow? Both? Neither? The pain increased.

    Kicking the door to his bathroom transferred the pain to his toes.

    Did it really matter? He had both sets of memories: heartbreak and a noose tied around his neck.

    He rubbed a hand over his throat. No bruising or scars. No indication he died. Did he die?

    It hurts.

    He rolled over onto the bed. His head was splitting. His heart felt like competing to see which would tear itself asunder first.

    One hand on each, it was a feeble attempt to staunch the metaphysical wounds. Then he started laughing, remembering a silly childhood memory. Rub your stomach, pat your head?

    Hah!

    Hahaha.

    ...

    hah.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The laughter ceased. Tears threatened to replace it. Was he always such a crier?

    His father''s words haunted him¡ªthe Duke''s words.

    Melody was gone.

    When Bellavarn collapsed, the arguing ceased. Each parent took one of them and departed, only to resume arguing in private. Apparently, his mother was a fierce woman indeed.

    Mother didn''t believe I was innocent. Not that it was easy for Father to take my side. Anyone who saw Melody like would conclude what had happened. Everyone knew where she spent her time that week.

    Yet his father believed in him. Bellavarn owed his life for that. His mother?

    He remembered his mother now. A beautiful woman. Fierce, yes. But also loving. She loved him more than anything in the entire world. The memories of her hugs that wouldn''t let go made that very clear.

    Sallow truly believed in his mother''s love with all his heart. It must have been terrifying being confronted with the possibility that her son was a monster.

    "Aaaah!"

    He threw a pillow. It impacted softly with his dresser. Like fate, it knocked his journal to the ground.

    Cursing under his breath, he got up and retrieved the journal. He flipped through the first few pages. Sallow remembered writing each word. Drawing his mother and the various servants around the house. The later pages revealed hesitant lettering. Next was a sketch of his own face in the mirror. It was drawn with jagged and unconfident lines.

    Bellavarn''s handiwork, not Sallow.

    "Ah, my head."

    Leaning back in pain, Bellavarn almost managed to ignore fate. Unfortunately, it happened anyway.

    The last page turned on its own.

    "Fuck."

    Bellavarn guessed it. He already knew what it held. It tore at him all the same.

    On the last page was a portrait in magical blue ink, created with a certain magical tool. It depicted a 3/4 view of Melody as she poured tea. Her face was bright and naturally smiling. Hair flowing freely down her neck. A black and white lace choker. Monochrome garments with frills.

    The image almost glowed when cast in his shadow.

    "Ah! Damn it all to hell."

    It was all or nothing.

    "Oslo!"

    The doors to his room opened a few moments later. A portly butler seemed to have been waiting. Sallow knew the older man. Oslo was a long-time mentor that watched over him as he grew up. There was no one the family trusted more.

    "Sir?"

    "Oslo. I need a favor, but you aren''t going to like it."

    "Chasing after the young miss, sir?"

    Bellavarn blinked. He was somewhat hurt that he could be seen through so easily.

    Oslo didn''t wait for a confirmation of the obvious.

    "Very good, sir. This way. Your father prepared an escort."

    Even father.

    A knowing smile played on Oslo''s lips. Bellavarn viciously fought the smirk creeping onto his face and marched out.

    Oslo rolled his eyes and grabbed the winter jacket Bellavarn had forgotten.

    =

    "Her place of residence seems to have changed since applying as a maid, so we''ll have to ask around to see where she went."

    "No matter. I don''t have high hopes. Still, I have to try."

    Oslo''s black mustache curled as he smiled.

    "Well said."

    Both of them rode in a carriage with two of the Duke''s most trusted guards, Henry and Kerv. The carriage passed by snowed-in storefronts and houses. The architecture in the capital seemed familiar, but Sallow had no idea where they were going.

    It didn''t matter. He trusted in Oslo.

    "Is she special?"

    That was Kerv. Henry elbowed him, eliciting a metallic clang and a wince.

    "We wouldn''t be here otherwise."

    "I was just-"

    "You know what you were doing."

    "It''s fine, Henry. Do you all know that I had amnesia by now?"

    Nods all around.

    "I was lost. Afraid of what to do next. I woke up to a maid entering my room. If only I knew."

    Bellavarn recounted the short story of how he fell in love. The others were silent for the most part. When it was over, Kerv spoke again.

    "Your memories have returned?"

    Bellavarn looked out the window at the rolling farmland, taking a moment to reflect.

    "There are more than I can handle."

    "What does-oof!"

    Bellavarn smirked as Kerv rubbed at his side. He didn''t respond, simply sinking into thought. The world passed by around him.

    What would he say? How could he approach Melody? She probably didn''t even want to see him after what she went through. Who could have harmed her? Bruises? Had she been hiding them the entire time and suffered in silence? Her smile was so bright.

    A woman being abused under his nose still managed to smile, teach him, serve him tea, blush, and kiss him. Bellavarn couldn''t imagine a stronger woman than Melody.

    It crushed him that he had been oblivious to it all. Not noticing anything even with partial memory. Was he an idiot?

    "Young master."

    How does all that happen under someone''s nose? Why didn''t Melody come to Bellavarn? Did she not trust him? Was she too afraid of the attacker? How could-

    "Bellavarn."

    "Hm. What?"

    "We''ve arrived. This is where she lives."

    "Already? That was fast."

    "Young Master, it''s been hours."

    Bellavarn started; he examined the sky. An orange glow faded into purple. Night was arriving. Had he been lost in thought the entire time?

    "She''s here?"

    "There are signs someone is living here. And the neighbors all say that someone matching her description resides at this address."

    Bellavarn looked around. Vast barren winter farmland off to his left. Sparse buildings leading into a nearby cluster of shops to the right. Snow littered the roads. The distance they traveled wasn''t minor. He would have to make sure to repay everyone for this.

    "I guess I''ll go knock."

    "Would you like us to accompany you?"

    "No. You and Henry can stand guard outside. If she is here, and if we talk, you are not to enter. No eavesdropping either."

    They saluted. Oslo seemed proud for some reason.

    "Good luck, young master."

    "I owe you one, Oslo."

    "As you say, young master."

    Bellavarn rolled his eyes as the butler bowed his head. Sallow was lucky to be surrounded by such good people.

    With a deep breath, then two, he approached the door and knocked.

 Melody (5)

    "Melody? It''s Bellavarn. I just wanted to speak for a moment. It won''t be long, I promise."

    Bellavarn winced as he heard the desperation in his own voice. Still, this was something he had to do. Melody still held Sallow''s heart and there wouldn''t be a way to salvage it unless the two of them spoke face to face.

    Silence met him. It was long enough for Bellavarn to knock again.

    "Melody? Please. I just need five minutes. If you could open the door?"

    More silence. Nothing but a whinny from the carriage horse.

    Bellavarn took a couple of steps back. Smoke rose from the chimney. There was definitely someone here. Knocking again, he spoke louder.

    "Melody. If you are there-"

    The door opened with a creak. Brown eyes peered out of the darkness.

    "What do you want?"

    The voice was meek, tiny.

    "Melody. I wanted to speak for a moment. Can I-"

    "No."

    *Bang*

    "Ow."

    Bellavarn groaned as the door slammed on his foot.

    "Leave."

    "I can''t. Please, just a few minutes."

    "No!"

    *Bang*

    Bellavarn held in his cries as the door hit his foot harder.

    "Young Master-"

    Bellavarn cut off Oslo''s words.

    "This is between Melody and me."

    He braced for another slam, but it never came.

    "Melody."

    There was a long pause, but a defeated answer finally came.

    "Fine."

    =

    The inside of the home was sparse¡ªa table in the center with a rickety bed off to the side. There was chopped wood near the fireplace. Not many other possessions were present in the room. Wooden bowls and spoons. Dreary was the word most apt.

    Melody stood in the dismal room with the table acting as a barrier. Wrapped in a thick blanket, her brown hair was tied back with a wooden fork. A nasty bruise circled her eye.

    Bellavarn shuffled his feet, not knowing exactly what to say now that he was here.

    "Well?"

    Her words acted as the trigger.

    "What happened at the mansion? You couldn''t have been gone more than a half-hour between the time I saw you leave and when... "

    A pause. Bellavarn didn''t want to say it aloud and offend her.

    "What happened? Who attacked you?"

    Melody was silent. She looked into the fire. It shimmered in her hazel eyes. Bellavarn''s voice was soft as he continued.

    "Was it happening the entire time you were with me? I thought we became close over the last week, but I was too inept to know."

    There was no response as Melody gazed at the crackling fire.

    "Did you not think you could come to me? I would have... I could have done something. I would not have rested until you were safe."

    Bellavarn fidgeted at the continued silence. The blank expression didn''t suit her. She should be angry, furious, depressed, anything. Just not this.

    "Can you- Can you at least tell me who? I can hunt them down for what they did. Or I can have the soldiers do it. Whoever touched you doesn''t deserve to draw breath-"

    "It was me."

    Bellavarn halted. He shook his head.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "You don''t have to cover for them."

    "I said..."

    Melody''s gaze swiveled to stare at Bellavarn. Fire played in her eyes, but Bellavarn felt a coldness that was incomparable to Braster''s.

    "...it was me."

    Furrowed brows. Blinking. His jaw didn''t want to work.

    "I did it. I did this to myself."

    More head shaking and a missed step.

    Shakily righting himself, Bellavarn spoke.

    "I don''t believe you.

    "You don''t have to. I. Did. It. To. Myself. I gave myself the black eye. I cut my feet on the glass that I broke. I fell onto the shards willingly. I bruised myself. I cut myself. I burned myself!"

    The room was spinning in a way that gave Bellavarn deja vu.

    Think. Use logic. It doesn''t make any sense if you puzzle it out.

    "No. You couldn''t have. Not all of it. The bruises were weeks old."

    "I threw myself down the stairs. Every. Day."

    "The glass-"

    "An old window I found in storage, I shattered it in the lobby."

    "The black-eye."

    "I ran myself into the stove in the kitchen. You could probably find the dent my face made."

    "Burning?"

    "Fire poker."

    "No. No, no, I don''t believe it. Mother said you were-."

    "Pigs'' blood. Remember the bacon you had for breakfast?"

    Bellavarn felt his world crumbling. He clutched at his chest, hyperventilating.

    She''s lying. She has to be. To protect someone? Who is forcing her to go this far?

    He heard Melody scoff. Was this real? Was his world real? Was it- No. No. There were still holes in her story.

    Slowly but surely, he refiltered air into his lungs.

    "You had no reason to do such a thing. There''s zero benefit."

    "No? Look around."

    Melody gestured to the room around her.

    "I needed money. I figured I''d blackmail the Duke. It worked too. I get a fortune once I leave. But I need to wait until Winter is over to travel."

    "You had no need to go to such lengths! I told you, didn''t I? The pen. I said I''d talk to the Duke into giving you a bonus. If you stayed, even if you played with my heart, you could have gained so much more."

    Bellavarn''s argument was piercing. The entire plan made no sense. Maybe in the beginning she planned to rob the Sallows, but she must have realized how Bellavarn''s feelings along the way. She could have milked the family dry or even more. Instead, she squandered all that for a quick payout? Melody was smarter than that.

    There was a harsh, throaty laugh as Melody doubled over.

    "You really are a fucking idiot, aren''t you? Do you really think I wanted to spend time playing girlfriend to the son of a Duke? To be dragged into politics and courtly affairs? I never wanted any of that. I wanted money. Coin! Jewelry and fancy clothes-"

    "I would have given it all to you!"

    "Will you open your eyes! You got played. Forget about me. I''ll be gone in less than a month when the snow dries up, and then you can forget I ever existed. Or hit yourself over the head for all I care."

    Melody waved an arm in dismissal.

    Bellavarn was imploding. The world was getting smaller and smaller, his vision turning white again. With desperation, he grasped onto anything.

    "...Your sisters."

    "Fake! Made up. Fictitious! I taught you that word, remember?"

    His sense of self was crumbling. He could hear bells ringing and the swirling of a ceiling fan. It was happening all over again. Again, his world turned round, repeating itself. Bellavarn''s first love cheated on him. Sallow''s first love played him for a fool. This wasn''t fair. How did he deserve this? No. Melody was lying. To protect him. From someone. A monster. A politician.

    "Are you going to get out now?

    Clarity.

    Bellavarn came back. Rummaging in a coat pocket, he retrieved his journal.

    "I don''t believe you."

    "Have you not been listening?"

    He turned the pages, finding the last and tearing it out.

    "I said I don''t believe you. The Melody I remember is brilliant. A woman capable of immense strength and kindness."

    He handed the page over to Melody, showing him exactly how he saw her.

    "You''re not someone who''d harm yourself. You wouldn''t go through so much pain for simple coin. You''re smart enough to play a long game, even if it wasn''t what you desire."

    Melody held the piece of paper in her hands. Her hazel eyes shone in the firelight.

    "I can tell you aren''t happy sitting here in the cold. I know you are a good person. Whether your sisters exist doesn''t matter. I don''t care what you lied about. You stole a piece of me the moment you kissed me. It will always belong to you."

    Melody was quiet as her grip tightened. Bellavarn looked into her eyes. Light swirled in the darkness.

    Melody made eye contact. His own crystal blue eyes reflected in her warm hazel ones.

    "I..."

    Bellavarn smiled as he saw the flicker of hope.

    "I didn''t realize how naive you really were."

    The paper crumbled and flew into the fire.

    "No!"

    He dove into the fire, scattering the logs. Winter furs burned. Hands clutched a scorched piece of paper. He tore off his burning clothes and stamped them out.

    "Are you done? If so, get out."

    Bellavarn clutched the piece of paper in burnt fists, panting heavily.

    "Get. Out."

    Bellavarn stared at Melody, but he didn''t see her.

    "GET! OUT!"

    =

    Bellavarn tumbled out the door. It slammed shut behind him. He wanted to lay there in the snow, but Kerv and Henry lifted him out. He heard them arguing with each other as he stared at his hands, still holding the crumpled and burned piece of paper. It was doubtful that there was anything salvageable. Bellavarn felt it would crumble if he twitched. So, he held still.

    "Oslo."

    Oslo broke off from holding back Kerv and Henry. They were arguing how to get rid of her, and It looked like Oslo wanted to do the same but held enough common sense to realize it was the wrong decision.

    "Young master Bellavarn."

    "I would like you to arrange for a carriage."

    "We have a carriage right here."

    "Do not mistake me for being daft, Oslo. I mean a second one. Have it pick up Melody by tomorrow afternoon."

    "For what reason?"

    Bellavarn interrupted the older man, continuing as if the butler wasn''t talking.

    "The carriage is to take her to one of two destinations."

    Oslo and company showed clear signs of worry as they stared at their young lord. None of them could speak up. Kerv and Henry held their weapons tightly. They''d eavesdropped on the conversation despite being told otherwise. They didn''t hear every word, but they heard enough. The young lord''s questions. Melody''s revelation. Bellavarn''s disbelief and proclamation of love. They heard the scuffle and could see the burn marks on his hands, noting his coat was missing.

    None of it registered. Bellavarn simply spoke in the same halting monotone.

    "The carriage is to bring her to the border or to the stables back at the mansion. It is her choice. If she changes her mind, in either direction, at any time, the carriage is to turn around. Is that understood?"

    Oslo gave a solemn bow.

    "It will be done."

    "Good."

    A ghost of a smile passed along his face. Bellavarn was guided to the carriage, and it trekked its way back home, where he collapsed into oblivion, shielding a small, round, crumpled, and burnt piece of paper.

    =

    The sun edged across the horizon as Bellavarn sat in the field next to the stables. No carriage in sight.

    The moon rose and fell.

    The sun rose again.

    In the afternoon of the second day, the carriage returned.

    Empty.

 Alarm

    Bellavarn''s eyes opened. Paralyzed.

    "Help!"

    A shrill scream tore through his eardrums, echoing off the walls. Bellavarn was scared stiff. A cry for help? In a Duke''s house?

    "Help! Someone please, help!"

    Again it was there. He wasn''t dreaming. It was real and someone was in trouble. But why couldn''t he move?

    Bellavarn remained utterly still while his mind geared into overdrive.

    Someone is out there. Alarm. I need to call an alarm. Alert someone, anyone. That girl could be in trouble! She could be dead by now. Move. Damn it. Move!

    He lurched up, gasping. Throwing off the covers he raced out the doors. Searching left and right.

    Empty.

    Silent.

    Just once more. Scream again. Let me know you are alive.

    No calls. No alarms. No shouts.

    Cold winter silence.

    Not a single person to be seen.

    "Where are you?"

    He ran around barefoot through the corridors, searching madly. His footsteps were the only echo in the entire mansion.

    The guards. Someone should be on watch.

    Bellavarn sprinted for the guard quarters. Someone had to have heard the cry. If no one responded, it could only mean the cry wasn''t heard, or... there was no one to answer.

    Rounding a corner, he lost his footing and tumbled into a wall. The thud made him lose his breath for a second, but he was up even faster. Running.

    Why does the blasted mansion have to be so large?

    "Where is everyone."

    Rounding a final corner, he saw a pair of guards moving down a corridor. One held a lantern while the other looked around. Approaching swiftly, he noticed they weren''t Kerv and Henry but another pair of guards employed by his father. They finally noticed him.

    "Young master, is everything alright? Your feet are bare."

    His scrapped soles didn''t care.

    "A scream. I heard someone scream."

    The pair looked at each other in confusion.

    "Who? We didn''t hear anything."

    "It was loud enough to wake me, and she sounded terrified. Mother? Send someone to check on my mother. Please."

    Bellavarn eyes were darting everywhere, searching for some sign of an intruder. Adrenaline laced his pleading words and made his heart hammer.

    "Korel, go wake the guards. Check on the Duchess. Young Master Bellavarn, can you take me to where you heard the scream."

    "I-I can try. I heard it from my room. It sounded like it came in this direction."

    Korel jogged off while the other guard, Taren, gave the disheveled Bellavarn an appraising look. Whatever he heard, he believed it. This was the first time such a thing happened, so it wasn''t like the young lord was crying wolf. Taren had no reason to doubt.

    "Let''s retrace your steps. Stay behind me, alright?"

    "Let''s hurry."

    =

    Soon, everyone was awake whether they needed to be or not. The guards brought out hounds who started barking when the search began. Two more guards accompanied Bellavarn as they searched the inner garden courtyard. Bellavarn was searching in a bush when he heard his mother''s voice.

    "Bellavarn, why are you crouching in a shrub?"

    "Mother."

    He ran and hugged his mother, nearly barreling her over.

    "I was afraid it was you who screamed."

    Being woken up in the dead of night wasn''t enough to make the Duchess stammer. Having her son embrace her so desperately seemed to have done the trick.

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    "What- I. I am fine. What is all this about?"

    "Son?"

    Duke Braster stood next to his wife. Bellavarn had completely missed his presence. Finally registering their confused looks, he gave them the best answer he could.

    "I woke to a cry for help. At first, I was petrified, but then I heard it again more clearly. I ran into Taren and Korel on the other side when searching but they didn''t seem to hear anything, no one did... I''ve been searching this area since it sounded like it came from here."

    The looks they gave him stung, but he powered through anyway. His mother held his arm, asking him for clarification.

    "Did you recognize the voice?"

    Shaking his head, Beallvarn felt eyes watching him.

    "No. I didn''t recognize it. It was feminine. She sounded as if she was being chased."

    "What did she say exactly, Bellavarn."

    His father asked.

    "She screamed ''Help''. My eyes opened wide and I didn''t move, thinking I imagined it. But then it came again a few moments later. ''Help. Someone please, help''. It was clear as we''re talking now."

    "Was the voice young or old? It could have been Misses Vale banging around the kitchen."

    Bellavarn shook his head again.

    "It was a younger woman. Not a child, but not old either. It was shrill. I can''t help but think if I acted sooner we''d have found them by now."

    Bellavarn''s hands ran through his hair as Braster''s eyebrows creased in thought. Trisha''s gaze bounced between the two of them and around at all the guards searching the garden. The moon was supposed to be out, but the cloud cover cast everything in murky darkness.

    "Are you sure you weren''t dreaming?"

    Bellavarn blinked. He wished to comfort her by lying, but he couldn''t. Not when someone might be in danger.

    "No. I wasn''t dreaming. My eyes were wide open. I heard the voice twice."

    "Are absolutely positive?"

    "Yes, Mother, I am."

    Trisha removed her hand from her son''s arm and inched closer to Braster for comfort. Braster wrapped an arm around her while the guards continued their search in the background.

    "Shall we try to head back to sleep for the night? All the guards will stay up to continue the search and I''ll post some at our doors. We can reconvene for breakfast in the morning."

    Bellavarn wanted to keep searching but realized he wasn''t helping anyone in his condition. Reluctantly, he followed his father''s words and tried to go back to sleep.

    ...As if sleep were possible.

    =

    Bellavarn had gotten precisely twenty minutes of sleep last night. His stomach grumbled throughout the night, awake but not in the right mind to procure food. Even now, his appetite was ruined. A silver fork pushed around the scrambled eggs on his plate. He chopped it up into little bits barely larger than the prongs on his fork. The tension in the air weighed on his shoulders.

    When the food grew cold on his plate, the silent breakfast was broken by Duke Braster''s voice.

    "The guards were unable to find anything even as they worked into the morning. Nothing was found out of place. The mansion''s wards didn''t detect anything either."

    Bellavarn looked up from his meal, horror written across his visage.

    "Then the intruder managed to get away? What of the girl?"

    Braster gave his son an understanding look.

    "The guards checked everywhere in and out of the mansion. There''s no sign of conflict or trouble of any kind."

    Bellavarn''s fists clenched tight around his fork.

    "Could... could the scream have been a distraction? A smokescreen of some kind? A ploy to get everyone out and about while a crime was carried out elsewhere."

    Braster smiled at his son''s creative thinking.

    "That is the answer I came to as well. I have Henry and a few others to expanding the search."

    "Are we sure it wasn''t a dream?"

    Bellavarn''s brief smile turned sullen as his mother spoke from her side of the table. He couldn''t prevent his tone from becoming defensive.

    "Dreams are dreams, mother. They can''t make you see or hear things."

    The Duchess glanced at Duke Braster, who sat in between them, and then back to Bellavarn.

    "I know you''ve been having a rough time since Melody."

    His gut twisted, and it felt like his heart had been stabbed.

    "That''s not it, mother. I promise. That isn''t it."

    There was silence from the table.

    "I believed her as well, you know? I blame myself for having hired her in the first place. I know you are still hurting. Your father and I would completely understand if you had a nightmare."

    Bellavarn flinched as his mother reached for him. It was true that his heart was damaged. It was true he waited outside, in the snow, for hours until the carriage''s return. When the driver told him that Melody asked to be taken straight to the border and never looked back, he still struggled to understand.

    Yes, he has trouble eating. Trouble sleeping, of course. But this? This is something he would bet his life on. What type of dream was audible?

    "This and that are different. Someone could be in danger or hurt, or worse!"

    "I know! I am just saying that it''s possible."

    Bellavarn felt bile pool in his mouth. A truth finally revealed itself. Last night. The gaze of the guards, and how slowly they searched. The staff''s whispering and hovering on his periphery. His father''s silence as Mother spoke of Melody. It was all so clear.

    "You don''t believe me."

    It came out as a hollow whisper.

    "Neither of you."

    Looking around the room, he saw a server avoid eye contact. His parents glanced at each other wordlessly.

    "You never believed me. You. The staff. The guards. You all think I am a heartbroken fool who dreams of Melody crying out for help."

    "That''s not true. We are just worried about you, Bellavarn."

    His mother reached out again, but Bellavarn jumped away. The chair crashed to the floor.

    "No! You never believed me. Not when Melody was hurt. Neither of you listened when I wanted to search for the real perpetrator. You aren''t listening now, even when I know someone cried out for help. You think I''m a fool."

    The silence from his mother was all he needed. His father stood from his seat, more controlled than Bellavarn, but with an identical crease in his eyebrows. Braster Sallow faced his son, his piercing blue eyes bore into Bellavarns soul, and the duke saw the crashing waves. The turmoil and despair. The hurt and mistrust. The love lost.

    "I believe you about Melody. Your mother does as well. We are your parents. Trust us."

    Bellavarn felt the eyes skewering him, burning, skalding labels onto his skin for all to see. For all he tried to wave his own desperate truth, it might as well have been invisible compared to all the rest carved into his flesh.

    The trembling in his arms and legs was getting too much. The silverware dug into his palm.

    "Permission to retire."

    Conflicted and Warring. A battle between sense and reason. Truth and Fact blurred as a single word stood out in his mind.

    Fictitious.

    "Granted."

    The silverware clattered onto his plate. Bellavarn stomped away, deaf to his father''s words.

    "We''ll keep searching, Bellavarn. I promise."

    =

    Inconsolable, Bellavarn locked himself in the study and avoided all possible interactions. His room had too many painful memories. The stares from the staff and his parents pricked painfully. So, he retreated into books. This was where he slept and ate now.

    His father did continue searching. Or at least ordered the guards to continue. Nothing was ever found.

    An entire month.

    No evidence.

    No clues.

    No hints.

    And not a single dream.

 Seclusion and News

    "Are we not feeding his obsession by buying more books?"

    "Being studious is not a negative trait, Trish."

    The Duchess paced back and forth while wringing her hands. The click of her heels softened by the carpet.

    "Being completely shut-in? Tell me that is not a negative trait, Braster."

    Trisha waved her hands in an aggravated fashion as her feet carved a path in the carpet The Duke waited nearby trying not to poke his eye out with a sewing needle.

    "The books will help him. Besides, our plant will work even if he stays cooped up inside the study."

    "This all too stressful, dear. My sweet Bellavarn was fine until that bitch came into his life. It''s my fault for pushing him to find someone, not being closer to him these past weeks... leaving him all alone. I''m a horrible mother."

    Braster finally stopped his wife''s pacing and enveloped her in his arms.

    "You are not to blame. You weren''t the only one who vetted the new hires. All we can do now is help Bellavarn recover."

    "How? Bellavarn never leaves. I haven''t been able to hold a conversation with him in over a month. He refuses to attend meals, and it is getting harder to find an attendant to put up with him. The rumors spreading among the staff are getting to the point where I can''t squash them. I''m too focused on keeping them from leaking outside."

    He became highly sensitive to the presence of maids to the point he could identify their tiptoeing footsteps. The developing rumors didn''t help. The cycle made everyone uncomfortable, especially the younger and newer staff.

    The maids especially all turned away from the Young Duke, seeing him as unstable or downright untrustworthy. In response, Bellavarn transformed the library/study into his private den. The previously meager selection of reading material evolved into a proper collection with all the new additions. Almost all of it discussed magic, magic theory, applied magics, magical phenomenon, and a smattering of fiction. Bellavarn practically eats and breathes books.

    The only volunteer left was Kerv. He was still employed as a guard, except now he acted as a personal attendant to Bellavarn, which included... nothing. Since Bellavarn never asked for anything other than new books or deserts, Kerv''s role was a redundant one. Bellavarn cleaned up after himself, kept safe and secluded, fed himself, and was overall self-reliant.

    Which was what worried Trisha.

    Bellavarn was still young, under twenty. A bachelor who should be out making friends or courting women. Instead, he ostracized himself even more by locking himself away, allowing rumors and gossip to permeate. Kerv was supposed to help with social interactions and be a friend to Bellavarn, yet, Kerv reported that all Bellavarn talked about were books. Sometimes he would ask Kerv questions about history or magical theory, but it was always worded in riddles and metaphors.

    All of it went right over Kerv''s head.

    An imperfect solution to a complicated problem.

    Trisha was terrified he would never leave that room.

    "He needs to meet other girls. To see that Melody is not unique."

    "It was his first love, my love. We need to give him time. For now, I believe I have a way to reintroduce him into society. It is also time we tell him the good news."

    "You''re sure it''s not too soon?"

    Braster chuckled.

    "Were you not the one last night saying that he should know immediately?"

    Trisha slapped her husband''s chest playfully, but her eyes shone like twin jewels.

    =

    It doesn''t make sense. The story is too full of holes.

    Bellavarn sat on a small step ladder with an open book in his hands. He was on page 34 of Magical Engineering Primer Volume II. The first volume sat on the step behind him. He paid neither book any notice and continued chewing on his pinky finger.

    Why the bit about her sisters? Did she really make them up just to make me feel sorry for her?

    Kerv sat on a couch nearby, looking simultaneously relaxed and as worried as can be. Occasionally he could hear the young master mumble indistinct words¡ªthe most prominent word being a certain maid''s name.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Her home was too run down. Are all the maids from low-income families? How''d she pass the background check? How much is the usual pay for someone employed by a Duke? I''ve never asked any of them about their own lives... have I?

    "Young Master?"

    Bellavarn got up and started pacing, primer still in hand.

    The West wall was lined with books; four partition bookshelves broke up the space into sections. Bellavarn organized it all and even kept a ledger, accounting for every book. He created the entire system himself. It impressed his father but Bellavarn''s reason for doing it was purely convenience.

    With the double doors attached to the Southern wall and large windows allowing in light along the Northern wall, the Eastern side held the most furnishings. Near the doors was a corner section that harbored a moderate selection of romance novels. A cozy fireplace with cushioned couches and chairs completed the center section. The last 1/4 of the room held a substantial desk topped with a few books, paper, ink, and pen. A shorter bookshelf was present nearby, providing easier access to all his favored grimoires and novels.

    "Bell?"

    Bellavarn stopped pacing.

    "What?"

    "You were pacing again."

    "Oh. Thanks."

    The guard and friend gave a small nod. Bell was Kerv''s nickname for him. It served to get his attention more often than not.

    Kerv refused to wear a butler''s outfit, and he requested to shift out of his armor and uniform after realizing all he did was sit and lounge around. A sword and scabbard were still attached to his waist, while his buckler rested against the coffee table.

    Kerv''s appearance was that of a 25-year-old man. He had grizzled facial hair which he scratched often. Otherwise, his brown hair was combed back, and his narrow brown eyes always seem to droop.

    Scratching his beard again, Kerv leaned forward to grab another cookie from the platter.

    "Was it Melody again?"

    Bellavarn looked away. It was a redundant question. What else could have him so flustered? An entire month and all he could think about was her.

    "It doesn''t make any sense. What she did, I mean. Why settle for so little? All she had to do was ask."

    Kerv sighed and shrugged his shoulders. They''ve had this conversation before.

    "I don''t pretend to know a woman''s mind."

    "Why become a maid for the Sallows? There are plenty of lower houses that would accept her with less danger. She was playing with fire by choosing us. Father could have had her killed without anyone batting an eye."

    "But he didn''t. Your father let her go and paid her to keep quiet."

    Bellavarns voice shook only a little.

    "He did it for me. All because I was seduced. A stupid kid falling in love with the first person he sees."

    Kerv smiled.

    It was happening slowly. Painfully. Still, it was happening. The wounds were healing with time. Kerv remembered the first few discussions where "I thought we got along" and "was I not enough" were the prevailing endnotes.

    Now, Bellavarn no longer believed that Melody was entirely innocent. Steadily, the intense feelings of love and affection were fading.

    "I am overjoyed you''ve finally realized it."

    Bellavarn paused, bewildered by Kerv''s words.

    Did he just agree I am an idiot? Can he do that?

    There was a moment of silence before they both began to let humor fill their bellies. And then the doors opened.

    "I am pleased you both are feeling well enough to laugh."

    Kerv was at attention so fast that the imprint he left on the couch hadn''t registered his absence. He saluted and shivered under the frosty gaze of Braster Sallow.

    "Sir."

    "Father? And Mother. Why are you both here?"

    Trisha Sallow stood arm in arm with her husband, beaming, as if everything was right in the world.

    "Do we need a reason to see you? Anyway, this news is better delivered in person."

    Bellavarn set his book down at his desk and addressed his parents.

    "It must be good news to make you smile so?"

    Trisha smiled wider, nudging Braster in the ribs. With a cough that covered a grunt of pain, the Duke spoke with a light air in his voice.

    "Your mother and I are having another child. You will be an older brother soon."

    Bellavarn stumbled a bit, his eyes wide. He was going to be an older brother? To a younger brother? Or a sister?

    "Truly? Haha... Truly?"

    Seeing his mother grinning uncontrollably and his father''s sly smile made all his previous worries fall away. He forgot for a moment where he was and how he got here.

    Bellavarn bounded over to his mother, picked her up, and spun her around. She squeaked as she was stolen from Braster''s side and twirled in the air. After receiving a protective look from his father he set her down.

    "Yes, your mother is pregnant. Be more careful with her."

    Bellavarn only laughed and did the same to his father. His mother chuckled as Braster squirmed and cursed until he extricated himself. Kerv didn''t dare so much as twitch.

    "I know how happy you two must be. You''ve been trying for years, haven''t you?"

    "Well. I... hrm."

    Trisha slapped her uncharacteristically stammering husband.

    "Yes, we have. It was a welcome surprise when the morning sickness set in. Your father was beside himself with worry."

    "Hah! I was not. I was... concerned."

    "That is what worrying is, dear."

    Bellavarn grinned from ear to ear, in the best mood in years.

    "How far along are you? When can I expect my sibling?"

    Braster cleared his throat, deciding to throw out any expectations and simply be relieved at positive Bellavarn''s reaction.

    "The doctor estimates the pregnancy around three months. So we are expecting the baby to arrive sometime around the beginning or middle of Autumn."

    Bellavarn did a double-take at his mother''s stomach. How were they hiding it all this time? Or... was it because he never saw his mother lately?

    His parents noticed his mood turn somber, prompting them to exchange a conspiratorial nod.

    "We''ve kept it a secret for as long as we could, so don''t feel down if you didn''t notice. Only the doctor and a few others knew."

    "It''s not easy to hide anymore so your father informed the King. Congratulations were sent and we''ve been invited to dinner next week."

    Bellavarn glanced from face to face and registered their meaning.

    "You''ll be joining us, of course. The King''s family will be in attendance as well. This will give you the chance to socialize."

    "Ah."

    Was he ready for such a thing? With the King? The princes and princesses? Could he go out after so long? Bellavarn could feel his resolve firm and his shoulders square.

    "I''d be delighted to have dinner with the Royal Family. It is in celebration of my younger sibling, after all."

    His smile wasn''t forced for once. If it was for his future brother or sister? For his loving parents? Bellavarn would brave anything.

 The Palace (1)

    The carriage hopped once from a nasty pothole. Bellavarn barely noticed as he kept readjusting his clothes. They were tighter than usual. He wore a light grey overcoat with blue trimming. His father wore a similar style suit; only his was a shade darker. Black was a color only used for war, and white was for weddings. Thus the mostly grey apparel.

    Trisha Sallow wore a silver gown with accents of green mixed in. Green was good luck when it came to children. People were very superstitious regarding color in high society. It made little difference to Bellavarn, though. He would rather have worn a formal business suit from back home than continue to wear this flashy outfit.

    Why was he dressed this way? Because meeting the King required him to be dressed all fancy, even though they were celebrating a new addition to the Sallows and not the Lionels.

    "Don''t be so nervous, dear; you look dashing."

    "I feel like someone used me to play dress up."

    "We all feel like that. It''s procedure."

    "Still, we are a ducal household. I had hoped that we needn''t be so formal when it is a private dinner."

    Braster shook his head.

    "The King is the King. Even if he wasn''t, King Francis is a stickler for tradition."

    Bellavarn became quiet then. Anything he said would either come out wrong or was needless banter. King Francis Lionel is old. How old? Old enough that he can no longer be the surrogate for future children. He was lucky enough to have four children back-to-back at an advanced age.

    Why didn''t have any earlier? No idea. Maybe he was impotent and then suddenly became blessed by God. Maybe he is secretly in the closet but needed to have an heir, so reluctantly made some children. Or perhaps he lost the love of his life young and was forced into an unhappy marriage. Did it really matter?

    The Queen passed several years ago; Bellavarn has memories of attending the wake. So... Now it was only Francis Lionel at the old age of 68 and his four children. All of them barely a year apart. The Queen must have been exhausted from half a decade of being pregnant.

    "Are Henry and Krev are following along?"

    "Along with your mother''s aide, yes."

    "Why not Oslo?"

    "Because it would be rude to bring more. It might imply we don''t trust his majesty."

    Bellavarn was glad to have the two guards with him. Kerv was the one he trusted the most. Henry...

    I don''t really know a lot about Henry. He is assigned a lot of work outside, so I don''t see him often.

    "We''ll have to make sure Kerv doesn''t open his mouth in front of others."

    Braster rubbed his temple. Bellavarn only smiled wryly.

    =

    The ride from their mansion in the capital to the palace only took a few hours of travel as opposed to the days/weeks it would take from their ancestral home in the North.

    There were many buildings within the confines of the palace walls, including a vast lawn and the famous Antithetic Royal Garden, but none of the holdings on the palace grounds could outshine the Millenium Palace. Its shadow cast across all those entering, serving to intimidate and impress. The tall and thin bones reminded most of holistic sites rather than anything imperial. The long walk towards the entrance doubled as a deterrence to intruders and a way to give guests time to appreciate the structure in all its glory.

    They arrived just as the sun dipped below the sky-blue roof, making the structure glitter in the twilight.

    "It really is grand."

    Bellavarn tugged at his collar, trying to get some air. Trisha looked back at him with a motherly smile.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    "Be sure to repeat that to his majesty. He never tires of hearing it."

    That said, King Francis was only the current occupant. It was too large to be built in a single generation.

    "We arrived a bit early, so we may have to wait a short while."

    When they reached the entrance, at last, a butler guided them through a winding maze of corridors and dionic pillars carved from marble. As soon as Bellavarn was about to complain his feet were getting sore they reached a waiting room. Inside was a short girl dressed in delicate pinks. Her large blond curls plopped on her shoulders demurely. The second princess, Anne Lionel, greeted them.

    Braster and Trisha both bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

    "Princess Anne, thank you for taking the time to greet us."

    Princess Anne curtsied with perfect etiquette, her billowy pink dress being held up with small hands. A ducal authority was the highest position in the Kingdom next to the King. They commanded a modicum of respect even from the royal family.

    "It is my pleasure. Father is still tied up with work, so I thought I would come early and be the first to congratulate the Duchess."

    "Thank you, Princess. It has only been a year since we''ve last met but you''ve grown even more lovely."

    Anne smiled brightly¡ªthe image of purity and grace. Her blond hair bounced in delight.

    Braster turned slightly to introduce Bellavarn, who stood slightly behind his parents.

    "You two haven''t seen each other since you were little so I''ll reintroduce him. This is our son Bellavarn."

    Bellavarn felt himself sweating slightly but handled himself with as much grace as possible and bowed his head and back. Respectfully. Just enough.

    "It is nice to meet you again, Princess. I regret that I don''t recall our previous encounters."

    A small nod was his reward.

    "It is nothing. I, too, fail to remember moments from so long ago, even without suffering amnesia."

    ...Crap. She knows.

    It wasn''t like he was still missing any memories. In fact, he had double. But he couldn''t say that. Instead, Trisha spoke for him.

    "If I may ask, from where did you hear?"

    It was a barb formatted for nobles and Anne handled it with care.

    "Only in passing from my brothers. It must have been difficult."

    Bellavarn shook his head while giving a restrained smile.

    "It was brief. I regained them shortly after. I can''t say with certainty that they all returned, but I feel complete, as it were."

    "Wonderful. It would have been a tragedy if it caused any trouble or misunderstandings."

    "Indeed."

    Bellavarn fell silent after that. He didn''t want to land on any potential mines before dinner even started. How much did she know about what happened after the memory loss? The Princess likely had an inkling if not the whole picture.

    Anne and Trisha got together and started mingling while Bellavarn stood next to his father. There was some tea and cookies laid out for guests that taunted Bellavarn by their mere presence. Desire bordering on desperation filled Bellavarn''s gaze, but he kept forcing himself to look elsewhere. If he went over and grabbed one, he would stress eat and devour the entire plate of cookies. It wouldn''t be a pleasant scene for anybody.

    His father reassured him, producing a cookie in his open palm. How did he do that?

    "Don''t worry too much. There will be a few uncomfortable moments, but things will pass."

    "Mm."

    Bellavarn accepted the cookie secretly, while Braster ate one openly. While Bellavarn waited for a good time to inhale his snickerdoodle, he had a sudden worry enter his mind.

    "Will you be okay, father? You''re... um... you don''t think that will act up somehow do you?"

    Braster instantly glowered. Someone from the Duke''s past cursed him and caused all sorts of trouble. The curse always acted up at the worst of times for no reason.

    "It is relatively harmless, if inconvenient. The King knows, and we all have procedures in place."

    Procedures? The palace has procedures for the Duke''s curse? That''s actually... kind of hilarious.

    It was maybe twenty minutes of sweating bullets for the both of them before the doors finally opened. A man who could only be a prince walked in. He had platinum blond hair, slightly tanned skin, and a heart-shaped face with a perpetual mask of indifference.

    The second prince was the same age as Bellavarn. Since every heir was born in quick succession, they were all a year apart.

    The First Prince, Tristan, is 20.

    The Second Prince, Kly, is 19.

    The First Princess, Lecil, is 18.

    Finally, Anne is the youngest at 17.

    "Anne. Father is finished with work. He sent me to fetch everyone."

    The Second Prince looked around the room while noting everyone inside. There was no change in expression, but Bellavarn noticed how attention lingered on him, even if only for a moment longer.

    "Thank you. It was kind of you to fetch us personally."

    "No need for thanks. I came as ordered."

    Formalities over with, Kly led them away through the interior.

    =

    The tall winding corridors continued forever. Fantastic artwork and lifelike sculptures adorned the walls while being broken up by the occasional tapestry or door leading to another room. Thin mosaic windows filtered in saturated light even as the world outside was darkening.

    Following behind Kly, Bellavarn felt an eerie foreboding. They passed very few others on their way to the dining room, and those they did pass stopped and bowed reverently.

    To Bellavarn, the equally spaced windows imitated prison bars. It was suffocating.

    Without Kerv to lighten the mood made the walk all the more unbearable.

    A grandfather clock struck seven as they passed, chiming a mournful tune among the others that started to ring throughout the structure. The seven chimes spaced out across a few minutes, separated by clicking clock hands.

    It felt like they were mocking him somehow.

    Bellavarn tugged at his collar again.

    Something was wrong.

    This palace. This place...

    The way the Princess seemed to fawn over her brother, who remained taciturn and unemotional.

    Wrong.

    It''s wrong.

    This place is all wrong.

    Something was going to happen tonight.

    Bellavarn just didn''t know what.

 The Palace (2)

    By the time Bellavarn arrived, he felt more nervous than when he asked his boss for a raise.

    Ah. That was Bellavarn. Not me. Or it is me, but... ah, screw it.

    Both of them hated this place.

    Kly opened the doors.

    The dining room was... grand was too inefficient a word.

    The ceiling towered overhead, and there was enough floor space to hold a ball. The long dining table in the center of the room that could serve two dozen felt minuscule in the vast space. The walls were decorated richly with more art and gaudy colors.

    The King was already seated at the head of the table. Black hair turned entirely gray. His face, lined with age, sported an eternal grimace. He wore fitting dark grey clothes colored with royal purple flourishes. Thankfully there was no cape.

    In the seat to his left was Tristan, the first prince. A spitting image of his father. Black hair slicked back. The beginning of a familiar scowl was being etched across his face¡ªa younger version of the king.

    The king, Francis Lionel II, waved his hand grandly.

    "Welcome, guests. Take a seat."

    Duke Braster sat to the right of the king, followed by The Duchess and then Bellavarn. Kly took the seat next to Tristan. Normally, the First Princess would take the following seat by rules of seniority, but Anne took her place since she proved absent.

    Is this normal? They didn''t even try to make an excuse for the First Princess.

    The first course was brought out promptly. Bellavarn remembered his etiquette but felt it was even more tedious after having memories of a life with chicken wings and potato chips.

    Everyone ate in uncomfortable silence for a while. Not being able to speak without the King saying the first words. Before he could, however, the doors opened and a figure walked in.

    The First Princess, Lecil, absently sauntered to her seat. Long, straight black hair unfurled, complimented by a dark navy blue dress covering every inch of skin up to her neck. There was a lot less plush to her outfit compared the the pink of Princess Anne.

    What stood out to Bellavarn was that she was tall. She was probably taller than the king. Maybe around the same height as Bellavarn? The differences between the two princesses were striking.

    When the last addition to dinner was seated, the king spoke.

    "I believe congratulations are in order. Having another child so late is a miracle."

    Trisha and Braster weren''t that old, actually. Braster was just over forty years old, while Trisha hadn''t even hit that benchmark yet. Compared to the King, who still sired children at the age of fifty, the feat wasn''t so dramatic as to be called a miracle."

    Still, mother and father have been trying for nearly two decades to have another.

    "Thank you. It has been difficult, but we are both overjoyed."

    Braster reached over and held Trisha''s hand.

    "It was a joyous occasion when I found out. Not even courtly affairs could dour my mood."

    The king nodded as he cut into his meal. Princess Anne spoke with enthusiasm, letting out emotions she had been holding back thus far.

    "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? I think a little girl with such striking blue eyes would be adorable!"

    First Prince Tristan added to her sister''s comment after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

    "They won''t know for some time. There are a few ways to determine gender before birth, but it is still too early to tell."

    Braster confirmed the prince''s words.

    "That is true. Trisha and I prefer not to know until it arrives."

    The king made a gesture.

    "Another son would be a boon."

    "But father, they already have a son nearly of age. Bellavarn can take over the household in a year. A daughter would be so much better."

    "Don''t be rude, Anne."

    That was Kly. Anne pouted a bit but spoke again.

    "What do you think, Duchess?"

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    "Oh, my. I couldn''t bring myself to guess."

    The Duchess put a hand to her face and smiled, tilting her head. There was an odd superstition that if the mother guessed and it was wrong, they would lose the child. It was baseless, but why tempt fate.

    "Ah, I forget myself. Well then, what are your thoughts Bellavarn?"

    Attention turned all at once. Bellavarn paused in cutting his steak.

    "I would be grateful for either. Mother and Father wanted another for so long that it no longer matters to me which."

    "Oh? Even if it is a boy? You will have competition for the title of Duke."

    None of the royal family seemed overly bothered by her insensitive questions¡ªa privilege of being the youngest and constantly curious. Thats why Anne and the others found it odd when Bellavarn chuckled with a light heart.

    "If my brother decides one day he wishes to lead the household, I will support him the entire way. Even if was a girl, I''d support her wishes. That''s the role of an older sibling, is it not?"

    Braster let himself smile openly while Trisha held in her laughter. They were already blessed to have a good-natured child such as Bellavarn.

    Anne oohed in admiration at his response. Prince Tristan decided to rain on the parade.

    "Succession is a serious matter, no matter the house. A single slip can ruin one''s reputation. Rumors can kill. Like the one I heard recently."

    Everyone paused in eating, the atmosphere becoming chilly. Kly looked straight at Bellavarn with a flat expression. His eyes twinkling.

    "Where a young heir assaulted a maid in his own employ."

    Bellavarn had to control himself to prevent from shaking with emotion.

    "Is that true? I only remember you saying he had amnesia and acted out."

    Anne appeared appalled as she looked to her older brothers. The King looked unamused at gossip being brought up at the dinner table but didn''t stop it either.

    Bellavarn could feel the tenseness in his shoulders, his mother''s silent anger at the events, and his father''s regret at this being brought up. It was clear the three heirs planned this. Nobles, especially high nobles, never bring up topics needlessly. This was meant to demean them and remind the Sallows that their place was below the Lionels and would always remain so.

    Bellavarn reached a hand over to his mother underneath the table. Stabilizing himself and her. It wasn''t about him any longer. This was an attack on the family. Sallows don''t roll over like Lions do.

    "That maid is no longer in our employ after having lied and fabricated evidence. Going as far as to injure herself in her blackmail attempt."

    Tristan looked irritated at Bellavarn''s quick-wittedness and Anne hid a smile. Prince Kly spoke flatly.

    "Why does the maid still live?"

    Curse royals and their sources. Intrigue and gossip nutcases.

    "Lord Bellavarn locked himself away from the public. Is that not proof of guilt?"

    Trisha squeezed Bellavarn''s hand with enough force to crack a knuckle. Bellavarn was determined to stop this before she let her aura loose or her father''s curse acted up. There were times when Bellavarn felt there should be some guilt on his part, even if the reason he hid away was because of a broken heart. Regardless of his feelings, Bellavarn was the son of a Duke. He knew how to play their games.

    "Watch your words, Prince, you speak of matters you do not understand."

    Anne gasped aloud at Bellavarn''s audacity. Tristan seemed like he wanted to lurch across the table, but maybe it was Kly''s unconcerned facade that kept him back. The only saving grace was that the first princess seemed uninterested. Glancing briefly in her direction, his eyes threatened to widen. Managing to reign himself in, no one saw his surprise. He continued seamlessly.

    "The maid was given severance pay and escorted away as she was no longer wanted on our lands. As to myself, I spent time growing the family library and researching magic theory and engineering. I was thinking; there are ways to upgrade several magical tools the Kingdom uses. That includes our standardized weapons."

    The king raised an intrigued eyebrow. Even his parents were unsuspecting. He wanted to wink at them.

    "Is that so?"

    Success.

    With the king interested, the others were forced to accept Bellavarn''s previous words.

    "Yes, your Majesty. Improving upon standard-issue magical weapons is a tall order, but I believe there are subtle ways to increase magic efficiency."

    Tristan glared at him with open hostility. It took all of Bellavarn''s willpower not to laugh in his face.

    King Francis tapped a finger on the table.

    "Tell me more."

    =

    The rest of dinner consisted of Bellavarn chatting some of the mildly promising ideas he had, saving the best ones only in case of emergency. All his plans were conceptual and most of them not even plausible; however, the king was very intrigued by the possibilities. And the Crown would support any ideas once they were concrete and actionable.

    After that, the discussion turned to more benign topics. The latest trends and pains of governance.

    Dinner concluded on an uneventful note. The King was the first to leave. Rooms were prepared for the Sallows to spend the night before returning home. As everyone else left the dining hall, Bellavarn took a moment to approach the first princess.

    "Princess Lecil."

    Lecil stopped as stopped her ghostly saunter and half-turned. Bellavarn caught up and bowed slightly, introducing himself.

    "We haven''t had the chance to speak yet. I wanted to introduce myself formally. I am Bellavarn Sallow, son to Duke Braster Sallow."

    The Princess'' gaze was blank, though, it was different from Prince Kly''s. He seemed to hold back his feelings and emotions. Princess Lecil... it was like there was nothing behind her eyes.

    She bobbed her head lightly.

    "Nice to meet you. Then..."

    Bellavarn took a chance and grabbed her wrist before she walked away. She paused and turned back to look at him. Quickly, he let go.

    "Apologies, princess, but..."

    He hesitated a moment. He only had a second to see it during dinner, but he recognized it for what it was.

    If he was wrong, it was a great insult.

    If he was right, the implications were enormous.

    Bellavarn spent the latter half of dinner thinking of how to bring this up. There were no right words. So Bellavarn spoke from his heart.

    "Please don''t hurt yourself."

    Something surfaced in her eyes.

    It drowned just as quickly.

    The princess turned away. She traveled down the dark hallways like a specter vanishing into the night.

    =

    "Mother, where are Henry and Kerv?"

    Bellavarn pulled aside his mother as they walked.

    "They should be guarding our rooms. Why do you ask, sweetie?"

    "Mother, stop. Did you happen to see the First Princess?"

    "See what?"

    His mother gave him a faux look as they walked arm in arm. Bellavarn was pulling to get away from the overt affection, but the Duchess had a killer grip.

    "I have a suspicion. No, a certainty. Can I ask for your help?"

    "Of course you can. Anything you need."

    Bellavarn glanced back over his shoulder, his efforts to escape futile.

    "For starters, could you please let me go."

 The Palace (3)

    "Is everything ready?"

    Kerv entered Bellavarn''s guest room and shut the door behind him. He eyed the needlesly lavish and impractical furniture. Kerv sighed.

    "Yeah. Yeah, Henry tried throwing a hissy fit but I gave him a good whack."

    Bellavarn eyed him suspiciously.

    "Are you sure it wasn''t you who threw a ''hissy fit''?"

    "Of course. I''m much more dignified and respectable than old Henry."

    Henry''s only 26.

    Bellavarn pinched the bridge of his nose.

    "Kerv. Listen. This is no laughing matter. I need you focused. Can I count on you?"

    He looked hurt by the insinuation of otherwise. Quickly though, he became humorless.

    "I trust you, Bell. I only worry."

    It was Kerv''s job to worry. If they got caught, the trouble they''d be in would be catastrophic. But that wouldn''t happen.

    "Let''s get started "

    =

    Bellavarn tugged at his collar. It was still stifling.

    The tall stained-glass windows exuded colorful light while casting the rest of the castle in darkness. Bellavarn moved quickly through the palace while trailing behind Kerv, taking several turns and passing through unoccupied or unused rooms. The few Royal Guards posted inside the palace were all conveniently distracted by Duke Braster''s curse acting up and the pregnant Trisha''s incessant ''worrying''.

    Even with a distraction that is sure to be recorded in history books, Bellavarn sweated nervously. The idea of being caught terrified him, but something indescribable propelled his steps forward. Miraculously, no one blocked their path.

    Still, it felt too quiet. It shouldn''t be going so well. Someone had to suspect something. Shouldn''t more Royal Guards be running down the corridors at this very moment?

    "Almost there."

    Kerv whispered for Bellavarn''s benefit. It still made his heart beat faster. He hated this.

    There was a purpose. A reason. A girl. A princess and a horrible suspicion.

    If they were caught, he would likely be killed.

    If he was wrong, he would be grateful.

    If Bellavarn was right, things would only become more troublesome.

    A quiet girl sitting at a dinner table. Ignored by all. A simple movement. Hiking up the sleeves of her dress. A glimpse of bruised skin.

    Even during dinner, when one should roll up their sleeves or be sleeveless, Princess Lecil covered her skin entirely.

    Everything.

    She even wore dark gloves as she ate.

    The signs were blaring sirens to those who knew. Bellavarn, more than anyone, should recognize them.

    "It''s up ahead."

    Bellavarn collected himself. Down the hall were a pair of double doors leading to a bedroom.

    Princess Lecil''s bedroom.

    "Watch out for others."

    Kerv nodded, more serious than he''s ever been. Bellavarn tugged at his itchy collar another time. Finally, he just undid it entirely. Taking a deep breath, Bellavarn continued forward towards the doors.

    There was no plan on how to speak with the Princess again. He just...

    There was a soft ticking as the clocks in the palace echoed down empty corridors. The darkness closed in. Shadows wrapped and writhed. Colored light faded as clouds glided in the sky overhead.

    Standing in front of the doors, Bellavarn''s heart jumped. One of the doors was ajar. Nervously, he called out softly.

    "Princess?"

    The ticking of palace clocks was his only answer. Resolving himself, he pushed the ajar door inward.

    Looking inside, the room suddenly became illuminated by white moonlight.

    Bellavarn''s heart dropped.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Every clock in the palace chimed midnight. They sang their mournful melodies and spoke their prayers as they became the only noise.

    Bedsheets. Chandelier. Princess.

    "Princess!"

    The shout was covered by a song of time¡ªa second chime.

    Bellavarn rushed in, running to the princess. He grabbed her suspended legs and lifted.

    "Kerv! Get in here."

    Kerv was a step behind and just rounded the corner. He momentarily froze at the sight.

    "Hurry and cut the rope"

    Kerv sprinted to the bedpost. The anchor. Taking a sword out of his sheath, he cut¡ªa third chime.

    The princess fell on top of Bellavarn. They crashed to the ground. Lecil''s long black hair fell limply over them both.

    Rolling over, he placed the princess on her back. Colorless skin. Unmoving.

    As he rolled up one of her sleeves, he placed the bruises and faint scar in the back of his mind as he checked her wrist.

    No pulse.

    No breathing.

    A fourth chime.

    "Master, she is gone. We need to leave."

    Kerv was uncharacteristically demanding. He appeared much less carefree and more like someone calculating escape routes.

    "Not yet. Go guard the door."

    "Bell, we need to leave. Now."

    "No. I can still save her."

    "Master-"

    "Two minutes. Give me two minutes."

    Bellavarn didn''t have time to look at him; he was trying to recall training from another life entirely. Kerv looked like he wanted to curse him out but obediently went over to the door. A fifth chime.

    "Chest compressions. 15? Or was it 30? Screw it."

    Forgetting the number, he simply started on her heart. Placing his hands together near her navel, his arms aligned straight with his shoulders, he pressed down.

    Settling for 15 initial chest compressions, Bellavarn adjusted her head and pinched her nose to perform rescue breaths.

    An echoing sixth chime.

    "Bell. What are you doing?"

    Bellavarn felt something wrong. Her chest wasn''t rising with the breaths.

    "Does she have a corset?"

    Cursing old fashion, he called over Kerv.

    "Cut her corset. Quickly! She can''t breathe this way."

    Kerv strode over and complied. With an accurate swipe, the center of her dress was cut and the corset fell apart with a sharp snap. A seventh chime followed.

    A small clock on the dresser nearby played a happy tune while the rest of the palace''s clocks continued singing.

    Continuing chest compressions, he felt less resistance. Thirty chest compressions. Two rescue breaths. Chest compressions. Did the breaths even matter if her heart wasn''t working!

    The eighth chime.

    A ninth.

    Bellavarn continued, ignoring the laughing clocks. He wouldn''t give up.

    A raucous tenth chime.

    It wasn''t working. Was it too late? How long had she been hanging there?

    Thoughts of police being called to answer the complaint of a rotting smell from an apartment next door. A note with only a few words. His body swaying from a piece of rope.

    No. He wouldn''t let it end here. Bellavarn had no one at that time.

    Eleven.

    Did she have anyone else? Would she want to be saved? Would Bellavarn have wanted to be saved?

    Yes!

    Of course, he did. To be stopped at the last moment. To have someone care enough. To be noticed. To live. Give him nothing but a stick and he would go out into the cruel world and fight alone.

    Chest compressions.

    Bellavarn had to believe.

    Rescue breaths.

    His life wasn''t a tragedy.

    He could save her.

    Even if no one saved him.

    Chest compressions.

    "LIVE!"

    ...

    Twelve

    ...

    Chiming.

    ...

    ..

    Fading sound.

    ...

    ..

    .

    Sweat falling onto cold skin.

    ...

    ..

    .

    Silence

    .

    .

    .

    ..

    ..

    ...

    A shuddering breath.

    ...life.

    =

    "Kerv, get rid of the rope."

    Bellavarn picked up a breathing form. Pulse beating.

    Kerv was stunned a moment before he complied, untying the torn rope from the bedpost and bundling up all the loose cloth.

    Lecil was unconscious, and her dress was ruined. Still, she lived. That was what mattered.

    "Is there any other evidence we were here? That this happened?"

    Kerv shook his head but realized Bellavarn wasn''t looking.

    "No."

    "Good. We need to leave."

    Bellavarn gently placed Lecil on the bed and tucked her in. If she woke up, she could hide the damaged clothes herself. If she was being abused... it was unlikely others would care enough to ask. Or they would simply hit her again.

    Kerv noted Bellavarn''s indignant emotions but was presently concerned with the miracle he witnessed. Without magic, young master Bellavarn breathed life into something already dead. It was not a fact anyone should know.

    "It seems she''s breathing. Will she be alright if we leave?"

    Bellavarn was unaware of Kerv''s determination and true concerns. He answered perfunctorily.

    "She has to be. We can''t stay. A sore chest is unavoidable, and she will probably be confused, but she will live. If word spread that she tried to kill herself, or that we were in her personal chambers..."

    Kerv didn''t need it explained. He simply nodded.

    "Make sure the coast is clear."

    Bellavarn cast a last glance at the sleeping form of Lecil. She was breathing softly now. Her skin was pale even under all the makeup. Even so, the demure rising of her chest made him smile.

    She was breathing. She was alive!

    "Bell."

    "Right. Lets go."

    Bellavarn hurried out, closing the door behind him.

    The silence deafening.

    A shadow watched them retreat.

    =

    The next day was normal. Bellavarn and company left without so much as a goodbye.

    An incident report was made about Duke Sallow getting trapped underneath a chandelier while a nearby fish tank spontaneously exploded. A sudden and bizarre lightning strike broke through the palace roof and struck the spreading liquid. Luckily the Duke was pulled to safety before being electrocuted. The small fire afterward was only an endnote.

    No one stopped them or thought it was strange how mother seemingly fainted twice in quick succession. No one noticed Henry turning everyone in the opposite direction of the princess''s quarters or Kerv''s mysterious absence.

    Bellavarn climbed into the carriage after his parents. The vehicle rolled away without any difficulty.

    Bellavarn shivered.

    A single maid watched from a palace window.

 Awake

    Lecil woke up with a cough. An aching chest and a sore throat.

    She felt like she got run over and then fell off a cliff. Groaning, she clutched at her chest. An expression of pain subtly changed into one of concern and confusion as she threw off the covers and saw her torn dress.

    "What-"

    It came out as a wheeze. She ran a hand through her tangled hair. It flowed through her fingers as she examined it.

    Furthermore, as she looked around the room her gaze became more clear. Her hands shook as she remembered. Jumping off the bed, stumbling, Lecil ran over to her dresser.

    In the mirror was her reflection¡ªa raven-haired beauty with fair, pale skin. Bedhead, still wearing makeup. Her lipstick smudged a bit. A horrid black bruise ringed her neck.

    Her breathing quickened as more memories came back in a cascade.

    "No."

    She looked into her dark eyes with specks of purple color.

    "No, no, no."

    She clutched at her hair.

    "No! Please..."

    Slamming her hands on the dresser, she couldn''t bring herself to look back up. Tears threatened her. They won out and started to fall on the polished wood. Her voice squeaked.

    "I didn''t ask for this."

    Her knees fell under herself as she remembered dying.

    Dying from a rope around her neck.

    "Why am I alive?"

    Dying in an accident after saving a child.

    "Why am I here?"

    She clutched at her chest, trying to wrinkle the torn dress but unable to find enough thread. She cried to herself.

    "Is my life just a game to you? What was it worth? Just a game. I''m just a character in an accursed video game?"

    Pinching herself, Lecil winced as she felt the pain. Rolling up her sleeves, she saw the bruises and the horizontal slashes at her wrists.

    "You made me do this? To myself? You made my life a living hell. Every. Single. Day. For what! For background? To create a pitiful character in your stupid romance game?"

    Celia, a normal girl from earth, spoke to her reflection.

    "No one knew. We all played without knowing. I didn''t know. I swear. I didn''t. This shouldn''t be real. This can''t be happening. I died! I remember."

    "I died too. I hung myself. All for your stupid game."

    "What a cliche. Goddamn Truck. Now, I''m stuck in this trashy game."

    Lecil and Celia overlapped and mixed and blurred. Neither could tell where one started and the other began. The knowledge of a different world burdened Lecil. Her entire life was the plot of a romance game with nothing but bad endings and death.

    Her brothers, the princes, blamed her for their mother''s death. Her sister, the spoiled one, wasn''t any better behind her childish charade. The King didn''t even seem to care. No one in the palace respected Lecil and treated her like garbage. The Ghost Princess,

    The memory of a caring father and mother who sent Cecil off to college. Studying hard for exams. Laughing with friends. Chatting about games. It wasn''t perfect, but it was her life, dammit!

    A blessed life and a cursed one.

    Chained to fate.

    *Knock-Knock*

    "Princess?"

    "OUT!"

    The door slammed shut with a yelp as a chair impacted the sturdy frame. Seething, shadows wrapped around her as she stared into her reflection. In a monumental moment of shared conviction, Lecil Lionel, and Celia Sprite, spat the same curse.

    "Screw your stupid game."

    =

    Lecil changed out of the torn clothes and hid them. She dressed herself in nightclothes before she allowed anyone else to enter. It didn''t matter anyway. The bruises along her arms and her neck were still visible. It could never have gone unnoticed in the royal palace.

    The maid that entered brought breakfast.

    Lecil didn''t even look her way.

    "Leave it."

    "Yes, princess."

    Whoever she was, she was smart enough to obey the order. The maid left without another word, waiting just beyond the door for when she was needed.

    Lecil took a pen and grabbed some paper, jotting down a few notes.

    According to Celia''s memories, she was in a game.

    A romance game simply titled "Renegade."

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The game was targeted towards a female audience, but also attracted challenge seekers and hardcore gamers. It was notorious for being unbeatable. The main character was Lecil: A princess who was secretly born to a mother other than the queen. Only the royal family were aware. Everyone else had been silenced.

    The objective of the game was to reach a happy ending by whatever means possible. It was a multiple-choice game but also had options for roaming and time-sensitive events or quests.

    The crux of the matter was that Lecil was irrationally detested by everyone.

    The day before the game starts, Lecil is verbally abused by her two-faced sister. Her brothers were chiding and cold, pushing her around. The King ignored the bruises and abuse, choosing to erase her existence entirely. The night before, Lecil tries to kill herself but is stopped by the young duke Sallow. Instead of letting her die, he let her live after assaulting her.

    The entire game was filled with pit traps, spanning years of time.

    Except no one ever got past a few months. And now, I have to live every single day of it.

    Lecil was in constant danger. Bad Endings were around every corner and came in all varieties.

    Poisoned by the staff. Being tripped down the stairs. An accidental stabbing. Assassination. Magical explosions. Drowning. She was executed if she made any noise or acted out in any way.

    Oh, and Lecil somehow had to save the kingdom from civil war and being butchered along with her entire family.

    A total shit game.

    "Seriously. Fuck this game."

    Why did Celia even play it? To torture herself? She never even got past the beginning stages.

    The only way to save herself was to romance one or more of the main characters. There was a neutral path without romancing anyone, but not a single player ever managed a romance ending, let alone a family ending that was nine times harder.

    Ideals aside, her three main options were the young dukes.

    Duke Raiden, the gallant war hero.

    Duke Astor, the diplomat and merchant.

    And Duke Sallow, the absolute villain.

    =

    Irene is a maid. Currenlty the First Princess'' attendant.

    It wasn''t an overly demanding job and the pay was plenty. The only thing she disliked was having to serve someone who wasn''t even a true member of the royal family. It was taboo to speak of, but many of them were choosing sides among the successors and the best way to align yourself into their camp was to have an interaction with the Ghost Princess.

    For example: Serving stale bread or cold soup, placing salt in her tea, prolonging the time it took to get dressed, delaying her so that she was late for dinner, etc.

    Small deeds were always noticed, and anything more was not their place.

    Irene bowed to the Prince Tristan. He didn''t even glance at her as he entered the princess''s quarters without knocking.

    =

    "Get out-"

    The words got caught in her throat. Bewildered by her inability to speak, she noticed it was Tristan who entered unannounced. Lecil wasn''t even dressed properly, yet he barged in without knocking.

    The prince stood in her room, arms crossed, face practically screaming of ill intent. He was already dressed elegantly by now and his hair was immaculate. For how attractive he should have been, it was all ruined by his scornful face.

    Lecil noticed a floating icon above his head; squinting her eyes a bit, she read.

    -5%

    Why is it negative? Trash game; how is that fair!

    But there it was. It was already considered an unavoidable death scenario by encountering anyone with a 0% likeability.

    Luckily, since this was the beginning of the game and the first choice, Lecil knew the path to survival.

    "Why were you late for dinner? None of us could speak until you arrived!"

    Lecil stayed quiet, staring down her eldest brother. A ugly scowl threatened to appear. Part of the early game mechanics rendered her unable to speak in front of significant characters. Her only choice was to wait for a dialogue prompt and choose one of the programmed actions.

    "Do you have an answer, or do I have to pry it out?"

    One of his hands moved to grip the rapier at his waist. Heavens knew how he got away with slaying his sister over something so trivial, but he would do it regardless. The game would reset with her death, so anyone who killed her would never suffer the consequences.

    Her first dialogue choices appeared. The wrong one would kill her.

    [1. I am sorry, brother]

    [2. How dare you speak to me like that!]

    [3. I was trying to cover all the bruises.]

    Lecil wanted to roll her eyes and curse the inane choices. Still, every player knew the correct answer. When she picked it, it flowed out of her unbidden.

    "I was trying to cover all the bruises."

    Lecil tilted her head up. An offering to his sword. A dark bruise snaked around her neck.

    One Hail Mary wasn''t enough to dodge a -5% affection score, because a second prompt showed up immediately.

    [1. Do you not notice what you did to me?]

    [2. It would have brought shame to the family.]

    [3. Forgive me.]

    "It would have brought shame to the family."

    Irene, the maid peeking in, widened her eyes in surprise. Tristan''s only narrowed.

    "You didn''t have that last night, only the bruises on your arms."

    He would know. One of them fit his hand.

    [1. What is one more bruise among many, brother?]

    [2. I am good at hiding things.]

    [3. Picking a suitably dark dress took time.]

    This one was trickier. Celia''s first run through the game, she chose the second option thinking that her brother would appreciate that she was able and willing to hide his malicious deeds. Instead, he took it at face value and said something along the lines of "How can I trust a sister who lies".

    Total bull, ask anyone. The game developers didn''t make it logical as much as they made it difficult to survive.

    "Picking a suitably dark dress took time."

    The only reason this option was the correct answer was because of the maid''s presence. Tristan turned to Irene, who stood on the doorway''s precipice.

    "The maid didn''t help you?"

    He moved over to the cart where the "food" lay untouched¡ªa piece of stale, discolored bread and a plate of soup that was actually just dirty water.

    "You aren''t even grateful enough to eat what is given to you."

    With a casual wave of his hands, the cart tipped over. Liquid spilled on the floor and the stale bread tumbled near her feet. The maid yelped at the commotion.

    Lecil gritted her teeth and tilted her head down so Tristan couldn''t see her murderous eyes and use it as an excuse to gut her.

    What did I do to deserve this sort of treatment? What possessed Tristan to torment me? How could someone treat a human being like this?

    Tristan was unmoving. A response was required. A new window popped up with three choices. Lecil''s red-hot anger left her as a bone-chilling ire suffused her soul.

    After this... I''ll spite you with my entire being.

    Lecil clenched her fists and Tristan smiled openly, assured she would attack. But she didn''t. Instead, she knelt on the floor. Some liquid soaking into her pants. Picking up the bread, she gingerly dipped it in a bit of pooling soup to make it softer before taking a bite.

    It was cold and rock-hard despite the foul water. The bread cut at her mouth and it took multiple crunches to break the hard dough. The ''soup'' only served to make it taste like a dirty rag.

    "Princess!"

    The maid called out. Irene couldn''t fathom royalty eating off the floor. Neither could Tristan.

    Arms shaking with rage, he bellowed.

    "Do you have no shame! Eating scraps off the floor like a beggar?"

    Choices didn''t matter. Damned if she did. Damned if she didn''t. Lecil would take any option that made Tristan grind his teeth,

    Outwardly, Lecil was pitiful as she kept her gaze downward, dipping the bread in another puddle of soup.

    "Enough!"

    The bread was slapped away, bouncing of the wall and tumbling behind the dresser. Tristan couldn''t bear to look at her any longer, addressing the aid as he stormed out.

    "Cean up this mess and prepare some real food."

    "Yes, Prince!"

    He''s just going to walk away? After all that? What was the point? You''re just a piece of script with no substance. Abusing an innocent girl who never did wrong.

    The small number above his head flickered.

    -3%

    Hahahaha! That''s it? That''s all! Two percent and it is still negative. You will still kill me the next time you see me. What a shit game.

    The maid reached for a shattered plate but recoiled when she saw the princess''s gaze.

    Lecil''s face was wreathed in darkness. The whites of wide-open eyes were clearly visible. Pupils piercing, dialed in on a target of unfathomable wrath. Full of fury. A purple fire raged. Life burned bright behind those black eyes.

    There would be a reckoning.

 Staff (1)

    The ride back to the Sallow Mansion was filled with trailing words and nervous coughs. Kerv was forced to sit inside since Bellavarn''s parents were demanding answers. They were the distraction, after all. Trisha probably understood a bit more since the Braster simply followed along begrudgingly after insistent prodding. Still, neither of them could have guessed what truly happened.

    The princess hanging herself. Dying. Then being brought back to life. No one should know the truth. For Kerv to leak such information to the Duke and Duchess would be tantamount to tying the noose himself. Bellavarn also firmly held his tongue.

    It wasn''t in Trisha''s personality to leave potentially dangerous information unattended, especially after recent incidents. She wanted to pry open those locked secrets. Preferably using brute force.

    "Can one of you explain to me what happened?"

    Kerv continued his polite refusal while Bellavarn continued staring blankly out the window.

    The safety of the enchanted carriage and the involvement of her son made Trisha bolder than usual.

    "At least inform me if this will come back and haunt us."

    Bellavarn, for his part, didn''t even bat an eyelid. This action and his following words only amplified Trisha''s misunderstanding.

    "I think I made a mistake."

    Did he appear desperate? Too sincere? My sweet boy deserves the best, even a princess.

    Trisha''s talk with Anne Lionel showed that the Second Princess had a troubling side, but Princess Lecil was a different matter. She was very respectful at dinner and didn''t harass Bellavarn like the others.

    "No mistake is irrecoverable, Bellavarn. These things should proceed slowly. It might have been a bit hasty to approach her so suddenly. This is also my fault for pushing you to find someone. I promise, from now on I''ll assist you in whatever choice you-"

    "I''ve been foolish."

    Trisha clucked her tongue and awwed as she tried to pinch Bellavarn''s cheeks. He slapped her hand away out of reflex.

    "I meant I should get to know the staff at home rather than avoiding them."

    After a few seconds, a thin-lipped smile spread across Trisha''s face. Her gaze was beaming with parental pride.

    Ah. Being rejected again has opened his eyes.

    Braster cleared his throat awkwardly and gave his wife the side-eye.

    Aren''t you misunderstanding things even more than me?

    The worries of a mother trying to marry off her son were unfounded at this moment. Bellavarn was thinking of other things¡ªthe root of the problem and the cause for the events at dinner. If rumors continued to spread without his intervention, everything would turn out as he feared. The staff at home were the first obstacle. No doubt some of them still believed he was evil¡ªthe newer ones more than most.

    Braster decided not to withhold the truth.

    "Even I''ve overheard the gossip circling among the maids.."

    Bellavarn looked away from the window and at his father. Taking in the words objectively, he accepted them. If he were to start righting wrongs, at the very least, he needed to get the people closest to him on his side.

    "Can I have your permission to gather all non-essential staff at home? I want to make an announcement."

    Braster''s mouth twitched. He approved immediately.

    "I will summon them myself."

    "Thank you, father."

    Bellavarn rested an elbow on the window sill and went back to plotting, oblivious to the not-so-subtle exchange of motions and gestures between his parents.

    Meanwhile, Kerv held his breath and tried to fade into the cushions.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    =

    "Hey, psst. Do you know what is going on?"

    A slim server rushed to walk next to a pair of passing maids.

    "Only that the Duke returned from the palace and now wants us all in the entrance hall."

    The taller of the two answered back in a flat tone.

    "It''s probably related to the Duchess'' pregnancy."

    The server jumped in surprise, not having heard yet. The shorter maid snapped at him in a stage whisper.

    "You seriously haven''t heard? Where have you been the past week?

    "Sorry, sorry. I haven''t heard. I was more worried I''d be fired. I dropped a platter last week so I thought that maybe this was delayed punishment."

    The shorter maid rolled her entire head.

    "Do you really think the Duke is going to fire everyone? If it''s not the Duchess, it most likely has something to do with the Bellavarn."

    "Young Master Bellavarn?"

    "Does he have another son?"

    The maid was in a foul mood.

    "He probably acted out at the palace or offended one of the princesses."

    "Hm."

    The taller maid seemed used to the shorter one''s outlandish way of speaking. The server appeared flummoxed. Was this about that rumor the young master assaulted a maid?

    "Wasn''t it the maid that was blackmailing the Duke and trying to sully the young master''s reputation?"

    The shorter maid sneered at him.

    "Melody wasn''t lying. You can''t fake something like that. She worked here for six months and was a picture-perfect maid."

    "Ester''s standards are different since she doesn''t like working."

    The server was confused. Wasn''t this Melody character playing an image? Well. Mentioning that might earn him a smack. The maids seemed to take the event personally.

    Better not poke the beast.

    Ester''s head turned sharply to glare at him as if she heard his thoughts. He ducked his head and moved away quickly.

    The Entrance hall was brimming with people. Some milled around and shared hushed whispers, but everything halted when Duke Braster Sallow appeared. He stood atop the landing, overlooking them from the bannister. Without instruction, the staff formed neat-ish rows as they waited for stragglers the staff to gather.

    Just over 50 people were present. Half were maids who kept the house clean and ran errands. There were a few gardeners and groundskeepers. Cooks and chefs. A pair of carriage drivers. Servers, a busboy, a stable hand, etc.

    The guards weren''t counted in that number. Those available, including Karen and Torel from the night shift, assembled near the perimeter.

    Other than a few like Oslo, Kerv, and Henry, all of the Sallows staff, guards, and soldiers remained at the Sallow Estate. In the need of temporary employees, The Duchess held interviews and handpicked anyone who showed a modicum of promise. With the right amount of attention and nurturing, anyone here could become a valuable asset in their own way. With the promise of being brought to the main house if they performed well, many were happy to serve.

    Without going into too much detail, the Sallows owned most of the North-Eastern Region of the Kingdom, informally called Winterland for it''s constant snow. They ruled it in the name of the King, but it was largely managed and owned by the Sallows. Their family developed the harsh yet beautiful land into a hub of trade, tourist destination, and military stronghold. The mansion was technically on the edge of that land but was considered an extension of the capital, so it remained a bittersweet locale.

    The Sallows have been staying at this mansion for over half a year now, so everyone held the secret hope that the announcement would concern their return to the North. The Duchess with child, after all.

    The front doors swung open theatrically. Bellavarn strode in as if it was planned. Feet shuffled to turn and stare at Bellavarn as the doors shut themselves with a poignant thud. A moment of silence fell over the hall as the crowd processed it was Bellavarn who called them to assemble.

    "It has come to my attention that rumors about me have gone unaddressed."

    A few exchanged glances and some looked uncertain at this change of developments.

    "I realize this uncomfortable atmosphere you are standing in is due to my own choices. Looking at you all now, I can tell some of you see me differently than you did previously. "

    A few looked ashamed while some others stared at him openly. Bellavarn''s steady gaze swept over the crowd, pausing at each clearly visible face. It bothered him greatly how few he recognized. With all his memories, shouldn''t some of them be recognizable?

    "I can see there are many new faces and even old ones that I don''t know the names of. Through my actions of locking myself away, I have ostracized not only myself... but all of you as well. Regardless of what you currently think of me, I wish to apologize."

    There was a silent stir as Bellavarn bowed at the waist. A noble bowing to servants? To a stablehand and busboy?

    He remained bowed a second longer before straightening.

    "I hope to correct my mistakes and get to know each of you a bit more personally over time. I request that you all keep an open mind and attempt to work with me going forward."

    A sneeze.

    "That is all I wished to say. You can all go back to work."

    Bellavarn turned around and walked back outside.

    The spell broke and people moved, erupting in gossip.

    =

    Bellavarn shivered. He regretted not planning his exit strategy. There was no way he could walk back inside now. He would have to walk around back... pretend he went for a jog. Yeah, that would work.

    The snow crackled underfoot as he took a step to the left. The large mansion door creaked open.

    "I give you a 7/10."

    Rubbing his nose, he turned to see Kerv holding a door ajar.

    "I thought I did pretty good."

    He sniffled.

    "I noticed your nose was runny during your little speech. How long were you waiting out here?"

    Kerv received a jab to the shoulder as Bellavarn walked past him.

    "They''re all gone... right?"

    Kerv whispered.

    "Nope. They are all standing there staring at the door."

    Bellavarn pivoted on a heel to walk back out, but a laughing Kerv caught his collar.

    "I''m just pulling your chain. Everyone left a few minutes ago."

    A scowl and another punch was his reward.

    "Jerk."

 Staff (2)

    A warm cup of tea helped Bellavarn calm his nerves. It had entirely too much sugar and could cause heart palpitations, but it felt right. Maybe the craving was leftover from eating too many chocolate bars and late nights baking chocolate chip cookies. Unfortunately, chocolate was hard to come by in this region and most people hoarded the delicacy.

    I''m a Duke''s son. I''m sure I can get my hands on some.

    A knock at the door prompted Bellavarn to set down his tea and separate himself from his idle musing.

    "Come in."

    They didn''t need to knock since the library was now an open setting. When he first took over the library he kept the doors closed to avoid interacting with anybody, but he decided to prop them open and keep it that way until he had an anxiety attack.

    A woman walked in and closed the door behind her. The action irked Bellavarn, but he guessed it was fine if someone else chose to do it.

    The older woman had coffee-colored skin and was around his mother''s age. Her professional attire resembled Oslo''s rather than that of a maid. Her gait was completely confident and without flaw. Her actions somehow overtook him, as Bellavarn found himself pulling out a chair for her. He liked to think he would have done that anyway, but this woman seemed to command it somehow.

    "Take a seat. Please."

    The middle-aged maid sat down with a small nod of her head. Bellavarn felt the air turn a bit thicker than was comfortable but pushed through it anyway. Moving back around his desk, he started the conversation with what he knew

    "You''re my mother''s personal maid, right? Weren''t you with us before we came to the capital?"

    "My name is Parcy, young lord. And you are correct. I tend to the Duchess, among other managerial matters like Oslo."

    Her voice was silky. Bellavarn thought he heard an accent, but it was too subtle to point out.

    "I''m sorry, I feel terrible about not recalling you, madam Parcy. I must still be missing some important memories."

    "Not necessarily. You have seen me often but we never spoke like this before. You had others like Oslo to take care of you."

    Bellavarn nodded in thought. He could remember faces from the main house and even the name of his nanny, but he didn''t have many overpowering memories of Parcy. The fact that she traveled with the family to the capital and the Duchess personally trusts her means Parcy is as trustworthy as they come.

    "Can I ask a favor?"

    "You''ve called me here, so I assumed as much, young master."

    Bellavarn smirked.

    Now I know for sure that she is teasing me.

    "Will you call me Bellavarn?"

    He looked off to the side. The Bellavarn of Earth hated when people mispronounced his name, but he disliked being addressed as "young master" even more. It was like he was a doctor without the prerequisites. People called him "young lord" or "young master" simply because he was the Duke''s son. It felt unearned and stifling.

    It was tradition, but hopefully, some would convert.

    "Yes, master Bellavarn."

    ...most wouldn''t. His Sallow blood told him that it was against proper procedure, but those memories also told Bellavarn that this was an easy way to show his sincerity.

    Parcy chose to follow tradition. She seemed like a stickler for it, but her tone was incredibly courteous. So, with formalities through, Bellavarn dived into the true meaning he called Parcy, and would be calling each of the staff from here on, one by one.

    "Parcy, please forgive me for neglecting my surroundings until now. More than the others, I should have gotten to know you earlier. Do you think we can start to make up for lost time?

    Bellavarn teased.

    Her posture was rigid as she sat on the edge of the chair. He searched for a glimpse of humor or rebellion, but Parcy gave away nothing.

    "If you wish to know my duties, you can consider me as Oslo''s counterpart, master Bellavarn. I work around the Duchess and make sure operations runs smoothly."

    Bellavarn picked apart each of her words and realized how forthcoming she actually was. Every fragment of her words consisted of a landmine that would surely serve as fuel to tease him, so he smartly change the topic.

    "So you were the one who helped keep my sibling secret?"

    For the first time in years, Parcy smirked in the presence of someone other than the Duchess.

    "That''s correct. I was the first to point out your mother''s condition."

    Ooh. I like her.

    Bellavarn chuckled openly.

    "I was ecstatic when I heard the news myself. It must have been difficult keeping it a secret for so long."

    Parcy straightened a crease on her uniform while she thought.

    "The Duchess... was upset at the distance that has grown between the master Bellavarn and herself."

    His mother was as sincere as she was beautiful. The Duchess has a temper when she doesn''t get her way, but she always seems to know best. As mothers do. The distance that grew between them as Bellavarn aged was not lost on him. Before the memory loss, he didn''t enjoy being fussed over or coddled. When he found a passion for the arts, his parents hired enough tutors to make him go insane. So he started hiding his work. When that failed, he searched for something that he could learn without parental intervention.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    That was how he taught himself to play the piano. Only one person knew, a maid he couldn''t quite remember. Fortunately that mystery woman kept his secret; His mother would have immediately put together a regal recital so she could show off her son.

    And then there was the matchmaking. Bellavarn wanted nothing of it. A significant other being introduced through his mother? What was more embarrassing?

    Wait... why is it embarrassing?

    Now that he thought about it, how else do you meet people? Through curricular activities, going to events, parties... why did it matter how he was introduced to someone. Would he even talk to any of those people normally? If his mother could sift through all the bad apples, wouldn''t that be a boon?

    He would let his mother have her moments. It showed she cared in her own way. Besides, Bellavarn didn''t choose very well the first time.

    I reserve the right to veto any of her picks, though.

    Realizing he still had company, Bellavarn collected himself. Taking a moment to stand and saunter over to a bookshelf filled with tomes about magical theory, Bellavarn plucked a random book off the shelf.

    "It is true that I''ve been acting childish. Even if she can be overbearing, I couldn''t ask for a better mother. She is the only one I have."

    Parcy wore a subtle, approving smile. The second of the day. A new record.

    "The Duchess will be delighted to hear that."

    Bellavarn ignored those foreboding words while turning the tome over in his hands; he checked the spine. It was clearly an older book that had many different owners in the past. He idly wondered if repair was possible or if it would need to be copied.

    "The strangest thing happened after my amnesia. I haven''t had the chance to fully appreciate or understand the ramifications yet... but I would ask your assistance in confirming something."

    He spoke with newfound excitement.

    Parcy was in a good mood, so she gladly accepted.

    "How may I be of service?"

    Walking back over, he handed the tome to Parcy, who accepted the object with care.

    "This is a book on magical theory titled Basic Theoretics Volume II. I would ask that you open the book to a random page and read the first ten words."

    Parcy looked at the thick tome and guesstimated the page count was around 250. It was remarkably thick for a textbook. Complying with the strange request, she softly separated the pages and looked to the first line that stuck out. She read...

    "The magical backlash from a falsely infused spell formation will be..."

    Reiss spoke instantly.

    "...equal to four times the amount of mana imputed."

    Parcy nodded. His memory was good.

    "Try a different page, start somewhere in the middle of a sentence."

    Was he going to try to recite it from memory again? Parcy did as she was told, flipping to one of the later pages. She read.

    "... often causes an adverse effect when there is an abnormal..."

    Bellavarn tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

    "A combination of opposing elements often causes an adverse effect when there is an abnormal amount of mana backing only one element."

    Parcy wanted to raise her eyebrows. That was quite the feat. She saw Bellavarn''s lips turn upward as he raised a finger.

    "One more. Choose a different page, but use only five words this time."

    Again, Parcy complied with faint amusement and interest. Searching for something more difficult, she chose a place near the beginning of the tome. She ignored an old tea stain and read through the discolored parchment.

    "...lost. It can only be..."

    Bellavarn jerked. Did she have to choose two separate sentences? He wracked his brain, creating swirling motions with his fingers as he tried to divine the right words. Then it clicked. It wasn''t a difficult guess if you have read it before.

    "Mana cannot be lost. It can only be found."

    Parcy''s allowed her eyebrows to rise. It was an impressive feat to memorize the contents of an entire book. Reporting Bellavarn''s new memorization skills would greatly delight the Duchess.

    "That is quite impressive. Even if you spent an entire month here, being able to memorize a book like this is a considerable accomplishment."

    Bellavarn grinned. Motioning for her to hand the book back, Bellavarn replaced it on the shelf.

    "It wasn''t just a few books. I get the feeling I can do that with many of the books I''ve read."

    Waving his hands, he quickly continued.

    "Not all of them, of course. That would be maddening. The ones with abstract terminology or obtuse sentence structures are virtually impossible for me. I also can''t recall anything on the spot. You reading the words aloud helped me."

    Bellavarn only read that book once, but he could still recall most of it when prompted. Neither Earth Bellavarn or Bellavarn Sallow had this ability before, so it was strange that the skill suddenly blossomed.

    "Oddly enough, I''m most proficient at recalling lines from trashy romance novels. Eh... Can you keep that part a secret. Saying it out loud made me realize how embarrassing it is."

    "Do not worry, master Bellavarn. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

    Bellavarn drooped dramatically. He could see the laughter swirling in Parcy''s eyes.

    She''s teasing me again.

    His memory wasn''t eidetic and crystal clear. Bellavarn guessed it had to do with word association¡ªthe best memory techniques involve associating a memory with a set of words or actions. Many people, in both worlds, have difficulties remembering names. The reason being that we don''t have unique experiences with each person.

    Why do you remember that one person who complimented your scarf three years ago but not the name of your classmate you''ve studied alongside for years? Because it was a rare encounter unique to that person. You''ve sat alongside other colleagues, worked on group projects, or stood in line at the coffee shop. You''ll lose the name written on your group paper or the side of a coffee cup because they are just another person passing by in life.

    However, you remember the name or face of that classmate in middle school who dropped a cookie at your table as a random act of kindness. The owner of the car that you ran into when first learning to drive. The asshat who cut in line at the waterslide. The stranger who helped you mail a letter and even paid for stamps.

    Without the will to memorize, memory is inherently emotional.

    Training memory was a different story. It involved inputting sensory feedback with visual or auditory recognition.

    Bellavarn associated that benign tome of magical theory by tapping his finger on his desk whilst reading it. An intense mystery novel was memorized by folding the corners of each page. Another book he read while pacing back and forth. He remembered a romance novel, A Chance Encounter, because of how he spurted his tea and had to wipe the pages down with his shirt before Kerv offered him a towel.

    Make an encounter, a memory, a moment, a person, stand out from all the others. Force it to be unique.

    Melody.

    Father.

    Mother.

    Oslo.

    Kerv and Henry.

    Anne, Kly, and Tristan.

    Lecil.

    Remember the encounter. The first people he officially met.

    But... he still forgot the maid who came in to deliver food every mealtime; her face and figure became blurred. The server at dinner the morning after his dream, a false memory sneering. layered over-top.

    He ignored them, making the encounters worthless.

    Even that faithful woman who kept his piano skills a secret. Why did he forget?

    Parcy brought him out of the trance by speaking.

    "Even if you cannot remember everything, master Bellavarn, it''s a wonder how much you have memorized in only a month."

    It wasn''t ignorant praise. All nobles read books, and many tried to memorize their content. It usually took several days to memorize an entire novella even for the best of them. To memorize almost every book in this room? That was an amazing achievement.

    "Thank you for the kind words, Parcy. I have another favor to ask, if you''re willing."

    "That depends on the task, master Bellavarn."

    "Nothing much. I know you can keep a secret. But can you spread one?"

 Staff (3)

    Bellavarn rubbed his eyes. He currently sat at his desk flipping through a compact picture book that was supposed to help him with a personal project, except the illustrations were so misconstrued that he wanted to find the artist and feed them the preciously expensive paper they so carelessly wasted.

    "You''re face will get stuck like that."

    Bellavarn stopped shaking the book upside down in hopes proper instructions would fall out. Becoming conscious of the unappealing glower painted across his face, Bellavarn waved at Kerv lying on the couch nearby.

    "My face reflects this author''s ability. Weren''t you taking a nap?"

    Kerv moved the pillow off his face to talk without being muffled.

    "I slept for a good two hours."

    Bellavarn glanced outside. The sky was overcast with trickling snow. Unable to tell the time, Bellavarn stretched his back as he retorted.

    "Isn''t it a good thing you have nothing to do? Job well done."

    "I still have to make sure you sleep and don''t ruin your eyes. The Duke will have my head."

    "What about the Duchess?"

    "Are you trying to curse me? Don''t even mention it."

    Bellavarn prevented himself from rubbing his eyes again. It was true he was straining his eyesight. Now that the topic was brought up... did he need glasses? They weren''t widespread within the Lionel Kingdom but were common in the neighboring one.

    Squinting, he picked up the picture book and held it at arm''s length. He played with it for a little while, moving the book slowly forward and backward, checking if it was still legible. He noticed to his horror that as it got closer, everything became mush.

    I''m going to need some reading lenses made. How are they going to measure my prescription?

    Bellavarn shivered at the images his imagination conjured.

    Where are my cookies?

    Even his imagination was making him stress eat.

    Glasses were likely astronomically expensive. They were probably one of the few things that would be cost-efficient to get magically enchanted. The Duke''s finances were practically limitless, and even Bellavarn''s personal finances were steadily growing. The work Braster had groomed him for mainly involved finances and property management. Even if Braster checked most of his work, Bellavarn still got paid.

    It was nothing compared to the potential projects he was currently working on. Once Bellavarn started inventing, his finances would soar through the roof. Then he could afford to build a mobile chocolate factory.

    "Sir? You called for me?"

    Sallowing the saliva that was building up, Bellavarn saw a thin figure standing in the doorway.

    "Ah, yes. Come in, come in! You are the head gardener, yes?"

    "Yes, sir. Wendle''s my name."

    In his head, Bellavarn made a note that Wendle''s name was pronounced Wend-el. He''d have to remind himself when writing the name on any official documents.

    "Please, take a seat."

    Wendle habitually wiped his hands on his overalls before taking a seat. Winter was usually an issue for gardeners. Not Wendle. He specialized in winter flora. It was a matter of course that anyone employed by the Sallows would be experienced working in cold weather.

    "Do you know why I have asked you here?"

    "No, sir. I don''t. Have I done something wrong?"

    The old gardener was much meeker than Parcy. Whether it was Wendle''s natural demeanor or a product of Bellavarn''s image remained unknown. Either way, it stung a bit.

    "Not at all, Wendle.You know me, I love spending time in the atrium. I always appreciated how serene you''ve made that place."

    "You honor me, sir."

    "As everyone should. I heard rumors my mother has been spending more time in the atrium and is even greeting guests there."

    Wendle rubbed the back of his head, bashful at all the praise.

    "You''re too kind, sir. Too kind. "

    Bellavarn smiled a bit at Wendle''s sheepish nature.

    "Do you think you can choose a few more plants to decorate the library? I spend most of my time here, and as much as I''d love to take my work to the atrium more often, it''s become inconvenient."

    "I''d be happy to, master Bellavarn. Did you have any preferences? The space in here is much warmer with the fireplace. Those windows don''t open either, so the winter varieties will have more trouble surviving in here."

    "I think a bit of color would be nice. Actually, isn''t there a winter plant that exudes a mild chill?"

    "Chilled moth orchids, yes. They are as popular as normal moth orchids, but they are very fickle. There''s a subspecies of cacti that will help with its development. Other than those two... they aren''t very colorful, but I would recommend a Dragon plant since they aren''t high maintenance."

    "I like the words coming out of your mouth. Maybe we can find something for me to train with? I don''t think I have a green thumb, but I''d like to be able to keep a cactus alive."

    "Cacti are more fickle creatures than most believe. Even I have trouble grooming them. Gardening isn''t something you can just stick a toe into. If you''re serious about it, I can give you some tips, but I wouldn''t recommend it if you''re trying to sway my ego."

    Bellavarn smacked his hand on the desk and laughed, waking Kerv up. He grumbled and turned over.

    "I like your honesty. Alright, I''ll keep my hands off them. Better they are kept under a professional''s care."

    "Very wise of you, sir."

    "Stop it, stop it. You''re too old to be calling me sir in such a manner. Call me Bellavarn."

    "I wouldn''t dare, sir."

    "Ah. Well. I had to try."

    =

    "Three things?"

    "Yeah. Three things about yourself. They could be anything."

    A petite maid with calloused hands sat in the chair. She was by far the most accepting personality to walk into his office so far.

    Lannie wasn''t afraid of him. She was neither boisterous nor meek. In a word, she was incredible.

    They''d talked at length already. Lannie worked as a washer after her parents died and helped get her brother accepted into the Knight academy. After he graduated he got her a job under the Sallows working as a maid. She liked practically everything except those that messed with her brother. It was also revealed that Lannie was the closest person to Melody before the incident.

    Lannie didn''t blame Bellavarn or Melody for what happened. She didn''t know the truth but stated that they were both good people, so whatever happened must have been a misunderstanding.

    With such an outstanding person before him, there was no need to toss out interview questions. The only reason he was doing so was that he did it for the ten people before her.

    "Even if you ask, putting me on the spot makes it difficult. Is there anything specific you want to know?"

    "Do you like cookies?"

    "Mhm. I love them!"

    "Me too. What about chocolate ones?"

    "Chocolate is rare, so I can''t afford them on my salary."

    Bellavarn moved around his desk and used a key to unlock the second drawer. Inside was a box of ten- no, seven chocolate chip cookies. Taking out another brought the number down to six.

    "Here."

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    Lannie gasped.

    "Really? Thank you."

    She accepted it readily and bit into it. Her face was the picture of bliss as she swung from side to side. It was the most adorable thing he''d ever seen.

    The cookies were precious and rare, but sharing them with someone who appreciated them was a whole different variety of soul sustenance.

    When she finished, tears began to spill from her eyes.

    "Was it that good? Why are you crying, Lannie?"

    Lannie wiped the tears away.

    "Sorry. I was just reminded of my family. Before they passed, Dad would save up for ingredients, and Mom would bake them for my and Jeral''s birthday."

    Silence filled the room. Bellavarn suddenly remembered his own parents. Standing over their graves while holding a wine bottle. Unable to tell if it was wine falling on their graves or his tears.

    Lannie seemed to reminisce, but she was no longer teary-eyed. On the contrary, she seemed grateful to have been reminded of such a fond memory. She bobbed her head while twirling her fingers.

    Bellavarn asked a sudden question.

    "Do they have a plot nearby?"

    She blinked in mild surprise. No one''s ever asked that before.

    "Mhm. I visit and bring fresh flowers every week, but it has been difficult to pay for them since they are out of season."

    Lannie''s cheeks colored as she quickly waved her hands in front of her, flustered about mentioning her salary.

    "You don''t need to worry about flowers anymore. I''ll have Wendle get you whatever you want. Do your parents have any preferences?"

    "Would you? I mean, you don''t have to do that. It''s not like they''ll miss fresh flowers."

    "Nonsense. They will miss your company. Take time off every Weekend to visit. Tell your brother he can join you as long as nothing is pressing."

    Lannie''s eyes were like saucers. Was this the lord she served? Even if she didn''t believe the rumors, how could he be so different from what she imagined?

    He was pleasant to talk to.

    He shared such an expensive gift with her.

    His eyes were so kind.

    But why...

    She could see it, but couldn''t understand it.

    Why do you know what it''s like to lose your parents?

    =

    The days went on. Bellavarn saw several people a day, chatting with them in-between work. He met many interesting characters and possible friends. Of them, there were a few that stood out from the rest.

    "Three things? I made a bet that you wouldn''t be asking such silly questions. Seems like I''m out thirty coins."

    A plump woman in an apron was plopped in the chair. Though she insisted she was speaking in her inside voice, her voice carried.

    "Three things. Alright. I enjoy cooking desserts the most. Specifically tarts. My children light up whenever I bring extras home."

    "You have children, Misses Vale?"

    "Six of ''em. The oldest is already 12."

    "You must be blessed to have so many loving children."

    "You can''t sweet talk me, child. They''re all rascals. ''Specially the little ones..."

    =

    Ester entered the study. Bellavarn greeted her with a smile and motioned for her to have a seat.

    The short maid had already prepared the three things about herself. She hated working, enjoyed long naps, and disliked being out in the sun. Boom. Done.

    Pleasantries wouldn''t work on her.

    Ester remembered the day clearly. Finding her friend Melody in such a bloody condition¡ªthe look of terror in the girl''s eyes. Ester had few true friends in the house since most people barely tolerated her. The only people she''d consider friends would be Lannie, Cynthia, and Melody. Lannie liked everyone, so she didn''t count. Cynthia didn''t talk much, so she was easy to talk to. Melody was different, though.

    The two of them genuinely got along. Melody was a good listener who always understood Ester''s points. She didn''t get offended at her jokes and would even take up some of Ester''s duties. If anyone else had asked Ester to stand guard in front of Bellavarn''s door, she would have told them to eat a dishrag. But it was Melody, so she did it.

    The hardworking Melody would always return from serving the young master with a smile on her face. Ester had a lot of fun teasing her about it.

    For him to turn around do such heinous things to her only true friend...

    It took Ester all her willpower not to quit outright. How could the others work under someone so... so... vile?

    "Wait. Don''t tell me. I got it. Your name starts with a vowel. A? No. The letter E?"

    "My name is Ester, young master."

    She bowed her head sarcastically, wanting the charade to be over with.

    "Ester. Yes. Sorry. I am still trying to learn everyone''s names. I will make sure to remember your name in the future."

    Yuck. Just the sight of Bellavarn made Ester ill. Hearing her name spoken from foul lips sickened her.

    Ask your stupid questions so I can leave.

    "Are you skilled at knitting, by chance?"

    She narrowed her eyes. The only way he knew was if Melody told him. Being caught doing something so girly by her best friend was one of the most regretful moments of her career. The embarrassment and shame trickling up from her gut were threatening to lash out.

    "Knitting... is a hobby of mine. Yes."

    He acted oblivious to her feelings and carried on ignorantly.

    "Great! I was hoping to have someone help me learn. I wanted to create something simple."

    Ester''s brain let out a short puff of air

    He wanted her to teach him to knit? That wasn''t something young lords did. What about the answers she prepared ahead of time? All her planning was useless now. She should have guessed that he wanted a replacement tutor after Melody ran away.

    Ester''s mind swam with horrible images of Bellavarn trying to get closer, touching her shoulder and breathing down her neck. She suppressed a shiver.

    "You want to learn to knit, young master? Why not hire a tutor instead of asking a maid?"

    "Ah, I wanted to keep it a secret from Father and Mother..."

    Bellavarn was looking through a book and scratching the back of his head.

    "It is incredibly embarrassing to ask this. I don''t have a sister who would show me or could take up the task. But I was hoping to be able to teach myself so that I can knit a small blanket."

    Bellavarn turned his book around and propped it up, pointing to it.

    "This here. The illustration doesn''t show it correctly, and I keep pricking my fingers."

    Ester was bewildered as she stared at a series of crude illustrations. The hands were poorly drawn, and the needle''s direction was undeterminable from the artist''s rendering.

    Young Lord Bellavarn, the son of a duke, was actually teaching himself to knit?

    Now that she looked. The book was slim, like a children''s book.

    Glancing off to the side, Ester finally noticed a small bundle of blue yarn sitting on the desk. Next to it was an object that can only be described as a tumor-like mass with a needle sticking straight out like a planted flag.

    How did she miss that abomination?

    "That''s supposed to be a blanket?"

    Bellavarn nodded his head multiple times while holding a glum expression.

    "Exactly. I want to create a blanket for my sister... or brother, whenever they arrive. Babies are usually wrapped in blankets, right?"

    "Yes... They usually are."

    Ester gave Bellavarn the most bizarre look. He didn''t seem to notice.

    "The needle keeps getting looped and caught. I don''t even know which direction I am supposed to go in. Do I repeat the knots indefinitely? When do I turn? I also wasn''t sure if the color would matter. Girls usually prefer lighter colors. I want to make a navy-blue blanket in case it was a boy, but I also wanted to make a second lavender one for the eventuality of it being a girl..."

    Ester blinked. Then continued blinking.

    Who is this?

    The image before Ester, of a near-adult man floundering while he tried to explain his shortcomings, failings, then attempting to continue knitting into the mass of wrinkled yarn, was completely at odds with her preconception.

    The man before her was like a father gushing over a newborn. Except, Bellavarn was an older brother who didn''t even have a sibling yet. And he wanted to learn a woman''s skill? Not sword fighting or magic? ...He wanted to learn knitting? Learn from her? To make a blanket, no, two blankets?

    Ester clasped her head as her thoughts whirled.

    "...Ester? Was I rambling again? Sorry. I can slow down and show you what I have learned in a more controlled manner..."

    More talking.

    "...Ow. Again. See? Always happens..."

    Ester could feel a migraine conducting a siege.

    "Almost got it. Just curve around here and loop there..."

    She had enough.

    "Stop! Just stop it. You''re infernal machinations have succeeded! I admit it! I give up. Give me that before you somehow make it worse."

    Ester snatched the materials in frustration.

    "You hold the needle like this. Not with your entire fist! You take only the edge of yarn. Not a bundle full. Throw that miserable creation away and pass me some new thread."

    Bellavarn smiled broadly and followed her instructions to the letter. He watched her work with gusto. Oohing and aahing appropriately.

    Internally he pumped a fist in victory.

    =

    "Checkers, sir?"

    "Would you care to play? It is a simple game, so we should be able to get in a few rounds before your next shift."

    Jeral smiled.

    "I''m always open to a game, sir."

    "Good, I''ll choose red."

    As they grabbed their respective pieces and set up the board, Bellavarn noticed the slow care Jeral moved. Eyebrows knitting together, he was perturbed at how Jeral maintained intimate eye contact even as his hands moved independently.

    "By the way, master Bellavarn..."

    Bellavarn froze, sensing danger. He gulped.

    "...what are these ''good things'' I''ve been hearing from my sister."

    =

    "What do you think of rain, Denice?"

    "Rain. Hm... I miss it. After all this snow. Rain feels dreary during autumn."

    "Summer showers are the best, though, aren''t they?"

    "Yes... On a hot day. Where the rain turns the air cool."

    "Watching it pelt against glass window rhythmically."

    "Enjoying a cup of tea..."

    =

    "Is it okay for me to eat these, master Bellavarn?"

    Bellavarn munched on a cream tart as he whispered conspiratorially to Kyle.

    "I need you to help me hide the evidence. Misses Vale will scold me if I come back with the extras. Anything I don''t finish goes to her children, and last time they got stomach aches."

    Bellavarn made a religious sign. Why was he blamed for such a thing? And why was Misses Vale contributing to his sugar complex?

    "Maybe you could share with the others on your shift? Secretly. Please."

    With permission, Kyle dug into the pastries and shared most of the leftovers with other guards. What he did not do, was do it quietly.

    The lump on Bellavarn''s head seemed to grow twofold that evening.

    =

    "You have terrible luck at dice, young master."

    Bellavarn eyed the toothy guard as he grabbed the dice and cup. This time he''d wipe that mocking smile off Potter''s stupid face for sure!

    "I bet you twenty tarts!"

    Potter shrugged his shoulders as if it didn''t matter how much Bellavarn bet.

    "It''s your loss, young master."

    =

    "Can you help me organize these?"

    Cynthia wordlessly filed the papers with ease. When she was done, she presented them in a neat bundle.

    "Can you deliver this to my father? It''s important."

    Cynthia accepted the sealed missive directly from Bellavarn''s hands and deposited it neatly into an enchanted carrying container. Ensuring it was safe and locked, she transported the message across the mansion to Braster''s office and presented it forthwith. When she received the Duke''s response, Cynthia repeated her actions and returned to the young master Bellavarn.

    "Can you help me clean this up? I had too many tarts and bumped into the shelf."

    Cynthia cleaned up the potted plant and picked up the fallen books. Dusting them off and cleaning through the binding just to make sure, she referred to Bellavarn''s filing system to make sure each was in its correct place.

    Kerv watched from the couch as Bellavarn received assistance from a long-legged maid in reorganizing the shelf. It had actually been Kerv who knocked over the shelf. Kerv was attempting to get a rise out of the young master for all the times he has been neglected, laying about in the study while Bellavarn worked or chatting with people other than him.

    Instead of being yelled at, the evil Bellavarn smiled and tricked Cynthia into helping him clean.

    "Tch."

    Kerv wasn''t jealous. He wasn''t. He was proud of Bellavarn for being so outgoing and taking the initiative. It was just that Kerv was disappointed and feeling neglected right now.

    A forgotten side piece, that''s what I am.

    "Don''t just sit there, Kerv. Help us pick up these books."

    Kerv flinched. With a long exasperated sigh, he got up. As he got closer, Bellavarn kicked his shin and jerked his head in Cynthia''s direction.

    Cynthia smiled at the added help. With this, the work would be done quicker.

    The smile of a pretty maid convinced Kerv that he wasn''t abandoned after all.

 First Princess

    *Clap*

    The chandelier overhead turned on, magical lights illuminating the room. Colors turned brighter, and the bedroom almost looked happy and comfortable.

    *Clap*

    Darkness returned. Color drained. The clouds became overcast, shading mid-morning sunlight. The dark navy blue bed covers felt cool and inviting, lulling an occupant into eternal slumber. The french doors derived from birch wood and glass gated the three-story balcony¡ªa veranda to elsewhere.

    *Clap*

    Light swallowed the darkness. The ornate dark purple carpet flipped back into a lighter violet. Maroon drapes hung from two squat windows to either side of the balcony. Grains in the ebony wood bedpost became a more golden Spruce.

    *Clap*

    Her world was cast in shadow. A reflection disappeared. She became invisible for the brief moments it took for her eyes to adjust. Slowly, through the refracted light that wormed its way past thick winter clouds, her image reappeared.

    Dark purple irises framed by subdued whites shone through a cage of long eyelashes. Pink lips parted slightly in a silent word. A dark lace choker covered her neck.

    Her hands slowly raised back into the air.

    They slammed together.

    *CLAP*

    The Illusion faded.

    Comfortable obscurity transformed into a disgusting reality. Dim circles framed her eyes. Her previously porcelain skin was now gaunt and ill. Lips chapped.

    A horrid bruise ringed her throat like a binding snake.

    "Hah."

    A dry laugh escaped Lecil''s throat. The dense cloud cover overhead parted for a moment. Her head dropped to land in an open palm Shoulders jerking, the delicate hand covering her face tried to contain the errant emotion.

    Useless, it spilled out of a cup already overflowing. She couldn''t prevent a morose chuckle from escaping her cracked lips. Sliding her fingers through knotted hair, lifting tangled bedhead, she smiled crazily at her own reflection. Breathing through her too-perfect nose, she tittered haltingly.

    "It''s a clapper."

    =

    Lecil long ago learned how to apply her own makeup. When she got it wrong in the past and would made fun of, she would cry herself to sleep¡ªsuch a silly thing to fret about, looking back. The people who insulted or demeaned her would have found something else to use against her even if her makeup was flawless. And they did too.

    Oh, your eyebrows are too thick. Your lips are pale. Why don''t you cut those bangs already? Oh, I''m sorry, I didn''t know you were trying to hide a pimply forehead.

    Wait.

    Was all that me? Maybe it was Celia who had acne.

    Lecil now had memories from another life. She knew that her entire life was a game and that her emotions had been manipulated for years. It was always in the plan to make Lecil cry herself to sleep. There was a reason she cut her wrists when she turned sixteen. There was a reason she wasn''t allowed to die.

    With everything already ordained by some greasy game designers... there must also be a goddamn purpose to why she hasn''t been able to get more than a few hours of shut-eye in the last week!

    Why? Who knows. The developers were cruel. Maybe it was solely Lecil''s problem, but now she would always wonder.

    Not a single person came to visit her other than Irene, the maid from before. She never utters more than a few words when dropping off food. When Lecil tried to speak with her, Irene entirely ignored her. As if the maid wasn''t scripted to talk back. No one else visited her, and whenever she tried to leave, Lecil succumbed to an irresistible urge to crawl back into bed.

    The pattern repeated. An unavoidable tiredness caused Lecil to lie back down, to fail at achieving meaningful slumber, subsequently staying awake and reliving a second set of memories, getting frustrated and throwing furniture, then trying to open the door again... rinse and repeat.

    "Fuck this game."

    The words were very unladylike. However, Lecil liked the word. She never really cursed before this, and Celia had some really fun expletives.

    Lecil looked at herself in the mirror. Dark lipstick and porcelain skin. Combed back black hair that fell softly along her back. Long eyelashes fluttering.

    And yet.

    Lecil tried to apply eyeliner for the fourth time. Her hand curved off, drawing a black line to the edge of her eye socket. Enraged, she cleaned the mess up again. She was trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes using any method possible without being extra. None of them worked. She either kept messing up, or they showed through anyway. Celia wanted to throw on some sunglasses and brush it off as a phase when asked.

    "It''s going to happen soon. Isn''t it? Surely, soon..."

    Any longer and Celia would go insane. The boredom and the monotony. At least let her live a little bit!

    There had to be a way out of the loop. The first way was to wait for an event to start. There was one coming soon, she knew, but a better option needed to be possible.

    Is everyone being controlled by magic? There is magic in this world, so what if some shadowy figures are using magic to write people a certain way? They make people follow specific actions like SIMS.

    "Their magic supply can''t be unlimited."

    The only evidence that supported her theory was a thrown chair.

    Back when Lecil was quite literally flipping her shit, she threw a chair at the door. The maid wasn''t expecting that. It wasn''t part of the opening scenario either. The upsetting bit was that Lecil grabbed the chair afterward, without thinking about it, and then sat back down. That was how she was still sitting when Tristan barged in.

    Because the chair was crucial to the event.

    The only reason Lecil could go off script was due overwhelming emotion.

    I.e. The only way to break her pacification was to start flipping shit.

    What if she tried talking to the maid again? It should be easier to interact outside restrictions with a non-important character. Maybe if she tried really hard this time?

    A knock at the door. Lunch-time. Lecil grinned.

    "Come in."

    Her voice sounded meek, entirely unlike how she was feeling.

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    The doors opened. Irene walked in a cart of food and tea.

    "I''ve prepared lunch, princess."

    Lecil was silent. Why was she silent? She was certainly trying to speak. Not even a thank you? The game was making her out to be heartless monster. Irene bowed to leave.

    "Then..."

    That simple word sparked a hazy memory. A soft hand halted her steps, gentle compared to those before it. The words exchanged escaped her and the face was blurred with dark colors. What did he say? It felt important.

    The maid was walking away.

    No! Come back.

    The words were a lump in her throat. Lecil reached out an arm. Her body straining with effort.

    Stop. Don''t go. Talk to me!

    A ticking clock. The maid followed her script, not even looking back.

    Anger. Rage! Channel your all-mighty rage, Celia! You can do it! Start cursing up a storm. DO IT!

    Her mouth opened silently. The maid grabbed the door handle and was pulling it closed.

    Lecil wanted to scream, but the words didn''t come out. They were never meant to be spoken.

    "Wait-"

    The doors shut.

    Lecil''s knees caved in as she collapsed, sweating and panting. She failed! They tried so hard to do it, too. To change the script. To make things different. To have a single person to talk to besides herself.

    They were going insane in here.

    =

    Finally, the time came. The doors opened without preamble.

    "Father wants to see you."

    Kly, the second prince, stood in the doorway. He wore the same placid look as always. Uncaring.

    He''s probably being forced to act that way too.

    Lecil hiked up the hem of her dark green dress. It covered all the scars and fading bruises, including the line across her throat. She''d been standing there for thirty minutes, waiting.

    [1. I''m busy. Come back later.]

    [2. It''s been a while, brother. How are you?"]

    [3. Lead the way.]

    Even if Celia didn''t know the correct answer, and even if the wrong answer would lead to death, Lecil mentally smashed the third option with the force of a crashing dumptruck.

    "Lead the way."

    Kly simply nodded and walked away, displaying a 0%.

    Lecil grinned happily. According to Celia''s memories, there was a chance to be free from this prison of inability.

    Lecil realized that she hadn''t been told where the King was waiting for her. A jab of Kly''s own flavor, it was supposed to slow her down and make her scramble. Fortunately, Celia knew the King was in his office and Lecil knew the way.

    Hastily, she marched way through the corridors, taking zero time to admire the freedom her slackened chain permitted. The light being cast through the colored glass windows made her nauseous.

    *Click-Click-Click*

    Celia hated wearing heels. As someone naturally talented at running, wearing something so limiting was anathama.

    The palace is needlessly large. Running through these halls on my way out will be fun.

    Lecil buried a thought that wasn''t her own.

    After a hasty walk across an absurd distance, she arrived. Muffled words through the doorway halted her steps. Eavesdropping wasn''t normally in Lecil''s nature, but it was in Celia''s. Neither of them minded doing it now.

    "The Northerners are moving closer.... as... there is.... into the South. Richter is...."

    It sounded like there was a war brewing. Maybe more than one. Richter? She didn''t know that name.

    Not willing to press her luck and eavesdrop further, Lecil knocked twice.

    Silence and a short moment later, the door opened. A scholarly man opened it, standing in her way for a moment. The man looked down at her and whispered.

    "Princess, you don''t look well. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

    Wait. That''s it? Hah! I wrestled through an entire week of sleeplessness for a comment from an extra.

    Lecil couldn''t flip him off or respond. A fake smile plastered her face.

    "Who is it, Feor?"

    Feor realized his actions and stepped aside to let the King see who it was.

    "We''ll continue later. I have business with my daughter."

    Have you ever thought of me as your daughter? You always ignore the signs right in front of you.

    "Yes, your majesty. I''ll take my leave then."

    Lecil didn''t step aside for Feor and made him squeeze past her without touching her. It was a funny sight. Sometimes inaction was pleasant payback.

    "Enter and shut the door behind you."

    "Yes, Father."

    The use of the word felt odd on her tongue. Had the King ever acted like a father? She remembered having a loving father and mother in a two-story suburban. An adorable puppy and a pet parrot. A family.

    Lecil closed the door and walked in wordlessly. The clicking of her shoes softened by an expensive rug.

    The King sat at his desk, backlit by fading light. There were a few magical lights around the room that added a soft atmosphere. It was contradicted by the permanent scowl written on the King. Celia recognized this famous scene as the official start to Renegade,

    Interlocking his fingers, he intoned.

    "You are almost of age and you haven''t chosen a suitor. I kept out of it due to pressing business; however, with less than two years before you turn twenty, it is time you made a decision."

    Lecil wanted to roll her eyes. This moment was the first real choice in the game and would determine many of the ecounters moving forward. Depending on her answer, she''d spawn an event.

    "I refuse to marry you off to the northern barbarians or the backstabbing desert dwellers. I''ll let you choose from one of the Ducal households. They each have a bachelor around your age."

    There were three Dukes.

    Duke Raiden. At the age of twenty-two, he succeeded his household after receiving numerous commendations during skirmishes along the southern border. His parents retired extremely early, choosing to spend the rest of their lives in a beach villa instead of managing their household.

    [Klein Raiden the War Hero]

    Duke Astor was eighteen years old, the same as Lecil. Despite having four older sisters, the Dukedom was passed down to him. It wasn''t purely due to sexism. It was mainly because he excelled in mathematics and had a talent for business. He already runs most of the family''s businesses and is the richest of the three dukes. He is praised as a genius talent.

    [Daven Astor the Tycoon]

    Lastly, Duke Sallow. The problem child. He was the only one who remained an heir and wasn''t officially a Duke yet. With the Duchess'' pregnancy, some raised questions as if Bellavarn was fit to lead. However, Lecil knew that Bellavarn Sallow would succeed his household through nefarious means. He would then go on to rebel against the kingdom¡ªthe worst path to her continued survival.

    [Bellavarn Sallow the Renegade]

    Each choice was terrible. None of the Dukes liked her. Raiden was the best option, with her affection score starting out at 10%. Mainly due to her attractive appearance.

    Astor held a variable percentage based on their first meeting. It can start anywhere between 0% and 15%.

    Bellavarn Sallow, upon their first meeting, would have a reputation of -30%. Why? No idea. The game developers wanted to make a challenge. If Raiden was the "easy" route and Astor was the "playstyle" route, then Sallow was for those who wanted the ultimate challenge. No one had even step foot on his route. There were no guides or hints. Anything you did could set him off. With a massive negative affection score, it was no wonder Lecil was killed on sight. The only way to raise it was indirectly or through special events.

    "What is your decision?"

    Fanfare began to play when the following screen appeared. It was more regal than the previous ones.

    [1. I prefer Duke Raiden.]

    [2. Duke Astor is the best choice.]

    [3. I choose Duke Sallow.]

    This is it! Her only chance.

    While the game window was up, Lecil was given the ability to talk and choose a fourth option.

    It was a secret/glitch in the game mechanics and Lecil''s only chance at freedom. It was published on social media as a "WTF" option. Secret things were supposed to be good, so why add something that actually makes the game more difficult? Celia had scoffed at the option in the past, but now it was her saving grace.

    "I wish to be free."

    The pleasure of seeing the King''s reaction was a prize in of itself. The King waved a hand.

    "Then speak freely. I am giving you a choice, after all."

    The magic vanished. The floating box disappeared. Lecil could breathe! Had she been inhaling stale air this entire time? Her lungs were free. Her voice was free. She was free!

    Of course, she still had to make a choice. She couldn''t click her heels together and magically go back home or live happily ever after. No, this choice allowed her free will to move about in the game. Write whatever she wished into existence. Say whatever she wanted.

    It was a curse for most players who were unwilling to be creative in their answers. Multiple choice was a crutch most players relished in. This route held an exponential amount of possibilities for failure and death, but there were increased chances for secret events and positive outcomes.

    Lecil tilted her head innocently and gave the most pure smile her pretty little face could muster. At last, she spoke with her own voice, even if the words were dry and bitter.

    "I understand I need to choose a partner, father. But I wish to take more time to make a proper decision. I would like to ask to remain at home to support my older brothers and help little Anne grow up."

    Grey eyebrows inched up ever so slightly.

    "I thought you didn''t get along with your siblings. Has that changed while my attention was elsewhere?"

    Lecil bowed her head. When she looked up, her eyes were watery.

    "It is true we haven''t got along. Still, I wish to support my family in what they do. If you grant me the chance, father, I am sure we will all make amends. If you can postpone me getting engaged another year, or only a few months, I am positive that I will be of use to brother Tristan and brother Kly."

    The crocodile tears worked. The King was considering it. Taking her chance, she hammered the nail into the coffin.

    "Little Anne wished for the two of us to spend more time together. It would be a shame for the engagement to get between us."

    "I see. Another few months won''t hurt. I expect you to make a decision by the end of next summer."

    Anne was the King''s weak spot. Stating that it was "all for little Anne" pushed the King over the edge.

    "Thank you, Father! I am sure Anne will be overjoyed."

    =

    "That bitch postponed her engagement! How? I thought I made it clear to father to get rid of her¡ªuseless waste of space. I''ll rip all her clothes and make sure she can''t leave her room without going naked! She''ll rue her decision to stay behind. I''ll make her life a living hell and make sure Tristan and Kly both do the same. She''ll wish she was never born. That stupid, little, worthless, infuriating tramp! I''ll... I''ll... UGH!"

    Anne''s maids fled in terror.

    =

    Meanwhile...

    Lecil snored. Safe and sound. Fast asleep.

 First Link

    Oh god, this is so awkward.

    Irene thought she was losing her mind. Why didn''t the princess ever talk? This is why people call her the Ghost Princess.

    Irene was personally assigned to Princess Lecil mainly because one else wanted the job. However, it never entailed anything more than wheeling in a food cart and leaving. It wasn''t that Irene necessarily wished to speak with the princess. What would they talk about? The weather?

    Even if she suddenly asked me to brush her hair, this is unbearable.

    Lecil sat on a chair facing a framed mirror atop a mahogany dresser. The top was littered with second-hand makeup implements and cosmetics. A small journal was tucked underneath a paperweight-sized clock that ticked each second away. Irene timed the length of each brushstroke.

    Glancing up for a second at the reflection, she could see herself half-hidden behind Lecil, combing the princess'' inky hair.

    That horrible mess of bedhead. How could such an atrocity come into being?

    Irene blanched at the memory of it. The only explanation she could arrive at was the the Princess was practicing head spins on top of her covers. That image was similarly haunting.

    Is she still staring at me?

    Chancing another glance up, she stopped midway and jerked. Princess Lecil has been glaring at Irene the entire time. Was she combing too hard? Just in case, Irene made each pass as gentle as could be. That wasn''t it because Irene still felt a piercing glare.

    Huh? My grip is suddenly slippery. It must be the brush. It certainly couldn''t be due to sweat. Haha. Ha. Ha~

    Was the princess still angry about a weak ago?

    Irene didn''t know why she did it. The spoiled food was already placed on the cart when she arrived in the kitchen, asking to delivered. Irene didn''t think about why it was there or why she decided to serve it. Or the consequences of serving it.

    It was the anticipation of punishment that never came that was slowly wittingly away at her psyche. Prince Tristan didn''t fire or scold her; he just had her bring appropriate food. None of the cooks cared despite being the ones to set it all up. The King didn''t know, and Irene wasn''t about to bring it to his attention.

    "Irene."

    "Eep!"

    Irene jittered with a startled squeak. When she slowly craned her neck to peek at Lecil''s reflection, the princess was smiling. Irene recognized it for how similar it was to Princess Anne. It was sweet and innocent with a hidden promise.

    "Yes, princess?"

    "Do you remember breakfast about a week ago?"

    This is it. My life is over.

    "Aha... ah. Yes, Princess. I remember."

    "I want you to tell me why you did what you did."

    Irene panicked; she fell to her knees. Attached to side of Lecil with terrified tears in her eyes, Irene pleaded.

    "Princess, please, have mercy. I have no idea why I did such a thing. It was a spur-of-the-moment action; there was no other food out; the chefs were gone; I just took the food without thinking; I served it without believing you would eat it. Not off the floor. Never. Your highness, please..."

    Irene prevented herself from clutching at Lecil''s clothing in desperation.

    The Ghost Princess peered down regally at an incoherent Irene.

    "Why did you never speak to me when bringing me food."

    "I-I thought, I thought that you, you wouldn''t want to see my face. You never even turned around when I brought you food before, so, so, I..."

    Irene thought about it. Should she have apologized outright? Did she have to wait to be addressed? Should she have tried harder? It was her fault for giving up in the first place. Why did she give up?

    "I thought of swapping with another maid, but none of them wanted the job."

    "Hmm."

    Awaiting judgment, Irene watched Princess Lecil''s pondering in intense anticipation. Was she going to be fired? Would she be accepted by the other camps afterward?

    Suddenly, the princess stood and floated over to the sitting area. Irene remained frozen in place, watching. She cringed when Lecil started dragging a sofa chair.

    "Princess? Princess, what are you doing? You will hurt yourself."

    Lecil rolled her eyes.

    "Bring over that stool and set it down in the center of the room."

    "..."

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Irene glanced at the much smaller sitting stool, and then back princess dragging the massive chair, back to the wooden one that sported a large groove along one leg.

    Shouldn''t our loads be reversed?

    When Irene continued to hesitate, Lecil articulated between burst of energy.

    "If you fail at such a simple task we can consider your employment terminated without pay."

    Several grunts from the princess later two chairs faced each other. Lecil sat herself down on the wobbly wooden stool. It had once been an ornate chair deserving of palace, but unexpected damage caused it to become to be downgraded into what it was now.

    The Princess gestured to the plump sofa chair.

    "Sit."

    "Princess, I could never-"

    "Sit."

    "Aah... understood."

    =

    Irene was clearly uncomfortable. The chair was plush, grand, and extremly soft, so the nervous maid sat on the edge to avoid getting too comfortable. When Irene stopped fidgeting, Lecil scooted her chair even closer, causing the fidgeting restart.

    Lecil glanced at the doors, conscious of the possibility of someone barging in again. Deciding that wasn''t acceptable, she got up and locked the doors before sitting back down. She made sure she was within arm''s reach of the tanned maid. That peculiar fact made Lecil curious, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.

    "Irene. Tell me everything leading up to breakfast that morning from your point of view."

    She did. Laying out everything in as much detail as possible, hoping and pleading for mercy. Irene really didn''t know what she was doing or why. It made no sense unless Irene had a suicide wish. If she pulled that stunt on another member of the royal family Irene would find her head rolling off a chopping block.

    Lecil listened diligently, nodding in places and making interesting humming sounds to keep Irene on her toes. By the end, Lecil''s fingers were gently massaged her temple.

    "I see. It seems worse than I thought."

    Irene tilted her head.

    "Princess?"

    "Hm? Oh. Do you remember Tristan''s actions?"

    Irene nodded rapidly.

    "I didn''t think he would be so cruel as to spill your meal, even if it was, erm, what it was. I couldn''t believe my eyes when you sat down and ate that week-old bread."

    Lecil shook her head.

    "No. I mean, do you understand why Tristan did it."

    "No, princess I''ve never seen the Prince act that way. He is usually such a caring person."

    Lecil half-snorted. That nonsensical answer was the entire reason Lecil was worried.

    "Tristan? No. You can''t honestly believe that. You don''t remember him ever acting out?"

    Irene was genuinely confused. She didn''t interact or come into contact with Tristan as much of the other staff did, but he was chivalrous every time she did. The other maids and staff all loved him and bragged about how he well he treated them. He was less demanding and gave more days off than anybody else.

    Lecil listened to it all passively.

    "You don''t remember Tristan reaching for his sword?"

    "His sword? But, he wasn''t wearing his sword."

    What was she saying? That the Prince wanted to kill his sister? Even if they were half-siblings, that was way over the line. How would he get away with it? He would ruin his chances at becoming King and would be forced into exile. Tristan would never risk such a thing. His cruel actions towards Princess Lecil at breakfast were an odd and singular deviation.

    "Irene."

    The princess was suddenly standing. Irene craned her neck all the way back.

    "You haven''t looked into my eyes since you''ve entered."

    What was she talking about? Irene was looking at her now. She was the picture of a princess. Her hair was recently messy, but otherwise, she was beautiful! Everything Irene imagined a princess would be like.

    Lecil appeared exhausted like she hadn''t slept in ages. Dark circles ringed her eyes. How did Irene miss that?

    "Princess, your eyes. Have you not been sleeping? Why did you not say anything? I could have requested sleeping pills for you."

    Lecil backed up a step, clutching her stomach.

    Laughing. It was full-bellied, loud, nearly insane laughing.

    Irene wanted to stand up from the expensive chair and intervene, but she was petrified.

    "Hahaha!"

    The laughter was raw. Like the princess was speaking through a dry throat.

    "That is the first thing you noticed? Hehe-he, well, I suppose it is true. I slept like a baby last night, but I haven''t slept for an entire week."

    "Princess, you should-"

    "Stop!"

    Irene jerked. Lecil became so severe. Deadly. Sharp as a knife.

    "Stop and look at me! What do you see? You see the circles around my eyes yet not the most important thing? Do you simply not want to see it, or does the magic run that deep?"

    Irene blinked. Other than the dark circles. There wasn''t anything.

    "If you still can''t see, maybe a different angle will help you."

    Lecil stepped up onto the wooden stool. It wobbled precariously as she stood to her full height. Irene had enough. The Princess would fall like this. She finally stood up to support the princees, but, again, Lecil''s forceful words stopped her.

    "Wait. Hold. Just a moment. Let me pose this right."

    Irene stared up at Lecil, who stood on her tiptoes in her nightgown.

    The color in Irene''s face left her.

    A carved wooden ceiling backdropped a shining chandelier. Irene was cast in Lecil''s small shadow as the princess tilted her head back, an illusionary noose tied around her neck. Black and blue. Fading greens and yellow. A horrid hue stained Lecil like a morbid scarf.

    Irene shook. Her pupils vibrated as a hand moved up to cover her open mouth.

    Lecil rolled up her sleeves and let her arms dangle and her sides. Layers of color and fading injuries covered her arms. Two old horizontal slashes scarred her wrists, a tale of sorrow past.

    Irene was trembled with emotion. Explosions popped off inside her head. The signs were everywhere, popping out like an infestation.  Through the transparency of Lecil''s nightgown, Irene took in the discoloration centered in Lecil''s chest. More on her stomach and lower ribs. She tracked down a yellow bruise of down hip and thigh.

    Yet, her feet and calves were left pristine. Her fingers unscarred. A face layered in makeup.

    Irene fell.

    How old are those scars? Why did I never wonder why the princess always wore long sleeves? Why no one else worked under the Princess? Was it because Princess Lecil wanted to hide this? If she wanted to hide it, she wouldn''t be showing it to me now. Has everyone just avoided her and thought her crazy? Wait a minute. Wasn''t I doing the same thing just moments ago?

    Her perceived world was breaking like glass. Irene felt a cascade as firewalls shattering. Several of the chains binding her broke.

    "I don''t blame you."

    "Huh?"

    Irene''s voice was meek and barely audible. Lecil stepped down, sitting. She ran a thumb over the scar on her right wrist.

    "I know your actions aren''t your own. Just like how I didn''t want to kill myself."

    The words didn''t make sense to her, but they felt oddly comforting all the same. It wasn''t Irene''s fault? Even when she ignored all the signs? Even though she was a personal attendant that never actually attended her. The bruises. An attempted suicide.

    "I hope you forgive me for waking you up this way. An illness of the mind isn''t something easily cured."

    "Wake up? Illness?"

    Lecil took pity on the quaking maid. Placing a gentle hand on Irene''s upper arm caused the shivering to subside.

    Locking eyes, the dark purple flecks blazing in Lecil''s eyes served to dry up Irene''s tears before they fell.

    Lecil didn''t care how long it took to burn away the infection or melt all these binding chains. Celia''s resolve would never waver.

    After all...

    They had two souls to burn through.

 First Prince

    Irene was drinking tea that was meant to be Lecil''s. The teacup rattled rapidly against the accompanying saucer. Today''s shock was still being filtered.

    Lecil decided to leave her a moment. She was also overjoyed someone was drinking the tea. Lecil''s taste for warm tea dropped dramatically after having inherited Celia''s memories. Coffee, hot chocolate, tea. Beverages were meant to be cold, preferably with ice. Celia would kill for an Iced tea.

    What? Was Celia supposed to act British now that she was actually a noble? Bunch of ninnies.

    Celia held vivid memories of a high school history course with a history teacher she loved to listen to. This was where she learned about how insane the British were.

    Tea was one of China''s biggest exports, and when the British found out about it, oh-ho-ho, they went absolutely bonkers. They ordered ALL of it. The Chinese officials were all like, "No, we need some for ourselves and our tea ceremonies." The British were like, "We don''t care, take our money." The Chinese were like, "Fine. We will quadruple the price!". The British were like, "Hah! Is that all?"

    The Chinese were like, "All right, they surely have enough now," and cut off trade. The British Ambassador was like, "What the tosh? Where''s our bloody tea at?" The Chinese leaders were like, "You''ve had enough. We need some for our tea ceremonies. If you want more, you need to pay ten times the price!" The British Ambassador laughed and said, "Hah. Is that all?"

    So the British continuously bought up nearly all the tea since they couldn''t grow enough on their islands. Eventually, the Chinese treasuries were overflowing, and they were like, "We have enough money, surely?" So they cut the British off again. The sorry lot was so hooked that they offered even more money. The Chinese rejected the offer and said, "If you get on your hands and knees and beg, we will sell you more." The British were like, "Hah! Is that all?"

    Thus Kowtowing was invented.

    So, every time they requested tea from then on, they had to bow their heads to the floor while also paying obscene amounts of money. This was somewhere around 1800. Celia couldn''t remember the exact dates. Her teacher never stressed it as important.

    "As long as you know the general timeframe and aren''t off by hundreds of years, world history isn''t that hard."

    Celia laughed at the British but never fucked with them. Because when the Chinese got tired of selling their tea for good the British got them addicted to Opium. The roles reversed and the Chinese were begging for Opium so much that they traded away all the money they earned and continued selling tea. If that wasn''t enough there were not one, but two Opium Wars.

    Crazy wankers.

    Wile Lecil admired Celia''s diverse collection of profanity, she need to forcefully cut off her errant thoughts. Celia''s memories were all connected like a string. Pull one, and you start pulling them all¡ªa useless font of fun facts that didn''t even apply to their world anymore.

    Well, maybe their combined knowledge could come up with a way to make iced tea. It would probably be a hit. Especially in the warmer regions. Could Lecil rake in some coin that way?

    Lecil wandered over to the dresser during her mental escapade. She moved a small clock and picked up a journal, leafing through. Taking a magical pen, she jotted down some more notes and underlining for emphasis.

    Iced Tea? Make sweet and cold. Watermelon Flavor.

    Other than the Renegade notes, there wasn''t much else filling the pages. Lecil wanted to capitalize on the potential of another world, but Celia couldn''t hold her attention long enough without daydreaming of something else.

    After so much time in the same body/brain, you''d think they''d get along and merge. Or at least cooperate.

    Unfortunately the two girls were too different. The only thing they agreed on was screwing over the game devs.

    Celia contributed all she could about Renegade, but she never got past the proverbial starting zone. She spent hours on the game yet always inevitably died when meeting Duke Sallow. She missed something crucial and could never figure out what.

    "Irene? Can I ask you to throw out this clock?"

    "The. Clock. Princess?"

    The words were clipped and confused.

    "Yes. Before it''s incessant noise drive me to murder it. I will get a magical one later. One that doesn''t tick."

    The small ticking of the clock infuriated Lecil and served to keep her up for an entire week. She vowed to smash it into a thousand pieces once she was free to act; however, using Irene to dispose of it became more attractive. A confidant was needed, and keeping Irene busy would help stabilize the whiplash she was currently suffering from.

    "I-I''ll take it to the incinerator."

    Lecil approved.

    "By the way, do you know where that thing came from? I don''t remember it."

    Irene blinked.

    "It has Princess Anne''s initials on it. It is likely hers."

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Oh."

    Lecil felt her face contort in a foul manner. She stopped when Irene reacted badly.

    "Well. Don''t bother giving it back. I like you''re incinerator idea. Also, Please come back immediately. I still have some things to discuss with you."

    "I understand."

    She didn''t.

    Watching Irene bow, accept the trash-bound clock reverentially, and exit all in a daze was concerning. Lecil didn''t want to overstimulate the poor girl. Hopefully she would get back in time for the event.

    She was supposed to be absent during the next event, but Lecil wanted to mess with the status quo. Her inital plan was to stuff Irene in a closet and have her watch secretly. That plan was tossed out after seeing how shaken the girl was.

    The likelihood of a bad ending increased when witnesses decreased. Even with Irene as a witness, risks would need to be taken.

    If I die... is a restart possible? Or will it be a permanent game over?

    =

    Am I standing in the right spot? I believe this was how it goes.

    The doors to the bedroom were flung open.

    -

    Main Event - Blood Brother

    Rewards: Affection+

    Consequences: Death

    -

    Those poor doors.

    "Lecil."

    Looking back over her shoulder, the First Prince appeared the same as last time. Formal clothes, needless pizazz, sword at his hip, that annoying scowl imprinted on his face. He could probably charm any fair Lady if he smiled.

    Tristan marched over to the balcony where Lecil leaned. He stopped at the edge of the doorway. Sneering, he eyed her up and down.

    "Why do you look like that? Why aren''t you dressed when it is already noon?"

    She hadn''t readied herself other than having her hair combed. Lecil was in her slippers and nightgown. Her wounds were clearly visible for anyone to scrutinize. Tristan either chose not to see, not to care, or was utterly unable of either.

    "Brother. That is the second time you''ve entered without knocking."

    "Don''t toy with me."

    "I''m not."

    I am absolutely toying with you.

    How could she not when she could finally speak freely?

    Lecil''s gaze held steady. Tristan affection score was still negative.

    -3%

    "I heard from Anne that you didn''t choose a suitor. You chose to postpone the decision and remain here. Why?"

    The winter wind chilled the air. It was cold outside and she really shouldn''t be out here, nearly naked. The sun was out, fortunately, helping to mitigate the temperature. Lecil smirked as a breeze passed through her straightened hair.

    "I convinced Father that Anne wanted me around."

    Tristan brought a hand to his sword, resting it there. Celia remembered how this option originally played out. Picking this choice was a death route. Lecil didn''t care.

    "You know very well that none of us want you here."

    He growled as he crossed the threshold.

    "You should have chosen a suitor and escaped while you still could."

    He drew his sword.

    Lecil laughed in his face, making him grow red with anger.

    The person in front of her wasn''t her brother. He wasn''t a Prince. He wasn''t even a person. He was a piece of script designed to torment her That he thought he was anything more was laughable.

    "Is this something to laugh about?"

    The sword shimmered in the sunlight. Cold steel touched her neck, halting her movement but not her quiet laughter. There was no fear in her eyes¡ªonly burning hatred and pity.

    This was Lecil. The girl who had no grand birthday parties or gifts. Who ate alone ever since her maid mother was exiled. The little girl who cried herself to sleep, wondering why her brothers hated her and her sister kept hitting her. The teenager who stood in the shadows at every public event, attracting stares and rumors. The hypnotized girl who believed it was all her fault that the world scorned her. Hated her. DENIED HER.

    The laughter ceased. Madness swam in her eyes as she grinned unnaturally. Lecil didn''t have a ''pretty'' smile. Just an evil one.

    "Do it."

    "What?"

    Tristan seemed confused. None of this was going how he imagined. She should be crying and pleading for her life. Then Tristan would deny it and end her pitiful existence.

    "I said, do it."

    Lecil grabbed the rapier. The cold metal bit into her bare palm like a scorpion as she wrenched the tip to point at throat.

    "Here. Thrust and get it over with."

    "You''re mad."

    "Hahaha~"

    Blood flowed down her clenched hand onto the blade, trickling down its pristine surface, bloodying the weapon for the first time.

    "Just a few inches forward. That''s it. Come on! Barely a flick of the wrist and I''m dead. That is what you wanted, right? You drew your sword because you were going to use it. RIGHT?"

    Tristan tried to remove his blade, but it didn''t move. Stuck in her palm. If he pulled hard, she would lose her fingers. If he pushed, she died. Wait. Wasn''t that what he wanted? Just push-

    "KILL ME!"

    Dark fire burned and roared. Lecil looked down her nose, backdropped by white winter.

    His character was flat. He didn''t deserve to be a star. A romantic interest? Hah! He was more deserving of being a background character. A pitiful tool scripted to act, suddenly trapped in inaction when things didn''t go his way.

    "Too bloody? Just push me over instead. Make it an accident. I''ll die from the fall, and you will live to be the unfortunate soul who tried to save his falling sister. People will love you. It will give you a bit of character."

    Her voice became scornful as she pulled Tristan''s blade with her. She brought him to the very edge of the balcony, backing up. Tristan had no choice but to follow or finally commit to a course of action. Lecil watched his eyes travel down to the ground below, bouncing between it, his sword, and his half-sister. Indecision and puzzlement defined him.

    The drop from three stories would to kill her if she landed on the stonework. Below, her body would be discovered, smashed against the bricks and framed in the flower beds. Her blood splattered like morning dew on white winter snowdrops.

    "You''re crazy."

    "Crazy? Don''t be like that. Did you want to make this more personal? Here."

    Lecil pushed away the sword and grabbed Tristan''s empty hand with her injured one.

    "You and Kly. The staff. The King. Anne."

    She guided Tristan''s hand to her throat.

    "You all drove me to this. You all made me."

    "What are you doing?"

    Tristan''s hand wrapped around her neck. She leaned back, perpendicular, hanging over the edge. She forced Tristan in close, staring directly into his grey eyes, and making her potential killer the only possibliity of survival.

    "You reap what you sow."

    ...

    Neither moved. Locked in an eternal moment.

    When stray cloud passed and cast them both in shadow, Tristan came out of the spell. Quickly, he pulled Lecil to safety before hastily separating himself. He looked at his hand and then to Lecil''s neck. His sword dripped crimson blood onto the stonework. His eyes seemed confused, then settled for apathy.

    "There is no need to dirty my hands. I have no desire to kill someone looking to die."

    The icon above his head settled at 0%.

    It was a victory in the loosest sense. Lecil knew that her only chance to live was to change Tristan from a cold killer into an unwanting executioner.

    That is the second time. I refuse to play the victim a third time.

    Lecil clenched her burning hand, causing a few more drops to fall. Fresh snow blew by and caught the scarlet vow.

    =

    The figure peeking in through the open doorway vanished quickly. When Irene was certain Prince Tristan left, she quickly ran into the bedroom searching for the Princess.

    Lecil sat on the balcony balustrade, watching the wind.

    "What took you so long?"

 Invention (1)

    Braster Sallow plucked the fountain pen from his forehead and staunched the bleeding. No one other than his wife knew the circumstances of his inconvenient curse. For better or worse, it activated around once a week in attempt to kill or embarrass him. The severity grew the longer the intervals became, which was why Braster often forcibly set the wheels in motion to avoid something fatal.

    A fountain pen to the forehead was puppies and kisses compared to the first time the curse activated.

    Throwing away the ruined pen along with that unwelcome thought, Braster returned to business

    The office here wasn''t as spacious as the one back home, but it served it''s purposes. Considering that the Sallows were been compelled to reside here for an entire year, Braster made efforts to make the room more comfortable. Such as the removal of all the sharp objects. The pen notwithstanding.

    The Duke struggled to stay as organized as possible, but it became too much in between his meetings with King and council.

    Oslo was the one who managed any missives from back home and often took up roles organizing whatever Braster couldn''t handle. Trisha spent most of her time out rubbing shoulders with other nobles. It took a lot of willpower to attend so many meaningless tea parties. It was a service the Duchess performed in order to stay informed. And it wasn''t like they were all dreadful. There were a few in her personal circle that she got along with swimmingly.

    With the pregnancy, Trisha would have to host more gatherings from the mansion instead of going out. Braster wanted to get her home and away from this accursed capital filled with danger.

    The politics of the capital will only grow more hazardous the longer we reside here.

    It was much more unstable than it appeared. Skirmishes were creating turmoil along the southern desert borders, and the winter savages raiding his own northern territories were a monstrous headache. The Knight Commander, supported by Braster''s own father, remained in charge the Winterland. Even with things left in good hands, Braster longed to return. His place was in Winterland. His family''s place was in Winterland.

    Braster sighed and unclenched his fist. Releasing the crumpled document, he took the required time to smooth it out.

    *Knock-Knock*

    "Come in."

    Braster was expecting Oslo to return by now with more papers to sign. However, to his delight surprise, it was his son!

    Braster felt the corners of his mouth leveling.

    "Are you busy?"

    "Not at all. The staff seems much more comfortable around you. Well done."

    Trisha was acting as a second head on his shoulder, boasting about how outgoing and proactive Bellavarn has been lately. A proud mother makes a proud father.

    "Ah, it was about time I stopped hiding. I think I''m able to remember everyone''s names now. But I actually came on business."

    Braster was intrigued. This was a first.

    "Do we employ any blacksmiths or crafters?"

    "Not in the capital. The Astor House holds a monopoly on all blacksmiths near the Palace. Most of our smiths remain in Winterland producing cold iron blades. I can open up a communication and expedite the travel time depending on the order?"

    Bellavarn handed a drawing board over to Braster. He accepted it and looked it over while his son elaborated.

    "This is a preliminary design for a new magic tool. I''ve reached the end of the theoretical phase and need to experiment to progress further. I was hoping to work directly with the smith since the specifications are so delicate."

    The attached drawing papers were actually detailed schematics. They were shaded illustrations complete with measurements. Each of the papers displayed different views and function of an odd, rounded, three-pronged object.

    "And what does this do?"

    Braster caught his son smirking proudly.

    "If I can get some prototypes and etch the magic circles correctly... It is a device that spins."

    "It spins."

    Braster raised an eyebrow. Starting simple was good, but the cost would outweigh the benefits. Magical tools are four times as expensive as normal alternatives. Despite his skepticism, Bellavarn''s enthusiasm didn''t wane.

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    "It is a handheld toy enchanted to accept mana from a recipient. In return, it spins. It is simple. Too simple. I don''t know why no one ever thought of it."

    "Son."

    "Ah, sorry. The problem it solves is magic capacity. Different individuals are born with different capacities. What if there was a way to grow that magical pool? Someone can gain muscle by exercising, so it be true that magical capacity can be increased with extensive use. This tool is reusable, programmed with a simplest function possible."

    Braster quirked his eyebrows.

    As simple as it is effective. Was something like this possible?

    The explanation could use restructuring, but this invention had the potential to be revolutionary.

    Magical capacity was hereditary. Nobles had easier access to mana than commoners. Such a tool would give common people a fighting chance, while providing an safer way for nobles to grow.

    As if that wasn''t enough, Bellavarn continued.

    "That''s not all. I have three variations in mind. The one on the first page will be sold as a children''s toy. It can help develop any latent talents that may be lurking. I''ve set safeguards so they won''t overburden the kids'' systems. The second is the standard option that may be sold to any adult that wishes to train their magic. The removal of the safeguard allows more strenuous exercises."

    Braster flipped the pages and noted the subtle differences. The last page was much more detailed than the others.

    "And the last one is a weapon."

    There were even cartoon illustrations on how it should be used.

    "A weapon."

    "Imagine! A normal tool distributed to the masses and even to children, no one would expect a harmless training instrument to be lethal. If the frequency is increased to emit a minuscule edge as it spins, it can be used a throwing star."

    "People will find out the potential to weaponize it if we start using it as such."

    "I plan to keep it a Sallow exclusive item. I''ll give one to Kerv and Henry during the testing phase. And I''ll enchant them myself to prevent corporate espionage."

    Braster finally put down the schematics. When did his son learn enchanting?

    "Even if someone steals one, they won''t be able to use it without my spell signature. The advanced version can''t be reverse-engineered engineered either. Someone would have to start from scratch."

    Bellavarn sucked in a breath before finishing.

    "In the meantime, we mass-produce the toy versions and rake in a massive cash flow."

    Braster had to lean back. Bellavarn outdid himself. Hell, he just outdid Braster, Braster''s father, and everyone Sallow before him. He scrutinized his rightfully smug son.

    "How long have you been cooking this up?"

    "About two weeks after Melody. It took this long to research and refine. It still isn''t feasible without a testing phase, though."

    "In just over a month, you came up with a fresh idea that can change the entire world while also increasing the worth of our house?"

    Bellavarn shuffled his feet.

    "Well. Yeah."

    Braster slammed his hand on the table and smiled using all his teeth.

    "I''ve never been more proud of you. What do you need to get started? You''ll have whatever you need, just send me an invoice and ask Oslo to handle the rest."

    Bellavarn reddened and scratched the back of his head; his hair had grown in the past month, swaying past his ears.

    "I was hoping knew someone nearby who could help with production. I don''t want to wait to get home to start this."

    "Oslo has a list. I can give you funds to pick out someone yourself, for now. I don''t expect us to stay in the Capital longer than a month. I will petition the King himself if it drags on longer."

    Bellavarn gave a charming smile, happier than he''s ever been.

    "Thanks. I''ll speak with Oslo and take Kerv out headhunting as soon as possible."

    Braster handed the drawing board back and laughed openly.

    "Is that laughter I hear? From my husband of all people?"

    "Trisha."

    "Mother?"

    Trisha appeared in the doorway. Her long blond hair waved along with an icy blue dress. Lurking behind her was Parcy.

    "What were you discussing that made Braster laugh aloud? I haven''t made him laugh like that since- since, well, I can''t remember."

    Braster chuckled lightly, moving around his desk and slapping a hand on Bellavarn''s shoulder.

    "Our son is a genius."

    "Dad."

    Bellavarn drew out the word like he was a child all over again. Trisha''s smiled at her son changing color.

    "I''ve always known that. I don''t know what took you so long, Braster."

    Braster initiated wordless communication again, leaving Bellavarn to simmer. When he couldn''t take it anymore, he spoke.

    "What brings you here, mother?"

    "You call Braster dad, but don''t call me mom? How about mommy? Like you used to."

    "Mother."

    "So be it. I was actually searching for you, Bellavarn. I heard a rumor that you wouldn''t mind me pairing you off? Was that true?"

    Her mother''s voice was playful and dangerous. Her smile was false, a masquerade meant to hide cruel and evil intentions. Witch! Trickster! Demon! No. Bellavarn had to run. Oh, but his mother blocked the only escape route and Parcy was playing goalie.

    Bellavarn took a step back, hitting the desk and knocking over a scroll. Braster looked at the situation and decided to retreat, lest he become a needless casualty.

    "I''ll leave you two to catch up, then."

    Braster slipped past his wife and Parcy, making a hasty withdrawal. Bellavarn gulped. His father was just preaching his genius, and now he abandoned Bellavarn? Traitor!

    "Aha. Ha. Mother. Please. It was only a jest. I swear."

    He didn''t like the twinkle in her eye.

    "Are you sure? Parcy swears it was the truth. That you would accept being set up by your mother."

    "Ha. Hahah. No. No. I said... What did I say?"

    Bellavarn trailed off. The memory of his exact words escaping him under pressure. He remembered the book he discussed with Parcy but not his previous words. Looking over the Duchess''s shoulder, he saw Parcy cover her mouth with a hand, preventing herself from smiling.

    It was an ambush. Where was Kerv when you needed him!

    Bellavarn let out a heavy sigh. Defeated.

    "Haaaa. Alright. You win. You-you can set up a lunch date. Nothing more!"

    The Duchess clapped her hands together and smiled toothily.

    "Wonderful. I have just the person in mind. You''ll have a great time! Parcy. Set aside that special tea I received from Lady Wyre. Make a note to purchase some flowers, chocolates, perfume, streamers, and-"

    A whimper escaped Bellavarn''s throat as he watched all his hopes being dashed.

 Invention (2)

    "Oslo. Save me. Please."

    "Master Bellavarn, you brought this on yourself."

    "You won''t abandon me, will you? Kerv? You as well?

    "Don''t look at me. I won''t be taking your place."

    "Don''t be like that."

    Bellavarn crumpled, placing his face in his hands. The preview the Duchess gave him of his upcoming get-together with a mystery girl filled him with dread. Father escaped. Oslo was remaining neutral, and Kerv was of no use. Bellavarn would die. He would die of embarrassment. Would Mother act as a third wheel?

    "God, help me."

    Kerv called on all his military experience to prevent his laughter from breaking free. If he let out a squeak, he would be running laps around the carriage as it carried Bellavarn and Oslo. Kerv won the lottery by being allowed to ride inside consistently; he wasn''t about to throw it all away. He was also amazed at how stone-faced Oslo could be.

    Oslo didn''t glance at Kerv, but he got the feeling that Oslo was bragging.

    "Oslo."

    "Yes?"

    Bellavarn still held his face, but he wasn''t covering his eyes anymore.

    "How many smithies are around our territory aren''t employed or suspected of working under the Astors?"

    "Approximately five within easy reach. Suppose we venture towards the palace, that number is practically nonexistent. The only option would be to hire a rookie with no experience."

    "Hm. Out of those five, how many can handle large orders?"

    "Two. Three if you include Farriers."

    "Which one has the most work experience?"

    "Vestals. It is the largest by far."

    "Then that''ll be our first stop."

    Oslo nodded in confirmation. Bellavarn leaned back in his seat, feeling the bump of the wheels as the carriage traveled. Were there no shock absorbers? Maybe that would be his next project.

    Looking out the window, he noticed that snow still blanketed the landscape. Some of it was slush along the streets, but most was pristine, untouched snow. Winter weeds were growing rampant in places, popping out of cracks in the road and sprouting in every unlikely place. For how close they were to the mansion, things seemed run down.

    "Oslo. I am worried."

    Oslo''s facade broke for a moment.

    "About what, master Bellavarn?"

    Watching out the window, he noticed the absence of people, and those he did notice gave the carriage odd looks. The few pedestrians huddled together for warmth, and mothers hurried their children along instead of letting them play. Looking towards the sky, smoke trails were indicating lit fireplaces, inside and out.

    "Several things. But right now, I am worried about the smoke."

    "The smoke?"

    "Do you see them? The number is wrong."

    Both Oslo and Kerv glanced out the window at the sky, counting the smokestacks.

    "There are quite a few."

    Bellavarn crossed his arms.

    "No. There are not enough."

    Every single abode should have a fire lit. Every home. Smithies. Bakeries. Taverns. Every working place. Yet for every house where smoke rose, there were three that lay dormant.

    =

    Bellavarn stepped out of the carriage, making sure to watch his step. His clothes were heavy and warm. He wanted to wear a cap or maybe earmuffs, but that seemed to ruin the ''noble image'' he was supposed to have. Apparently, his entire face was always supposed to be visible, lest someone mistake his identity. There were only a few occasions when nobles went incognito.

    "This is Vestal''s, master Bellavarn."

    Kerv and Oslo were beside him staring at the smithy. It was asizeable, half-open structure where workers walked to and fro. It seemed loiterers were lingered around the outskirts of the warm building. In the sky, several smokestacks converged to createe a billowing cloud of grey. The area smelled of sweat and iron.

    It didn''t take long for a group standing stepping out of a carriage bearing the Sallow crest to be noticed. The presence of a noble permeated through the crowd quickly. Bellavarn didn''t have to do anything to be ushered inside.

    Kerv watched the crowd warily. Their numbers were many, and he would have trouble fending them off if something happened. It was a shame Henry was on assignment. Bellavarn had refused anyone else since they were merely on business, and the presence of more guards would send the wrong message.

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    Oslo doing most of the talking, they progressed quickly up the chain of chain of command and were guided to a separate waiting room. Bellavarn unbuttoned his winter coat when he started to sweat.

    Two minutes later and the boss walked in. She was a tall, tanned, and muscular woman who kept her hair protected underneath a bandana. She seemed to have come directly from the forge; A sheen of sweat coated her skin.

    Seeing that the boss was more than a manager was promising. A boss who worked was always a respectable person. Bellavarn liked her immediately.

    "I apologize for the wait. I wasn''t expecting any esteemed guests."

    Bellavarn spoke up, able to handle his own dealings.

    "It is not a problem. We didn''t send word ahead, and you seem to have an abundance of staff to take care of. I assume you are Vestal?"

    The woman''s expressions were primarily flat and unreadable. She didn''t grovel, but wasn''t disrespectful either.

    "Alex Vestal. What brings you here?"

    Bellavarn smirked. This fit his impression of what a smith should be. No nonsense and to the point.

    "I won''t waste your time. I wanted to order some prototypes. They would be small works about a palm''s size, circular with three curved prongs, and I would need about a hundred of them. Would that be doable?"

    "Depends."

    Bellavarn quirked an eyebrow when she didn''t elaborate. He figured she would ask to see a drawing or know the exact dimensions before giving a hard answer. Bellavarn brought out a simple schematic.

    "On?"

    "Which Ducal Household you are from."

    A subtle befuddled look came over him. Oslo answered for him.

    "Did your assistant not mention? You are in the presence of Bellavarn Sallow, son of Duke Sallow."

    Was she expecting the Astor''s? But they are in Sallow''s land.

    "Then the Vestal Smithy won''t be working for you."

    "You know we can pay you appropriately, so why would you turn us away without listening? You are aware this smithy is on Sallow land."

    Her answer didn''t make sense.

    "My assistant said I was meeting with a Duke. I figured it would be Duke Astor. Not the son of Duke Sallow. We''ve heard the rumors about you. We don''t do business with your kind. If it were another customer or one of my workers, I would beat them with my hammer..."

    Kerv took a threatening step, and Vestal raised empty hands

    "...but since you are a noble, I can''t touch you. I can, however, refuse your business."

    Rumor? The rumor with Melody? Did it somehow spread further? Would a random smith know about such a thing? Even still...

    "You are awfully quick to judge someone based on a rumor. This is our first meeting and you haven''t even asked me if it is false."

    "If I asked, you would lie, or your butler over there would lie for you."

    ...

    Bellavarn was silent. Kerv was glaring daggers at the woman, but she made no threatening moves. Oslo spared a concerned glance for Bellavarn but was similarly glaring. Both of them learned that Bellavarn could solve his own problems and were silently supporting whatever decision he made.

    Lost in thought, Bellavarn wondered why someone so detached from the issue would judge him so harshly. Even the Sallow staff that viewed him in a bad light needed to learn through experience that he was not the man they thought he was.

    How did this smith even find out?

    The rumor hadn''t been proven or corroborated by anyone who witnessed the event. The maids and staff gossiped, yes, but it never left the mansion. The Duchess made sure of that. Yet, not only the royal family knew, but the common people as well? Either there was a spy among the household, someone cast incredible magic, or Melody was the one spreading the rumor. He didn''t know which was worst.

    What hurt Bellavarn the most was that no one ever asked for his viewpoint. Everyone assumed he was guilty by accusation alone.

    Now, did he have to spend time earning this random smith''s trust? Did he actually need her?

    Standing, he spoke with authority.

    "Whatever you have heard and from whatever source, you believe slander. It is a shame because I had a favorable impression of you before you decided to judge me."

    He was Bellavarn Sallow. A Duke''s son. He didn''t need to stand for this continued biased judgment. He didn''t have to earn everyone''s trust. They should earn his. Alex Vestal just lost all of it and would never earn it back.

    "We will not be working with you, even if you beg later. Also, no one from the Sallow household will be doing business with your smithy from now on. I look forward to the moment you regret your hasty actions."

    With that, Bellavarn walked out. Oslo turned and followed while Kerv stayed a moment longer to stare Vestal down. Vestal just smirked and watched the three walk out.

    The only reason Bellavarn didn''t shut down the smithy entirely was that it provided a warmth for a number of homeless.

    "Oslo. Are you sure that the Astors aren''t controlling that place?"

    "Positive."

    Then something was wrong, and Bellavarn could smell the foreboding a mile away.

    =

    "All busts."

    Every smithy, large and small, turned them away on account of ''rumors''. None of them even specified what the rumor was. Just that they refused to do business with his ''ilk''. Was Bellavarn wrong in assuming it had to do with Melody? Maybe they just didn''t like nobles. Or perhaps it had to do with his father. There was also the chance that the people nearer to the capital simply didn''t like the Sallow family.

    "I can try taking up a hammer. This item you need is small, right? How hard can it be?"

    Bellavarn held his chin in thought, not glancing at Kerv.

    "You''re body type is all wrong. You won''t be able to do it."

    Kerv looked shocked and slightly hurt. Oslo gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

    "No. I have a backup plan. Although there is no way to tell if we will be turned away again."

    "What do you have in mind, young master?"

    "Ceramics. The only reason I chose metal to work with was that I was caught up in the idea of a weapon. However, once fired, ceramics are nearly as sturdy. Particularly bisque-ware. Glazed works shatter more easily but we don''t really need them to be glazed. If we can find someone who works in non-traditional ceramics, it should be easy. In some ways, pottery is more mass-produced than metalworks. It just hasn''t picked up in this era."

    Kerv couldn''t follow. Oslo understood the gist of what Bellavarn was saying, so he asked for further clarification.

    "So you''re saying you need a potter?"

    Bellavarn shook his head.

    "Not necessarily. It shouldn''t be a hard adjustment if they have a few years of experience. I could probably do it myself after some trial and error."

    Kerv wondered when Bellavarn had time to take up ceramics, but brushed it off as him being multi-talented. Bellavarn was even learning to knit. Poorly, but the young master was trying and that''s what counts.

    "If that is the case, we have a crafter on retainer. He''s an old friend of mine."

    Bellavarn and Oslo smiled at each other. That would be perfect. They didn''t even need to run about in the first place.

    One of the carriage horses whinnied as it chewed on some budding weeds. Bellavarn did a double-take.

    "Alright. I will talk to the potter then. Also... Oslo, do you think you can have someone start collecting those weeds? I may have use for it."

    Kerv gave him an odd look. What did weeds have to do with weapons?

    "The Stink Weeds? They are useless. Only good as horse feed and making their breath stink."

    Bellavarn remembered a stray passage from a book. It was an old book that was part of the mansion''s original collection. He made a point to skim through every book in the library¡ªno point in unknowingly getting a copy when they had one already.

    "Use some of the money that was set aside for the blacksmiths to pay someone to collect it. Worst-case scenario, it turns into public service."

    "Understood, master Bellavarn. As you wish."

    It was nice having someone trust his word.

    Bellavarn bent down and plucked a bundle-full. It was repugnant and was likely the antithesis of mint leaves.

    Add another project to the list.

 Invention (3)

    Oslo''s friend lived closer to the mansion than almost anything else. It was only a ten-minute ride between the two locations versus the half-hour it took to reach the nearest smithy. According to Oslo, Turner was employed directly by the Sallows, making everything from plates to bowls, cups and mugs, vases and pitchers, and practically anything else functional.

    Bellavarn had actually taken classes in pottery in high school. It was one of the only things he enjoyed and remembered, since working on the wheel was a fun experience. A potter''s wheel is used to throw clay. Not actually tossing it. It was more like spinning. Like his invention should do.

    As they pulled up, he could see several brick kilns peeking over a short wall. There were likely to be several pieces inside right now.

    Clay was often fired twice. Before the first firing, shaped clay is called greenware. After the first firing greenware transformed into bisqueware. This process made the clay practically unbreakable. You could bury bisqueware in the ground and leave it for ten thousand years without it degrading.

    A second firing wasn''t necessary if your purpose was function. However, if you didn''t want a chalky bowl, glazes were a special kind of paint that transformed pottery from a necessity into an artform.

    Well... Glazes also served as effective waterproof.

    A glaze was never the same color twice. Depending on the glaze''s consistency, how watered down it is, or if two different glazes are accidentally mixed, the result will likely differ from what you had in mind. This may sound like a nightmare for artists, and it is for some, but this brings a lot of variety and spice to a piece.

    It was a struggle. Bellavarn remembered hating dealing with glazes but eventually thought of it as allowing the artwork to take on a life of its own. There were times when he was too controlling, needing to plan and piece together every detail perfectly. Keeping an open mind was one of the hardest hurdles Bellavarn had to overcome.

    It was too bad he ended up quitting.

    "Turner should be inside."

    Bellavarn wanted to make a joke about Turner''s name and a potter''s wheel, but the wording didn''t line up the way he wanted it to, so he refrained from embarrassing himself by trying. He was also Oslo''s friend, so it would be inappropriate.

    The door opened and Bellavarn could immediately smell the clay. To be exact, it smelled dusty. Everything was layered in dust. Reason being that clay was a three parts dust. Making your own clay could actually be dangerous because of the particles getting into your lungs. People who did ceramics in their garage without filtering the air could end up in the hospital with ruined lungs.

    "Hello?"

    There was no bell on the door as this was a workshop and not a store. Visitors were unlikely to come by the actual workplace unless they were buying in bulk or were looking for an apprenticeship.

    "Over here."

    A masculine voice came from around the corner. After a few steps inside Bellavarn and saw a middle-aged man bending down over at a spinning wheel. It was powered by a footpedal, and he was currently had an entire arm stuck down a tall vase, shaping it from inside and out.

    Bellavarn waited patiently for him to finish. It was always a wonder to watch masters work. Unfortunately, Turner''s display of skill was over soon.

    Turner stopped pedaling and looked up from his work. His eyes widened when he saw Oslo..

    Turner''s eyes moved to Bellavarn and immediately placed him.

    "What a rare visit. Seeing as you brought the young master, I assume you didn''t come to share a drink?"

    Turner wiped his hands in a bucket. Wet clay slopped off and pooled at the bottom.

    "Next time, I''m afraid. We''re her because the young master has a new invention is in need of your skills."

    "An invention? It isn''t something bizarre, is it?"

    Bellavarn laughed.

    "No. No. It is a small thing. I imagine you could create a dozen on the wheel in an hour. It will take some slight sculpting, but it shouldn''t be too far from your norm."

    Turner dried his hands on his apron. His brows furrowed as he looked to Oslo.

    "I''ve been meaning to see you, Oslo. You see, was approached by Astor a few days ago."

    Oslo''s gaze hardened.

    "What did they offer you?

    "A newer, larger workspace, and half a dozen apprentices."

    Turner sighed.

    "I''m sorry, old friend."

    "I see. So you''ve already accepted."

    "I was going to visit and tell you in person, but, I guess you beat me to it. I''m sorry, to both of you. It wasn''t a decision I made lightly."

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    Oslo has known Turner for over two decades. They met even before Oslo was working for the Sallows. Now, all of a sudden, his friend was leaving.

    While Oslo reconciled and caught up with Turner, Bellavarn shared a whispered conversation with Kerv.

    "Has someone been following us? Are there any bugs on our persons?"

    Kerv creased his brows.

    "I don''t detect anything, and no one followed us. They''d have to be one of a kind to fool me."

    "Check outside to be sure."

    Kerv nodded and left back out the front door. Bellavarn didn''t think Kerv would find anything. Whoever it was, did they somehow know where Bellavarn would be going over? Was this part of some other ploy to encroach on Sallow territory? With Astor''s involvement proven, there was zero possibility that this was coincidence.

    Was Astor the one who spread the rumors? If so, how did he find out in the first place?

    With increasing questions and few answers, Bellavarn tuned back in to the conversation.

    "You know I have trouble filling enough orders to keep myself afloat. It is just me here after my last apprentice was poached. Astor''s offer is too much to pass up."

    "Why haven''t you come to me sooner? I could have done something if you told me."

    Turner breathed in, exhaling.

    "It isn''t just that."

    "What else is there?"

    "Kelly. My daughter. She heard some rumors about master Bellavarn and has been pressuring me to leave. I told her it was slander and noble gossip, but she wouldn''t have it. She threw a fit and declared she wouldn''t talk to me unless I accepted Astor''s offer. I held out for a while, wanting to talk to you first, but I haven''t been able to leave the workshop."

    Turner appeared to age a decade right in front of them. Oslo knew that being a single father wasn''t easy; he couldn''t blame his old friend.

    However, Bellavarn felt a migraine coming on.

    It wasn''t just Astor poaching someone. This was all due to that rumor spreading and a girl I didn''t even know throwing a hissy fit.

    Bellavarn couldn''t begrudge Turner. Unlike the rest, Turner had very valid reasons for refusing his offer. Astor offered a huge improvement in quality of life while also gaining the approval of his daughter.

    "I understand your reasons."

    Turner put his hands in his pockets. It was as if saying his hands were tied. Bellavarn couldn''t give Turner any information on his invention if he were defecting to Astor. Revealing that he had a new invention to his competitors was already a disastrous outcome.

    Kerv returned and gave Bellavarn a shake of his head. Bellavarn rolled his neck, eliciting a crack.

    "When do you plan on moving?"

    "In a week. Astor will be sending someone to help me move my tools. The new workshop isn''t far, but it isn''t close either."

    "What if I asked you to move sooner?"

    Everyone looked at Bellavarn, but he was too upset to continue speaking nicely.

    "Sooner? How soon?"

    "By tomorrow. I''ll pay you for any equipment you leave behind as a severance fee. I will even hire someone tomorrow morning to move whatever you need. You will be up and out within a day."

    "Well. That would save me a lot of trouble. That is very kind of you, master Bellavarn."

    "I have two conditions."

    Bellavarn held up two fingers.

    "The first is that you can''t speak to Astor House about your time under the Sallows."

    "Hmph. I won''t sell you out if that is what you are worried about. I owe Oslo more than that."

    The words were bittersweet. On the one hand, Oslo''s long-time acquaintance was leaving to join a rival House. On the other hand, it wasn''t like all the years working together would be obsolete. Turner clearly held respect towards him and the Sallows for putting up with him for so long.

    "The last condition is non-negotiable."

    Turner rubbed his stomach and Oslo seemed suddenly concerned.

    "You will never return to Sallow employ."

    Everyone else present was startled. It was equivalent to cutting away Turner''s safety net. If Astor suddenly reneged, Turner would have nowhere to go.

    "Bell-"

    "No. I don''t care."

    Bellavarn shrugged off Kerv.

    "I am being fair. I''ve been insulted one too many times today. Now someone close to home ups and leaves, moved by a stupid rumor. I''ve had enough. I am giving him a chance at a huge severance pay and seeing him off. Do not belittle my kindness."

    "Master Bellavarn, Turner is an old friend. If something were to happen, he should be able to return."

    "I can''t do that, Oslo. Not only does Duke Astor seem to be poaching every major crafter in our nearby territory, but he has also been spreading and growing that rumor to turn people to his side. If Turner defects to Astor, I can''t ever trust him again, even at your word. Willingly or unwillingly, he would just be another spy in our midst."

    Oslo wanted to fight Bellavarn''s words, but he knew them to be true. It was his fault for allowing things for Turner to deteriorate over the years.

    Turner spoke, ending Oslo''s inner thoughts.

    "It is fine. I understand. Bellavarn is being more than reasonable. I am glad he grew up with a head on his shoulders."

    "Turner."

    Oslo buckled a bit from the hand slamming on his shoulder. Turner laughed with a smile.

    "We can still grab a share that drink. I just can''t work for you anymore."

    Oslo glanced at Bellavarn. He appeared not to like the idea but gave Oslo a small nod anyway. Letting them remain in contact was also a chance for leaks, but Bellavarn couldn''t bring himself to deny Oslo of his friendship.

    "You will be paying, with the Astors money."

    Turner just laughed harder.

    "Fair enough."

    =

    In a sour mood, Bellavarn trudged outside with Kerv while Oslo lingered behind.

    "What do you plan on doing now, Bell? Any easy options are gone."

    "I''ll do what I said. I will make them myself."

    Bellavarn''s expression was set.

    "That is why I am paying for him to leave his tools behind. The workshop is nearby to the house. I will just be spending more time here instead of the library."

    "Does that mean I will be joining you?"

    "Get used to it."

    Kerv resigned himself. The cold weather would prevent him from napping, and there would be security concerns with how exposed the workshop was. He''d have to ask Henry to join him to stave off boredom.

    The duo was walking back to the carriage when Kerv spotted someone approaching. They were bundled up in clothes, but it was clearly a woman. Using context clues, he gathered this was Turner''s daughter, Kelly. She paused when she saw the emblem on the carriage. The two enough were close enough to see each other''s eyes.

    Not good.

    Kerv tried to hurry Bellavarn and block his view, but it was too late. Bellavarn stopped walking.

    There was seething hatred in the girl''s eyes. As if Bellavarn was her mortal enemy.

    "Bell, don''t-"

    He was about to make an excuse but stopped when he saw Bellavarn''s face. Kerv was expecting Bell to be furious after the day''s events, but Bell''s face was as if he''d seen a ghost.

    His words meek.

    "What did I do? ...For her to look at me that way."

    Kerv switched tactics.

    "Bell. She doesn''t know. She was told a story. She doesn''t know you."

    "She is glaring at me like I killed her mother in front of her."

    "Bell."

    Bellavarn turned away and walked into the carriage, closing the door himself.

    Kerv looked back at Turner''s nameless daughter. Just another face passing by. But it was her who tipped Bellavarn over the edge. He cursed her and Duke Astor.

    He watched her stomp inside and nearly bowl over Oslo as he walked out. Oslo furrowed his brows, his mouth slightly parted.

    "Did something happen?"

    Kerv glowered.

    "Yeah. She just pushed Bellavarn off the edge."

 Bitterness

    First, it was Vestal. Then he had to hear the same things at each smithy. He didn''t even bother to go into that last smithy and had Oslo do it for him. When Oslo came back less than five minutes later with a scowling face, shaking his head, Bellavarn could guess what transpired.

    Now, not only was a long-time retainer defecting, Astor seemed to have it out for him.

    Then there was those eyes cursing his existence.

    And the reason for it all?

    Bellavarn made a mistake.

    I don''t even know why I fell for Melody.

    No. He knew. He remembered.

    His hand reflectively hovered over his jacket pocket. Inside was a burnt piece of paper, barely salvageable.

    The carriage bumped hard, causing Bellavarn to readjust himself. Kerv frowned and opened the door to ask what it was. Nem apologized saying it was a hidden pothole. The door closed¡ªuncomfortable silence.

    It had been so simple.

    A piece of Bellavarn and Sallow had fallen for her. Even if it was mostly Bellavarn at that moment, it was inexplicable. Innocence and naivety. When the Bellavarn of Earth first woke up in a new body, he despaired. He didn''t want to live. He wanted oblivion. He didn''t wish for any of this.

    Those first moments. I remember them.

    Bellavarn had actually been conscious before Melody entered. He never told her about it.

    It was only for three minutes.

    =

    Pain. Intense and unending. Swirling in blackness. Lost and cold.

    A part of him could think.

    Ah. So this is oblivion.

    Without the pain, it would be nice. His life was over and now it was void. No direction. No light. Fitting.

    *WHACK*

    Something hit him so hard he spun end over end. The only indication of motion was an ingrained nausea. Maybe it was the pain, but he got the impression that some cosmic existence set Bellavarn''s soul on a tee and whacked him as hard as it could.

    He wanted to throw up to relieve the pain but was entirely unable.

    Then he felt a pulling sensation. Not quite gravity.

    Screaming, he hurdled through stardust. It felt like he was going warp speed and his atoms were splitting apart¡ªeternity and not.

    Landing.

    "Oompf."

    Bellavarn woke up in a cold sweat. The damp sheets clung to his skin.

    "A nightmare?"

    No. This wasn''t his room. Not his sheets. Not his voice. His hands, unknown and unfamiliar. His skin was a shade too light. The absence of a freckle on the back of his left hand. Pristine and clean. No callouses from the hours of hard labor. His nails were trimmed instead of being picked down.

    He ran over to the mirror.

    "No."

    It wasn''t him. This isn''t Bellavarn. Yet he was alive. Why was he alive? He wanted to die.

    Take me back. I don''t want to be here. Take me away!

    He grabbed the nearest and sharpest object. A magical pen. Thrusting it at his throat, it stopped with a prick of pain.

    The pain. It was real. Real. The pain was real.

    Pain? More pain? Unending? I don''t want to go back. No. No, no, no, nononono-NO!

    The pen fell. Bellavarn stumbled back to the bed, sitting on its edge.

    He didn''t want to die. He never did. It was just so painful. He hated the pain he could never see. It passed through his skin and tore at his heart. The loss of his parents. Trying to survive and earn enough to eat. His efforts spat at. Giving up his passion and working dead-end jobs no one wanted. The love he thought he finally found turned out to be more hollow than death.

    It ached¡ªhis heart. Bellavarn tried to claw it out, but it mocked him by hiding underneath his flesh.

    All he ever wanted was to belong. To live. Not just survive. But fate was so cruel to him.

    All he ever wanted was not to be alone. To not return home, greeted by silence and absence.

    All he needed was an anchor¡ªsomeone who cared.

    A single person.

    *Knock-Knock*

    =

    Drowning. The newly awaked Bellavarn had been grasping at straws and let himself get whisked away.

    Still, there was a place in his heart for Melody. Sallow''s first kiss. Bellavarn''s anchor. There is no way that everything was a lie. If it was... then what did that make him.

    "Not again."

    "Bell."

    "What?"

    "You are clutching your heart."

    Bellavarn came back to the present. Inside the carriage. He felt his hand scrunching up his coat. He released it along with the pained expression he wore. Kerv and Oslo sat across from him, looking at him with worried eyes. It only made the pain in his heart double.

    My heart really is on my sleeve.

    Bellavarn looked at the back of gloved hands. He could still imagine that freckle if he took them off. He didn''t take his eyes off his hands as he spoke aloud.

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    "Do... do you remember your first love, Kerv?"

    "I do."

    Bellavarn brought his head up, searching.

    "Does the pain ever go away?"

    Kerv looked away. The answer was clear, but Kerv spoke anyway.

    "I still remember her like yesterday. A fellow knight in training. She was fiery and ambitious, never mincing her words. She told me flat out it would never work between us. It didn''t stop me from falling for her each time I saw her."

    He was wistful as he genuinely smiled.

    "She would always win when we sparred. Outdoing all the men, she was determined to make herself stand out, never settling for less than the best. She never slacked off, missed training, or took shortcuts. Eventually, I found myself following after her, running myself ragged to catch up to her. She told me if I could beat her, she would accept me."

    Snow started to fall again as Bellavarn and Oslo listened. Buildings passed by less and less frequently.

    "I stood next to her when we both graduated, second to only her. Never good enough. She walked away from me without ever looking back."

    The pain was clear in the way Kerv paused.

    "She joined the House Raiden as the Knight Commander. I joined the House Sallow as a guard."

    Bellavarn never heard Kerv talk so openly about his past before.

    "I won''t lie, and you probably know by now, Bell. The pain never really goes away. It aches less often over time. Never quite as intense as before, but it can fester if you continue picking at it."

    Bellavarn was quiet for a moment, and the others were content to stay like that if need be. Consequently, Bellavarn decided to let out his emotions because the silence was too much to bear. It reminded him of his death.

    The closest thing to the truth.

    He would tell it to the two people he trusted more than anyone. Who proved they cared.

    "I was going to end it all... just before Melody came in."

    Oslo''s eyes went wide. The young master was... There was no indication.

    Kerv withheld judgment and his words. Bellavarn respected his story, Kerv would do the same. Letting out the emotions was the only way not to go insane.

    "The amnesia. Thrust in a new place. I didn''t want to be here. I wanted to go back to before. As if it was all a dream, I tried to end it and wake up."

    Bellavarn rubbed his neck, still feeling the pinprick.

    "But the pain. It was real. I couldn''t go back. It was unending and everlasting. I never want to feel that again. Never. I hate it. I wanted to live. I always wanted to live. To have a family. To love and be loved."

    He sniffed and took a moment to prevent himself from breaking down completely. His voice was strained as he continued, the dam threatening to burst.

    "I... I was so scared. To be alone again. In absence. With everyone around me gone. And that was when Melody knocked."

    "I learned I had parents who loved me. They were alive and present in my life. But I was so afraid to go outside. I thought if I met them, they would figure out I wasn''t really their son anymore. If they rejected me I wouldn''t have been able to take it. I wanted to learn as much as I could without making them suspicious. Force them to accept me even if I had to work day in and day out."

    "Melody was so supportive. She laughed as she taught me the difference between letters. When I was drowning in uncertainty, she was there. When I refused to leave my room for fear of rejection, she came in every day and spent time with me. Her smile lit up my life. It was just a week. Only a week. Only..."

    The tears broke out and he sobbed. Unable to form proper words. He tried his best.

    "She-she liked me. She did. I-I remember it! It wasn''t fake. My feelings weren''t fake."

    He tried to control it, but it just made him a mess as he bent in on himself. His voice quivered, rising and falling in pitch irregularly. Kerv moved over and sat beside him. Bellavarn leaned over, sobbing and muttering nonsense. Kerv let him cry, and Oslo handed him his own handkerchief. The emotions that have been eating at him for over a month burst all at once. He didn''t care if his voice was a mess. It was too late to condition his reaction.

    "And then... And then... I was so worried. Scared."

    "Mother. She didn''t be___ me. No one believed."

    "And now... And now... Still. They still... don''t."

    "Melody. Is-Is she safe? Why did she say those things?"

    ...

    He felt broken. So broken and unstable. A fool. Naive. Idiotic. What was the truth? Was what he saw and experienced real? Or were her harsh words the bitter truth?

    He worked so hard to get everyone at the mansion to like him. He tried his best. And it worked! But there were still people who didn''t believe him. How could they know the truth when Bellavarn wasn''t even sure of what happened.

    The carriage wheeled along, pulled by two tired horses and a bundled up Nem. He sneezed, completely unaware of what was going on inside the insulated coach.

    =

    Oslo stepped out of the carriage first. Bellavarn and Kerv lingered inside when he requested they give him a moment to run an errand.

    Back at the mansion, Oslo entered the front doors. The entryway was needlessly grand for his taste. He preferred the estate back up north. Less needless space. It only made maintaining the entire thing a nightmare for the maids.

    Increasing his pace, he moved to a door connected to the entrance hall and knocked. A voice from within answered.

    The atrium was a greenhouse with a large patio in the center. A round table sat on the patio; an umbrella propped up and shading the table.

    Two sets of tea. Two women.

    Both the same age, one had bright blond hair and was pregnant, the other had orange hair and was entirely unpregnant.

    "Oslo? Is Bellavarn back?"

    The Duchess called out, while bringing a cop of tea to her lips.

    "Yes, but if I could speak with you privately for a moment, I don''t wish to take you away from your guest."

    The guest waved her hand.

    "Don''t mind me; I can occupy myself for a few minutes."

    "Ah, apologies, Guinevere. I shall be back momentarily."

    The Duchess set down her cup and stood gracefully. Moving over, Oslo ushered her out of the room for a moment. Closing the door, Oslo even moved away from it. Trisha began to get worried when then moved all the way over to the middle of the empty room. The Duchess whispered.

    "This is obviously something you don''t want to be overheard. Does it have to do with Bellavarn?"

    "Our luck outside the mansion turned sour, and Bellavarn said some things that made me concerned."

    "What happened? What did he say?"

    Oslo shook his head.

    "It is not my place to share a secret between men. I can talk about the business aspects later. Right now, you need to cancel whatever plans you have for setting up Bellavarn."

    "What? Why? You can''t not give me a reason, Oslo. You were gone for less than six hours."

    Oslo bit his tongue, remembering Bellavarn''s haunting words.

    "Master Bellavarn hasn''t fully recovered and isn''t ready to meet someone new right now. It is unfortunate that you were meeting with Lady Wyre of all people. I assume you want to set up her daughter with master Bellavarn. I won''t say you can''t, but it needs to wait."

    Trisha was silent, her eyes shifting, calculating.

    "I was hoping for him to meet Lady Wyre. These rumors are spreading somehow, and I can''t stop them. I wanted to assuage her fears by introducing Bellavarn. Is he that unwell? Is this because of Melody?"

    "Mostly. His wounds are deeper than we ever thought. He''s a strong kid, but don''t mention anything to him. Are you able to push the date back at all?"

    "Not without offending Lady Wyre."

    "Bellavarn is in the right state of mind."

    Trisha bit her nail. This is one of three occasions ever that Oslo was dictating terms. It was infuriating to be left out of the loop again, but she had no choice.

    "Dammit! I shouldn''t have been so eager. He seemed so well, and Braster was full of praise. I even called her over on short notice."

    "I am sorry, Duchess."

    "Don''t Duchess me, Oslo. I know this is mostly my fault. I will take care of it. I expect you to fill me in on more later. I don''t your secrets among men; you owe me an explanation."

    Oslo bowed his head.

    "I am in your debt. I will promise to explain what I can."

    Trisha turned away, marching back into the guest room. Oslo watched her for a moment and then went back outside.

    Bellavarn wasn''t as alone as he thought he was. Until the moment he finally saw the staff''s smiling faces, when he finally recognized Kerv being his best friend, and finally understood that his parents would never abandon him, Oslo would make sure to protect him.

    Oslo would protect the young boy who ran up to him, waving a crude drawing, excited and full of life.

    "We are here for you, Bellavarn."

 *Splat*

    "Tell us what happened, Oslo."

    Duke Braster sat in a lounge with his wife. It was still evening after Bellavarn returned. Oslo had come to him after speaking with Trisha and mentioned that they had a problem. They both cleared their schedule for this.

    "Sir, I am not sure where I should begin."

    Braster ran a hand through his hair.

    "Start at the beginning."

    "Right. I suppose the first thing I should mention is that every smithy we visited refused us. They denied us service on account of the rumor about Bellavarn."

    Trisha was halfway into throwing her teacup when she stopped. It was a gift, so throwing it would upset someone else unnecessarily. Instead, she settled for using her other hand to squeeze Braster''s arm.

    "That poisonous bitch. It is all her fault. Bellavarn had gone completely unnoticed until now."

    Oslo winced. Trisha rolled her head back and massaged her temple, trying to prevent creases from forming.

    "Ugh. I shouldn''t have invited Lady Wyre so soon. I made excuses, but it is clear that her mind is already set in a direction. Her daughter is a delight, but Lady Wyre can be so petty. She is stubbornly selective for her daughter despite being a baroness. "

    Braster looked uncomfortable at his wife''s regrets while Olso steeled himself and continued.

    "It was unsettling for Bellavarn to be turned away at every occasion, but he quickly bounced back. He wasn''t afraid to scrap his original idea decided to work with clay instead of metal."

    "Clay?"

    "Ceramics is mainly used for pottery, but it holds many other options as well. It was a genuinely good idea. I brought him to visit my old friend Turner."

    "Turner''s a good man. He has a daughter around Bellavarn''s age, doesn''t he?"

    It took Oslo a moment to keep his expression neutral.

    "He does. We visited him, but we received unsettling news. It appears that Duke Astor successfully poached him."

    "That brat dares poach from a Duke''s territory."

    Trisha squeezed Braster¡¯s arm, grounding him. Oslo interjected in the brief pause.

    "It is my fault, Duke. I neglected to check in with Turner and let things deteriorate to this point. The worse news is that I did some quick digging, and I have already uncovered evidence that at least three of the smithies we visited had been in indirect contact with Duke Astor. He''s been creeping in on our crafters for almost two months. I will need to complete more thorough investigations to uncover more, but I suspect that there are even more hidden damages we are unaware of."

    The Duke''s silence was more dangerous than any outburst. This was still the edge of his land, and these were his people. Astor controlled nearly all business in and around the capital, but it seems he''s looking to expand that influence.

    Trisha''s consistent meetings with the other noble Ladies didn''t reveal anything. There was no chatter about the Astor''s moves at all. It could only mean that his subterfuge skills are more advanced than either of them thought. There''s a high probability that several other nobles have already defected to his camp.

    They must have enjoyed pulling one over a Duchess.

    "It is unsettling that we''ve both overlooked the young Duke Astor. I suppose his parents letting him succeed the Duchy so early wasn''t idiocy after all. This is good, though. Bellavarn managed to uncover the plot before it grew into something unmanageable."

    "I will need to plan a counterattack. This insult can''t go unpaid. Trisha, you should figure out who has been lying to our faces while they still believe we are ignorant."

    Trisha''s eyes were filled with ice.

    "You needn''t tell me, dear. I''ll make those wenches regret their actions."

    The Duke felt a chuckle in his chest and smirked. That was his wife. A boon for friends and a disaster to her enemies. Oslo interrupted once again.

    "Duke Astor is the one who has been spreading the rumor."

    The temperature in the room dropped. Braster''s eyes became chilly and deadly. Trisha was murderous. The combined aura was strangling all the air in the room.

    "I''m sorry. I think I misheard. That twerp has been spouting nonsense about my little boy?"

    "Surely we didn''t both mishear. Right, Oslo?"

    Adjusting his collar so he could inhale, Oslo held up a hand and explained.

    "Not only did the smithies in indirect contact with Astor know about the rumor, but the last smith that I conversed with blew the rumor out of proportion. He wasn''t smart enough to invent the rumor himself, so I concluded he heard it directly from someone else."

    Remembering the oaf that called himself a blacksmith, Oslo clenched his fist. The coot was hollering about some sort of lecherous demon. The absurd words caused Oslo to lose his temper. Luckily, removed his gloves off before doing any damage, and Bellavarn was too distracted to notice.

    Oslo''s knuckles twitched. It had been a while since he dirtied his hands like that.

    "It explains why the entirety of high society, including the royal family, all know about the rumor despite us keeping it tightly in house."

    Sighing, he remembered his old friend.

    "The reason Turner was ultimately pushed to accept was because of his daughter. I spoke with him after Bellavarn egressed and it appears Duke Astor presented the offer in person. It so happened that Turner''s daughter, Kelly, was highly susceptible to his poisonous words. Kelly became enraged and demanded her father defect."

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    It was a well-crafted plan that hit many birds with one stone. It slandered the young Duke and the Sallow house, bought Astor an experienced crafter and deprived the Sallows of business. It was unlikely he knew that he managed to foil Bellavarn''s plans for his invention, the events coincidentally coinciding.

    There was also winning over a loyal follower in Kelly, wrapping her father around his finger.

    Oslo rubbed his eyes.

    He wasn''t present for whatever occurred between Bellavarn and Kelly, but Kerv looked half as murderous as the Duke and Duchess were looking at him right now. Unfortunately, he wasn''t done yet.

    "Kelly and Bellavarn had some sort of interaction outside while I was busy. Kerv described it as Kelly¡¯s prejudice greatly insulted Bellavarn. Combined with the constant setbacks and unending judgment from the rumors, it hit him hard. Bellavarn broke down on the ride home."

    Trisha was breathing hard through her nose. She wanted to punch something, preferably someone young. Like Duke Astor. Or Melody. Or this Kelly person. Everyone was so quick to judge her little boy without ever getting to know him.

    She cooled when she remembered her own actions.

    The panic she felt. The horror at what she had seen. Her deepest regret was that she had been fooled as well. It would make sense if Bellavarn blamed her. Trisha was a hypocrite of the highest standard.

    A comforting hand squeezed her own. Looking up, she saw Braster''s assurance. She could see the understanding and absolution she was looking for. Behind it all, Trisha could see the unfathomable wrath he wanted to bring down. He just needed a valid target.

    The Duchess grinned as she realized who the most likely candidate was. Deciding it was time to ask, she spoke in a measured tone.

    "Will you tell us what Bellavarn said in the coach?¡±

    Oslo was adamant to keep certain things secret, but he would describe Bellavarn best he was able..

    "Bellavarn is an amazing young man. He handled each situation to his utmost ability and always kept the benefit of the family in mind. He was furious, yet fair-minded. He adapted quickly under pressure. Though, I believe he is trying a bit too hard."

    His smile turned sad.

    "He is afraid you two will abandon him if he doesn''t do well. I believe that is the reason he has been studying so hard. He is trying to gain your approval. I suspect that it is the reason behind him accepting Duchess'' option of setting him up, even though his wounds haven''t healed is because he knew it would make the Duchess happy."

    Trisha wanted to cry. Her son! Her little boy. So kind and gentle. So smart and talented. He was her pride and joy, doesn''t he know? She would be happy to keep him all to herself. He didn''t need to find a lady! He was hers!

    Braster felt similar emotions of a more manly variety. He loved his son. When Bellavarn locked himself away, he was worried enough to forget about his curse and even neglected important duties. It was a pleasant surprise when he learned that Bellavarn had been studying magic. His son showed off to the King and put the royal heirs in their place. And then Bellavarn went and created something spectacular¡ªan invention so simple and yet so impactful and extraordinary that it could change the world! His son was not only the most thoughtful person he knew but was more innovative than the past three generations of Sallows.

    Braster didn''t know how to be prouder.

    Every member of house Sallow cared for Bellavarn. They¡¯d been living each day in monotony before he opened them up. Laughing and learning. Playing games. Sharing treats and spreading joy. He brought them all together and made them one huge family.

    Bellavarn was loved even if he didn''t see it. Even if he felt alone. Everyone in the mansion was here for him now. He would go on to be a great person, and his name would go down in history if he continued down his path.

    That was why it was so important to nurture him and keep him safe.

    "I wish it was his birthday again so that we could throw him a party."

    "Unfortunately, it just passed.

    "There is the spring festival next month. Perhaps we can have plans for everyone to go out together?"

    Braster folded his arms in contemplation at Oslo''s suggestion.

    "Hm. It''s doable. I can set it up so that everyone is free that day."

    Trisha had a thought.

    "What is Bellavarn going to do now that there is no one to work on his invention?"

    Oslo shifted his feet.

    "Well. He plans on doing it himself. He seems confident enough. Turner will be receiving a hefty severance pay in exchange the majority of his tools. Bellavarn even had Nem go back for some supplies, including a bucket of clay. If he is still awake, he is likely shaping it as we speak."

    Oslo noticed Bellavarn seemed to be developinga habit of throwing himself into work when he''s stressed. It wasn''t the worst habit to have, but it wasn''t entirely healthy either. Bellavarn was very much like his father in that regard.

    "Before you make assumptions, maybe you should visit him."

    =

    *Splat*

    "No! Kerv. I told you. Stop! Get back here. Put that down."

    "Hah. You got to catch me first, Bell."

    *Splat*

    "Kerv. This isn''t funny. Stop this. You are getting it everywhere."

    *Plop*

    "Whoah!"

    Kerv slipped and fell back, the wind knocked out of him. Bellavarn pounced, wrestling the small bucket of clay away. Half of its contents were painted across the room from an impromptu mud fight.

    "I told you not to do this in the library. Do you realize how long it will take to clean this up? Ah! The water is probably in the books."

    Bellavarn set down the bucket and left a wheezing Kerv stranded on the floor. Running over to the bookshelves, he double-checked they were all okay.

    Sigh~

    "It is my fault for bringing it in here anyway. I just wanted to get started early."

    Oslo cleared his throat. Kerv extricated himself from the floor with a wince as Bellavarn leaned out from the bookshelf, finally noticing everyone standing in the doorway.

    Trisha covered her mouth while staring at her husbands face, a thick glop of gray paste slipped down wetly.

    "Pfft."

    Trisha wiped the smirk off her face as Braster wiped his.

    "You didn''t see all that, did you? I told Kerv to stop."

    "It is young master Bellavarn''s fault for doing nothing but work."

    Trisha noted that he spoke to Bellavarn formerly now that there was an audience.

    Braster firmly ignored what just happened to his face and thought about the situation as a whole. For the first time ever, Braster thought that Kerv deserved a raise.

    The maids will be the ones cleaning, anyway.

    "Did you come to check up on me? I managed a few basic forms, but they need to dry before I can work with them. They are over there."

    Bellavarn directed the eyes to a cordoned-off corner. Trisha raised a delicate eyebrow. Braster wrapped a protective arm arm around her as he led the way. She tiptoed slightly behind him, hemming up her dress.

    How did all this come from only half a bucket?

    Outside, Oslo excused himself to address the pair of maids who were loitering outside. They were in the midst of playing rock-paper-scissors.

    Inside, Braster examined nine wet shapes sitting on a small wooden board. A tarp covered the area to prevent disasters¡ªToo small to protect the entire room.

    Braster recognized the pieces that looked almost vaguely like the diagrams he''d seen. Six circular disks with smaller rounded prongs arranged in a triangle formation. Holes were cut out of the center.

    "What are those little snakes for?"

    Trisha pointed to a few thick coils set aside.

    Bellavarn called over from where he was airing out a book.

    "Those will be the trigger mechanisms later. Place them in the center, click, and the piece will turn."

    Trisha turned her head, trying to imagine it. Bellavarn could sense the confusion and walked over, pointing.

    "Each disk has a partner that will be connected through a center rod. I kept everything separate so its easier to carve the magical symbols. Trying to get a needle into such a small space would be maddening"

    It clicked in both their minds.

    "The form is harder to work with than I thought. Turner uses really wet clay. Since he specializes in thrown pottery and not hand-built works, it makes sense."

    Bellavarn stated it as if the information was obvious for everyone.

    Trisha exchanged a look with her husband, having the same thought.

    Our son is a genius.

    Bellavarn took their silence as understanding and walked off to greet a despondent Ester and a satisfied Lannie. Lannie won rock paper scissors.

    Father and Mother watched their son greet the two maids with a sorry expression. Lannie and Ester exchanged barbs with each other, but neither of them seemed unduly annoyed or upset. Kerv jogged up, rubbing the back of his head. He aimed his palms outward as he got chewed out by both Bellavarn and Ester. Lannie laughed.

    Was this a product of Bellavarn''s efforts? Kerv had already managed to break Bellavarn out of his funk, and now others were joining in as well. When Misses Vale burst in with a tray of cookies, Braster had to reorganize his thoughts.

    Maybe they didn''t have so much to worry so much.

 Second Prince

    The next event would be occurring soon. Technically, it would be two events wrapped in one. Three, if you wanted to get really specific. Each event leads into the next one.

    Wasn''t that just describing the entire game in general?

    Lecil shook her head, getting rid of the circuitous thoughts. The point is that the next event wouldn''t be a problem because she knew the contents and how to solve it. This would be the first time she actually gained something other than the right to live.

    "Irene."

    "Yes, Princess?"

    After having witnessed the latter half of the event with Tristan, Irene broke free of her shell. She no longer followed the script set to her from before. She helped bandage up Lecil''s hand in a caring manner so that it would heal nicely. There wouldn''t even be a scar left over due to the magical remedies accessible to those residing in the palace.

    Good riddance too. Lecil wanted nothing to do with such a meaningless and ridiculous wound. If it were possible, she would get rid of the lines on her wrists as well. They were never treated properly. She would have to check to see if there are any magical solutions to remove them. Or maybe she could get a pair of matching tattoos to cover them up.

    She hid a scoff. A princess with tattoos? As if.

    "I''d like you to pick out an outfit for me to wear today. Something warm."

    Glancing at the wardrobe full of luxurious and high-end clothes, Lecil felt nothing. It was all worthless. They were the peak of fashion, but no one ever noticed her in them. They were mostly dark with long sleeves and little decoration. Nothing fancy with frills like Anne would wear. Lecil would like to call her wardrobe ''mature'' or ''elegant'', but if she was honest with herself, they were dreary and depressing.

    Irene''s eyes sparkled.

    "Are you sure I can choose? Do you not have any preferences?"

    "As long as it can be paired with gloves and a scarf, I don''t mind."

    Irene seemed over the moon at the chance to dress up a Princess. Lecil let her hum and pick through the outfits. She cared nothing for them.

    Except for maybe one. There was a dress she always admired from afar, but she was too young and short to wear it. Lecil had forgotten about it over the years, but one day, a present arrived outside her door. The Queen bought the dress years ago and set the delivery date for a time when Lecil could wear it, on a day years after her death.

    A small gift. The dark blue matches your eyes.

    Those were the words attached to the gift didn''t match her actions. They weren''t loving or scornful. Just thoughtful. Like the Queen took great care to hide her affection for a daughter that wasn''t her own.

    Well. It didn''t matter now. The Queen has passed and the dress was ruined by Sallow.

    "Don''t take too long, Irene. I need to meet with my brother before noon. We''ll go shopping afterward. "

    Irene paused, notably more downcast.

    "You''re going to meet with Prince Tristan?"

    "As if. I''m referring to Kly."

    "Oh."

    Lecil could see it written on Irene''s face.

    If it is not Tristan, it will be fine. Kly will be much kinder to Princess Lecil.

    Lecil half-wished that was the case. Kly''s affection towards her was at 0%. He wouldn''t kill her on sight, but he definitely wouldn''t be ''kind'' to her. More like he would refuse to give her the time of day. She would need to act quickly and simply. Too many words, and he would dismiss her. Too slow, and he would walk off.

    The event would take place outside near the Royal Guards training facilities. Lecil would follow the script and go for a walk outside like planned. If she didn''t, there would be repercussions in some shape or form. Missing events was a clear way to reduce affection. Best case scenario, it stayed the same. Worst case? Lecil wouldn''t even get to see her death coming.

    Unlike Tristan, there wouldn''t be a chance in hell if Kly drew his sword.

    "How about this?"

    Lecil examined at the light gray wool coat and fuzzy hat Irene offered. She pulled out a royal purple scarf and a pair of matching gloves.

    "Lets go with that then. And Irene."

    "Yes?"

    "Maybe pick out something to wear underneath beside my nightclothes."

    Irene flushed. It was only a joke, but Irene took it very seriously.

    "I didn''t mean to offend you, Princess. I''ll have something to show immediately."

    Lecil rolled her eyes.

    "If you insist on calling me Princess all the time, add my name afterward. Princess Lecil. I''m not my sister."

    Irene realized she''d been thinking of Lecil as the Ghost Princess all this time. Calling her Princess, in comparison, felt safe. Informality was a big no-no in aristocracy. She could never call Lecil by her first name. But if she were allowed to keep the title, it wouldn''t be an issue.

    Irene turned around to hide her slight smile.

    "Understood, Princess Lecil."

    It would cause confusion with more than one Princess.

    Anne. What a bore. The spoiled child fed with a silver spoon. Lecil hasn''t seen Anne''s affection score yet, but it would be possible for it to drop below 0%. That girl would never kill Lecil directly. Instead, she played a significant role in swaying the others'' affections scores. Tristan. Kly. The Dukes. She could become a colossal hindrance or the best wing-woman out there based on her affection score.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It is just such a pain to raise her score, though.

    Lecil drew concentric circles around her temples.

    Calm thoughts. Think calm thoughts.

    She imagined puppies and rainbows. Unfortunately, Celia remembered the puppy she had on Earth. That thought led to it her family. Friends. Classmates. All that wasted potential and lost prospects.

    "Aah. Ah."

    Great! Now I''m depressed.

    =

    The brisk air was chilling. With snow layering the entire ground, it was bright out regardless of cloud cover. Lecil wandered along a carved path through the southeastern side of the palace.

    "Irene, make sure to stay on my left."

    "Hm? Ah, yes."

    The request was odd, but Irene followed without asking. She remained two steps behind but was firmly on the left now.

    Lecil nodded and didn''t bother explaining.

    -

    Main Event - Benchmark

    Rewards: Affection+

    Consequences: Variable

    -

    She angrily waved the stupid screen blocking her vision.

    If you''re going to interupt at least tell me something I don''t know!

    Their destination was a training field just up ahead. It was where the Royal Guards jogged every morning. Sweating figures could be seen running the large rectangular track. They were carrying huge logs.

    Like, ''this tree will make a study keel for my caravel'' sized logs.

    They are taking keelhauling too literally.

    On approach, Lecil could see both men and women in the group. Celia needed a reminder from Lecil''s memories that all these women knew how to circulate mana through their bodies to increase their performance.

    Lecil respected these women a lot. The Royal Guards was the only place in the Kingdom where women held an edge.

    "Princess Lecil, why did we come here? There are better views around the palace."

    The words made Lecil smile. This was a popular destination in Renegade. Sweating men and women, bared chests and bulging muscles. It was supposed to be an alluring sight.

    It''s just fanservice.

    "I told you. I came to meet my brother."

    "Prince Kly?"

    "Mhm."

    Lecil pointed to a man at the lead of a small group, carrying two logs, one on each shoulder. He wore a loose tanned shirt and comfortable pants as his feet carried him past the struggling recruits. It appeared they were racing.

    "Let''s wait for him at the finish line."

    The new arrivals received several sidelong glances. Some of them didn''t even know who Lecil was. No matter how ignorant they may be, they could piece the truth together from Lecil''s disposition.

    The most upsetting thing was the transformation from confusion to dirty looks. Surprisingly, it was mainly from the women. They seemed to be more in the know about her origin or at least heard whispers. A magical gag order restricted anyone from saying a thing in front of the royal family or outside the house. The downside was that the information could spread through the palace without worry.

    At a bench near the finishing line, a drill instructor assigned more laps to slacking recruits. The brazen woman ordered them to pick up a second log from the pile if they were going to drag their feet.

    "Princess. What are you doing here? This is no place for such a delicate lady like yourself."

    Lecil wanted to roll her eyes at the cliche. By a woman no-less. Instead, she smiled politely.

    "Don''t mind me. I have business with my brother. I will wait for him here."

    Lecil sat down on the edge of the bench and crossed her legs. The nameless instructor eyed her but didn''t dare say more. Irene looked uncomfortable as she stood next to her. Lecil whispered to her.

    "Remember. Stand to my left."

    Irene furrowed her brows. Even now? She complied without mentioning anything.

    Lecil regarded the recruits passing by. Some stopped and stared but were whipped into shape by the instructor. As more people finished and set their logs down, the number of recruits remaining on the field dwindled to only those that were competing with the Prince. The masochists passed Lecil twice now but were farther from Kly than when they started. Kly didn''t seem to notice their presence as he nearly lapped them.

    The recruits on the sidelines that recovered started catcalling and cheering as Kly gained on the flacking competitors. Irene gaped at the event while Lecil waited patiently for things to end.

    The second prince rounded the bend, bounding ahead of the last competitor¡ªa loud cracking sound.

    Members of the crowd turned one by one to see their massive pile of logs collapsing, falling in their direction. It would crush a dozen of them before they could scramble out of the way. Including the Princess.

    Irene shrilled.

    "Princess!"

    "Don''t move."

    The words were an imperial command. Irene froze in place while the others stumbled out of the way. The instructor was bracing to take the center of the impact.

    Even as the logs toppled, Lecil stared straight ahead at Kly. It was time for him to notice.

    Kly dropped a log, causing it to bounce and interrupt those behind him. They yelled obscenities as they dropped their own logs and were about to call foul when they saw the accident occurring. With a huge step and windup, Kly''s eyes honed in on a target. Lunging, he threw the huge log like a spear.

    *WHOOSH*

    It flew.

    Lecil kept her smile and held onto her hat as her hair was blown back. The log passed just to the right of her face.

    *BOOM*

    It crashed into the falling bundle and caused them to explode outward in the opposite direction. The recruits cried out and yelled, falling to the ground covering their faces.

    Irene was shaking.

    If-If I remained on right... then-then...

    Ultimately, there were no significant injuries. Just a few splinters here and there. The instructor regained control and ordered any injured to be tended to, and the logs re-stacked correctly this time despite her having missed it herself.

    The prince jogged over and made sure everyone was alright. It took several moments of Lecil waiting patiently for her to be noticed. When Kly did notice her, his usual calm expression broke for a moment.

    He quickly covered it up.

    "Lecil. I didn''t see you."

    Indeed he didn''t. He calculated a path to avoid hitting anyone but never wondered if his sister was among them.

    "I was waiting for you to finish. Congratulations on winning, by the way."

    Kly looked at the log he left behind on the track. Technically, he lost the challenge.

    "I can''t call that a win."

    Lecil stood, smiling as she looked into Kly''s eyes. They were the same height. His blond hair was short, parts of it matted to the sides of his head.

    "Please. You saved all the guards with that throw. I doubt any of them will begrudge you the win. They are more likely to praise you for your quick reactions."

    "Hm."

    Lecil smirked as the ticker above his head changed to 2%.

    Turning back to Irene, Lecil made sure she was okay. The girl looked shaken but unharmed.

    "Why did you come here, sister?"

    She was ''sister'' now? Was he a tsundere?

    "I wanted to ask for your help."

    "My help?"

    "I need a personal guard. I was hoping you could recommend someone since you know them best."

    4%

    Hah! This is easier than I thought.

    "Hm."

    Lecil watched him look around at the many people gathered. His eyes seemed to linger on the female candidates.

    "I would prefer a man. I don''t know if you can tell, but the women seem to be glaring at me."

    Kly''s eyebrows knitted ever so slightly. He was an expert in micro-expressions. Indeed, the women were congregating, a few looking in Lecil''s direction as they spoke to each other.

    "A guard shouldn''t harbor any ill will towards who they are guarding. Maybe one of the newer recruits?"

    "Hm."

    It seemed to be his favorite word.

    Kly nodded and pointed out a young man with medium-length brown hair.

    "Rain."

    The prince''s voice was soft, but it carried. Several people turned while Rain pointed to himself. He separated from the others and jogged over.

    "Rain. My sister needs a personal guard. Will you do it?"

    Rain was young, even younger than Kly. He had a pointed chin and bright eyes¡ªa very eager fellow.

    "If I am allowed, it would be an honor."

    With a turn of his feet, he bowed deeply to Lecil.

    "I hope I will meet your expectations, Princess."

    Lecil smiled. Yes, he would do.

    "I look forward to working with you. Thank you, Kly. I owe you one."

    "Mhm."

    Lecil held a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing. It was the same word, just a different tone.

    5%

    Wasn''t this too easy? Honestly.

    Better to retreat after an easy victory than linger and somehow screw it up.

    "Alright, I won''t stay in your way. Rain, can you meet me outside my room in thirty minutes?"

    "Yes, Princess! Allow me to clean up and report to the sergeant. I will be by momentarily."

    "Good. Irene, let''s go."

    Irene did a double-take. How could the Princess power-walk that quickly? She scrambled to catch up, calling out from behind.

    "Ah! Princess. Do I stay on your left?"

 Second Princess

    "Why are we returning? I thought you wanted to go shopping."

    "I forgot something. Plus, I already told Rain to meet me outside my room. This works out."

    It was a lie. Lecil was going back for the next event.

    Lecil lamented how large the palace grounds were. It would take days to walk the entire place. That was how the King ''entertained'' foreign diplomats or rowdy guests. He would simply threaten them with? ''the tour''.

    It worked nine times out of ten.

    Thinking back to her encounter with Kly, it was strange that things went so well. Was it because she knew the contents of the game and planned ahead? It couldn''t have just been that. Then again, Kly was one of the easiest characters to influence when she played? Renegade. The only bad ending with Kly that Celia ever encountered was because of she fought with Anne.

    Of the various bad endings in the early game, they almost all led back to Anne somehow.

    Afterward, Celia''s didn''t know, wasn''t sure. All of her encounters with the Duke''s ended in failure.

    Rejecting Duke Raiden''s advances always led to a decreased in favorability and eventual death. Why object to his advances, one might ask? He had all the right qualifications, sure. Raiden was already a war hero, wealthy, incredibly handsome, and was sought after by many. Women wanted to scoop him up and carry him off. Many of the other gamers she talked with loved his path. He would teach the player how to wield a sword ? lead battles herself.

    Lecil made a face. He wasn''t really her type... you know, full of themselves. Yes, Raiden was hot, and he was a safe choice if Lecil wanted to survive. However, playing to his ego and acting subservient to him wasn''t in the Princess'' personality.

    She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

    Well. He wasn''t a bad option. Just not an ideal one. If she was forced to make a decision, Lecil would likely choose Duke Astor instead.?

    Astor was the same age as her, intelligent, and charming. He was beyond rich, influential, popular, and enjoyed intelligent company. Lecil could live in luxury to the end of her days and let him run the business. She wouldn''t have to worry about danger since Astor controlled everything around the capital while having access to a private mercenary army. There were rumors that he controlled spies and assassins as well.

    Lecil never got far enough in the game to confirm those rumors. She tried asking her friends about it, but they just giggled and ran off.

    Still, even with that odd foreboding, she would choose Duke Astor if her family route hit a pitfall. Lecil preferred to remain free or find someone she truly got along with. The idea of being fated to marry one of the Dukes sickened her.

    There was Duke Sallow. But she dismissed the option out of hand. She could still feel the bruises where he hit her. Not even her brothers or Anne had ever hit her hard enough to make her wheeze for days. Lecil swears there was a cracked rib or two.

    Celia''s playthrough always ended when meeting Sallow. She asked the other girls for advice and they all said the same thing. Just get one of the other guys to attack him first. The Duke would die easily and the game would continue smoothly without him. Whoever you chose would inherit his land.

    Lecil was still trying to figure out how she could get rid of Sallow before he offed her. Whoever it was would have to be an absolute monster to handle the rampaging Duchess.

    Their combined soul shivered.

    Kly was probably her best route to survival. The demonstration earlier was telling of his skills. Kly was also much easier to control. Through him, Lecil could reign in Anne and make Tristan begrudgingly fall in line. Together, they could fight off the King''s marriage plans.

    That was her plan.

    Kly was a kuudere who may have hidden tsundere qualities. Tristan is definitely a mayadere. Lecil wouldn''t be able to handle a yandere.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Lost in thought, Lecil played with her scarf. It was a soft fabric. It wasn''t cold inside, so she didn''t need it, but it was a pretty color¡ªdefinitely a good choice.

    "Irene. You did well picking out this outfit."

    The maid standing on her left jumped from the sudden conversation. Lecil had been zoning out for a while.

    "Oh. I''m glad you like it."

    Lecil twirled the end using a gloved finger. Her gloves were a middling gray with purple accents. She forgot she owned them.

    "It is soft, and I like the color. We should buy another one like it."

    "Then, I assume you wish to go clothes shopping."

    Lecil smiled and nodded. It was about time she developed a new fashion. Celia would kill to wear a simple cardigan or plain blouse. Lecil''s nightclothes would actually be Celia''s go-to if they weren''t translucent.

    Wearing a corset was definitely not her style, and she adamantly refused to wear one. Poor Irene couldn''t even talk back through the tirade of rejection. There were no other maids to support her and force Lecil into the infernal contraption Thus it was good to be Princess.

    Rounding the final corner, Lecil was overjoyed at the sight of her bedroom doors. The walk back had taken a whole twenty minutes. It was surprising that Rain hadn''t caught up with them.

    "Irene, can you get the door?"

    Hesitantly moving away from Princess'' Lecil''s left side, Irene hurried to open the door

    Startled, the maid squeaked and halted in the doorway, stiff as a statue. She tried to close it.

    "Ah. Princess. Maybe we should come back later-"

    "Just let me in, Irene."

    Lecil marched inside. Crossing the center of the room, she kicked a bobble.

    "Princess. Please don''t be upset."

    "Oh, hush. I just need to grab something. Then we can go."

    Pushing past a turned over chair, she went to her bedside dresser and dragged it aside, scratching the floor. Behind the dresser, taped to the back, was a journal. Her journal.

    "But, Princess. The room. The clothes-"

    Irene was insisting. Lecil furrowed her brows and looked around.

    "Oh. Oh! Oh no~""

    The entire place was trashed. Small objects that used to be tucked away were strewn across the floor. The cushion sofa chair was carved open, the stuffing pouring out. The mirror was cracked and the glass windows were shattered. The wardrobe spilled open with all her clothes ripped to shreds. Her rug was stolen.

    "I am surprised she didn''t just burn them. And isn''t this a little more than just ruined clothes?"

    "She? Princess, who did this? We were gone for less than an hour! We have to inform the guards."

    "No need. I know who did it."

    Irene was pulling at her hair. This amount of damage was serious. It would take hours to clean up. Not to mention the cost.

    "Besides. I was thinking of redecorating anyway. Anne actually helped me. I will have to thank her when I see her."

    The poor maid was distraught.

    "Princess Anne did this... How... What... Why would-"

    "She didn''t do it all herself. I imagine she had assistance her many maids. She''s angry that I am staying behind instead of leaving as she planned. You know, I think she would make a competent fencer by the way she cut up all my dresses. I didn''t realize she was so talented!"

    The words sounded genuine even to her own ears. Of course, Lecil knew this would happen. It always happened when choosing the family route. Anne would get upset and tear all her clothes, causing her to need to buy new ones. Everything else was was unexpected overkill.?

    At least the clapper is untouched. I like the clapper.

    No matter, Lecil was going shopping anyway. All on the King''s dime no less. As a Princess, all she had to do was send the bill to the palace. Anne wouldn''t interfere with that, lest trouble come down on herself. The maids and associates under her control would make sure everything went smoothly. This entire situation was like a huge gift-wrapped present. Lecil would get to design her room the way she wanted. She almost,? almost,? wanted to praise the game developers for this event.

    Irene was still turninh in circles, examining the damage.

    "Don''t worry, Irene. You won''t have to clean this up yourself. I have what I need and practically everything else can be trashed. Go find the group of maids waiting nearby and ask them to clean up while we''re gone? They''ll be happy to help."

    Lecil turned her head as Irene''s jaw didn''t seem to work.

    "Irene."

    "Huh?"

    "Go fetch others to clean this up. We are leaving in... four minutes."

    "Huh. Oh. Ah. Hm. AH! Okay. Okay. I-I will be back in just a minute."

    So she stammered before hurrying out the door. Lecil tucked her journal in her coat for safekeeping.

    Stepping over gouged out pillows and ruined makeup, Lecil headed for the doorway Reaching it, she glanced back at the destroyed room and grinned from ear to ear.

    "Thank you, Anne."

    =

    "Thank you? Thank you! That is all she has to say? Why isn''t she wailing like a child? She should be suffering, dammit! Why did I go through all that trouble just for her to wave it off?"

    Princess Anne listened in on the magical listening device. She had wanted to hear Lecil''s reaction without being there. Even if it were silence, she would have reveled in it. Tears? Angry shouting? All of it would have been perfect. But instead, Lecil actually thanked her. It was ruined! All ruined.

    Anne grabbed a hard loaf of bread from offscreen and snapped it in half.

    "That little twerp thinks she is better than me? More mature? I''ll show her."

    After another tantrum, a mysterious occurrence took place. Unbeknownst to Anne, her servants, a blubbering cook, and everyone else present...

    A tiny circle hovering above Anne''s head changed.

    1%

    Feminine cackling could be heard over a listening device.

 Shopping

    The snow crunched under heavy footfalls as Rain staggered forward. The strain from his burden was immense. It was even more difficult than running laps with the Prince.

    10... 20... 30. Perhaps 40? No. Definitely 50.

    He huffed under the exertion, his breath visible in the chilling air. This was a test of his abilities. A devious stratagem conjured by a wile mind. It only made him respect the First Princess more. To find such an austere way to increase his strength while also serving. It was ingenious. He would have to request more training like this so he could quickly catch up to his peers.

    "Here. Take this Rain."

    "Oof."

    The 52nd shopping bag was the straw that broke the camel''s back. Rain crumpled under the pressure. His legs struggled to get underneath him, and he couldn''t see straight, blinking away tears. His muscles burned and shook. Rain circled mana through his body like he was trained to do. With a surge of magical adrenaline and a triumphant roar, he lifted himself back to his feet. Panting hard. A miracle.

    "Thank. You. Princess."

    "No problem."

    Irene leaned over in a stage whisper.

    "Is this really a secret training method that will allow him to become a martial artist?"

    Lecil guffawed.

    "No. But it is fun to see how high I can stack everything. Here. You try."

    Lecil handed over a small box containing a simple silver chain necklace to Irene. She accepted it, looking at the colorfully wrapped box and then at Rain. Her face contorted as she couldn''t actually see Rain behind the towering bags and boxes. She glanced back at Lecil, who gave her a ''go on'' motion¡ªurging her forward.

    Irene carefully examined the remaining space. There wasn''t anywhere to put it. Each of Rain''s fingers held different strings. Boxes balanced along his arms and towered up past his head. Irene looked back to Lecil. The Princess made a scissor motion with two fingers. Irene looked skeptical but decided to do it anyway.

    "Rain? I have a small box; I am going to place it between your fingers. Are you ready?"

    "Hrrum."

    "Rain."

    "Haap."

    "..."

    "Grraah!"

    Lecil was chittering, and even Irene was smiling broadly.

    "Alright, I am placing it now. Do you feel it?"

    "Kaack."

    Rain''s fingers parted ever so slightly to grip the corner of the box. Irene backed away and watched the entire ensemble of goods wobble. Rain centered his stance and poked his head out like a turtle. His expression was half strained and half ecstatic. Sweat dripped down his face; his eyes were white saucers.

    "Is... Is that all?"

    There was a moment of pause as the wind whistled.

    "Pfffft."

    Lecil bent over, laughing. She had to hold onto Irene, who had a much gentler and attractive laugh than the princess.

    "Do I have something on my face?"

    His voice was deep and strained while his eyes were wide open and shaking¡ªa horror movie.

    "Pffft...HaHaHa-hiccup-Hahaha!"

    Lecil lost it, her knees buckled, and she was only still standing in the loosest terms. Irene held her up with both arms. It would be wrong for a Princess to fall to the floor for any reason. Irene admonished Rain harshly while holding in her giggle.

    "Rain, do you know how creepy you look?"

    "Huh?"

    The princess let out a snort and was slapping Irene''s arm, pointing at Rain.

    "He... Ha! He-He said. Haha, He, ''huh''? HAHAHA!"

    Irene wiped Lecil''s tears for her as the princess laughed in her face. Lecil''s laughter was nearly as terrifying as Rain. Irene suddenly realized she was the only sane one in their group.

    Lecil relapsed into laughter twice more before she finally calmed

    "Should... hmm. Should we tell him that he has to make the walk back to the carriage now or later?"

    Irene tilted her head and strained a smile.

    =

    Lecil hadn''t laughed like that in forever. She couldn''t remember the last time she did. It was worth it to test Rain and figure out his personality using the ''super-secret-training-method''. Lecil determined he wasn''t the brightest individual but was hardworking and determined. He was unconditionally loyal and didn''t need to be bought over. Unless it was with an ''ultra-mega-secret-lifting-technique''.

    Irene led Rain back to the carriage like an air traffic controller playing Marco-Polo. It was another sight that made a Lecil''s smile relapse.

    The last stop was a specific jewelry store Celia recalled from the Renegade forums. It sold jewelry items to high clientele but was, in actuality, much more.

    "Can I get you anything else, Princess? A sapphire necklace? I believe it would match the underlying colors in your hair?"

    The well-dressed merchant standing in the doorway knew what he was talking about. Her hair was black, but it carried dark blues and purples in its shadows. The mustached man managed to sell the Princess on more items than she planned on buying. They both knew the bill was going to the King anyway.

    It is good to be a princess.

    "I think I have most of what I came for; I just require a few more items."

    The merchant looked overjoyed, leading Lecil back into the shop. She removed her hat and placed it on the counter. Her hair fell naturally and looked beautiful despite recently being tucked into a hat. Maybe it was a game mechanic? A perk of being Princess? Coincidence? Perhaps God was drawing her in good lighting?

    "What can I interest you in? I would be happy to assist you in making a selection."

    "I''ve come for something more valuable than jewelry. A trade, actually."

    Lecil managed not to jump at a sudden blue screen.

    -

    Hidden Event: Information Trader

    Rewards:?

    Consequences:?

    -

    What a shit game.

    Why did it appear even after she chose the free route? Was the game still constraining her? There isn''t even any useful information.

    The merchant''s grin widened. He turned and made a head motion to a guard reading a newspaper. The guard got up, stretched, then went to lock the door. Lecil thought she felt a thrum pass through her body as the lock clicked.

    Magic.

    Likely enough to block sounds, maybe more.

    The merchant didn''t act any different, but his word choices were slightly less deferring.

    "I have to say you''re not the character I remember, Ghost Princess."

    The intended jab might have connect if Celia didn''t think Ghost Princess was a badass moniker.

    "I am intelligent enough to know you won''t harm me when others know where I am."

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    The merchant was aghast.

    "Never would I. Who said anything about harming? I am only curious why you''ve venture out of your castle instead of sending a proxy."

    "It is precisely the reason that I cannot trust anyone that I have come myself."

    "Oooh. How cavalier, Princess."

    Lecil felt like she was being mocked but let it go.

    The merchant went around his counter and placed his hands wide, leaning forward. The guard went back to reading his newspaper.

    "You are aware it is information you are after, and that information needs to be paid in kind?"

    "Fully. I also know that you have already received a few juicy bits from my words and actions. I am expecting to be paid for that."

    The merchant tilted his head, weighing his options.

    "Very well. I see little harm in being courteous. It, of course, depends on what you are after. I recommend you hurry, though. Your companions will return in less than ten minutes."

    "Twenty. I made preparations."

    =

    Rain collapsed onto his back, laying in the snow unmoving. Nothing was damaged and all the bags were loaded onto the carriage. The four horses would have their work cut out for them.

    "There. That is everything."

    Irene put her hands on her hips. A groaning sound caught her ear. Rain shook his head saying it wasn''t him.

    *Crack*

    One of the wheels of the carriage cracked conspicuously.

    The driver came over and inspected the damage.

    "Ah. It needs to be replaced. I have extras, but I''ll need you both to help."

    Irene paled.

    Rain looked up from the ground, moving only his eyes.

    "Is this more secret training?"

    =

    "What is it you wish to know?"

    Normally. This event was triggered by paying real currency to access exclusive information. A way for the devs to milk more money for content they should have provided for free. She had expected the information to leak to the web, but it disappeared whenever it was uploaded. Lecil tried asking her friends, but they weren''t the type to pay extra for in-game benefits.

    Celia was the thrifty one normally. Unfortunately, she blew her most recent paycheck on gacha capsules and pocky. She decided to forgo asking her parents for money. They were kind enough to give her a little if she asked, but not if they knew she was blowing it on a game.

    With paying to win no longer an option, her only option was to trade using her future knowledge of the game. Celia knew several delectable pieces of information about this world that no one currently knew.

    Information was power. It was a mistake for this merchant to believe he knew more. It was regrettable that he still had the information she wanted. Not everything was exactly as described in the game. There was much more detail in a real world versus a virtual one.

    "I want information on the Dukes. The young Dukes. Klein Raiden, Daven Astor, and Bellavarn Sallow."

    "You will have to be more specific. There is a lot of information on all of them. Do you want to know about their recent activity? Their life stories? Their favorite meals?"

    "Give me the recent activity and rumors surrounding each of them."

    "Oi, oi. This isn''t a free business. What do I get in return?"

    "You already know that I don''t trust anyone else and that I am interested in the Dukes. You will at least pay me for that first."

    The merchant held up his hands. He also gleaned that the First Princess was a fox despite her reputation. Most thought she was just a pawn to link the Ducal households closer to the throne. The fact that the princess actually had a decent head on her shoulders was worth quite a lot to the right people. So, he decided to be a little forthcoming."

    "Fair enough. Raiden just finished a campaign into the badlands. Word is that he defeated a two-thousand-man cavalry charge in a desert with only fifty warriors. Later, he fought another pitched battle against a sultan''s son. The numbers were 20,000 to 5,000. Yet, Raiden wiped the floor with them and held the sultan''s son for ransom. The sultan paid an obscene bounty. Afterward, Raiden held a celebration for three days and three nights before marching his way out of the badlands. He''s due to arrive back in the capital in a couple week."

    Lecil was blank-faced. How useful was this information? She already knew Raiden was a war hero and extremely strong. He carried a famed sword. It started out unknown but became a named weapon in only four years. His Knight Commander Ash served as his shield, and his right hand Jerome served as the genius strategist who planned his battles.

    The 400 to 1 odds was clearly exaggerated, but the rest sounds true.

    The most useful information was that the Duke ransomed the Sultan''s son instead of killing him. It showed he wasn''t an idiot. The fact that he celebrated afterward meant that he was prideful and/or cared about his soldiers. At first glance, Raiden seemed like an amazing person.

    "Tell me how he treats women."

    The merchant winced. It must have been pretty bad to make him react outwardly.

    "He treats them well. He gives gifts and treats, making sure they are happy."

    "I heard that Raiden fancies exotic ladies and that he goes through attractive women like mint leaves."

    "..."

    The merchant chose silence as his answer. He wouldn''t tell her any of those stories unless she asked specifically. She was barely a woman at the age of 18.

    Lecil waved her hand. Celia a lot about Raiden from her friends, so she decided to move on.

    "What about Astor."

    "What will you pay?"

    "It turns out that the Kingdom of Eul to the west stumbled into a gem mine on our border. They have been covering it up, saying that it is a spider lair, and have volunteered to clear it out since it was they who unearthed it. In reality, they used the excuse to send troops closer in order to protect the resource from prying eyes. It''s only been about a week since it was discovered. I assume... that is something you can use?"

    The merchant''s eyes started bugging out the longer she talked. The merchant''s synapses were in overdrive, trying to figure out how she knew this, how he would take advantage of it, and why she would give this up for basic information. What angle was the Princess working?

    Lecil''s poker face was perfect.

    The reason she gave it away was that it would become known within a few days, and Duke Astor would move in to seize it and cement his economic superiority. This jewel merchant was part of Astor''s association; if he were the one to bring this information to Astor, his status in the inner hierarchy would rise.

    The merchant was practically salivating at the prospect and wanted report in immediately.

    "I''d like to know more before you run off. You can spare several minutes longer."

    The merchant''s eye twitched. What was this woman? Was she really the reclusive First Princess?

    "Fine. I won''t get in trouble for giving you general information."

    Since he was in Astor''s circle, he had to be more choosy with what he revealed, but with the windfall that suddenly landed in his lap the Princess could have asked for a lot more.

    "Astor is the richest, youngest, and most influential of the Dukes. He is a prodigious genius and isn''t afraid to use his power. Raiden? He will spear you through the gut if you wrong him. Astor? He will poison you and keep you bedridden while he dismantles your entire house and assassinates your loved ones before finally letting you perish. That is the persona he''s built up, and as far as I know, it''s true."

    It felt like he was laying it on a bit thick. The merchant raised a finger.

    "However, if you are his ally, he will shower you in riches and ensure you live in luxury. All his power and accomplishments when he is only eighteen? Most fear his overwhelming potential."

    "And what does he desire?"

    The merchant looked quizzical at the question. This was Lecil''s main concern. A man like Astor was unpredictable. Knowing what he wants would help Lecil figure out how to win him over.

    "His desire? Hm... A worthy adversary? Not to be underestimated? To write his name in history books? I''ll be honest. It could be all or none of these things. You will have to ask him yourself. Now, if that is all, I must insist we conclude our business here."

    "Wait. Tell me about Bellavarn Sallow. I will give you a bonus related to the gem mine."

    The merchant was turning to leave but pivoted back. He examined the Princess''s stone-cold face. He couldn''t tell if she was bluffing, using her previous tidbit to bait him to come back for more.

    A fox indeed.

    He bit his lip, wondering if it was worth the time. Time was money when it came to information. Ultimately, the Sallows were of little consequence. Most people knew the rumor anyway.

    "The Sallow family is a neutral Dukedom that balances the power between Astor and Raiden. They hold the largest amount of land and serve as a mediating force between all other houses. They keep a large military to combat the northern invaders who cross the cold sea. They run an abundance of crafters and mercantile businesses. The Winterland is said to be a gem that outshines the capital."

    The merchant stuck out a finger for every sentence he said. All of it was generic information.

    "They supply cold iron to most of the Kingdom. Braster Sallow continued to keep the peace even after his Father passed the baton. The Duchess is pregnant. It is unknown whether it is a boy or a girl. Most are expecting the child to succeed the house regardless."

    He ran out of fingers.

    Lecil''s eyebrows knitted for the first time. Was that why Bellavarn ended up killing his father? All Celia knew was that the Duchess would go on a rampage whenever a player offed Bellavarn, which was the cause for no one lasting longer than a week after Bellavarn dies. Lecil''s memories confirmed that she had the power to do it too.

    "I asked about Bellavarn. Why would someone who isn''t even born succeed the house if Bellavarn is only a year from the twenty?."

    "I expected you to know already. It is everywhere. Bellavarn Sallow forced himself on a maid, brutally assaulted her, and then cast her out. The family paid the maid to keep quiet, but it got out anyway. It is the biggest scandal right now. "

    Was this part of the original background? Lecil needed to know more. Lecil spent too many hours watching Celia''s memories. The bad endings involving Bellavarn Sallow were always terrible and bloody.

    "What happened after?"

    The merchant looked at a watch on his wrist. He hurried things along so he could leave.

    "Bellavarn stayed away from the public eye. Braster was buying up books about magic, history, engineering... romance novels. House Astor concluded Bellavarn is conducting some type of research. He went to commission blacksmiths, but they all turned him away on account of his reputation. He''s spent the last week in a ceramic workshop creating something himself. I don''t know why he isn''t working in a smithy, so don''t ask."

    So he''s already inventing weapons.

    Bellavarn was the evil renegade who would bring about the fall of the Kingdom with his designs. War would be raged and countless would lay dead. Lecil just couldn''t figure out what caused all of it. Why was the villain a romance option? Was it just a huge "Fuck You" from the developers?

    Lecil bit her nail. This couldn''t be it. She was missing something. Something important. What was the cause? She was running out of time. Getting answers required asking the right questions

    "What happened to the maid?

    "Time is up. Tell me what else you have."

    Lecil wanted to curse. Begrudgingly, she gave the information.

    "The mine has 50 guards inside and out. Double that will arrive as reinforcement within three days."

    The Merchant smiled wide. He gestured to the guard, who got up again and unlocked the door¡ªanother faint thrum. The guard turned to her. Intimidating, he didn''t speak, but Lecil knew what he wanted.

    She replaced her winter hat and walked out the door herself. The merchant called out.

    "No one knows what happened to the maid. Duke Astor has a bounty on her. Come back if you stumble on to anything."

    Lecil stepped outside. Fresh snowflakes trickled down to create an ethereal atmosphere. Pedestrians passed by while children ran and played. It was a happy scene. But why did it feel so hollow? Like this wasn''t her moment to be happy. She still had more questions than answers. She desperately wanted someone to bounce ideas off of.

    But Lecil and Celia were alone with their thoughts.

    "Princess? The carriage is waiting. Are you ready to return?"

    Irene''s voice was clear. Cutting through the dampened acoustics. With the grey sky above and Irene standing in her peripheral, Lecil watched a snowflake dance and twirl into her open palm.

    "Yes."

    It melted into the dark color of her glove.

    "I am ready."

    She lied.

    =

    After returning to the Palace, Lecil opened the door to her room. Looking inside, she came to the realization that she really should have expected this.

    The room was bare. Everything was gone save the clapper chandelier.

    Lecil''s hand collided with her face, eliciting a smack.

    "You win this round, Anne."

 Trial and Error

    Bellavarn tossed another batch in the bucket, having messed up the shape. It would need to be redone from scratch. Experimenting with clay proved Bellavarn had gotten ahead of himself. The design needed reworking to fit the new medium, and Bellavarn''s skill was nowhere near where he thought it was. Half the time he made the pieces too heavy and thick causing them to crack when being fired. Then he forgot to get rid of air bubbles in the clay so they exploded in the kiln.

    The next batch turned out too thin and brittle to work with.

    "Taking a break?"

    Kerv called over from a game of cards with Henry. The two of them accompanied him to the workshop. It was a chillier than the house so Bellavarn got a chance to use his real magic. It was the first spell he ever learned: Heat.

    Not Fire. Not Light. Heat.

    Mother and Father both spent the time to help him learn the spell when he was six. The young Bellavarn was so enamored with magic that his parents relented and taught him a simple spell. He quickly lost interest after writing the spell shape and corresponding symbols hundreds of times. When he finally cast it, it only made his tea lukewarm. That was the extent of his mana pool at the time. Bellavarn had quickly given up the passion just as any impatient child would.

    Now though, he still remembered the spell shape and added several of intespered throughout the workshop He even learned the improved version by adding a longevity component. It would save the mana inserted and expel it longer over time rather than all at once.

    Bellavarn didn''t have enough magic to power all the spell shapes in the workshop. It wasn''t a good idea anyway, because the heat would dry out all the clay. So, Bellavarn was only able to power a few areas at a time anyway. The frequent draining of his mana pool was good practice for whenever his invention was completed.

    Kerv and Henry kept their card corner considerably comfy sicne they had considerably more mana as trained knights. Only one of them was needed to power the enchantment for the entire day.

    Bellavarn answered Kerv''s rhetorical question as he sat back down at the wheel.

    "Spinning the clay is more fun than carving."

    "You should try it, Kerv."

    "I''ll do it if you do, Henry."

    Bellavarn smirked. They''d been bored after sitting idly the pasr three days now. Bellavarn created over a hundred prototypes, but they all ended up being useless after the firing. Now, he was trying three different designs to get at least one he could work with and finally start drawing runes. The others were trying to tell him to slow down, that these kinds of inventions took time to get right, but Bellavarn was too excited to slow down. The potential for was too astounding and if he stoppe he would struggle to start back up.

    "There are two extra wheels. Roll up your sleeves and grab a spot."

    "Master Bellavarn, I don''t think my hands were made for something like this."

    "I feel the same, Bell. We''re rougher around the edges than you are."

    Henry hit Kerv.

    "Ow. What?"

    Bellavarn didn''t seem to be bothered by the statement. He viewed it as different people being better at some things than others.

    "Don''t worry about that and come over here. Don''t force me to make it an order."

    Henry smirked. Kerv stretched and got up, speaking in the same playing tone.

    "Yes, sir."

    The two threw down their cards and took seats at the extra wheels. Kerv sat on Bellavarn''s right while Henry sat on the left. Bellavarn already supplied the stations with tools.

    "You two would be surprised at how natural this comes to you. Those with good hand-eye coordination are often naturals in the art department. Not all of them, of course, but lets see if I can get you two to create something worthwhile."

    "Bell, I''ve never worked with clay in my life. You expect me to be as astute as you?"

    Bellavarn rolled a shoulder, working out a kink. Looking down at his inactive wheel and supplies, he explained.

    "I don''t expect you to get it naturally, only to be a good student. There are things I can''t do that only you two can. Have either of you seen me use a sword before?"

    They heard stories about the Bellavarn''s sword instructor breaking down and crying. Braster realized a piece of his curse had been passed down and left Bellavarn unable to wield a sword without disaster striking.

    "I can''t wield a sword or use mana to strengthen my body. I can''t do whatever top secret things Henry does."

    Henry exchanged a look with Kerv.

    "Unless Henry is out attending confidential dance lessons days at a time, there is no way someone who moves so gracefully is a normal guard."

    It was unfortunate Henry''s most recent mission lasted a few weeks.

    "I can''t protect my family the way you two can. So, I''ll lean on you when I need to."

    Kerv blanched. How could Bellavarn make something so sweet sound scary at the same time.

    "For now... I could make something for both of you, but I imagine you will be more appreciative if you make using your own hands."

    The line would have worked with anyone else, but Henry and Kerv were guards of the Sallow House, in service to Bellavarn. If he gave them a gift, they would treasure it even more than if they made it themselves. Neither of them mentioned this fact, though.

    Kerv rolled up his sleeves.

    "Alright, I can do this. What do I do first?"

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    "Unless you want your clothes soiled, grab an apron."

    Kerv''s clicked his tongue as Henry exhaled a laugh. Why not tell them that before they sat down?

    Kerv threw on an apron while Henry decided against wearing one, saying it wasn''t an issue to clean his clothes.

    "There''s already clay set aside for you, so first things first. Gather about half a pound of clay and throw it onto the wheel."

    Bellavarn took a little less than a pound of prepared clay and slammed it down on the wheel. It made a meaty smack. Kerv laughed. If that was how it was, he could do this just fine. They both followed suit.

    "You need to make sure it''s centered on the wheel. Kerv, yours is too far off point; take it off and try again."

    "Aw."

    He did so, easily getting it close to the center the next time.

    Bellavarn used the foot pedal to start the wheel.

    "Next, start the wheel. We need to keep pedaling at a constant pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. My speed is around the sweet spot."

    The two didn''t have any problems. Pacing was a key element in training as a knight.

    "Alright, dip your hand in your slip bucket and spread some water; it needs to be wet enough to mold. If you ever feel resistance, add a bit more water."

    Bellavarn didn''t have a sponge currently. It seemed Turner never thought to work with one. He''d have to grab some later.

    "Rest your elbows on the inside of your thighs. You are using your right foot to pedal, so it shouldn''t affect the process. Don''t look at me like that; you will understand soon. Place both hands to either side of the clay like you''re trying to scoop a handful of water. You want to be using the curve of your palm to push the clay inward and upward."

    Bellavarn demonstrated. The clay moved.

    "When you feel no resistance in the spinning, it is centered. This is the most important part. It needs to be perfect. If it keeps bumping against your hand you need to recenter. You will encounter all sorts of problems later if it isn''t."

    Henry was too gentle in handling the clay and needed encouragement to push harder. Kerv was the opposite; he pushed too hard and ended up either severely deforming the clay or pushing it off entirely. He needed three tries to get it right.

    Kerv seemed proud of himself. Bellavarn was glad as well, but Kerv was celebrating early.

    "The first form that creates the basis for all others is a tray. Make a guide with your left hand in the shape of an L, like this. Slide your right middle finger along that groove. Find the center, push down as the wheel spins, and pull in towards yourself."

    Kerv watched the piece of clay transform like magic. It somehow became wide, thick-rimmed tray.

    "Make sure to keep your hands steady and fluid. Do it all in one go, and don''t stop. You can always try again if you mess up."

    Henry was enjoying this side of master Bellavarn. He hadn''t seen him since for a while, but Bellavarn changed significantly.

    They both nailed the tray form on the first try. Kerv was smug that it came so easy. It wasn''t solely Bellavarn''s teaching; it was because the two had talent for this sort of dexterity work.

    "Great. You have a tray. Do either of you own pets?"

    They looked at him sideways

    "That is basically what this form is. It''s called a ''dog dish'' and is the basis for every form after it. I think you both would like something different, so we''ll make it more usable. Make sure to wet your clay again and watch my hands."

    Bellavarn made sure the wheel was spinning properly and placed his hands; he pushed the edge of the tray back in towards the center while stretching it upwards using a palm and two fingers. It became taller and taller¡ªabout 10 inches in height.

    "There. See? Oh. It''s a little short to be a flaggon and too tall to use a mug. I should have used more clay.."

    Kerv stared blankly at him. Bellavarn made it look so easy. Even Henry was looking at him oddly.

    Bellavarn chuckled. He could explain it in more detail, but it would be similar to mansplaining. Clay was something you had to feel. Words always fell short. The mor they practiced the more they could fully appreciate the work that went into that ''simple'' movement. It took Bellavarn six months of education to ''master'' that form, and he had to relearn a lot the past few days.

    "Alright. It can''t be much harder than the tray, right?"

    =

    Kerv messed up eight times. He had to restart from scratch and do the tray again and again. Luckily there was enough clay on hand to keep going. Henry had similar trouble. He found himself slowing down the wheel when he became too focused.

    Kerv looked down at his 9th tray and wondered if he should just keep this one instead of ruining it.

    "Don''t look so down. If it were that easy, everyone would do it. It takes a moment of practice. Try feeling the clay move between the points of your fingers as you build it up. The bottom will be thickest. You need to evenly distribute the clay as you mold it taller. Maintain a thicker rim; don''t thin it into a blade unless you want to cut yourself when drinking from it."

    Bellavarn didn''t know if that would be the case. He never got the chance to drink from one of the mugs he made in high school.

    "Your last two attempts failed because the clay wasn''t centered. This one looks better! Take it slow and try not to think about mine."

    Kerv glowered at Bellavarn''s wheel and the four mugs drying on the board next to him. Bellavarn restarted every time Kerv failed, building his clay in sync with Kerv. It was reassuring that Bellavarn didn''t get it right every time either. Or maybe he was protecting Kerv''s pride by messing up on purpose.

    The thought was ludicrous. Bellavarn wasn''t the type to destroy his art to make anyone feel better. Kerv banished the jealous thoughts..

    "Henry, make sure to keep your foot pedaling at a constant pace; lumps will begin to form. Kerv, you know what to do; you just need to feel it. One more time. We can call it quits for today after this one."

    They both took a deep breath.

    The three of them started at the same time. Henry slowed for a slight moment behind the others while Kerv was a slight moment ahead. They brought the edges out.

    A tray.

    Readjusting, they brought the rim back inward. Pinching. They stretched the clay upward and steadily.

    Removing their hands.

    Done.

    Kerv beamed. He did it!

    Henry too.

    On the wheel were three nearly identical cups. Kerv''s was slightly wider while Henry''s was slightly shorter. Bellavarn outdid himself and created a perfect cylindrical mug.

    "Awesome! I told you guys you had talent."

    "You''re too kind, master Bellavarn."

    "Haha! No, bring on the praise! How awesome am I?"

    Kerv had his chest puffed out. Henry rolled his eyes. Bellavarn shook his head.

    "I wasn''t lying when I said you two would catch on quick. Lets get these off and set them to dry. Take your wire tool and-"

    ...

    It was done. They all had semi-matching cups that could be fired later. They could add handles to make proper cups, but they weren''t needed. Bellavarn would ask how they wanted to decorate them later.

    "There are many other things you can make if you decide you want to continue. Although."

    Bellavarn peaked through a set of drying shelves.

    "Wouldn''t it be better if one of you were on guard at all times?"

    Kerv waved his hand in dismissal, washing his hands off in a warmed bucket of water.

    "We only need to be alert if we are patrolling outside. Henry set up some silent alarms to notify us if someone is coming. Besides, we are more than enough to handle any inconveniences, even covered in mud like we are."

    "Speak for yourself."

    Henry smirked as he sat back down at their cards table. Not a speck of stray clay was on him. Looking at Kerv, his entire apron was splattered.

    "Cheater."

    "I did nothing of the sort. I am more careful than you."

    "Trickster."

    "Brute."

    "Children, please."

    They both winced at being called that by Bellavarn, the youngest of the trio by a handful of years. Bellavarn placed a hand on the Heating circle and reactivated it. The finished pieces nearby would dry faster now.

    "I will fire the mugs in the next load, they should be ready in two days. You can both decide if you want to paint them by then. In the meantime, here."

    Bellavarn walked over with a dusty book. It contained illustrations of famous pottery.

    "Look through that for inspiration. I''ll make whatever you prefer.."

    Bellavarn picked up on that they both would rather have Bellavarn make something for them. He''d do it too. It was Bellavarn''s selfish desire to teach them and create matching cups.

    Henry turned the pages and saw vases, bowls, pots, urns, containers, pitchers, plates, bottles, trays, and more. There was indeed a lot that could be made.

    Kerv leaned over Henry''s shoulder as he dried his hands with a towel.

    "I am starting to wonder which one of us is most mature."

    Henry covertly nodded. They both peaked at Bellavarn''s back as he attended the kilns. Both of them saw a shadow of the back they would follow in the future. A sturdy and unshakable wall that guided the people into tomorrow.

 Cooking with Misses Vale

    His eyes glistened and his taste buds crackled like fireworks. A nostalgic taste rocked his taste buds and brought him back to his childhood. The days of going to the mall and throwing pennies in the fountain, making silly little wishes. His parents swinging him by the arms as they walked. Riding that indoor carousel. Begging for ice cream, but being told it was winter, and subsequently being introduced to the most wonderful thing he ever tasted.

    Soft Pretzels.

    Every time he went to the mall, he would beg his parents for a pretzel. It became an event that must occur. He would watch through the glass window in amazement as the bakers pounded the dough, rolled it, twirled it and shaped it. It was magic in a magic-less world.

    The soft dough turned golden, covered in salt. Bellavarn would spend a dozen minutes picking off the extra salt grains, one by one, so only the perfect amount remained. Too little and it tasted off. Too much and it scratched his gums. By the time he finally finished, the pretzel was lukewarm.

    The heat wouldn''t matter as he looked up at his smiling parents. He offered them each a piece of his pretzel. He wouldn''t eat any unless they ate first. He giggled as his father played with the food, twirling it in his fingers before popping it in his mouth. Mother would tease father before playing with hers afterward. Only then would Bellavarn dig in, beaming as wide as possible with his chubby cheeks.

    For years after, Bellavarn would continue to request soft pretzels. Eventually, his parents stopped playing with him. Sometimes they were in a hurry and couldn''t buy one. As he grew older, he came to the mall with friends from school. Sharing a delicious treat; they could never truly understand. They were nice even if they didn''t feel the same ingrained love for pretzels. It was a treat filled with happy memories¡ªa memoir of his life.

    He remembered the end of pretzels.

    The days where he could no longer go to the mall with his parents or otherwise. Bellavarn fought for their life insurance, but he was never taught how. He lived oblivious to the real world. He only received a sliver of what he should have. No extended family would take him in at 18.

    He was listless and unprepared for life alone. He sold the car first. Why would he need it if he didn''t go out? A brainless and childish mistake. He sold the old game consoles and electronics. The extra couches and chairs carrying an invisible weight. His parent''s bed. Their clothes. Memorabilia.

    Bellavarn was evicted from his family home at 19. He didn''t know where to go, so he walked the miles to the mall.

    The stares he got were different from before. No longer the happy child swinging from his parents'' arms. No one looked on him with fondness. Sitting down where a wishing fountain was removed, he imagined what it would be like to taste another pretzel. To share a meal with his family again.

    Out of luck and having no skills, he was truly homeless.

    He wandered for six months. Starved himself and became gaunt. He had no purpose. No family or calling. No drive.

    Funnily enough, the homeless were territorial. Claiming spots for themselves. Most were crude and mean, but Bellavarn just attributed it to anger at their circumstance. Bellavarn was angry too. For having such bad luck.

    A sweltering summer night, it dawned on him that it wasn''t his luck. It was him.

    He never tried to find a job. He never reached out to his former friends. He failed to visit his parent''s graves since their passing. What a shitty son he''d been, blaming all his misfortune on a cruel fate rather than taking responsibility.

    Bellavarn searched for aid. There were shelters for support, and there were good people looking to help. He managed to finagle a construction job doing heavy lifting and hauling. He learned how to work with tools and machinery. Bellavarn worked tirelessly to get himself back on his feet. Finally, he received his first paycheck. It was selfish and unreasonable, but his first purchase with his hard-earned money couldn''t have been anything else.

    "Is it that bad? Dear me, I thought it was halfway decent. I''ll throw it away."

    Bellavarn caught Misses Vale''s hand.

    "No! No. It''s delicious and exactly how I remember it. Your kind of magic is my favorite."

    "Experience and skill trump magic any day. Though, Ii you''re feeling extra wowed, I suppose a few more coins in my pocket wouldn''t hurt. My youngest wants to be a wizard. Even though wizards don''t exist outside of his book, I didn''t have the heart to tell ''im the truth."

    Bellavarn laughed heartily.

    "We''ll make him the best wizard who ever existed. You can count on me. In exchange for your skills? I will alter the very laws of magic!"

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Don''t you start. Ma'' husband is saying the exact same things. I don''t need the two of you encouraging Len when I plan to break the news."

    There was a crack in her expression and she broke eye contact.

    "Eventually"

    Bellavarn grinned. Misses Vale had six children. The youngest being four and the oldest at twelve. She had a lot on her plate, being the breadwinner of the family. Her husband stayed at home to watch the kids, a retired knight. He used to work under Bellavarn''s grandfather, so employing Misses Vale when they came to the capital was an easy choice.

    Bellavarn would make sure to keep them all happy. They were good people.

    At the moment, he had a different project to work on. Bellavarn was waiting for his new batch of greenware to finish firing, so he needed something to fill his time. This was the second reason Bellavarn was in the kitchen with Misses Vale. She held the most sway with the rest of the cooking staff.

    "Misses Vale, have you ever tried to cook Stink Weeds?"

    "Four times. Failed every time. Stubborn lot. Why? Did''ja figure out a way to cook it?"

    It hurt his pride that she guessed. She didn''t even look surprised. The staff are becoming over-expectant of him lately.

    "Sort of. There was this old book in the library, Fish and Rods, incredibly boring and benign. Except for one passage that described a type of ration that the author ate when he couldn''t catch anything. It didn''t tell me how he cooked the thing, but the descriptors matched Stink Weed."

    =

    "By the gods, this reeks."

    Bellavarn handled the gross stuff.

    "What are those four methods you already tried?"

    Misses Vale looked unfazed as she handled the weeds.

    "I tried diluting it water. Boiled it. Squeezed it into a juice. And finally, baked it. The last one was a disaster. The stench remains no matter how it''s cooked and is indigestable."

    Dear lord! She ate her experiments?

    "Ma'' husband doesn''t trust anything I don''t cook in front of him.

    Misses Vale was the only one who could make Mr. Vale do something he absolutely didn''t want to. Ester''s stories about Misses Vale and Mr. Vale caused sympathetic shivers to run down his spine. Marriage could be cruel.

    "What about mashing it into paste? Like baby food?"

    "I reckon we give it a try."

    =

    Bellavarn emptied the contents of his stomach. It tasted worse than a three-day-old burger out of a dumpster. No one could eat that. Why was it so attractive to equines?

    It was his idea, so Bellavarn accepted the task of taste-testing the mushed up stink sauce. Misses Vale was having too much fun at his misery. Wiping his mouth, groaning, he stated.

    "You know. The book said it was hard and crunchy. Maybe... Hurp..."

    Bellavarn covered his mouth and swallowed the bile. When it was safe, he spoke again.

    "Maybe I jumped the gun in suggesting we make it into a paste."

    Misses Vale looked entirely unsympathetic while being equally driven.

    "If it is supposed to be crunchy, it needs heat."

    "You said you tried baking it. How did it turn out?"

    Misses Vale made a face that Bellavarn would rather forget. Moving on...

    "Alright. If baking doesn''t do it, there are other options. Steaming. Smoking. Roasting."

    =

    Bellavarn was becoming used to throwing up. His tastebuds never numbed, and it somehow seemed worse every time. Misses Vale was turning sympathetic.

    Bellavarn didn''t know the correct method. He just read that someone had eaten it. Therefore, there must be a way to cook it.

    "I trust you, but watching you throw up gets worrying after the fifth time."

    Bellavarn held his stomach.

    "Um... I don''t assume we have access to a microwave. No, forget I said that. A fisherman wouldn''t have access to such a thing either."

    Bellavarn wrinkled his nose, trying to think about how a fisherman would cook something. Turning it over a fire? Placing it in a fire?"

    The author was from the south. Past the badlands and deep into the sandy seas. How did he fish in a desert? Why did he never address that like it was the natural? Did he fish in an oasis? There shouldn''t be enough life in an oasis to fish, right?

    He had no clue.

    The current clues were: Desert. Fishing. Heat. Stinkweed.

    Stinkweed in a desert?

    His hands dragged down his face at the completely nonsensical string of information.

    "Is there such a thing as magic cooking?"

    "Cooking using magic tools? Of course! Some restaurants think they''re all fancy-schmancy with all their magical equipment. It doesn''t taste the same. It is too..."

    She spun a hand.

    "...manufactured."

    "What if we just dry it out?"

    Misses Vale made another face. A more mild yet equally disturbing sight.

    "In the winter? It would never happen. If this were summer, maybe after a several days it would work."

    "How about speeding the process up with magic. I can use the heat spell. Reverse the longevity portion to make a controlled burst of heat."

    =

    "It worked. Sort of."

    The duo leaned over, cheeks nearly touching as they observed the sample. The weed dried up a fraction. Bellavarn couldn''t tell if it smelled better. His nose quit a while ago.

    The spell shape worked, but it was inefficient. The only way to get a better result would be to create a brand new spell or to brute force it.

    Bellavarn would normally be all for the first option. However, it has been a rough week, and he was tired of failing. He cracked his knuckles.

    "Hold on; I''ll at least evoke a sizzle."

    Placing his hand on the spell shape, he poured his entire mana pool forthwith.

    *Tttssss*

    The sight of the weed writhing like a living being was disconcerting, and the hiss was more like a scream of agony, but the results were glorious. Bellavarn let out a breath. The weed was now a fourth the size it once was. Tentatively, Misses Vale poked it with a spoon. It didn''t react or jump out. She determined it to be safe.

    "Would you like the honors, Misses Vale? I can''t smell it anymore."

    She gave him a side-eye. But after seeing Bellavarn''s pale face, she relented. Taking the tiny piece up in her fingers, she popped it in her mouth and chewed. Bellavarn could hear her teeth grinding. He waited.

    She gulped.

    "Well?"

    Misses Vale grimaced.

    "It tastes like cardboard. But it is edible."

    "Really?"

    "Do ye'' see me throwin'' up all over?"

    "Good. Good."

    She smiled genuinely and warmly.

    "Well done, Master Bellavarn. I knew you could do it."

    Bellavarn nodded too many times.

    "Good. Good."

    "Master Bellavarn?"

    His eyes rolled up.

    "Good..."

    He fainted.

    Mana-drained.

 Week Two (1)

    Day 1

    "Kerv, what is that?"

    "A stick."

    "..."

    Kerv rotated his wrist, playing with a stick. Making elaborate movements and gestures. It was a cross between play and exercise. He must truly be losing his mind.

    "You have a sword at your waist."

    "Yeah, but that cut things."

    "..."

    Bellavarn didn''t know what to say to that.

    "Hey, Bell."

    "Hm?"

    "Is it possible to use clay to make a weapon? I never thought about it before. I''ve always been used to the idea of metal, but seeing you working with those small things has made me think."

    "Honestly. Ceramics have some pretty hard limitations. It doesn''t hold up to impacts the same way iron does. Vibrations can cause it to shatter unexpectedly. My design is a rare exception because I plan to use enchantments to bolster the structure."

    Kerv swung his stick, holding it by a separate branch. It was awkward and clumsy. Bellavarn set aside the device he was working on to watch. The way Kerv was swinging it was unorthodox.

    "Hey, Bell."

    Kerv stopped swinging, looking down at his stick. He had Bellavarn''s full attention.

    "If I chose to make a ceramic weapon, could you enchant it to be stronger?"

    =

    Day 2

    Henry reported to Braster.

    "Nothing has come up. I''ve set up all the alarms and precautions. Kerv will be able to handle anything less than an army. Even then, I showed him the escaped routes, and he is confident he can protect Master Bellavarn while I am away on mission."

    Braster looked over several papers and maps. A few described warehouse complexes complete with guard rotations. Another one had several annotations with inventory placements and objects of interest. Henry had gathered an abundance of information on his last mission despite failing his initial objective. Now was the time to use it.

    "I''ve heard Duke Astor stumbled upon another gem mine along the Western border. Take the time to reacquire the assets that Daven has naively poached. And take Warehouse 4 and 7 as recompense. I expect it done within a week."

    "Yes, Duke. It will be done."

    =

    Day 3

    "Is everything set up? Are they all okay with doing this?"

    Oslo smiled warmly.

    "Of course, everyone is behind you, Master Bellavarn. The work wasn''t difficult, and we made the announcement yesterday morning. There will be a small crowd gathered by the time you arrive."

    Bellavarn looked equally nervous and excited.

    "I think there is a simple way to make things more efficient as well! Instead of having only one circle producing heat. Why not add a second one. Creating an even distribution of power both above and below will dry out the weeds more effectively. It turns out that there will be minimal effort on our part if things go according to plan."

    His desk was a mess as he tried to sort out the things he needed. He was looking for spare spell circles in case some malfunctioned. They took time to make, about ten minutes each, and that is if he made them perfectly without faults. Worst-case scenario, he would have to spend time redrawing them on site, but he would rather be prepared.

    "I am a bit worried. I don''t know how bad the situation is out there. From what I''ve gathered, stockpiles have withered and the commoners will barely make it to spring. I can only hope it isn''t as bad as I fear."

    The last time he went out. What should have been a town filled with people seemed empty. The number of smokestacks didn''t match the floating population. It wasn''t on account of firewood or coal either; there is plenty. It wasn''t that they congregated either. Either there was a large exodus of commoners, or they met with untimely ends due to starvation. Or both.

    The malnourished loiters around the smithies reiterated his point. It was often the case with medieval societies that the lowest class of people were the last to receive food. They couldn''t afford it when the price skyrocketed, forcing them to scrounge for scraps. For some, food or grain was a currency in-of-itself. Gangs were formed to control food. Bellavarn could spot the beginnings of one outside Vestals.

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    "You don''t think the people will have a problem with me, do you? Would it be better if I didn''t make a personal appearance? I doubt a starving man will be picky, but the rumors spreading about me have already become objectified fact. Apparently I''m now a baby eating monster and have daily lunch meetings with a devil."

    "You said it yourself earlier; this is a chance to overturn their preconceptions. And they would be fools not to accept your goodwill, master Bellavarn."

    Oslo measured Bellavarn.

    He rediscovered a way to use stinkweed as emergency rations from a benign literary passage and would be feeding the people for free. If any of them dared so much as grumble, they would meet the sorry end of his fist. And Kerv''s. Henry and the others would join in. Jeral. Ester. Kyle. Potter. Denice. Misses Vale. And the Duchess herself might march out of the mansion to give them a few good kicks.

    Lannie would probably abstain from hitting them. So would Nem. Or Wendle, who volunteered to help run the charity work.

    Several of the guards and over a dozen staff members all volunteered to help with distribution and security. They would keep the operation going for three hours before packing up. Everyone present believed in Bellavarn and was certain his heart would reach the people.

    "I have complete faith in you, Master Bellavarn."

    Oslo bowed, escorted him to the waiting carriage.

    =

    Day 4

    "Duchess. Baroness Wyre is here to see you."

    Parcy informed. The Duchess scowled.

    "Duchess, a Lady shouldn''t make that face."

    The scowl deepened.

    "Why not? She was extremely rude after being told she couldn''t see Bellavarn. Now, she comes crawling back to ask for forgiveness. I think I will make her wait."

    Parcy maintained her calm deferential tone.

    "I don''t believe that is wise, Duchess. Is the Baroness'' daughter no longer a suitable candidate for Bellavarn?"

    Trisha scoffed.

    "Of course. She is a lovely girl. It is her mother I am reluctant to forgive."

    "Then allow the girl a chance, and don''t fault the mother for being overly protective."

    Trisha pouted, folding her arms.

    "I hate it when you do that."

    "I know, Duchess."

    "I hate that you do it despite knowing I hate it."

    "Yes, Duchess."

    Trisha threw up her arms.

    "Fine. Take me to her. I''ll see what she wants."

    =

    Day 5

    "So, last week, she was all hoity-toity, speaking about how I ''inconvenienced'' her. But now, she crawled back and apologized for acting so rudely despite not knowing the circumstances. She declared she had no idea our son was in the middle of a breakthrough."

    "A misunderstanding."

    Trisha waved a hand nonchalantly.

    "A good one. She praised Bellavarn for his ''stout mind'' and being a ''leader of the common folk''. She kept going over and over about how Bellavarn not only made the inedible edible, but also how he ate it himself as a sign of goodwill to the people."

    "Lady Wyre has realized how amazing your son is."

    "Our son. He apparently gave a rousing speech and won over the starving people¡ªcreated order when they all scrambled for food and even made them work for their meal. Having them provide the mana themselves to cook the stinkweed was ingenious. We couldn''t have handled the output otherwise."

    "Didn''t he also make them collect more stinkweed as payment?"

    Trisha nodded proudly.

    "Our little boy is a leader and an entrepreneur. He made them supply both the ingredients and the energy. All he did was provide them the means. His business sense is blooming! Some are beginning to doubt the growing rumors due to his noble and selfless actions."

    Trisha was full of praise, vibrating with motherly pride. Braster huffed.

    "So that stubborn Baroness realized Bellavarn is a special fruit."

    Trisha became even more jittery. Waving her arms high.

    "That''s the thing! It was young April who informed Lady Wyre that she wanted to meet him. Apparently, she was on her way home from the library when Bellavarn gave his speech and witnessed him in his full glory. Lady Wyre described it as if April was overcome with emotion, falling in love at first sight."

    "Hmm."

    Braster held chin in thought, looking worried. Trisha patted his arm knowingly.

    "I know. It sounds too good to be true, right?"

    Braster grumbled.

    "It does."

    "Then we''ll set aside a date tomorrow to meet with her. It''s been a few years since I''ve seen April, so this would be a good to catch up. We''ll do it while Bellavarn is out helping with the charity event again."

    Braster looked sideways at his loving wife. A mixture of love and suspicion.

    "Are you going to interrogate the poor girl?"

    Trisha tittered, bubbling with mania.

    =

    Bellavarn felt an ominous chill float past him. Looking around, he didn''t see anything out of the ordinary.

    Shrugging, he went back to browsing.

    He was in a magical tool shop. It catered to many, not just nobility, as long as they had the coin. The items ranged from rare enchantments to everyday tools. There were several magical pens lined up in a box that evoked unwanted emotions. Moving past it, he saw a display of magical papers. Written on the papers were different spell shapes. The most simple version emitted a soft glow. Another was the familiar heat spell. One was the equivalent of a party popper. They were all cheap and could be bought for only a few silver coins.

    It took getting used to being rich, coming from someone who was previously homeless for a short time and then always lived day-to-day. Having access to large funds caused him discomfort.

    Bellavarn glanced over a few enchanted weapons. There was a dagger that emitted frost and a stiletto that emitted heat. Neither would last long as weapons. The imbued mana was limited and couldn''t be recharged. Ultimately, these were fancy knick knacks used to trick those who knew nothing about magic. The most useful things in the shop were the compact paper spell scrolls known commonly as ''talismans''.

    They were incredibly cheap compared to other objects and were the foundation for magic. They used minimal materials and contained only the basic spell shape. If a commoner was clever, they could save up to buy one of these papers and teach themselves to reproduce the effect.

    Spells can''t be evoked naturally. They need to be imprinted into a medium such as wood, metal, jewelry. Paper never lasted longer than one cast. He used paper to create the heating circles that cooked stinkweed. Drawing them is simple once you know them. Learning them is the difficult part. It took Bellavarn several days to memorize the relatively simple spell shape for ''glow''.

    The spell shaping and magical engineering he learned from books consisted soley of theory. He had to scrap nearly all his test spinners due to the spell shapes failing, breaking, imploding, etc.

    Bellavarn was hoping to study more practical applications.

    "I''ll take several of each of these papers."

    The shopkeeper rubbed his hands together greedily. Any coin was good coin.

    "I''ll get those ready for you, dear customer. Will there be anything else?"

    Bellavarn glanced back at the pens.

    "No. I don''t need anything else."

 Week Two (2)

    Day 6

    "You are still terrible at knitting. I could finish within a day or two, but you''ve already spent three weeks on it and have barely made any progress."

    Bellavarn went cross-eyed as his nose came closer to his needle. Knots kept forming, and Bellavarn had to restart frequently. He hasn''t made any progress, even though he planned on making two blankets. He kept swerving in the wrong direction and had to undo his knots before trying again.

    "I disagree. You can do it if you keep trying earnestly. Don''t give up. You can do it, master Bellavarn!"

    Two fist pumps of encouragement were the preamble of a hesitant admission.

    "Ah. Um... you went the wrong way. Again."

    Bellavarn confirmed he went in the wrong direction. Again. He would need to undo it. Sighing, he set his work down and ruffled his hair.

    "I now have an immense newfound respect for Ladies everywhere."

    "Hah! You don''t have to be a Lady to knit. You''re the one who keeps stubbornly persisting despite having zero talent.."

    "Ester!"

    "What? I''m not going to pull my words. If he continues like this, he will never make anything usable. Much less in time for his sibling''s arrival."

    Lannie shook her fists up and down in outrage. It was meant to look menacing, but Lannie''s puffed-up cheeks made the action adorable. The maid was unable of making a mean face.

    "You could at least be nicer to master Bellavarn. Look how hard he is trying. He''s spent all this time pouring his heart into knitting the blanket himself. It wouldn''t mean the same thing if he commissioned one. It would also let the others in on the secret."

    Lannie whispered the word "secret" conspiratorially. Bellavarn pulled at his collar. Having it laid out so openly by Lannie was embarrassing.

    "Then why did you bring your brother? I brought you for a reason. Why is he here?

    When Ester realized how hopeless he was, she brought in Lannie for moral support, since Ester had poor bedside manners. Her brother Jeral sat on a couch playing checkers with Kerv. Kerv wore a pained look as he witnessed his last king being taken.

    "How do you do that!"

    "You don''t think ahead and only look at the situation in front of you. You are great in head-on confrontations but lose when you fall into traps or forks."

    "I have Henry or Bellavarn for that."

    "Don''t be naive, Kerv, that isn''t like you."

    "Yeah. Yeah. One more round."

    Lannie made a cutesy pouting face. Ester was unamused. Bellavarn to the rescue.

    "It is fine if he knows. I trust Jeral."

    Bellavarn knew the real reason he was here was to make sure he didn''t hit on his sister. This was how it was going to be; Bellavarn didn''t have a choice.

    Jeral kept Bellavarn within view the entire time he played checkers.

    "Your trust in me is not misplaced, young master Bellavarn."

    Jeral bowed his head before triple jumping Kerv''s pieces. Kerv blinked at his stolen pieces and nearly flipped the board.

    Ester folded her arms. The fact Bellavarn was learning to knit is supposed to be a secret from the Duchess and Duke. Why were there over twice as many people as there should be?

    "None of this matters if Bellavarn can''t figure out how to knit properly."

    "I am sure master Bellavarn will figure it out in a few more tries. It is master Bellavarn, after all!"

    Ester cringed at the words. Lannie was too pure an individual. Jeral''s worries that someone would take advantage of Lannie''s kindness were probably founded from experience. Still, it would drive Ester insane having such an overbearing brother.

    Jeral called over from the checkerboard, converting his second king.

    "What seems to be the problem?"

    Ester looked back to him and spoke bluntly before Lannie misconstrued things further.

    "He is too slow and gets caught up on every knot. His hands don''t move fluidly enough. It needs to be an unconscious effort, only switching to a conscious one when altering the direction. Since it is just a monochrome blue blanket without designs or embroidery, he shouldn''t have to come up for air so often. He is too worried to make a mistake, which causes him to make a mistake. It is infuriating."

    Bellavarn eyes opened. When she said it like that, it really did sound like all his fault. Whenever it came to drawing or pottery, he looked for the smallest imperfections and fixed them before moving forward.

    Maybe it is my fault.

    "So it is a problem with not developing a rhythm?"

    Ester tilted her head. Rhythm summed it up nicely.

    "It is about his mindset."

    Jeral nodded as he cornered Kerv''s last two pieces. It had been game over for a while, but Kerv still fought on like he could turn things around, betting on the distracted Jeral to make a mistake. Fat chance.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    "Checkers is all about rhythm. Yes, there is mild planning, but it isn''t a difficult game. There are limited options. The way I play is I let myself envision the next step before I make it and allow my hand to move the pieces. Maybe, Young Master Bellavarn needs to pretend knitting is checkers."

    Ester scrunched up her face. Like such an obscured analogy would make any sense.

    "What hogwash. Knitting is nothing like checkers. Don''t listen to him, he has no idea what... he''s... talking about?"

    Her cutting words turned into an unbelieving question.

    "What? No. I refuse to believe it. That is what made sense to you!"

    Bellavarn didn''t listen as he picked up his work and started flying. Ester was speechless as Bellavarn entered a fugue state, soaring through the process. Lannie beamed wide and ran over to hug her brother. Kerv cursed at another game lost while Jeral smiled knowingly.

    =

    Day 7

    Kerv wandered off a while ago saying he wanted to try making something in the workshop by himself. Bellavarn talked with him about his weapon ideas and helped Kerv work it out. Bellavarn thought iron would be better, but Kerv seemed driven. Learning the right enchantments to make the new weapon useable would take time.

    Bellavarn rubbed his eyes. The paper-bound spell shapes he bought were helping, but they hurt his brain after hours of study. He also needed to make more test spinners. In between that, spending time doing his charity work, errands around the house, knitting, continuing to interact with staff and coming up with future plans... He was running himself ragged.

    That was why he was lounging on the couch in the library. He laid along its length, holding a book above him like he used to do with his smartphone. Bellavarn started out sitting, but gradually morphed into a slug as he became more engrossed in his novel.

    The book was for fun, not study.

    It was a romance tale about a dusky traveler and a barmaid. They met inexplicably and hit it off. Their relationship developed fast and quick; the author made it steamy and heated, including not-safe-for-work content. It was decently written, so Bellavarn didn''t skip over the sex scenes like in other books. The main plot points revolve around the barmaid taking care of her sickly mother. She spent nearly all her time working, so meeting someone nice that didn''t stare at her ass right off the bat was a pleasant surprise. The fling was thought to be short. After the first night together, she imagined she would never see him again. To her surprise, the traveler came in for lunch the next day.

    He was an adventurer who walked across the land, glimpsing amazing views and interacting with famous people. The traveler learned about the barmaid''s mother and her illness, expressing his sympathy. He knew of a costly cure but was reluctant to share it because of his troubled past. Eventually, after two weeks of steamy romance and heartfelt talks, the traveler decided to help. In the dead of night, he visited his lover''s mother and healed her completely.

    When the barmaid woke up to an empty bed, she started to fret. When she found no trace of him, she ran over to her mother''s home in angry tears. That was where she discovered her mother on her feet, walking and talking like she never got sick. The barmaid interrogated her mother, needing to know how this happened. The mother told her daughter about a man coming to her in a dream and declaring his love for her daughter. He stated that the mother needed to be awake to condone his marriage proposal. She woke up a few hours later, fully healed.

    Only, there wasn''t a soul in sight.

    Bellavarn was at the point where he was wondering how the author would end it. Would it be a tragedy or a happily-ever-after? He hoped for the latter. He hated tragedies.

    Hopefully, it won''t be a cliffhanger.

    He turned the page.

    "Whatcha reading?"

    "Wha-"

    *KONK*

    "Tsss!"

    "Oww..."

    Bellavarn hissed, rubbing his noggin. He sat up too fast and impacted someone''s head. Only... He didn''t see anyone. Craning over the edge of the couch, he saw a squatting form; hands pressed to their forehead. He was surprised to see orange-ginger hair. It didn''t match any of the maids he knew, and orange hair was rare.

    "Are you alright? You startled me."

    "Ow. Ow. Ow. No. I mean, yes. It is my fault. I interrupted you when you were focused."

    The girl ceased holding her head and stood back up to her full height, which wasn''t much, barely past five feet tall. Bellavarn saw the few freckles across the bridge of her nose and the ones dotting her hairline. She held a pained smile.

    Silence lingered as Bellavarn watched the girl fidget under his gaze. She seemed uncomfortable with talking and watched

    "So. What are you reading? You were very into it."

    Bellavarn stop staring and turned his attention to the novel in his hand. Specifically at the illustrated cover.

    "Ah."

    Oh no.

    This was bad.

    I can''t tell her that I''ve been reading a romance novel. One filled with needless smut. It wasn''t even why I read it. It was for the story. Ah. Forget it. No one would believe those words.

    His pride as a man was ruined. He sulked as he told her the name.

    "It''s called the Barmaid''s Lover."

    As her eyes widened in surprise and recognition, Bellavarn bunkered down the hatches for whatever teasing and judgment would ensue. Then, counter to his expectations, she clapped her hands together.

    "Oh~ I love that book!"

    The girl''s green eyes were twinkling. Words spilled out of her in a torrent as she made several obscure hand gestures and articulations, explaining her love for the book.

    "The way Herin appears out of nowhere, in such a flash, yet keeps his profile low while unassumingly falling in love with a normal, hard-working girl. The quick development wasn''t overdone, being both romantic and honest, and the way he defended Francine from loan sharks was thrilling! That final night filled with confessions and true love made my heart race. And then Herin decided to forgo his troubled past and use the same technique his mentor used to save his life on Francine''s mother! The way it ended with-"

    "Stop!"

    The rambling girl was startled. Bellavarn waved his hands in front of his face.

    "You almost spoiled the ending! I haven''t had the chance to finish it yet."

    The redhead looked sucked in a harsh breath. Her cheeks turned the color of ripe tomatoes and started waving her hands frantically.

    "OhmygodImsorry I didn''t mean to- I mean, to say that, I am sorry I almost spoiled it. I don''t want to be one of those people."

    Her lightning-speed words continued. The longer Bellavarn stared in amusement the meeker her words became until she eventually shut down, tucking her chin into her neck. Imagining the steam wafting off her face, Bellavarn realized answering her would alleviate the issue.

    "It''s alright. You''re safe. You didn''t become one of those people."

    "Mhm."

    She hummed, lost in thought. Bellavarn moved off the couch and leaned against the arm. His guest wasn''t wearing a maid uniform. Her dress was more cute and colorful. Bright yellow and white. It looked like she was attempting to replace the sun and dry up winter.

    Bellavarn wondered about her identity; however, looking at the door and seeing at least four familiar heads ducking away, he got the picture.

    Mother took longer than I thought.

    There weren''t any streamers or cake. No fanfare. It was already more than he could have hoped for. Perhaps it was too much to wish that the Duchess didn''t interrogate the poor girl.

    The eyes peeking in were gone, but he was sure there were ears twitching around the corner. Smirking, he decided on his next words.

    "I don''t believe we''ve met before. You''re not a new maid, are you?"

    He smiled conspiratorially as he heard several hushed whispers from a ways away. He thought he could pick out his mother''s voice and a subdued scuffle trying to hold her back from entering. The girl looked up at him, slightly confused. Seeing his sardonic smile aimed at the doorway, she thought she understood.

    "Ah. I apologize. I haven''t introduced myself even though I am in your home."

    She came to the realization and bowed instead of curtsying. Her curly hair fell plainly.

    "I am the daughter of Baroness Guinevere Wyre, April Wyre. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Bellavarn Sallow."

    Bellavarn decided that he couldn''t tease his parents without disregarding the girl in front of him. Standing up to his full height of just over six feet, he bowed his back low enough to be right above her eye level. He gave his most charming smile.

    "The pleasure is all mine, Lady April."

 Brother A

    Prince Tristan walked through the halls in a foul mood. He wasn''t always upset or angry. And no, the lines in his forehead weren''t carved in stone. It was because he came back to the corner of the palace he despised.

    Tristan came this way, past his half-sister''s room, all the way to the back end of the palace every morning. The Queen''s old quarters waited for him at the end of the hallway.

    Standing in the doorway now, all that remained was packed furniture, cobwebs, darkness, and spiders. Dust layered the floor. No one was allowed inside. No cleaning. No moving. No spying or scheming. Tristan would know immediately if someone had been present. The only footprints outlined in the dust were his own, and they never ventured past the doorway.

    His feet always carried him here every day since he was a child. That never changed.

    The early sun peaking through the stained windows painted Tristan''s shadow across the umber floorboards. His brows furrowed deeper as he remembered hearing his name on his mother''s lips. Her soft hand pinched his cheek. A shining white smile.

    The Queen''s words echoed through time.

    "You are the oldest, Tristan. Make sure you set an example."

    "Get along with your siblings. Play nice with little Annie."

    "Stand up for them. Protect your brother and sisters."

    "I love you."

    There was no outward reaction as Tristan recalled the past. It had been a handful of years and the fading memories weren''t enough to make him crack. This room and the belongings inside sealed the past in place.

    Vex Lionel passed naturally in her sleep. It was peaceful and painless. No poison. No conspiracy. A peaceful death for an amazing mother. Too soon did she leave her children. They hadn''t fully grown and were left to flounder under the thumb of an unavailable father. They only had each other¡ªthe three of them.

    Tristan closed the doors. Turning a key in the lock, he replaced it in his coat pocket. Pivoting on a foot, he walked away to attend to his duties.

    The hallways were silent. A servant or two could be observed ducking around corners, hastily going about their early morning prep. Food needed to be cooked, breakfast prepared, and esteemed individuals to tend to.

    It wasn''t long before he passed by another familiar room. His scowl returned. Having to walk by every day was grating on his nerves. Gritting his teeth, he hurried his steps, not slowing down or stopping for someone irrelevant and helpless.

    Another maid or two, and he was nearing his own quarters when he encountered someone new.

    "Annie. Why are you up?"

    "Tristan! I was looking for you."

    Anne was already dressed and embellished, the picture of a princess. She must have woken up halfway into the night to prepare.

    "Is it urgent business? Whatever it is, it could have waited until lunch and tea."

    Tristan checked his magical watch. It kept the time and cycled the date for him. It was a complicated piece of magical engineering that took full advantage of every millimeter of space. Anne gifted it to him on his 20th birthday.

    Anne beamed as she saw her brother using her gift. Then the smile faded.

    "Did you come from mother''s again?"

    Tristan flinched. His hand found comfort on his sword handle. Anne looked at him, worriedly. She stopped visiting their mother''s room after the first few months along with Kly. The king never visited, and the staff was ordered to stay away, leaving Tristan with the only key.

    The metal felt cold in his pocket.

    "You know I visit every morning."

    "Don''t be like that, Tristan. I miss her too. I just can''t look at that room anymore. It hurt too much. I cant tell it is hurting you too. I hope you will see that one day."

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Tristan didn''t react. Maybe he would remember Anne''s words one day, but for now, he remained closed off to outside opinions.

    Anne held her arm, looking pained. Biting her lip, she asked the questions on her mind.

    "Did you confront Lecil? Do you know why she refused to choose one of the Dukes? She''s always acting cold and distant, but now she suddenly wants to stay home. Does she think she has the right to stay despite never doing anything and only leeching off her status? I don''t want her here anymore."

    Tristan vaguely recalled being asked to approach Lecil. He was upset that Lecil stayed. He, too, worked hard to convince the King to finally marry her off. She was a waste of space and a drain on the royal family. Keeping her held no benefits.

    Tristan marched into her room already seeing red. The half-sister who was never a part of the family. They are a family of three! Lecil never tried to fit in before; why did she suddenly want to now?

    "KILL ME!"

    "You and Kly. The staff. The King. Anne."

    "You all drove me to this. You all made me."

    The look in Lecil''s eyes was so broken. Someone at the end of her rope. They''d always been rough when trying to get her to listen. Tristan would admit he went too far by drawing his sword. He couldn''t kill his sister. No matter the circumstances. But for her to want to die by his hand?

    "Lets cut her some slack."

    The answer shocked Anne.

    "Cut her some slack? What are we supposed to do? She never listens to what others say and refuses to be useful. She isn''t a true princess and refuses to act like one. Does Lecil understand the role I play in taking up her duties and obligations?"

    Curling her fists, she wanted a baguette to break.

    "Annie. She asked me to kill her."

    Her fists unclenched. Anne''s eyes became saucers. Her voice became breathy.

    "She what?"

    Tristan said it using Kly''s matter-of-fact face.

    "I drew my sword to threaten her, but she grabbed the blade and held it to her throat. When I wouldn''t do it, she forced me to hold her off the balcony by her throat. There was madness in her eyes, Annie."

    Anne''s delicate face became white.

    "She... She did all that?"

    Tristan nodded once.

    "She did."

    Anne stumbled back.

    This... This wasn''t what Anne expected. She wanted Lecil to burst into a fit of anger or cry and beg to stay home. To get a reaction out of her. But this didn''t fit the usual pattern either.

    Anne''s words. Her actions. Did all of her deeds lead to this? Was Anne the villain? Surely not. It was Lecil''s fault. It was Lecil''s fault for being useless. Her fault for being emotionless and uncaring. Lecil was only in the game for herself because she wanted live in luxury and eternal privileged.

    But.

    But Lecil, Anne''s sister, the Ghost Princess, was supposed to be emotionless.

    "Ah..."

    Anne grabbed at her head. She felt nauseous all of a sudden. Tristan looked worried and moved to support her, but Anne swatted his hand away.

    "I''m fine. I just... didn''t expect her to be so desperate."

    If she was so unhappy here, then why didn''t she just leave? Take the chance and escape with a Duke as her husband. What was she planning? She definitely couldn''t be suicidal. Anne''s mind couldn''t comprehend it. Despite any wishes others had, Lecil was a princess. She had the title. The money. The assets. The potential. Suitors. Everything.

    What could she possibly want for?

    She bit at her nail. There was only one thing left. It couldn''t be. There was no way.

    She can''t be after it too.

    Tristan''s scowl was replaced with concern. Not many saw this side of him. The marvel went unnoticed as Anne contemplated.

    "Kly."

    It was a soft whisper. Then Anne''s eyes brightened.

    "Kly. He encountered Lecil recently as well, right? Is he awake yet? I need to talk to him."

    "He should be. Kly is usually out in the training yard by now, setting an example for the recruits."

    "I am going to see him. Now."

    She turned to go. Tristan stopped her.

    "Take an umbrella. It is snowing."

    Anne gave Tristan a thankful look.

    "I will. Can we still meet for tea?"

    Tristan was about to say yes, but he recalled there was a business meeting with Duke Astor.

    "I told you I don''t skip tea on Tuesdays."

    "Thanks. I''ll see you later then."

    "See you."

    With that, Anne departed.

    Tristan watched her go, unsure.

    Thinking back on that day. White clouds backdropping twin burning purple embers. Distant snowdrops planted three stories below where he threatened an enraged girl. Dark lifeblood trickling down his formerly untarnished blade. Holding her up by her throat. There were signs of a previous attack that Tristan dismissed as makeup.

    "Tristan?"

    A voice came from behind him. He swiveled to see his sister. Hair dark as night, dressed in an umbral dress, accented with subdued blues.

    "Lecil."

    A vaguely familiar maid trailed behind his sister.

    "Fancy meeting you so early! Are you well? Oh my, you look pale. Did something happen?"

    Her concern was unwarranted. There was nothing wrong with him. It was Lecil that was acting strange.

    Why are you acting like you are happy to see me? Why are you frowning as if you are worried about me?

    His scowl returned in full force. His words were venomous as he turned.

    "I don''t have time for you."

    Tristan marched away, a hand on his sword, remembering the madness swirling in Lecil''s eyes.

    How can you be so calm? Like nothing happened?

    It enraged him to no end.

    How can you still smile?

    Soft snowflakes drifted down in front of Tristan''s vision. His hand around her small throat. The air chilly. The birds absent. Time froze as he stared past the blood swimming down his blade and licking his fingers. Past her delicate hands that never held a weapon or tool.

    Ignoring the dark hair that was frustratingly similar to his own. Into her eyes, he delved. The purple fire that raged at injustice. The furrowed brows. Her bottom lip quivering. The expression of absolute desperation, depression, and fear.

    Did you even notice you were crying?

    =

    Lecil watched Tristan storm away. Baffled as to why the number above his head now read 7%.

 Brother B

    Sweat flew off his arms as he swung the practice sword. The drops dissolved lightly in the fresh snow. Cold moisture fell on his shoulder. Another swing moved his hair in front of his eyes. Kly was both freezing and overheated by the exertion.

    Kly''s practiced in colder weather than this. During a snowstorm. During rain or shine. Alone or surrounded by other trainees. None of it mattered. Kly needed to be stronger.

    Mom, can I practice with a sword too?

    Why would you ever want to use a sword, Kly?

    To protect you, mom!

    What about your brothers and sisters?

    Hmm. I don''t want to.

    Oh sweetie. Always protect your family. They are all you have. Promise me you''ll protect them; then I will allow you to practice with Tristan when you are older.

    Hrm. Okay. I promise.

    Good. Now go and help your sister. She can''t get down off the bench.

    Okay~

    His breathing was heavy and strained. The memories were passing like clouds. Kly repeated the words to himself often, resolved never to forget. He would protect his family. They were all he had.

    Help your sister.

    A pile of logs tumbled. He was too far away. His friends were going to be crushed. There was only one option left.

    *whoosh*

    Forfeit the race. It didn''t matter anyway. Toss the log away.

    *whoosh*

    Get a lead-up. Aim. Throw.

    *whoosh*

    Pray.

    *whoosh*

    He breathed out and reset his stance. The trickling snow gave him a brief reprieve before a brisk breeze blew it all back.

    That day was an anomaly¡ªa break in his routine. There was a guest sitting on the bench. She hadn''t visited since she could barely walk. That helpless girl couldn''t even get off the bench by herself without crying.

    *whoosh*

    I almost hit her.

    *whoosh*

    But you didn''t.

    *whoosh*

    I almost killed my sister.

    *whoosh*

    But you didn''t.

    *whoosh*

    I''m supposed to protect my family.

    *WHOOSH*

    Is she really your family?

    The thought struck him out of the blue. Was that really what he thought? Lecil has always been distant and difficult to deal with. She was helpless. Unable to get off a bench without crying. Still, Lecil was his sister. So why?

    "Kly!"

    "Hm?"

    Kly lowered his sword and saw his sister. Long blond hair flowing, shaded by a pink umbrella. A quartet of maids trailed behind her. He was confused. Another sister was joining him? What was happening lately?

    "Aren''t you freezing? Where is your shirt?"

    Anne appeared affronted at the by the achingly masculine display. Kly looked around lazily for his shirt but it seems the snow has hidden it. He set it down somewhere over there. Or was it over there?

    "You don''t even know where you left it."

    "Hm. It''s not cold."

    "Not cold? It is freezing. Snow is falling. How often do you do this?"

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "I am used to it."

    "Used to-"

    Anne held her face in exasperation. This brother was a training nut. He didn''t speak much and often needed to be informed about the situation around himself. It took a lot of work on her part to get him to say more than a few words at dinner. Having him practice the words over and over was the only way to imprint the information.

    Sighing, she waved her hand.

    "I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a moment?"

    Kly looked around at the empty field. The recruits hadn''t risen yet. Come to think of it, wasn''t today their monthly day off?

    Since no one else seemed to be coming, Kly nodded promptly and showed her to a pavilion that overlooked the training area. One of Anne''s maids supplied him with a towel and a new shirt. The original was lost to the elements.

    Kly leaned against a railing next to his sword, Anne taking a seat at a rounded tea table. It was in disuse because of the climate, but it served as a temporary resting place for her rump.

    Anne sat on the edge of her chair to avoid the freezing temperature. Her maids stood behind her to block the windchill. Snow drifted softly just outside the pavillion''s boundaries

    "Kly. Did you encounter Lecil recently?"

    Paying close attention, she watched his eyebrows twitch ever so slightly. The movement indicated Kly was flabbergasted.

    "So, you did. I thought so. Tell me what happened."

    "Hm..."

    Anne waited patiently. When it was clear that Kly wasn''t going to answer verbally, she sighed once again. He was always like this. Getting lost in his thoughts.

    "Kly."

    "Hm. What?"

    "What happened with Lecil?"

    She enunciated her words, making sure they got across. Kly responded.

    "She got off the bench herself."

    "What? What is that supposed to mean?"

    Kly was silent, forgoing any more words.

    Anne wanted to shout and kick, but that was unbecoming of a princess. She would do that in private. She has a few new pillows that need fluffing. The cook prepared plenty of baguettes as well. It wouldn''t take long to walk back and have at it.

    "She didn''t cry."

    "Hm?"

    It was Anne''s turn to use Kly''s favorite word.

    "I almost killed her. But she didn''t cry or seem afraid."

    "You! You almost killed her?"

    "Mhm."

    Kly nodded.

    Anne grabbed at her at the frills in her dress. What was going on around here? This wasn''t normal. What happened? Anne only heard that Kly saved the recruits from an accident and encountered Lecil afterward. What was she missing?

    "Ah..."

    Another headache. Her blood sugar must be getting low. Or her blood pressure was rising. Her tutors were never clear on what it was.

    "Alright, I can tell you won''t be of any more help. I will leave you to your training or whatever you are doing out here. I am going to take a nap. I think I deserve it after how hard I''ve been working lately."

    "Mhm.

    "Bye."

    "Mhm."

    "I''m leaving. Now."

    "Hm."

    "Seriously. I am going."

    "..."

    *Sigh*

    =

    Kly looked into the snowy landscape. The palace lawn stretched out far past the actual structure. A training area spread across the eastern side. The Antithetic Garden decorated the west. A greenhouse. An expansive pool in the back corner. A stable and dog pen. Statues patrolling the long entry path. A thick enchanted wall lining the perimeter.

    It was all layered in white fluff.

    "I wanted to ask for your help."

    "My help?"

    "I need a personal guard."

    "Hm."

    "I would prefer a man. I don''t know if you can tell, but the women seem to be glaring at me."

    Why were they staring at her? Did they know something he didn''t? It was odd to see Lecil on the training grounds, but not an impossibility. She was a princess. Kly''s sister. Why did they seem angry?

    "Kly... Help... Down..."

    "Here. I will help you. Grab my hand."

    "M''kay."

    "There. See?"

    "Tanks, Kly!

    The little Lecil in his memory changed. She was grown woman sitting calmly on a bench, unfazed as death brushed past her neck. Watching her stand on her own two feet, undaunted, and departing with a smile.

    "Thank you, Kly. I owe you one."

    When did Lecil grow up? It felt like just yesterday. How long had he been training?

    Kly looked down at his calloused hands. A few snowflakes drifted down, melting on his open palms, soothing blisters.

    What was Kly training for all these years? Wasn''t it to protect his mother? But she was gone. His sword couldn''t touch what had taken her. His sword was useless. So why did he continue to train? To protect his family? From who and what? What were the great threats barging down the door? Duke Raiden held off the sand riders. The northern barbarians were scattered by the Sallow castles. Home is safe under Duke Astor''s thumb. The Eul Kingdom to the west was too small to pose a threat.

    Then what? Poison? Schemes? Conspiracy? His weapon could not touch such things. The sword was ingrained into his body now¡ªa habitual task derived from a now meaningless goal.

    "Kly? Are you alright?"

    "Hm?"

    Kly looked up from his hands. Black hair. Dark clothes. A different sister.

    "You looked lost in thought. What were you thinking about?"

    Lecil watched his gaze retreat to his open hands. Seeing this, she grabbed them in her own. He flinched at her touch but didn''t pull away. Instead, he looked at her gloved hands. The thin fingers were hidden away. Protected.

    "I was looking for Rain. Is he not here? Where is everyone?"

    "Vacation."

    "I see."

    A pause.

    "Well. I recall saying I owed you one. How about we build a snowman?"

    Kly looked cross-eyed at Lecil, making her laugh out loud. Kly couldn''t help but think it sounded evil. She pulled at his hands, dragging him along.

    "Come on! It will be fun. There is enough snow on the ground, and it is soft enough. Grab a handful."

    Lecil brought him out from under the pavilion, into the morning sunlight. Bending down, she scooped up a wad of snow. Packing it into a ball, she placed it back down. Bent at the knees, she started rolling it around.

    Glancing back up over her shoulder at the frozen Kly, she egged on.

    "I bet I can make a larger snowman than you."

    Kly''s eyebrow twitched. He bent down. The air around him electrifying.

    "Whoah."

    Lecil moved away as magic residue wafted off him. Snow compacted into his fists, creating a perfectly round snowball, much unlike Lecil''s. Then Kly took off.

    "Not fair."

    She had no more time for complaining as she ran along the ground, pushing her snowball in an attempt to catch up to the speeding Kly.

    =

    Wiping her hands, Lecil looked at the two snowmen. Irene returned with carrots. Roughly of equal size, one stuck out of Kly''s abominable snowman, along with two rounded black rocks. Without a mouth he seemed expressionless.. Standing resolutely over six feet tall, it watched over its smaller sibling.

    Her own looked more like a tiny child in comparison. It was lopsided, and the three spheres were obtuse instead of perfectly round. It had an oversized orange carrot nose and large black eyes. A half-circle smile dug in with a finger. Two spindly branches waved upwards toward the sky.

    It was comical seeing the difference.

    Kly''s content face was enough for Lecil. Seeing 10% above his head was more than enough.

 My Name

    -

    Hidden Event: Snowy Memories

    Reward : +5% affection

    -

    Celia''s first time making a snowman was with a child living next door. He moved away in summer, so she never got the chance again. Snow always slipped her mind as being something fun and magical. The snow in this world was more than it was back home. There hasn''t been any brown slush or the gross muddy snow. There was no slipping on black ice and the snowballs she threw broke apart instead of causing bloody noses.

    Lecil looked back at the pavilion. A tall, snowy figure was standing watch. If she squinted, she could see a smaller form shadowed by its outline.

    Would he object to a snowball fight?

    That would be pressing her luck. It is entirely possible Lecil wouldn''t survive. Kly was a ruthless opponent. He even cheated with magic.

    Death by snowball fight. I don''t know if such an ending would be sad or epic.

    Celia didn''t ever encounter this event in-game, so it was a pleasant suprise. The reward was nice too. However, there was no reliable way to find more. It was only thanks to Celia''s memories that they were able to attend all the main events.

    "Irene. Nice assist with the carrots."

    The maid beamed brightly, obsessively standing on Lecil''s left.

    "I am glad I could be of use."

    "I am not sure what to do for the rest of the day. I planned to go out again, but if Rain is on vacation, I suppose we should find something to do."

    "There is a library in the west wing that you can browse. It has the largest collection in the kingdom next to the Grand Library."

    "Hmm... I''m not really a huge reader. My eyes end up drifting off the page. It was a problem growing up. Teachers expected me to read these huge textbooks and learn every word. It was impossible with my attention span. I found out later that I''m an auditory listener."

    That was odd. Irene heard that Princess Lecil was the one to frequent the library the most when she was young. For some reason, she stopped. Was it because she had trouble reading?

    "How about having tea with Princess Anne? I heard Prince Tristan has to cancel."

    Lecil brightened. Was this her chance? To confront her sister after so long would be a real treat. Lecil had too much trouble finding her. Anne was dodging her somehow. Trying to find her in the castle was like trying to find an orange in an apple orchard.

    "You know where she is?"

    "In the parlor, princess."

    "Fantastic! Let''s go immediately."

    Now that I know where she is... I''m expecting an event screen to pop up any second now.

    Lecil''s steps faltered.

    Any second.

    Irene looked around, wondering why they were standing still.

    Surely. Any moment now.

    There were no crickets in the winter.

    "Why isn''t it showing up? I was sure-ACK!"

    -

    Main Event - My Name

    Rewards: Affection++

    Consequences: Death or Exile

    -

    Lecil''s stream of curses was censored by a gust of wind.

    =

    It was strange living in a castle. The structure was less designed for defense and more for opulence, so the word "palace" suited it better. It was her home, and yet there were still places unexplored. Lecil couldn''t remember ever visiting the parlor. Maybe with the Queen, but those memories were almost all gone.

    Lecil rapped on the door herself. There were muffled words inside, then the door opened. Lecil stared into the face of a scowling maid. Had she been taking lessons from Tristan?

    "Is my sister here? I heard she had tea here around this time. I thought I could join her."

    The maid opened her mouth to say something, but a voice inside cut her off.

    "Let her in Helda, you and the others can take the rest of the afternoon off."

    "Yes, Princess."

    The maid bowed, opening the door fully. Lecil waited for the four maids to trail out before entering. Irene closed the door behind her, joining the other maids outside.

    The parlor was a soft place. Not too decorative, but definitely luxurious. The furniture was enough to hold several guests, a fireplace marking the left side of the room. What gave Lecil pause was the fact that this room held no windows and was completely ensealed by the palace walls. The only escape was the door she entered or up through the crackling fireplace.

    Anne lounged at a table much like the one sitting in a pavilion outside. This one was made of sturdier wood and shade darker, emanating a different aura.

    Princess Anne wore a pale pink dress that reached down to her ankles. It looked sweltering to wear with all the frills and folds, but Anne wore it with grace as she sipped scalding tea. Her blue eyes watched Lecil strut over to the table and sit down in the opposite chair

    2%

    Lecil was the first to speak.

    "This is a cozy. Do you come here often?

    Do you come here often? What sort of line is that? Are you in middle school?

    Anne set down her teacup, refilling it, and adding two sugar cubes.

    "Tristan and I meet here to talk every Tuesday. He was busy today."

    "So I heard."

    Gah! Way to make it awkward. She is your sister. Talk to her. Scold her. Compliment her. Say something meaningful!

    The silence afterward was incredibly uncomfortable. Lecil could feel herself sweat a little bit.

    "Why are you here?"

    Oh, thank god¡ªan out.

    "Irene told me you frequented this place, so I thought I''d join you."

    Anne''s index finger tightened around the handle of the cup. She set it down with an audible clink.

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    "I mean to say, why are you still here. You should be off getting married. Why are you still here?"

    Her voice was low and threatening. Anne looked up through her blond curls at Lecil, blue eyes swirling with a dark promise.

    Lecil cursed internally. This wasn''t an event Celia ever attended before.

    Wait... Does that mean I could be missing other Main Events?

    Plucking away that thought, Lecil thought it best speak quickly.

    "I didn''t want to marry any of the Dukes. I thought I could be of use at home while I waiting for better options."

    "Of use?"

    Anne whispered.

    "Of use!"

    She practically shrilled.

    "You are of no use. You do nothing. Create nothing. Inspire nothing. Learn nothing. How long have we tried to get you to grow up? To make you see the light of day. Yet, you still insist on hiding in your room like a blubbering child."

    Lecil was blindsided. Where did this come from?

    "I-"

    Anne slammed her hands on the table and stood.

    "No! You don''t get to spout excuses anymore. You complained about embroidery because you kept pricking your fingers. You complained about mathematics because it made your head hurt. You complained about learning the sword because it made you sweaty and sore. Always an excuse to do less work."

    "But-"

    "But nothing! Do you have any idea how much of your slack I have to pick up? Entertaining foreign dignitaries, supporting Tristan and Kly, learning all the crafts a woman should know. You have no clue how exhausting it is to have countless men practically barging down my door for arranged marriages!"

    Lecil rocketed upward.

    "So your bragging about all you''ve accomplished? How men fawn over you at every occasion! Too many suitors. Too many choices. Boo-hoo. Am I supposed to apologize because you have overwhelming talent?"

    "You have no idea of the effort I''ve had to put in! What it takes to maintain appearances 24/7. I''m expected to be the perfect princess round the clock because everyone''s always comparing me to the useless and unwanted Ghost Princess."

    "Did I not try all the things you mentioned? Did I not attempt every craft? Is it a crime to be talentless?"

    "It is a crime to stop trying!"

    Anne marched around the table, grabbing Lecil''s hand.

    "Let go."

    "Remove your glove and show me your hand."

    "No."

    "Do it!"

    "No!"

    "Fine."

    Anne yanked the glove off Lecil. Throwing it away, she forcibly uncurling Lecil''s fingers.

    "Do you see how clean your hands are? No wear. No tear. No callouses, blisters, scars, or dried skin. Do you see my hand? Look!

    "Pricks from needles from learning how to sow. A calloused thumb from holding a pen. A scar on my palm from cutting myself while cooking. My nails are need to be clipped short because I they keep breaking. Why do you get to hide your hands? "

    "Oh, you couldn''t stand that I had smooth skin, so you decided to color it?"

    "I''ve been trying to get you to wake the fuck up! Stop acting like you are made of glass and learn to be useful! For once in your life, Lecil, don''t be such a spoiled bitch."

    Lecil smacked her hand away. She shook in outrage.

    "Go ahead and cry. Prove my point."

    The shaking intensified. Fire burned in her eyes.

    "Have I not tried? Is it a crime to not try? Every time I pick up something new I am shamed. No matter the brush I hold I am never good enough. No matter the points I make I am ignored as a fool. Have you ever been patient with me? Has anyone actually wanted me to succeed? Or do you all just enjoy putting me down so you can stand up on you''re pedestals and sneer?

    Why do I have to put up with this nonsense? I have tried all my life to be useful.

    Lecil took a step forward.

    "Why do you get to judge me when I have tried everything to be accepted!"

    The days of trying to find something she was good at. Something she could boast. Something to be proud of.

    Sewing. Cooking. Fighting. Archery. Hunting. Mathematics. Engineering. Magic. Writing. Dancing. Singing. Politics. Trading. Aesthetics.

    "I''ve tried everything to be loved!"

    "You have no talent in swordsmanship, Princess. Quit."

    "How can you be so useless at mathematics? Your younger sister is a genius."

    "Can''t you even hold the pen correctly?"

    "I''ve never seen someone with three left feet before."

    "Enough. That voice is atrocious."

    "Frankly, your smile scares me."

    Lecil wasn''t smiling now.

    Why do I have to deal with this shitty game?

    Celia worked hard all her life. To please her parents. Make the right friends. She became a member of the student council, got a part-time job. managed to get top scores and get into a decent college. Her parents were supportive, but only subjectively. When did they genuinely praise her?

    "Only a B+? You can do better."

    "Get off your games and start studying."

    "You are going to be a doctor, so why did you accept this university? This is not a medical school."

    Celia''s parents were always demanding. Why must she be molded to fit their image? Why couldn''t she play games in her off time? Why couldn''t she hang out with certain friends? What was wrong with wanting to be a historian instead of a doctor?

    Did they ever love me? I thought they did, but maybe I was just kidding myself. I can''t even remember their faces anymore.

    I want to go home.

    I hate this place.

    I miss my dog.

    "You are useless, Lecil. You should have left when you had the chance."

    "MY NAME IS CELIA!"

    The knife dug in too deep. It carved at her. Too much. What use was a family route if they didn''t give two shits if she stayed or left. If she were to die on the curbside, would they laugh before walking away?

    Celia crouched down, folding in on herself, holding the back of her head. Shivering. Cold. Isolated. Alone.

    =

    In a blank space, two girls sat across from each other. They were nearly identical on the outside aside from their clothing and hairstyle. One was perfectly sculpted and beautiful, but sported bruises and scars. The other had the same black eyes speckled with dark violet embers. Worn hands set their worlds apart. Countless hours of studying, holding a pen. Lifting stupid boxes at the convenience store. Stained from grime and grease. Broken fingers from mishandling a wrench.

    "Where did we go wrong?"

    "I was happy when I got accepted into that university."

    "We were, weren''t we?"

    "I remember us playing with the Queen''s hair."

    "It was the brightest yellow. I thought it looked like cheese."

    "It tasted nothing bad."

    The two girls smiled grimly at each other. They were two wholes pretending to be a half.

    "Do you think Anne knows now?"

    "That we aren''t Lecil anymore?"

    "Maybe she misheard it."

    "You screamed it at the top of your lungs."

    "We did..."

    "Perhaps it will work out."

    "Does it matter?"

    "I understand now. Why I wanted to die..."

    "I do too."

    "But it scares me."

    "There is nothing but darkness and pain."

    "Lets not go back."

    "I agree."

    "Then what do we do?"

    "Should we wake up to reality?"

    "Is there a point?"

    "Anne is shaking us."

    "Let her sweat."

    "Don''t be mean."

    "She deserves it."

    "She does."

    "But you said we wouldn''t play the victim again."

    "Did we?"

    "Technically."

    "It wasn''t intentional."

    "You can''t play what you are."

    "Ouch. That hurts."

    "I know."

    "My bruises ache."

    "It hurts to breathe at times."

    "Because of Sallow."

    "He wasn''t the only one."

    "Tristan and Anne."

    "The staff."

    "Do we deserve this?"

    "No."

    "But Anne''s words are true. We are useless."

    "We are."

    "..."

    "..."

    "..."

    "..."

    "Will we meet like this again?"

    "Probably."

    "I can see it happening."

    "It happens in anime, doesn''t it?"

    "It''s a sign we are broken."

    "Maybe we can be fixed."

    "Usually, one of us has to die."

    "Or take the reins."

    "Can''t we both live?"

    "Can''t we both take the reins?"

    "Mhm. I like that."

    "Mhm. Me too."

    "Alright. Lets go back."

    "Alright. Lets go back."

    =

    "Celia! Celia!"

    Anne shook her sister. She was tightly wound in a ball. Wet tears streaked her face, falling unhindered and unabated. The purple eyes regained focus. She sniffled. Tears stained her bare hand and single glove as she wiped at her face.

    The word hit Anne like a train. She had forgotten the name from long ago. When did it change? Did it happen gradually, or was it whisked away with the wind?

    "I''m sorry."

    Anne observed her sister''s blubbering and sobbing, not immune to its effect. They weren''t crocodile tears. This wasn''t an act. This was her sister. All of her.

    "I''m sorry. It is my fault."

    The words made her sister look up, her eyes red and puffy. When was the last time Anne saw her sister crying like this? When she was five? She had always complained about not being good at anything but never cried. She was the emotionless sister. She was supposed to be stalwart in her opinions. Unchanging.

    "I am sorry that I forgot your name."

    "Huh?"

    Anne nodded knowingly. It was a surprise to Anne that she''d forgotten. Her memory was suddenly rekindled where each word was enunciated carefully.

    "Celia. Lets play."

    "Play what, Annie?"

    "I want to play hop-scotch."

    "We played hopscotch yesterday."

    "I want to beat you, Celia."

    "Annie..."

    It was Lecil''s true name. The one given to her by her birth mother. Was it the King that changed it? Did anyone else remember? Baring being called by the wrong name all these years must have been unbearable.

    "I''m sorry, Celia. Somehow I forgot your birth name. I''ve been so curel to you."

    "..."

    Her sister was silent, staring wide-eyed at Anne. Anne mistook the expression for longing.

    "I won''t forget again. I promise. Please stop crying. I will remember your name. I''ll remind the staff and our brothers too."

    "No."

    Anne barely heard the squeak.

    "No. Don''t tell them."

    "Why not?"

    Her sister sniffled, wiping her nose, she spoke more clearly.

    "Lecil is my name now. But, if you can call me Celia in private... that would be enough."

    Anne felt something beat in her chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, she embraced her sister for the first time in years. It was awkward, and uncomfortable being on the floor, but incredibly refreshing.

    "I can do that... Celia."

    The First Princess smiled. Not the large evil one. Or creepy plotting one. Not the fake, deprecating one. Nor the small one barely holding back amusement.

    Celia''s smile was a gentle longing.

    "Thank you. Annie."

 Behind Closed Doors

    Irene closed the door to the parlor, allowing Princess Lecil to catch up with her sister. It worried her that Princess Anne might be behind the destruction of Princess Lecil''s room. Irene nearly had a heart attack when she first she walked in.

    True to Princess Lecil''s words, everything was cleaned up, spit and spot. The bed missing was a blunder in their mood, but the Princess solved the issue by and custom ordering a new one. The new one was less grand and several magnitudes softer. Someone was clearly pleased with the patronage because it somehow arrived before nightfall, being assembled magically on sight.

    It gave Irene heartburn, thinking how much it all cost.

    Fortunately, the Princess managed to turn a negative into a positive, and Irene was overjoyed about being during their shopping spree. Dress color, accessories, and furniture pairings. Irene got to play around with combinations she never dreamed of.

    Rain was a lifesaver being able to drag everything around. He was a sporting individual with a lot of passion for being so young. Irene wasn''t much older, maybe a handful of years at most. Still, she wasn''t nearly as spry and limber. How did Rain manage to do the splits while carrying over 30 bags without getting injured?

    Overall, the outing was entirely enjoyable. Princess Lecil made them both laugh and was completely unlike what all the other maids spoke behind her back.

    Back in the present, Irene proceeded away from the parlor with the gaggle of the maids; they were heading back to their version of a barracks. It wasn''t as military. It was twice as strict. Maids in the palace didn''t have it easy. Competition could be brutal inside the Palace. That was why Irene was so happy to be permanently assigned to the First Princess. She was excused from any other duties she would have had normally.

    "What are you smiling about, Irene?"

    "What? Oh. I was just thinking about how nice Princess Lecil turned out to be. I didn''t think she would be so pleasant to work with."

    "Pleasant? Truly? You must be jesting. I figured it would be endlessly frustrating to work for someone, so..."

    The maid swirled a hand, looking to the others for help. Two chimed in with different words.

    "Unexpressive?"

    "Impassive?"

    "I was going to say dispassionate. She never so much as looked in my direction."

    Irene became thoughtful.

    "Well. She was like that at first. Cold and distant. Then one day, things changed, and she opened up. She is actually really warm and smart. Beautiful too."

    Princess Lecil was an honest and straightforward person. She could handle her business well and wasn''t afraid to tell Irene if she did something wrong. Once all those bruises clear up and Princess Lecil could try on her new outfits, any man would fall for her beauty.

    Learning about the bruises was one thing; It was a sucker punch to realize no one ever paid enough attention to notice, including Irene. Then learning how they came to be was a total knockout. Tristan. Anne. Then there was Sallow. The things she heard about Sallow became more and more believable.

    "Honestly, I don''t understand it. I could never work with Princess Lecil."

    "Me either."

    "I couldn''t do it."

    Irene''s eyes narrowed. Were they trying to stir up trouble? Hadn''t they already said enough?

    "Luckily, none of you have to. Fortunately, I am enough for Princess Lecil."

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    "Princess Anne is much more pleasant. She has fits of anger now and then, but I expect her to grow out of it soon."

    "True. She is very kind to the staff. Remembering our names."

    "The occasional gift is a welcome surprise too."

    Helda, the oldest of the group, remained silent.

    Irene understood that Princess Anne was good to work under. Many competed to serve Anne when she was growing up. Princes Lecil, on the other hand, went through maids quickly. She never objected to them, but the maids found themselves quitting on their own, upset with their duties. Not many could handle serving someone who was so passive. The maids ended up trying to interpret and infer, leading to blunders or useless actions. Maids required clear orders and rules to be effective.

    Anne''s maids received clear orders and attention, and even gifts at times. They may be content and satisfied in their positions, but Irene doubted their work ever made them genuinely smile. She doubted they could boast sharing a laugh with a Princess. Not that Irene would bother correcting their false assumptions. They didn''t need to know exactly how amazing her job was; lest they fall over themselves in an attempt to win the next position.

    "It wasn''t long ago when you were begging eveyone to switch jobs."

    Helda''s words pricked at Irene''s skin.

    "I''ve made my job enjoyable."

    "You will quit like all the others."

    Irene stopped walking, her voice became unshakable.

    "I will never quit on Princess Lecil."

    "So you say."

    Irene held her hands in front of her, preventing herself from curling fists.

    "I don''t see what your problem is. Why does it matter to you if I quit or stay?"

    The older woman''s sneer could score a perfect ten as she loomed over Irene. The other three stood behind like a posse on the playground. They were playing games¡ªthe oldest acting like the biggest child.

    Irene knew she was unliked among the maids. Maids went on rotation when it came to Princess Lecil since it was seen as punishment assignment. Many were unhappy with the fact she hadn''t quit after the mandatory first week.

    Helda probably did her ''stint'' as well.

    "No one can tolerate working for an emotionless half-blood bastard. Don''t pretend it is any easier for you."

    Irene let a chuckle escape. She couldn''t help it. They were jealous that she was thriving at the job they all failed at. Their feelings were hurt because they weren''t up to par and had to settle for something easier.

    "I didn''t realize you all were so incompetent."

    Irene heard ringing in her ears as her vision was knocked away. The sting on her cheek was unexpected and biting. Keeping her head in place, her brown eyes focused on the older maid¡ªa hand lowering.

    The others seemed mildly surprised by the attack but unwholly concerned.

    "I can''t strike a princess. But I can strike you for insulting me."

    "Oh?"

    Irene didn''t move. Head angled to the side, she inched in back into place, never breaking eye-contact. The corners of her mouth creeped ever upward. The handprint on her cheek tickled as her throat thrummed with ominous words.

    "I can''t strike you for hitting me. But I can report you for threatening a Princess."

    "What? I did no such thing."

    The older maid took a step back.

    Yes. This was how you handled bullies.

    "Oh, but you did. You stated you regretted not being able to strike a princess. I even have three witnesses standing directly behind you."

    She turned, stammering.

    "That''s-"

    "You''ll be lucky to keep your life, much less your job. And that is if I don''t mention you calling the Princess an emotionless, half-blooded, bastard, whore..."

    "I never said she was a whore."

    "No. But you just confirmed you said everything else. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

    The older maid paled. She would be executed for her loose tongue. No. Better to retreat here. She huffed and turned to walk away. The others moving in tandem, uncertain.

    "Wait."

    Helda stopped.

    "You haven''t apologized. I expect an apology."

    Helda made meaty fists.

    "I am sorry for striking you."

    "And?"

    "And?"

    "Are you not sorry for calling the Princess an emotionless half-blooded bast-"

    "I sincerely apologize for both my actions and words. I beg you forgive my transgression this one time."

    The sight of seeing Helda bowing caused Irene to shiver with ecstasy. Maybe this was what it was like to have power. Perhaps Irene and Lecil aren''t entirely dissimilar.

    "Apology accepted."

    Helda stormed away with thr backups on her heels. Irene decided to walk back to the parlor.

    It would be awkward in the dormitory, and Helda would no doubt be spreading voracious rumors about Irene. This was how the world of maids operated. It was eerily similar to the nobles they attended. Just as Helda was quick to anger like her ward, Irene knew how to twist words in her favor. A little threat about going over the bully''s head didn''t hurt either. As long as the bully believed the danger to be real, they would back down nine times out of ten.

    "Irene. Sorry to make you wait."

    Lecil noticed the faint mark on Irene''s cheek the same time Irene noticed Lecil''s red eyes. There was an unspoken understanding of what occurred for each of them.

    "Did you give them hell?"

    "Just as you would have, Princess."

    They grinned ear to ear.

 Proof of Concept

    "Henry! You''re back. Are you well?"

    Bellavarn set down his tools and rose to greet Henry as he walked in. Kerv was absent and April hasn''t dropped by yet, so it was only Bellavarn in the library for the moment.

    Henry was surprised to be embraced by Bellavarn.

    "I was unaware of how much you missed me, master Bellavarn."

    Bellavarn rolled his eyes and took back his feelings.

    "I already have one Kerv, I don''t need another."

    "Is he stilll working on that project? I haven''t seen him this motivated since back in his training days. All because of you, master Bellavarn. you inspire the people around you."

    "Hah. Enough now. Which one of my parents told you to say that?"

    Bellavarn huffed. The staff and his friends were full of praise all the time. It was getting stuffy. Sometimes Bellavarn wanted to be treated more like a friend without titles. Kerv was the best example of letting himself be a friend. Henry was getting there with time, but he still added ''master'' in front of his name. Maybe it was a habit built over the course of working with the Duke.

    "I wish you would stop calling me ''Master Bellavarn''. At least when others aren''t present."

    "It would cause misunderstandings."

    Bellavarn scratched his head. That was technically true.

    April overheard Kerv calling me ''Bell'' and is tried using it. I told her it made me uncomfortable.

    After being dejected for a while April bounced back by coming up with several alternatives to his name to find something unique. Each attempt was embarrassing for the both of them, but Bellavarn had to give April credit for continuing to try despite the agonizing silences in-between.

    It felt odd being given a pet name by a girl. No one has ever done it in his past life except for his parents or ex. He wanted ''Bell'' to be his name when speaking with close friends or family. Bellavarn detested meaningless use of his titles. He was Master of no one. He didn''t act like a Lord, and Young Master was worse because it sounded childish and like he was gunning for his father''s position.

    "At call me least Bellavarn. A friend shouldn''t act subservient. It feels fake."

    Henry thought about teasing him more, but that was Kerv''s thing, and seeing the genuine longing and mild hurt in Bellavarn''s expression made the right decision clear.

    "If you wish, Bellavarn. Forgive me, I didn''t grasp the importance."

    "It doesn''t work if you apologize right after. Oh! That reminds me. I want to ask for your input."

    Bellavarn guided Henry over to his desk. Alongside several carving implements rested a compact, pasty white object. Herny, being a trained knight, could sense the faint magic energy lurking within the small device.

    "You managed to complete it already?"

    "Hm? No! No. Definitely not This is just a proof of concept. The magical lines work, and the object is stable, but I have a lot of fine-tuning I need to do. I wanted your expert opinion regarding the weight."

    Bellavarn picked up the object.

    "It seems bulky in my grasp, but our standards may be different. Tell me, is it unwieldy? How does it relate to a dagger or throwing knife?."

    Henry casually accepted the experiment in an open palm. His hand didn''t drop, but Henry could feel the weight to it. Turning it around, rolling it his palm, between his fingers, tossing it up and down, Henry was not kind in his maneuvers. The prototype was enchanted for structural stability but wasn''t indestructible. On the contrary, if rudely broken, there was a risk of the object becoming magically volatile.

    "The weight is heavier than it appears. I can hold it easily, but it does not toss neatly. Attempting to get it to fit in between my fingers is a difficulty that isn''t impossible but improbable in most others. The one is also weighted towards one end. If I were to throw this, the balance would be thrown off mid-flight. If I have multiple of these and each of them have a different weight, throwing them in battle would get me killed."

    Bellavarn nodded along gravely. This feedback was why he asked.

    "The magical lines also interfere with my own magic. It is common with low-tier magical items to intrinsically want to absorb mana from a recipient. The enchanter''s desire when carving the runes are imprinted. If a child were to hold onto this daily, even without consciously inputting their mana supply, it would automatically drain them dry, and they would become sickly within a week''s time."

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    He read that magical inscription took on some of the willpower of the enchanter but was unaware of how potent it would be.

    "I want the lines to accept mana, not drain it. It is supposed to be a training device, not a torturing one. Ick. On second thought, I''ll need to destroy this one entirely."

    "I wouldn''t say that. This is a good milestone. As long it is out of easy reach you can keep it as a memento and reminder of your first experiments. You''ve tossed the others; this will serve as a record of your efforts for historians."

    Bellavarn looked like he inhaled a lemon. Henry didn''t mince words like Kerv did. Everything he said was serious and genuine. Bellavarn counted on Henry not to pull back his words when describing the experiment''s faults but didn''t expect it to translate into even more praise. The fact that Henry believed Bellavarn would be written down in history was both touching and frightening.

    He didn''t want to be a war hero or genius merchant. He didn''t want to be a great leader or person. All he wanted was to create and make his parents proud. That would be enough for Bellavarn.

    "I''ll accept your words only because they are genuine. Here, I''ve been waiting to test the function."

    Bellavarn retrieved the object and held it horizontally at eye level. Placing his thumb and forefinger on the two poles, he trickled in his mana, powering the leylines.

    Achingly slow, the two pieces started to turn in a clockwise direction. Its speed was unlike helicopter''s blades and more like a spinning ballerina music box.

    "It works. Haha! It really works."

    "Congratulations, Bellavarn. You''ve worked hard."

    "Mhm. Thank you, Henry."

    The piece spun for a few more seconds before powering down. When it was fully off, Bellavarn heard a sing-song voice.

    "Oooh. What''s that thing?"

    April peered at the object it curiosity. She examined the experiment from every angle, ducking her head above and below like an experienced appraiser. When she was done, she closed her eyes in deep contemplation, humming.

    "Hmm. It isn''t like anything I''ve read at the library. Hmm. Is one of those fancy hair clips? I''ve heard their imported from across the seas. They are all my mom talks about lately."

    Bellavarn exchanged a glance with Henry. She was way off the mark. Accepting that she arrived out of the blue and seemed to be more confident with her eyes closed, Bellavarn corrected her.

    "It is not a hair clip. This is a magical device I am working on."

    She kept her eyes clothes since it seemed to be working.

    "That''s so cool! What does it do? It is magic, right?"

    "It doesn''t do anything at the moment. It is a failed experiment."

    April opened her eyes. She shrunk at Henry and Bellavarn''s stares but didn''t back down.

    "Oh. Then, what is it supposed to do? Does it light up with fancy colors?"

    "Yes, actually."

    It wasn''t a lie¡ªmore of a half-truth.

    "Can you make it green? Or, or yellow? I like yellow."

    "Easily. I can paint one for you if you''d like?"

    April gasped. She seemed to be waiting for a moment like this, so all her words came out in a stumble.

    "Would you? That would be amazing! I need to make something for you in return. My tutor has been teaching me floral patterns recently. Maybe I can knit you something?"

    Her entire face was beat red and the last sentence was a hesitant question. Her eyes swirled but she didn''t look down.

    Bellavarn knew that embroidered handkerchiefs held significance in noble society as a courting gesture. It showed that a woman was interested in a man. Some men received many handkerchiefs.

    There were three stages to this courting gesture. The first was allowing the Lady in question to handcraft a design. Saying yes at this point didn''t mean anything while refusing could be interpreted as an insult. The second stage is when the embroidery is done and presented. It can be presented in public or private to different effects. Accepting the handkerchief would be accepting her efforts and feelings, allowing courting to enter the next step.

    In the case of multiple suitors, a man can choose to use one handkerchief over the others, signifying seniority among his options. Again, doing this in public or private will have significantly different outcomes.

    Bellavarn liked April. He wasn''t head over heels for her, but she was genuine if a bit awkward. They were both book connoisseurs, so reviewing books was a fun shared activity. They''ve had a few book swaps and give each other recommendations too.

    Other than books, though... Bellavarn couldn''t see the two of them speaking of much else.

    It seemed a bit soon for something like this. His mother set up their meeting with the intention of it developing into something more, so giving the relationship a chance was all he could promise. He felt sorry that all she would receive in return was a colored spinner.

    "If you wish to make me a gift in exchange, I wouldn''t reject the idea. But it will take a while for me to-"

    "Great! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am going to ask Tullie to borrow some tools and cloth. I will come by tomorrow!"

    Bellavarn didn''t have time to utter another word as she raced out of the room. It wouldn''t take April long to knit something if she was half as excited as she appeared. Hopefully, he wouldn''t have to accept or reject her offer tomorrow.

    Henry was perplexed by the entire interaction. He''d heard of April by name, but this was his first time meeting her.

    "She seems... bright."

    "Hahaha! Yeah... Bright would be a good word to describe April. She is also an avid reader and has been borrowing books from my collection over the past few days. She''s been coming over every afternoon."

    Henry''s silence was telling. It wasn''t farfetched to imagine what he was thinking. Many others were thinking about it as well. Everyone wanted to believe, some more desperately than others, but a seed of doubt once planted could not be easily unrooted.

    "I know, Henry."

    "You do?"

    Bellavarn was forlorn as he watched the empty doorway. It didn''t take a lot to admit to himself April was suspicious. He hated himself for it, but the thought occurred to him almost immediately.

    "I know. I am not as naive as I once was. Her timing is too convenient.

    What was the chance April would show up right when they were discussing the prototype?

    "I do like her. She is bubbly. And I haven''t had someone to speak to about books. The feeling in my chest is is bittersweet."

    "..."

    Bellavarn sighed, placing his new memento back down on his workspace.

    "I keep telling myself she is not Melody. And that both comforts me and hurts me."

    "..."

    "For now. I will accept her feelings, whether genuine or inspired. I want to see where it leads, for better or for worse."

    Henry stayed his tongue, not wanting to influence Bellavarn.

    "Am I wrong in wanting to trust her?"

    "Never. Always offer your trust until it is tarnished. Leave all the doubt for me to handle. That is my job, after all."

    Bellavarn patted Henry''s shoulder,

    "Do you have anything pressing, or do you have time for a game of checkers? I''ve managed to tie Jeral once, so I believe that makes me a prodigy."

    Henry smirked.

    "My time is yours, master Bellavarn."

 April

    Bellavarn grabbed his coat and was about to head out when a figure slipped into the library. April waved with the book she was holding.

    "I''m back. I finished the book you recommended, The Stalwart Three. It was sad, but it had a lot of fun conversations."

    "Isn''t that the third book in as many days?"

    "Oh. This is nothing. Short ones only take a few hours. I get to use enchanted glasses whenever I want because of my work at the Grand Library."

    Enchanted glasses? Bellavarn was sure he jotted down a note reminding him to look into that. It must have gotten lost. He never heard of an enchantment to absorb information faster. How would such an abstract enchantment function?

    "Doesn''t that detract from the mood if you are reading so fast?"

    April leaned on her heels. Her curly locks swayed as she shook her head.

    "Nope. Most of my work is categorizing, but I still go through each emotion at a normal pace.."

    That was a convenient tool. Whoever invented it must have a biography written down somewhere. Maybe it could spark some inspiration in his own work.

    Looping an arm through a thick winter jacket, Bellavarn mused on how much longer it would be required. The winter chill was determined to make a second pass before it allowed the snow to finally melt.

    "Can I recommend you something else, or are you stocked up on reading material?"

    "I am okay. I''m busy with work. Did you get a chance to read The Fated Vestige I lent you?"

    Bellavarn looked at the unopened book lying on his desk. Honestly, he thought he would have more time. He was recently struck by inspiration, thinking of a new way to develop the leylines on his device. Bellavarn was in a fugue all morning and only recently came out of it.

    "I haven''t had the chance. I will start it when I get back; I have to head out before it gets dark."

    April stopped bouncing.

    "I was hoping I could give you something."

    "You can wait here until I get back if you wish."

    April looked down at the rug.

    "Is... Is this a place I can attend? If it isn''t professional business, I would like to be able to speak with you more."

    "It isn''t professional, but it is personal."

    "I won''t be a bother. I can stay in the carriage and wait."

    Bellavarn finished buttoning his coat. Putting on his gloves, he sighed. He would''ve said no if April were pouting or begging, but it sounded like she truly wanted to spend time together. The problem was that he really didn''t want to bring her. He left his door open all day for her or others to drop by. This was supposed to be his time.

    "You can come; on the condition that you absolutely do not give me whatever you were planning to."

    Her celebratory cheer was cut short. She drooped.

    "I don''t understand."

    "You can give it to me another day if you insist on joining me. Or you can wait here and give it to me upon my return. It is your choice. Just know, if you choose to give it to me while we are out... I will reject it."

    He kept his voice level and his gaze stern, impressing the seriousness of his words.

    April turned downcast. This wasn''t what she hoped, but she would respect Bellavarn''s boundaries. She could either wait until later, or go with and perhaps figure out what was so important.

    "I''ll accompany you. If you''ll have me?"

    Bellavarn straightened his jacket.

    "I said I would allow it, so I will. Is your jacket downstairs?"

    "It is. Will we be traveling far?"

    "Not overly so. Fifteen minutes by carriage. I will meet you down in the entrance hall in a few minutes. Go ahead and wait for me there."

    "Okay."

    Bellavarn walked out the door, ushering April with him. Closing it, he turned and walked wordlessly down the left corridor. April watched him for a moment before turning in the opposite direction.

    =

    It wasn''t a long wait. It was just enough time for April to ponder. If it were professional business, April wouldn''t have been allowed to accompany the him. Bellavarn stated it was personal business. One that needed to be complete before nighttime. That meant it would most likely occur outside where the weather became freezing after the sunset.

    It would help if April had some clues as to where they were going, but Bellavarn hadn''t given her any.

    Until she saw him walking down the stairs.

    Her eyes immediately honed in on the flowers in his hand. Her first thought was that they weren''t for her. Her second thought was, "of course they are for me." The third thought as he approached was, "Oh no. They aren''t for me." Her fourth, fifth, and sixth thoughts spiraled out of control as Bellavarn only nodded to her before moving past, out the entrance.

    "Same place as usual, master Bellavarn?"

    "Yes. Thank you for keeping it a secret, Nem."

    Same place as usual?

    A secret?

    Oh, bother! What did I just get myself into?

    "Are you still coming, Miss April?"

    Was it too late to say no? April didn''t want to know. Better remain ignorant of any competition. If she were to meet another lady like this...

    "Ahaha... Of course."

    She accepted Bellavarn''s hand and climbed into the carriage, praying.

    =

    April''s mind was a mess. A catastrophe. Mini-Aprils were in a panic, throwing out precious files while connecting dots on a wall.

    An engineer. Definitely. A famous female engineer is helping him with his magic doohickeys.

    The Mini-Aprils crossed-out pictures labeled in files using red lipstick.

    Is it one of those specialty crafters? Didn''t he talk about a Kerv working in the ceramics studio? Is Kerv a girl''s name?

    The miniature carbon copies sat around a table screaming accusations, deciding who to blame.

    Is it one of the others from the Grand Library? There were a few other assistants who are prettier than I am. More available. More qualifications and less freckles.

    One of the Mini-Aprils introduced wine into the conversation, and everything turned up several degrees in severity. The table was tossed. A fire was started. The wallpaper ripped off. Mini-Aprils ran around screaming, waving their hands in the air, brawling, and throwing cups.

    Then it all stopped.

    "Lavender looks good on you; it brings out the yellows in your hair."

    "Huh?"

    All the Mini-Aprils paused in their actions, gaping in astonishment. One of them coughed, putting out the fire with a wand. The real April stared blankly at Bellavarn sitting kiddie corner to her. He wore a dark blue overcoat that made his eyes twinkle. His blond hair was groomed just below his ears and was brushed back off his forehead¡ªthe bouquet of flowers resting on his lap registered in her peripheral.

    "It was a good choice. Ginger hair can be misinterpreted as red more often than not. Derived from the so-called ''red-head''; however, there is a lot of yellow in the underlying tones. Wearing a lavender coat backdrops your hair nicely. Lavender also relaxes me more than your usual brightly colored clothes."

    "..."

    Mini-Aprils reset their chairs and picked up the table together. Sitting down, they discussed this new development.

    Is it a ploy?

    Colors? Yellow?"

    He likes purple? It relaxes him.

    How do we respond?

    I think we embarrassed him. Look, he is staring back out the window.

    The April in charge made a decision.

    "I don''t think anyone has thoroughly analyzed both my hair and my clothes before."

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    She watched Bellavarn scratch his cheek, trying to hide a slight blush.

    "Yes. Well. I know a thing or two about color, and you seemed lost in thought, so I thought I would try breaking the spell."

    Had she seen this side of him yet? He was thoughtful. The compliment was over the top, but it was sweet.

    Bellavarn clearly became uncomfortable in the silence because he continued speaking.

    "Have you had a chance to meet Denice at the mansion? She sometimes daydreams as well. I could see you two being friends."

    "Denice?"

    Bellavarn nodded, gazing out the window.

    "One of the maids. Black hair, cut short to frame her face. Only a few inches taller than you. She has a soothing voice that perks up when speaking about tea. She collects brands and even makes some herself. We share some every few days, but she''s really particualr and won''t let me add unescessary amounts of sugar."

    April thought she could remember seeing such a maid on her second day visiting. She''d been sitting, drinking tea with Bellavarn when April entered. She barely noticed the maid picking up and leaving.

    Didn''t I ignore her because I was focused on Bellavarn?

    "You know a lot about one of your maids."

    Bellavarn shrugged.

    "I take the time to spend moments with each of the staff when I can. I neglected to get to know them previously. Potter, in particular, has the luck of the devil. I can never beat him at dice. Maybe I just don''t understand how it works. It shouldn''t be impossible to get one lucky roll, right?"

    "I couldn''t say."

    "And Cynthia is even more reserved than Denise. I can''t get her to speak excitedly about anything. She always sits there with her pursed lips, eternally amused by something. I think she is the type that finds solace in working simply to work. Getting her to relax and open up is a task in itself."

    "I see..."

    "I think Kerv likes her. I could see him eyeing her from across the room. I tried to set them up once. What a failure that was. It was worse than when I tried to pry Vienna from her soup station. Consumed by soup, that one. Never parts from the pot. The only way she goes home at night is if Misses Vale whacks her with a ladle."

    "No. Really?"

    "Really! I''ve been on the receiving end of a few whacks myself, and they are not pleasant. I pity her husband sometimes."

    "You know her husband?"

    "I''ve met him once. He lost a hand during his service, yet he still manages to wrangle six children all day."

    "Six!"

    "That was my reaction!"

    ...

    It took some time, but the longer she listened to Bellavarn speak, the more enthralled she became. Each person had their own story. Their own background and personality. Bellavarn brought each of them to life as he talked about them. They were less like employees and more like coworkers. Peers or Colleagues. Friends!

    April was jealous. There was significantly less staff in her house. Even with fewer faces to remember, April didn''t know all their names. Talking with them always made her feel like a fool. They never matched up to the vivid characters she read about. None were heroes or princesses. But maybe, if she got to know them, their stories could be told. What hidden gems could she find? What has she been missing by retreating into paper? A treasure trove hidden in plain sight.

    =

    "We''re here, master Bellavarn."

    Nem called out, interrupted their chat.

    "Already? That was fast"

    Bellavarn swiftly sobered.

    "Alright. Wait here. I will be back in soon."

    April peeked out the window, her eyes widening. Was this where Bellavarn had personal business?

    But this is...

    "Wait."

    Bellavarn stopped. His hand on the handle. His expression morphed into blank stone.

    "Wait..."

    April became less certain.

    "Can I? Accompany you, I mean?"

    Bellavarn stared. He gazed into April''s green eyes, making her look away.

    "I''ll be silent, I promise."

    "Don''t make a promise you can''t keep."

    April could say nothing to that. How could she? There would undoubtedly be a time in which she felt the need to speak. Countless questions already ticked her. How could she resist? All April could do was examine the lines of her gloves in shame. She traveled this far thinking traitorous thoughts. Bellavarn not only pulled April out of her brief funk but lit a spark in her that she didn''t know she needed.

    She sat in silence, waiting for him to exit, but he never did.

    "You can follow if you wish."

    April held her tongue and only nodded. Bellavarn stepped out, the cold air marching in.

    Taking a deep breath, she followed.

    =

    Snow drifted off the beaten path and onto nearby grass. April took note of how the path weaved and curved naturally, instead of being in a straight line. Bellavarn''s steps crunched snow as they traversed a less-traveled path. He knew where he was going and didn''t bother stopping along the way.

    A rare cedar tree dotting the barren landscape allowed some shaded sanctuary. Snow gleamed off the bare branches, a dilapidated bird''s nest rested on the tallest limb. Intermittent chirping could be heard over the crunch of snow and wind blowing past April''s ears.

    Winter lasted extra long this year, but was nature slowly returning. Soon, the rest of the snow would melt. Leaves would grow anew, and spring flowers will bud. Bees will harvest the nectar of blooming flora. Animals will peek out from hibernation. Life will restart.

    But not yet.

    The chirping cut off as the bird''s nest toppled from a sharp wind.

    It was still too early. Winter is present. Snow and silence. Dreary and moody. Unwilling to go away.

    April halted her steps, stopping a few feet away from Bellavarn. He looked down at a small stone plaque. April read it from afar. The writing was crude, but the intent was clear.

    Astel Cross

    The name didn''t ring any bells. It sounded like a woman''s name, but April couldn''t be sure.

    She watched as Bellavarn bent down, placing a flower in a nearby holder. Then he did the same for the next grave over.

    Paul Cross

    The white lilies accompanied older ones. Three flowers in each after Bellavarn removed the two most withered. Rocking on his toes, falling back, Bellavarn sat in the snow¡ªno place better to sit as he monitored the stationary graves.

    April wanted to know more, but the names on the graves didn''t mean anything to her. The graveyard wasn''t for nobles. It wasn''t even fenced. This small plot laid miles from the nearest village.

    She tried to prevent herself from shifting her feet, but it was cold, and the wind was biting.

    "Come. Sit. I''ll cast a Heat spell."

    April cautiously stepped over, watching Bellavarn pull out a piece of paper. Flashing, the area around them heated to a more comfortable temperature. The wind objected but was unable to blow within the circumference of the spell.

    Notably warmer, April adjusted her clothes and sat down in the snow, holding her knees. She looked at the graves absently, not knowing what to do or say. This was Bellavarn''s moment, and he seemed to be lost in it.

    She shouldn''t have insisted on coming. Had April known he was visiting a graveyard at first, she would have waited at the mansion. Her curiosity kept getting the better of her.

    Now she understood why he didn''t want to receive her gift. He didn''t know what it was but could likely guess. The meaning behind the gift would be sullied by this moment.

    Hugging her knees closer, she didn''t know how much time passed. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt ages longer, the silence unbearable.

    "You are probably wondering who they are."

    She didn''t dare speak.

    The silence hummed.

    Bellavarn breathed out.

    "These are Lannie''s parents. Jeral''s too."

    The wind broke in past the barrier, ruffling April''s curly hair. Bellavarn snapped another spell scroll, expelling the wind. He replaced his hands in his lap.

    "Lannie is a maid. The kindest and most warm-hearted I''ve ever known. Not a mean bone in her body. She can make friends with anyone and always sees the bright side."

    April heard a chirp from the fallen bird''s nest.

    "Jeral is her brother. A guard. He taught me checkers and somehow always has wise words to say. He''s always looking after Lannie, protecting her."

    A second bird cry joined the first.

    "Their parents never made it to his knighting ceremony and couldn''t congratulate Lannie on becoming a maid in a Ducal house."

    The cries continued, unanswered.

    April''s heart clenched.

    "Lannie Cross was one of the first to accept me after the world made me a villain. They would be proud to know their little girl grew up to be so sweet and forgiving."

    Bellavarn leaned forward, resting a hand on the Astel''s gravestone..

    "They would be proud that their son still watches over his little sister..."

    April sniffed.

    The birds went silent.

    Bellavarn leaned back, gloved hands holding him up as he watched the puffy clouds glide across the sky.

    "They aren''t my parents. I know that. But I come here and wonder... Are they still watching? Are they proud?"

    April sniffed again, pulling at Bellavarn''s sleeve.

    "Definitely. Of course they are! You said it yourself. Any parent would wish their child the best."

    It was hard to take the words seriously seeing April''s face. Bellavarn smiled sullenly, wiping her tears with his free hand.

    "The dead don''t speak."

    "Well. I will speak for them. They say they are proud."

    Bellavarn''s smile developed into a frown, his eyes drooping as he gazed back at the graves. How could April understand that the names and bodies buried beneath didn''t matter? These were his parents. Bellavarn thought he might have gotten to see them in death, but he couldn''t have been more wrong. This gentle place and the bodies of strangers gave him a way to speak to his parents after traveling a world away.

    Were they wandering that void of endless pain as well? Had they been reborn the same as him? Did they remember him?

    Their worthless son who dropped out of school and became a useless, good for nothing, layabout. The pitiable son who wasted his only life and now had to piggyback someone else''s. The fragile son who threw away his life after falling for the wrong girl. He threw away all their hard work raising him, providing for him. He forgot to visit their graves...

    He felt arms wrap around him. Warmth spread through him as he breathed in a floral perfume.

    "April?"

    She shook slightly as she held him, her face buried in his shoulder

    "You don''t have to cry for them. They aren''t your parents."

    "I know that. Crying would be silly."

    April unburied her face and looked up at Bellavarn.

    She peeped.

    "Then, why are you?"

    "..."

    Bellavarn felt at his face, his hand coming away wet from silent tears.

    "Oh. I didn''t realize."

    April pulled away, holding him at arm''s length.

    "I don''t understand. I don''t. But I do. I do understand."

    "Hah~. You''re not making any sense."

    "I understand you are sad. Not why. But I do. I can feel for them. And you. The story isn''t written, but I can sense the sadness. You are sad. I am sad. It is okay to be sad."

    "There are other words you can use."

    "Crying isn''t a bad thing. I cry when a book character dies. I cried when I stubbed my toe. It is okay to cry."

    "You are just comforting yourself because you cried when stubbing your toe."

    "Do you have to be like this?"

    "I can''t help it. It is my defense mechanism."

    April held Bellavarn''s shoulders so he couldn''t move or look away. Her green eyes didn''t shy away no matter how many words flowed out.

    "I know the world judges you. It is a scary place. My parents are so protective they don''t let me leave the house; afraid I''ll be harmed or I''ll contract vicious freckles. I can only work at the library because my father has a job there. I can only go out once a month otherwise. Your home was the first place I got to visit on a regular occasion. I was happy just visiting. Even if my mother hated the idea."

    April shook his shoulders when tried looking away, bringing him back.

    "But I saw you! You cared for people when they were cursing your name. You fed them when they were starving. You were a hero from the stories. I convinced my parents that you weren''t an evil monster like people want to believe. I wanted to meet you. To get to know you."

    She sighed at the stupid smile she felt worming onto her face.

    "I didn''t think you would like books too."

    "I like them a bit."

    "You like them a lot. But there are other things you love. Like talking with the people around you. Your friends at the mansion. I don''t have that. Just books and stories."

    Bellavarn gently removed her hands from his shoulders, placing them down.

    "You can come over and talk books any time you want. I haven''t stopped you, have I?"

    April looked down. How did she somehow make this about her? It made her sound conceited.

    "No, I didn''t mean to say that I am unhappy. Relating is the only way I can communicate. I am not conceited. Really!"

    Bellavarn plopped back in the snow, facing the sky. He smirked.

    "I know. That was just my defense mechanism talking."

    April arched one eyebrow.

    "You did that on purpose."

    "I don''t know, did I?"

    April scoffed and fell, lying in the snow as well.

    "You are playing with me."

    "No, really. Thank you for your kind words. They meant a lot."

    She eyed him, but he''d gone back to an unreadable expression. Gazing up at the sky instead, she marveled at how high the clouds soared. Was it possible to land on them and ride them to the next country over? Could she tour the world like that? Watch the world unfold like a book?

    Bellavarn wondered if his parents were watching him through those clouds. The obtuse grey shapes drifting over a planet not his own. A reality not his own. Over a body that wasn''t his own. Would they care? He would give the world to see them one more time. But he knew even in death it was an impossibility.

    "Graveyards can be depressing."

    "I think that is why no one is here."

    "True."

    Comfortable silence reigned as the two watched the clouds form different shapes. The wind shrieked, breaking the barrier of warmth once again. April''s hair poked her in the eye, and Bellavarn blocked a tuft of snow from blowing into his face.

    "Pfft. Pf. Pfft. Ick. Yuck. It''s in my mouth now."

    April tried to blow the hair away, but it wormed into her mouth instead. Bellavarn chuckled.

    "Alright. We should go before the wind gets really angry."

    "Pft. I... Pfft. I think I can live with that."

    Bellavarn helped April to her feet, dusting himself off. They faced one another, reevaluating recent revelations.

    The wind smacked them across the face.

    Screeching, they both ran for the carriage.

 Charity

    "Hey, Bell. Check this out. Turned out nice, didn''t it? It was taking forever to dry, so I super-charged the Heat runes. Barely took any time at all. Did the same with the kiln."

    Walking into the library, the first thing Kerv did was show Bellavarn his masterpiece. Looking at the smoothly sculpted rod displayed in Kerv''s hands, the only thing going through Bellavarn''s head is that there''s a malfunction in reality.

    Clay is a fussy material prone to explosions. No, correction. Implosions is a better term. A tiny pocket of air will pop while firing in the kiln, rupture the vessel. That''s why the clay needs to be handled thoroughly before working.

    Water makes the clay workable but also causes issues. More water: increased malleability and drying time with decreased stability. Trying to suck all the moisture out of clay in one fell swoop would undoubtedly cause a disaster.

    What was held in Kerv''s calloused hands was a product of dumb luck, beginners luck, dashed with a side of coincidence, miracle, and possibly the intrusion of mystical or magical interference.

    A rod. A solid rod. Made of clay!

    It was actually a baton, but it was thick as an arm.

    It would have been a bitch to dry. Superheating faster was a rookie mistake that didn''t always work the way you wanted it to, like cooking a chicken in the oven at a 4000 for one minute instead of 400 for an hour.

    ...Or something like that. Bellavarn never cooked a chicken before.

    The point was that the act of superheating should have caused at least some irregularities in the structural integrity. He also had no idea if treating it with so much magic would have adverse side effects. It was a toss-up if the baton would survive a whack on the table.

    "You should play dice with Potter."

    Kerv made a face.

    "What is that supposed to mean?"

    Bellavarn accepted the baton in both hands. It fell with his arms. After adjusting to the unexpected weight, he could tell it bisqueware. The color was ugly, but it was a functional thing.

    "What it means, Kerv. Is that you have something better than the luck of the devil. I have absolutely no idea how you managed to get this done on your first try, let alone at all."

    Hefting it, he felt it was too heavy to swing like a normal baton. It felt more like a maul than a baton.

    "Will you even be able to swing this?"

    "Hah, you''re doubting a knight''s strength? I tried to make it as dense as possible."

    "You certainly achieved that."

    "I was hoping you could make it heavier with your magical engineering. It is too light."

    "You''re joking."

    Bellavarn performed a wobbly practice wing. He wasn''t unathletic or untalented; he knew how to swing a bat. This hunk of solid earth was heavy.

    "No. It really is light."

    Kerv gestured with his hands in explanation.

    "You know how knights are trained to run magic through their bodies? Well, it makes us faster and stronger for a time. Swinging that baton is doable for me without magical enhancement. When I end up fighting and running magic through my muscles, it will be like swinging a toothpick. That is why the heavier, the better."

    Bellavarn handed the crude baton back. Kerv accepted it but turned his head when Bellavarn kept his hand extended.

    "Hand me your sword."

    "What?"

    "Hand me your sword."

    "You can''t just ask that. A knight''s sword is personal."

    Bellavarn rolled his eyes when Kerv turned sideways, protecting his sword.

    "I need to examine it. To feel the weight. I heard a Knight''s sword is tailored to the Knight. If that is true, I can study the enchantments and I can copy most of them onto the baton, making my life easier."

    Kerv narrowed his eyes.

    "You won''t mess with Beth?"

    "Beth?"

    "Yeah, you won''t damage the enchantments by prying, will you?"

    Bellavarn ran a hand down his face.

    "No. I won''t harm Beth or her accouterments. I promise."

    Kerv eyed him a moment longer before unclipping Beth and handing the sword over reverently.

    After picking his hands back off the ground, Bellavarn examined it closer. A shortsword with an ocean blue pommel, blue-green wrapping around the handle, and a silver hand-guard. Sheathed in a more mundane, muddy brown abode, the real sparkle lay on the blade. Just pulling the edge out a few inches was enough for Bellavarn to marvel.

    Only the best blades got enchanted and only flawless metal could be used to forge a knight''s weapon. Bellavarn had no experience blacksmithing, but even he could tell this was a marvelously made blade. From one crafter to another. The runework alone was mesmerizing. The leylines of power were invisible. Only when holding his hand on the pommel could Bellavarn sense the true depth of magic. It was nothing like the baubles he was making.

    "I sincerely doubt I can copy this. No. It is impossible. I need years more experience to get to this level. If I tried to copy it, half the mansion would explode, and you''d be down one Ducal heir."

    "You''re not serious."

    "Completely. Based on my knowledge, I understated. This blade was made for this enchantment and vice-versa. If it were attached to anything else, the immense mana hiding inside would cause a catastrophic cascade of calamity."

    "You are just using fancy words to scare me."

    "I am. But my statement stands. I can''t copy this. Here. Take it back. My arms are sore."

    Kerv grabbed his sword from Bellavarn''s shaking arms.

    "I will try to come up with something more my style. Are you sure you want this baton to be your final piece? You don''t want it made of metal?"

    Kerv twirled the baton experimentally. Sizing it up.

    "Nah, I made this. It suits me. If it were metal, It wouldn''t be the same."

    Bellavarn nodded, hands-on-hips.

    "Alright. It will take some time for me to come up with the right enchantments. In the meantime, glaze it. I showed you how to use the glaze, right?"

    "Yeah. I remember painting the cups. Did they finish cooking?"

    "They are cooling off still. I ran the glaze fire before you decided to super-cook your rod."

    Kerv snorted a laugh.

    "I look forward to sharing a drink together."

    "I''ll be sipping fruit juice. You can get drunk yourself."

    "As long as you swap cups with me when your parents walk in. Can''t have them thinking I am drinking on the job."

    Bellavarn moved back around his desk, deadpanning.

    "You wrote your name on it."

    Kerv winced.

    "Ooh... Yeah, maybe that wasn''t my smartest decision."

    Bellavarn shook his head, sitting back down. As long as Kerv didn''t write his name on the baton...

    Kerv wandered over to a short bookshelf nearby, something catching his eye. Leaning down, he noticed the first prototype resting on top.

    "Is this thing finished? I can sense mana in it?"

    Glancing up from his new work briefly, Bellavarn half-responded.

    "Mhm. Prototype. Failure. It works but isn''t practical. Henry gave me some advice."

    "Henry''s back? When? Why didn''t he say anything?"

    "You were busy."

    "Gone an entire week and doesn''t even care to drop by..."

    Kerv grumble. He started to walk out. Bellavarn stopped his etching, calling out.

    "We are all going to the charity in an hour. April wants to volunteer. You and Henry can catch up while riding in front with Nem."

    Kerv drooped. His coach privileges just evaporated.

    =

    April tapped her foot, gazing out the window.

    "Are you alright, April?"

    "Yeah, I''m fine."

    She looked out the window. Bellavarn examined her from his side of the coach.

    "I assume you know what joining me in public means."

    "People can see me any way they wish."

    "You say that now, but it worries me. Your image is a blank canvas. You can be anything, but if you walk out with me, people will color you in the same shade as me."

    "I said it is fine. You needn''t worry."

    April crossed her arms, unliking the atmosphere.

    "If there is something else bothering you, I''ll listen."

    April thought he would continue prodding, but he unexpectedly ceased. It made her feel conflicted.

    Truth be told, April was upset. She forgot to bring along her gift. This would have been a perfect time, but it got moved around, and it slipped her mind. It was a silly thing to be upset over, but she''d been practicing the right words all last night. Now they were useless. She would forget them before her next chance.

    Bellavarn said he''d listen. But there really isn''t anything to talk about. What was she supposed to say?

    I am angry because I am unable to give you my handkerchief. I was looking forward to seeing your smiling face and to start courting you for real. Not to mention all my practice in front of the mirror went to waste.

    The Mini-Aprils tossed the option in a trash can, lit it on fire, and warmed their hands on the burning remains of that insane idea.

    "There is a time for everything, Maestro Lemmings. It needn''t be now."

    April turned, staring wide-eyed Bellavarn.

    "Isn''t that from The Fated Vestige?"

    Bellavarn smirked

    "I finished it late last night. It was enjoyable watching the two main characters'' antics. Nothing ever got done."

    April pulled an entire 180. Forgetting her previous woes.

    "Right! I was disappointed that the author didn''t develop the plot with the evil half-sister. I am hoping for a sequel, but the book is several years old now, so I don''t think it will happen."

    "Don''t be so sure. It can happen. Even if they don''t, someone else can write a sequel if they want."

    "Those are never any good. They can never capture the author''s style."

    "There is always Fan Fiction."

    "What is fan fiction?"

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Bellavarn''s eyes bugged out. April received a sense of dark foreboding and gulped.

    =

    Kerv shivered, chattering through his teeth.

    "You''re all skin and bones Nem, how do you stay alive up here?"

    "Nem is average. You are the lanky one, Kerv."

    Kerv tried to glare, but he bit his tongue and winced.

    "Circulate your mana. Why are you suffering? Nem is the one who has to tough it out."

    "Conditioning. Training. I''ve grown soft."

    "I won''t deny that."

    "Shut it, Henry.

    Nem sat awkwardly between the two, unable to get a word in edgewise. Sighing, he looked up at the distant clouds. He missed the silence...

    =

    "Why aren''t you wearing a jacket, Kerv? Are you an idiot?"

    Bell waved an arm dramatically, glaring. Kerv held both arms around himself in a futile attempt at stabilization. Bellavarn turned to Henry.

    "And you indulged him? Aren''t you supposed to be his better half? Why are you wearing two jackets?

    April peered out from behind a reprimanding Bellavarn. Curious about the scene. Was this common?

    "Kerv insisted he was fine, master Bellavarn."

    "I-I-I''m f-fine. S-s-see?"

    April giggled. Bellavarn smacked his face. The air was cold, but it suddenly dropped several degrees.

    "Kerv."

    Kerv froze. Not literally, but he stopped shivering. Bellavarn''s tone was frosty.

    "Now is not the time."

    There was a moment''s pause before Kerv started steaming. Smoke rising off him, the frost evaporated, and his skin returned to a normal color. His gaze straightened, becoming more serious. April stared, dumbfounded.

    "Give me my jacket, Henry."

    Kerv thrust on his jacket. Standing at attention. Henry copied him.

    "Good. Now organize the other guards."

    "Understood."

    "Understood."

    They moved off. Bellavarn watched them for a moment, speaking aside to Nem.

    "Sorry for sticking them with you. I should have made them ride on the wagon instead."

    The wagon trailing behind carried the rest of the volunteers and the equipment they needed to set up. April watched the people file out. There were five maids and five other servants. There were ten guards too. They carried foldable tables, tarps, rope, and other supplies. They set up swiftly¡ªa medium-sized canopy hoisted into position, shielding six tables.

    Looking around, April noticed a decent crowd already loitering some distance away. Men, women, the elderly, a few children, and traveling paupers. Homeless. Some look starved.

    April never noticed it before. She wasn''t allowed out often aside from work, and her own entourage quickly escorted her from such sights. They were absent since having them in the presence of the young Duke would be redundant. The way that guard, Kerv, showed off his mana by completely heating himself up. It was clear they were a cut above her own guards. The maids seemed more professional too.

    Watching everyone smile and talk to each other was what threw her off. The guards. The maids. The servants. An old man who looked like a gardener. They all spoke to one another, worked together, and smiled. Looking back to Bellavarn talking with Nem. She could feel the driver emanating content.

    Ahh. I wish...

    "Hm. Oh. I''m so sorry, April. I''ve been prattling on while ignoring you. Sorry, Nem, I hope your son passes the knight exam. Keep me updated."

    "Will do, master Bellavarn."

    "Alright, April, why don''t I show you how things work. Follow me."

    "Right."

    She half forgot she would be helping. Walking in step with Bellavarn, they went to the first table that was set up. It held a paper spell circle laid out flat on top, covering a third of the table. At the corners were thin poles that supported a square roof.

    "Ester. Denise. Wilson. This is April. April. Starting from the left, this is Ester, Denise, and Wilson."

    Denise was the maid who liked tea, right? Ester was clearly another maid. The boy, Wilson, was young. He was a servant of some kind. April nodded at them.

    "A pleasure."

    "Greetings, Lady April."

    The three spoke the same words in different tones.

    "Can you guys demonstrate how things work for April?"

    "Of course, master Bellavarn. Here, let me grab some extra stinkweed."

    Wilson spent a few seconds grabbing several long weeds that shared similarities to overgrown grass blades. April could smell it from several feet away. Her nose wrinkled.

    "It does smell. Tastes worse. I''ve tried it on a dare when I was a child. It is a miracle Master Bellavarn re-invented the process of treating it."

    April thought the boy looked too young to be speaking of childhood like it was a thing of the past. Then again, she was still only 19...

    One of the maids, Ester, moved closer to the table.

    "The process is simple; anyone can do it provided with this setup."

    Wilson placed a single stalk in the center. Ester continued, pointing.

    "The two spell circles superheat the weed in a short burst. A different person can power each, but it is better for it only to be one person; the heat will become unbalanced otherwise. Denise actually has the most mana of the three of us, so I''ll let her power it."

    Ester jerked a thumb in Denise''s direction. Bowing her head, Denise paced forward. She rested her palms on two conducting runes¡ªone under the table and one on top of the square roof. The circles glowed a teal blue, humming, as Denise activated both.

    *Tsss*

    "Uck."

    April held her nose and wanted to cover her ears. The smell was atrocious, easily double the previous nasal damage. The sizzling was akin to a screeching fish, muffled and high-pitched. And watching it was something else entirely. Seeing it shrivel and writhe in agony was nightmare-inducing.

    Her left hand wrestled with indecision, unable to decide on an action. Cover her ears to block the noise. Cover her eyes to block the sight. Cover her mouth in disgust. Ultimately it went to her stomach. The traitorous organ roiled and revolted. Luckily it decided breakfast was worth retaining.

    Examining the others, they all seemed used to it, except for a scowling Ester.

    "It always throws a fit worse than a squealing pig. Sure as hell doesn''t taste like bacon.

    Bellavarn half-snorted, half-scoffed in amusement.

    One Mini-April was wondering if a maid should be so carefree with her words. Another was staring sidelong at the monitor because of Bellavarn''s odd sound. The rest of the Mini-April posse were pulling levers and fail-safes, closing ducts, and dumbing down sensory inputs. One was dressed up in a paper boy''s uniform handing out clothespins like they were the latest gossip section. All the Mini-April''s clamped their noses shut.

    "You get used to it. Plus, that shriveled snack tastes ten times better than it did previously."

    "...I can''t imagine."

    Ester folded her arms.

    "What Bellavarn means is that even if it is ten times better, it still tastes like shit."

    "I wouldn''t use those words, but it doesn''t taste good."

    April looked to Bellavarn.

    "Then why do people eat it?"

    "Because they are starving. This is a consistent meal and high in calories. Catching a rat is more difficult than pulling weeds and bringing them here. Eating worms or bark is not nearly as nutritious. It has been a bad winter for many. The people I''ve managed to converse with say this is average."

    April didn''t know what to say to that other than the obvious. If starving was average, then what was worse? The few ideas that popped in her head didn''t seem plausible.

    Bellavarn exhaled, his breath visible.

    "I wouldn''t recommend eating it if you aren''t starving. It is a novelty, though. Would you like to try a bite?"

    April would rather do anything else but accepted for the sport of it. Bellavarn has eaten it, and it appeared most present have as well.

    Wilson pulled out a small bottle.

    "We usually sprinkle a pinch of sugar on it for the children."

    He pulled out a second smaller jar. Bellavarn added to Wilson''s words.

    "I recommend a bit of honey, it makes it more palatable. The texture is a little like Nori mixed with hardtack."

    April didn''t know what those were, but judging from Bellavarn''s face, they were probably both disgusting. Willson brushed a few drops of honey over the edible and handed it over. April made an unladylike face and held her breath as she bit into it.

    Bellavarn laughed.

    "Your face says it all. We''ve all made that face. Denise''s was the funniest so far, replacing Kerv at the top of the leaderboards."

    "You joke, Master Bellavarn."

    "It was a shame I couldn''t see it. I would have given up a week''s wage. I was there when Kerv tasted it, and his face had me rolling."

    Ester grinned with all her teeth. Denise was unamused. A tinge of red could be seen in her cheeks, but she held herself back, probably used to the teasing by now. Wilson didn''t have the guts to join in.

    "Well. I tasted it. It is awful. But if it helps people survive, I''d like to help. Can I join you all?"

    The trio smiled in their own ways. It appeared eating that disgusting treat earned April some points. The honey helped. Imagining eating the treated stinkweed without it gave her goosebumps.

    There was a shout from the forming line, making heads turn. Bellavarn waved his hand.

    "It''s alright. The guards will keep the peace. I''ll go and check just to be sure. April, you can try powering the circles, see how many you can do. "

    April pumped her fists. Determined to do at least ten, no, twenty!

    "Okay. Will do."

    =

    The shouting was handled easily. Bellavarn didn''t even need to step in. He returned quickly, talking to the others, checking the spell circles, and then spent some time with April. She didn''t realize how much the process drained mana. She was only able to do it twice before needing to take a breather. That she was able to do that much already put her slightly ahead of the curve. Bellavarn could barely do one at first. Two is his current limit.

    Having the people supply the mana and supplementing it with the staff''s and guard''s was necessary. It wouldn''t run as smoothly otherwise. The people couldn''t do it by themselves, and it was impractical for the staff to wait for their mana reservoirs to refill and continue to supply the entire populace.

    The method he thought up couldn''t be used widespread. However, it was a good idea for emergency rations. The process is perfect for the army filled with magic practitioners. If they ran out of food, they could supplement themselves on the march.

    Bellavarn looked away from his conversation with April when another ruckus started over in the middle of the line. He thought it would end quickly again.

    He was wrong.

    Two older men got into a brawl. A guard went to break it up but was punched in the scuffle. A few friends of the men jumped it, escalating the situation.

    Bellavarn called out.

    "Kerv! Break it up."

    Kerv trooped over with a few more guards. Entering the conflict.

    Again, Bellavarn thought that would be the end of it, but the chaos spread. More people got mixed up, the elderly and women. The guards couldn''t separate everyone and were limited to mostly non-violent action.

    Bellavarn began worrying when more people jumped in. The previous indifference of the crowd shifted to worry. Then to fear. Then to panic.

    A mob scrambled. To get food or get away.

    More guards joined only to get lost in the confusion. The staff members backed away, lest they get caught up. Bellavarn attempted to order everyone back, but his voice was lost in the clamor. Moving instead, he rushed forward, pulling the guards back himself. In the action, he became entangled in the mob.

    Everything spread, and soon, the entire area was a brawl.

    It all escalated from nothing apparent. Bellavarn didn''t even know what started it, but it was already out of control.

    Screaming and punching. Elbowing. Trampling others underfoot. Injuries.

    Where is Kerv? Henry?

    Bellavarn took his share of hits, getting bruised while searching. All the guards looked similar in their armor. Deciding to go one by one, he pulled at the nearest.

    "Jeral! Enough! Retreat and protect the staff!"

    Jeral started when he noticed Bellavarn was in the crowd. He shouted an affirmative over the din of noise and extricated himself.

    Bellavarn searched and searched but couldn''t find Kerv. They needed to get everyone out of here. They could try again later. Come back with better security... countermeasures. He would make it safe next time-

    Bellavarn saw a glint in the mob. Kerv was nowhere to be seen, and the others were tied up as is. A figure pushed his way towards April. She''d been caught in the mess.

    There''s no time.

    "Tch."

    April bumped into something solid and turned around. Bellavarn''s silhouette cast her in shadow. Her previous panic faded. The cacophony lessening

    Bellavarn looked over his shoulder with a calm smile.

    "Are you alright, April?"

    She felt a beat in her chest.

    A small nod.

    "Mm."

    Her heart calmed. The madness that continued to spread havoc fell into the background. Bellavarn: a wall between chaos and order.

    "I am glad... Why don''t you leave me to take care of this?"

    April came back to herself.

    "Ah. Okay..."

    Bellavarn watched April retreating safely. She arrived next to Ester and Denise at the carriage. Nem was organizing how many people could fit in the coach. An evacuation.

    With April now out of harm''s way...

    "You."

    Bellavarn changed completely. Dark and ominous. His voice guttural. Demonic.

    Craning his head back around, he looked down at a panicking man trying to flee. Bellavarn''s hand clasped the man''s wrist in a vice. The connection quaking.

    Stage silent. A moment just for the two of them.

    Plopping drips stained the dark cobblestone a rust-red.

    Bellavarn leaned in close, the whites of his eyes visible. Hair falling in front of his face, casting harsh shadows.

    The man quivered. He needed to run. He was going to die. He was going to die!

    The attacker''s entire body trembled, trying to push the knife deeper, or retract it.

    "What do you think you''re doing..."

    The blade in Bellavarn''s stomach rattled.

    "...attempting to harm a Lady?"

    The threat pushed the man over the edge. The hand released the dagger, so Bellavarn let go.

    The man scrambled away.

    "Bell!"

    Bellavarn could hear Kerv pushing through the crowd as the assailant scurried. Bellavarn felt hot and woozy. His vision was swimming from the pain. The raucous of the mob rushed back in, overstimulating.

    "Bell! Are you alright?"

    Kerv paused to take in a rigid Bellavarn. Sweat dripped down his face to fall on the ground, mixing with blood.

    Kerv bristled. He failed. Became complacent.

    "Henry! Catch that man. Jeral! Get over here and help me with Bellavarn. We need to get him out of here."

    "Kerv."

    Bellavarn''s voice was a whisper in the ruckus.

    "You''re fine, Bell. You''ll be okay. Let us get you back to the mansion and the doctor. "

    "Kerv. Stop."

    "Bellavarn, we need to-"

    "Kerv!"

    He paused. Bellavarn''s sternness compelled him. Kerv looked at his Lord, his ward, his friend, with a mixture of confusion and panic. Bellavarn''s gaze transitioned between steady and lost. He panted as his fists clenched and unclenched. Jeral pushed his way over to help after having assisted Lady April.

    April paused in climbing the carriage, gazing back at Bellavarn''s standing figure. A pillar of solidarity in a writhing mass of chaos. She didn''t hear his words as she retreated inside¡ªAs Nem spurred the horses.

    Bellavarn sucked in breath.

    "A Duke... creates his image."

    Kerv gave Bell a bewildered look.

    "Bell, this isn''t the time for one of your quotes-"

    "I choose. I do! I choose... to paint my own picture."

    Panting, then a deep inhale, Bellavarn puffed out his chest. A command. Unwavering. Unbreachable.

    "Behind me! Kerv! Jeral!"

    They straightened. Separated from panic. Bound and compelled, they marched to stand behind a master worth their loyalty. A second passed. Two. Three. Bellavarn looked out at the crowd of common folk who only wanted a meal. A people starving from a long winter. Trying to retrieve whatever scraps they could.

    Bellavarn opened his mouth to speak when his head started splitting.

    Kill them.

    Pushing. Shoving.

    They deserve death!

    Chains clinked and rattled.

    They did this! Them! Kill them all!

    Punching. Kicking. Squirming. Crying.

    Vision blurry. Pain. Stomach. Head.

    Chains.

    KILL THEM!

    Eyes on his back.

    Raising an arm into the air, he snapped a spell scroll.

    *SNAP*

    All present winced at the resounding snap. Covering their ears.

    Kill them.

    "ENOUGH!"

    His voice reached them through the momentary lapse of commotion. The commoners turned to see Bellavarn, glaring menacingly.

    They wanted to paint him as the villain? No! He wouldn''t allow it!

    Bellavarn roared.

    "Are you so desperate you refuse to wait another minute to feed yourselves? You would harm your neighbors and fellows to gain a meal a few seconds sooner? You would throw away your chance at your next meal for one-time scraps!"

    They would. They haven''t eaten in days. Some had children starving at home. Some were children. How could they wait a moment longer? A noble who never starved a day in his life could never understand such despair and hunger!

    "YOU WOULD BITE THAT FEEDS YOU!"

    The crowd started to shout obscenities and curse the noble caste. Greedy and self-absorbed, the entirety. Nobles watched from windows without action as their people starved. Nobles walked the streets that they paved, giving them dirty glances like starvation was their fault. Nobles hoarded food while turning away desperate families at the door.

    They cried out their displeasure at the evil noble.

    The despicable Sallow.

    The Wicked Bellavarn.

    The... The one that was feeding them.

    The one that finally answered their calls.

    The one who prepared food himself.

    Sobering faces. Their reddened tunnel vision opened. In their minds, they were scrutinizing the sneering face of an arrogant noble.

    The vision shattered as they saw Bellavarn. A noble. Wielding a face of anguish and frustration. An expression of compassion. Of... understanding?

    How? How did he know their pain? How could he?

    Bellavarn breathed deeply and staggered. Some wanted to take advantage of the situation but couldn''t when they saw the weapon protruding from Bellavarn''s gut.

    "He''s injured."

    "Someone stabbed him!"

    "We''ll all be hung."

    Harming a noble? Attacking them outright? The entire crowd would be executed as an example. They would all die. Their families would starve. They would-

    *Shlick*

    Gasps escaped the crowd as Bellavarn removed the shiv. He staggered. Blood spurted, dripping. The guards standing behind him twitched forward. Then halted. A secret word and they were back to standing resolutely behind their Lord.

    Bellavarn straightened. Speaking loudly. He could no longer see who he was talking to. He just spoke with whatever escaped his heaving lungs.

    "You will not starve! Everyone will get a turn. So..."

    A deep intake of breath. A barking command.

    "GET BACK IN LINE!"

    Scurrying.

    Order.

    A line was formed without prodding. Some walked off, but the rest returned to their positions, not complaining if they were farther behind. The remaining staff looked on in bewilderment. The guards took up positions.

    Bellavarn exhaled.

    "Good..."

    "Bell!"

    "...I leave the rest to you."

    Falling.

 Headhunt

    The doors caved inward.

    "DUKE!"

    Kerv called out.

    "Support his neck."

    "My hands are slipping."

    "He''s burning up."

    "Oh, gods."

    "DUKE! Where is the Duke? Don''t look at me l ike that. Get him! Now!"

    Kerv looked around. Pointing to two blundering servants. Their faces nondescript.

    "You, find the physician. You, maid, where is the Duchess?"

    "She''s, uh, she- she''s..."

    "Spit it out!"

    "The atrium. She''s in the atrium!"

    "Good then, fetch her. Tell her that Bellavarn has been injured."

    "Where are you taking him?"

    "To his room. You two. Secure the entrance. You, over there, clear the way. NEM! Nem? Nem. There you are. Where is Lady April?"

    "I dropped her off at her home on the way back. Why?"

    "Goddammit. This is a shit show. Alright. Get the carriage ready to depart immediately. Prep two, just in case. Keep the horses ready."

    Nem ran back outside. Kerv helped Jeral and Potter carry Bellavarn. No stretcher in sight. Potter''s hands were stained with blood, and it tracked their progress through the halls. The wound wouldn''t stop bleeding even while wrapped. There was some type of poison on the blade for sure. Kerv cursed internally for not picking up the weapon. He''d been too focused on Bellavarn''s display and collapse.

    "Crazy fool."

    "Who..."

    "Shit. I think he heard you."

    "Shut up and shuffle faster, Potter. We''re agitating the wound."

    They passed the library on their way to Bellavarn''s room. Jeral separated from the awkward three-person carry and thrust open the door. Windows poorly lit the room as he removed the unnecessary sheets and covers.

    "Get a pillow."

    "I got two."

    "Set him down."

    "..hurts. Don''t... send me back."

    Sweat ran down Bellavarn''s face. He mumbled indistinctively, words disjointed and breathy.

    "It''s alright, Bell. We got you. You''re alright. Help me get his clothes off; he''s too warm. Potter, have someone fetch ice."

    Potter turned around, seeing several people in the doorway, he shouted at them."

    "You fetch ice. You, cloth. Bandages. Needle and thread. Move! Get anything you think will help. You, stay in case we need a runner."

    The mingling crowd dispersed, rushing off. Potter turned back to Kerv and Jeral.

    "Do you need help over there?"

    Kerv used his sword to cut open Bellavarn''s jacket. Undoing it was taking too long. Several buttons burst in different directions. Seeing the multiple layers of clothes, Kerv cursed aloud.

    "Search the dresser; maybe there is something useful. Jeral, does this wound look okay to you?"

    "The area is inflamed. He is bleeding out. We need to freeze the wound."

    "Nothing in the dresser."

    "WHERE IS THAT ICE?"

    "Just use magic."

    "Do you want us to spear him, Potter? Don''t be an idiot. Remember your training."

    "Fuck the training! I''m not letting him bleed out."

    "Kerv..."

    Magic is internal. External use is prohibited. No flying projectiles. No cast fireballs. Only through written instructions can mana be given life outside the body. Kerv didn''t have time to write or design a frost rune. Instead, he gave his mana the will to freeze.

    "It won''t work like you think it will."

    "Shut it. I''ll keep it regulated to my hand."

    Just like warming himself up in freezing weather. Laying his left hand on Bellavarn''s wound, Kerv willed his mana to freeze.

    The chilling sensation turned to pinpricks and then to pain as his hand became frostbitten. Through the contact, he managed to transfer the temperature.

    "How are you going to fix your hand?"

    "Think later, Potter."

    "Heat it back up. Slowly though."

    "Uh... my hand is stuck."

    "That is why you use your head before you act."

    "Tch."

    "Just keep your hand there. Wait for it to thaw naturally."

    Kerv looked up at the ceiling, ignoring the freezing pain and trying not to move.

    "Where is Henry when you need him?"

    =

    ...Twenty Minutes ago...

    Henry dashed through the alley. On a trail.

    Sidestepping past two teenagers locking faces and leaping a rolling trash bin, Henry rounded a corner. Hearing a blunder and a curse, he took a left.

    Zoning in on the perpetrator, they locked eyes. The man stumbled back up and ran. Henry reserved his magic. It was unneeded.

    Turning right, He ran along uneven ground. The attacker hurdled over a tall wooden fence blocking off another street. Henry followed, jumping off narrow alley walls to get over.

    A woman hanging clothes yelled, closing her shutters. The man burst through the sets of hanging clothes, trying to lose his pursuer. Henry closed in on him, reaching out. His fingers missed as the man took a hard left. Skidding and turning, he followed through the open doorway. The abode was inhabited, a drunkard cursing only to be knocked down.

    Henry had enough.

    "Ack!

    The runner collapsed through the rickety doorway and out into a side street. A pair yelped and hurried along. Leaving the violence behind.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Tears of pain formed in the man''s eyes as he tried to reach the dagger in his shoulder. That was when Henry stomped it deeper.

    "AAH! Stop! It hurts. Get off. Get off!"

    "Why?"

    Henry pushed the round head into the dirt. The man''s screams became muffled.

    "Did you say something?"

    The dirty strands of hair were long enough to yank.

    "Please. Stop. Please..."

    "Why did you attack my lord?"

    "Please. Don''t kill me. I don''t want to die."

    Henry slammed him back into the dirt before asking again.

    "Your life depends on your answer. Tell me."

    The man''s nose bled, mixing with his sorry tears and unforgiving earth.

    "I was promised money. He said he''d pay. He said he''d pay!"

    "Who?"

    Henry deflected an arrowhead. Then two more aimed at his back. His quarry still safe; he looked for the attackers.

    Three directions. Three attackers, maybe more. One on a roof. Two hiding in homes. He was flanked and exposed. Losing odds with the baggage.

    Duke... Forgive me.

    =

    "Bellavarn? Where is he?"

    "Duke? Over here. He''s burning up."

    Braster took in the scene. Bellavarn laid bare-chested, blood soaking into the sheets. Kerv''s hand covering a frozen wound. Stuck in place.

    "What happened? Explain."

    "I saw it, Duke. I saw it but couldn''t stop it. He was stabbed in the mob."

    "What mob?"

    "Where is my boy? Where is he? Bellavarn? Bellavarn!"

    Trisha stormed into the room, several others following close behind her. Some carried supplies and set them aside. Trisha ran to Bellavarn''s side.

    "My baby! Who did this to you? What happened?"

    Potter spoke first. Then Jeral. Then Kerv.

    "A mob formed out of the blue. It escalated. Most of us were swept up in the confusion and it was Bellavarn who tried to pull us back."

    "He grabbed me out of it himself."

    "I was tangled up wrestling a group when I saw Bellavarn sprint back. He took a dagger intended for Lady April."

    Braster''s   expression turned severe while Trisha had trouble processing the condition of her son.

    "They targeted April. Why?"

    "I don''t know. I don''t know if it was planned or what."

    "The attacker? Did you kill him?"

    "I sent Henry after him. Bellavarn ordered us to stay put. He managedto reorganize the mob. Calmed them down and made them get back in line. Only afterward did he collapse."

    Trisha held her son''s hand; it was warm, sweaty. Larger than she remembered.

    "Where is the doctor? Isn''t he here yet? Why is my boy still suffering?"

    "I am here. Where is he?"

    The physician walked in. A smartly dressed man carrying a small bag jogged over¡ªmore staff crowding the doorway.

    The doctor took one look at Bellavarn.

    "Poison. I recognize it. It is a common variety. You did well to stop the bleeding, but it will start again once you remove your hand. I am going to need you to disengage so I can examine the wound directly."

    Kerv looked at his frozen hand sourly.

    "Here."

    Braster pulled out a small wand from his pocket. Aiming it, he directed the cast onto Kerv''s hand. The frost turned into perspiration. The hand departed slowly, sticking to the skin. Kerv took it even slower until it was finally off. He backed away, plopping down on a nearby chair, holding his wrist.

    "I''ll look at your hand later. Now, here. See? The blood is starting to run again. This will get the blood to clot."

    The doctor pulled out a small bottle from his bag. Taking a dropper, he extracted a dark liquid and dripped it on the wound. It sizzled, burning. Then green smoke.

    "AAAAH"

    Bellavarn howled and writhed, knocking away his mother and the rest.

    "Hold him down!

    "Stop him!"

    "What is happening? What did you do!"

    Trisha panicked as Jeral and Potter dove back in. They struggled to hold Bellavarn down. Ineffective, they called for help. Three more men hurried over¡ªworkers. Bellavarn''s anguished screams tore grooves in Trisha''s heart. Her hand clutched at Braster''s side, watching helplessly.

    "Simon. What did you do?"

    "It was a simple coagulant. It shouldn''t have that effect, even if the dosage is strong. There must be a second poison. Do you retrieve the weapon?"

    Rocking in his seat, Kerv shook his head, still holding his hand.

    "No. I didn''t get it."

    "Then, I need more time to figure out what it is."

    Bellavarn ceased his flailing, calming back down. Unconscious, he muttered.

    "Hurts... it hurts... Don''t go back."

    Braster''s fists curled. Trisha let out a sob.

    "Everyone unnecessary, out. The doctor, Kerv, and Jeral stay."

    There was a lull.

    Braster deepened his voice.

    "Out. Now."

    Potter directed all the worrying figures to file out, closing the door behind him. Bellavarn''s labored breathing was the only noise. Trisha rejoined her son''s side while Jeral and Kerv watched on, stuck in their heads. The doctor reexamined the wound, free of hindrance.

    The wound pulsed. Beating ominously. The blood stopped flowing, but blackened veins throbbed around the wound.

    "The second poison was activated with the addition of the coagulant. The first poison was keeping it at bay and the coagulant sealed it in. I haven''t seen these lines before, but I can tell it is malignant. I can close and wrap the wound since I was so eagerly supplied."

    He gestured to the table filled with implements, materials, and some fruit.

    "However, I can''t eliminate the poison or even reduce his pain for fear of agitation. Whatever I introduce into his system may have more side effects. I can recheck my books, but I don''t think that is where the answer lies. I need the weapon."

    Braster bit the inside of his lip.

    "I''ll have others search for it. Do you need anything else?"

    Simon pulled out bandages from his pack.

    "Unless you have a spare elixir. No. I have enough on hand. Get me the dagger, and I will cure your son."

    Braster stared at his son. A kind boy. Smart. Talented. Too young. The world seemed to have it out for Bellavarn. To extinguish him before he had a chance to change it.

    Call it the Sallow misfortune or an act of fate. By accident or by design, Bellavarn took a blow meant for someone else. Braster would find out why it was his son lying on that bed.

    "Trisha. Stay with Bellavarn in case he wakes up."

    "I was going to do that anyway."

    Braster let the words bounce off.

    "Jeral, come with me. You will be explaining everything."

    "Sir."

    Kerv said nothing as he watched Bellavarn. Kerv failed. Utterly.

    The two walked out, leaving an injured Bellavarn to dream of death.

    =

    "What do you think you are doing? I am a Baroness. You can''t treat me this way."

    Braster shepherded Baroness Wyre into a guest room. Two Sallow guards moved in to block the door.

    "It is because you are a Baroness that I haven''t done more than confine you."

    "This is my home. Mine! You can''t do this."

    "I am only here for your daughter, so she can explain to me why my son is in pain instead of her."

    "You''re mad. My daughter had nothing to do with an attack."

    "Maybe. But until I find out, you will not interfere."

    "You can''t do this! I am a Baroness!"

    Braster walked away, leaving his men to guard a closed door.

    And I am a Duke.

    =

    "Sir, we found her. She was in the attic."

    "Lead me there."

    Braster followed a contingent of his men as they all stopped searching. Climbing a narrow staircase, Braster ascended into the attic, several of the retinue waiting downstairs.

    Walking in, it was a bright place. Large windows brought light into the elongated room. Books lined the walls, sat stacked on the floor, and covered the furniture. A desk lay in front of a window also covered in books¡ªa bed in the far corner. April sat on said bed, eyes wide. She tried to stand, but a hand on her shoulder plopped her back down.

    "Duke? Why are you here?"

    Braster stepped over and around several piles of books. It was a messy organization. Luckily, the ceiling was tall enough to walk anywhere without ducking.

    "This is a large attic."

    "It is my room. I don''t get guests, so I didn''t clean. Why-Why are you here?"

    Braster stopped in front of the girl, narrowing his eyes. April glanced around rapidly. Trying to stand up again but unable to. Her curly orange hair was tangled, and her dress slightly wrinkled. She was clearly flustered. Her demeanor suggested she wanted out.

    "I don''t understand. What happened? Where is my mother? Why all the knights?"

    Braster kept staring at her, trying to pierce her soul. April became more uncomfortable the longer the silence lingered. The guard''s hand on her shoulder agitating her.

    "Do you remember what I said to you when we first met? After the chat with the Duchess and I."

    "Uh, um, you said... you said you would execute me if I hurt Bellavarn."

    "And did you?"

    April''s eyebrows knitted.

    "No. I mean. I don''t think so. Why? Did he say something? Did I do something? Where is Bellavarn? Can I talk to him?"

    The series of questions grated on Braster''s ears, but he''s endured worse.

    "So you are saying you don''t know who attacked you?"

    "Attacked me? When? The mob? I wasn''t injured, just tussled."

    "No, you had Bellavarn get injured instead."

    Confusion. Misunderstanding.

    "Bellavarn''s injured? He was fine the last time I saw him. He made sure I could get away."

    "He looked fine to you?"

    "Yes! He even smiled at me."

    "Bellavarn was stabbed protecting you."

    "Wha-"

    April ceased. Completely surprised. Braster increased his tone, closing in.

    "Bellavarn jumped in front of a blade meant for you. When he smiled, the blade was already in his gut. The poison spreading through his veins. He smiled, protecting you from harm while you laughed and ran away."

    "What? No! No. No, I... I didn''t. No."

    "You ran back home for protection and hid in your room like a frightened child."

    "No. That isn''t what happened."

    "You planned it all from the start. Gott him to trust you, then tricked him into getting injured."

    "No! I like Bellavarn!"

    "It was all a ploy to you. A game."

    "No! I loved talking to him."

    "You tricked him."

    "NO!"

    April cried out. Tears. Her words spilled.

    "No. It isn''t true. I like him... He is kind and smart and he reads and he said I could come over any time I wanted. He is good. He is a hero like in the books. I want to be by his side, not turn the book into a tragedy. Why would I hurt him? The world keeps pushing the hero down, labeling him a villain. Why would I add to that? What would be the point? What would happen to the story?"

    Her shoulders shook as she cried, biting her lip.

    "I like Bellavarn. I would never hurt him."

    Braster was unmoved.

    "Then who would want you dead."

    Poor April was getting whiplash.

    "What?"

    "Who wants you dead. Who would attack you? Try to poison you?"

    "No one. There are mean receptionists at the library, but they wouldn''t try to kill me. My parents are protective, but that is because of my complexion. They don''t want me out in the sun."

    "And I am supposed to believe that?"

    "Yes. No... I don''t know. I don''t understand any of it. Can I see Bellavarn? Is he okay? He is okay, right? Right?

    Braster kept his gaze honed. When he found the truth, he walked away.

    "I will be investigating the attack. If I find evidence of your involvement..."

    Braster paused. Looking over his shoulder. In a low voice.

    "I will have your head."

    April shuddered and sagged. The guards left her side to follow Duke Sallow out. April fell sideways onto her bed, curling up. A mess of emotion.

 Warpath (1)

    "Mom... Dad... Why?"

    "I''m here, baby. I''m here."

    "Why did you leave?"

    "I''m right here. Can you feel my hand?"

    "...Why. Why did you die?"

    Trisha squeezed Bellavarn''s hands tighter. Unable to anything more. A Duchess with control over thousands. A woman who could sway countless minds to fight for her and lead a charge against northern invaders. Winterland''s Empress of Ice and Fire. She could halt an invasion and burn down countless marauding fleets. Yet she was powerless to help her only son. He couldn''t hear her voice calling out to him nor feel the comfort of her touch.

    Bellavarn''s hands were so large.

    Trisha could remember the first few years where he could barely hold onto her little finger. The days she would come back from fighting on the battlefield, attendants trying to get her to wash the blood off before she was allowed to play with her little boy.

    "Up. Up!"

    "I''ve got you, Little Bell. Up you go!"

    "Higher! Faster!"

    Spinning. A chubby face laughing.

    Her little boy was all grown up. His hands large enough to encompass her own. He could make his own decisions and be strong enough to protect someone else¡ªhowever noble or foolish the action.

    "I''m here, Little Bell."

    The ringing laughter that made all the slaughter and killing worth it. Having to pamper those nobles and aristocrats was doable when she realized who she did it for. To keep his world safe. To have him grow up loved and cared for.

    "Mom..."

    Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to comfort her son.

    "Duchess. He is delirious. Staying near him will only hurt you."

    Parcy.

    Her personal attendant and closest friend stood close by¡ªa gentle hand on Trisha''s shoulder.

    "Then what am I supposed to do, Parcy? What if he wakes up and I am not here? What if he believes he is alone?"

    Bellavarn''s breathing was pained; sweat coated his skin, a cold towel was placed on his forehead. His bright blonde hair appeared darker as it matted his head. Trisha''s eyes kept going back to the black veins surrounding the wrapped wound.

    "Duchess. Do you really think Bellavarn is alone?"

    Trisha removed her eyes off her son. Looking around, she saw Potter sitting next to Kerv. Simon, the doctor, treated Kerv''s hand. Continuing, she saw others. Ester. Lannie. Denice.

    More.

    Kyle guarded the door. Wendle sat at a table with Wilson and Cynthia, working on supplies.

    And more.

    Misses Vale passed out drinks to a group of staff and servants. Even Vienna was present, hugging a bowl of soup, curled up, and watching Bellavarn with worry.

    "Do you believe Bellavarn is alone, Duchess? That if you leave, he will wake up to no one?"

    Trisha gazed around. Each face looking to her or Bellavarn. Staring openly or peaking glances. They gave their silent answer.

    Bellavarn united them. All of them, in less than two months. The only ones absent were those who went with the Duke or were actively guarding the mansion.

    Bellavarn was alone before.

    No longer.

    Trisha looked back at her son. His pained face. Imagining his eyes opening to see this scene. What would he say? What would he feel?

    Parcy handed her a tissue, Trisha accepted. Dabbing at her eyes before handing it back.

    "Thank you, Parcy."

    Trisha found herself smiling under the circumstances.

    "Duchess!"

    "Hm?"

    It was Kyle''s voice. Another guard panted next to him.

    "Mam, it is Henry. He is back."

    "Henry? Didn''t he go after the attacker?"

    "He did. He is waiting in the foyer, and apparently has a captive."

    Trisha bristled. Briefly giving Bellavarn''s hand a squeeze before letting go. Her demeanor changed.

    "Parcy."

    A pause.

    "Fetch me my sword."

    =

    Trisha strapped on her sword for the first time in over a year. It was discourteous or disallowed during tea parties. Pregnancy made it feel a bit awkward around her waist, but it fit all the same. The silver pommel cooled her warm hand. The sword longed to be used. The enchantments yearned to breathe.

    "Where is he?"

    "He said since we don''t have a dungeon or cell, he would use one of the storage rooms."

    "Prudent."

    Walking down a short hallway off the foyer, they came to a closed door. Trisha saw blood on the handle. Drawing her gladius, she let the enchantments thrum, the three guards behind her doing the same. With a shout, she kicked in the door. It burst off the hinges and flew into the room.

    Dust cleared, and the Duchess strode in.

    Henry loomed over a man bound to a chair. The wired restraints digging into the captive''s chest and arms. His feet kicked feebly, trying to get away. He squealed at the sight of the Duchess.

    "Henry. The blood."

    "Duchess? Apologies. It''s not mine. I was planning to wash but hadn''t the time."

    Seeing Henry splattered in blood almost made her pity the fools.

    "There were interruptions, and I needed to deal with them before moving this one back here. He is the one who stabbed Bellavarn."

    The magical aura oozing off of the Duchess brought the temperature into the room to a standstill. The guards noticed backed away from the epicenter. Seeing their breath, they sheathed their swords. Trisha''s gaze made the captive faint.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "Duchess. Your aura."

    "I wanted him unconscious. If I hear him speak, I will cut out his tongue."

    "I have learned only some. Mainly that he was paid to attack Bellavarn. Associates of his employer waited to kill him at the end of a preplanned escape route. When they realized I was questioning him, they attacked. I engaged, but they ended up killing each other before I could get answers. One of them exploded."

    Henry made an attempt at removing the gore covering him, but most of it was stuck. He appeared peeved at getting dirty. Resigned, he continued.

    "I suspected that this man knew more. I was waiting for the Duke to question him further. If you''d like to question him instead, I recommend you cut out his tongue after we hear his words."

    The Duchess was disgusted.

    "Fine. I will speak with him, since the Duke won''t be back for a minute. He is still searching for the weapon."

    "No need. I have it. I picked it up before starting my pursuit."

    Trisha sheathed her sword. The temperature abating but not rising.

    "Kyle, take the weapon and bring it to the doctor. You two, guard the hallway and make sure no one else enters save my husband."

    "Understood, Duchess."

    Kyle ran up to Henry, retrieving the weapon, a rough shank that was unsuited to battle. He whispered to Henry before he departed.

    "Hell of a job, Henry. Kerv will be jealous."

    "Make sure he doesn''t touch the pointy end."

    Kyle nodded seriously and finally left. Korel and Taren closed the door obediently.

    The Duchess ordered Henry.

    "Wake him up."

    "Yes, Duchess."

    *SMACK*

    A red print in the shape of Henry''s hand did the trick. The man jerked, panicking, noticing he was still tied up, he stopped flailing and resigned to breathing rapidly through his nose. The sight of both Henry and the Duchess reignited his panic.

    "You will tell me everything. Why you attacked Bellavarn and who you work for. If I am unsatisfied with your answer, you die. I won''t ask if you understand. Remove the gag, Henry."

    Henry did so. Opening the flood gates.

    "Please! Don''t kill me. It wasn''t my idea. He paid me. He said it would be easy. I don''t want to die. I don''t want to die. He was going to kill me. That villainous duke was going to kill me. You were going to kill me. I am going to die. I don''t want to die. Please don''t kill me. I don''t want to die."

    "Enough. Tell me about the poison."

    "Poison? What poison? He gave me the shiv. He told me to stab the wicked duke. Said he would pay. Gold. Gold! I would be paid gold."

    Trisha clenched the hilt of her sword tighter. Henry asked a question."

    "What was the poison, Duchess. I may know it."

    The grip didn''t relax.

    "It was Percher''s poison. The doctor treated it, but it activated a second poison. Green smoke. Black lines. Intense fever and delirium."

    Henry uncharacteristically cursed.

    "I know of it. It is a unique torturer''s brew. A brutal concoction designed to cause intense pain and lock the victim in delusion but deny death. Someone wanted Bellavarn to suffer."

    Ice. The man wept at the sword piercing his chest.

    "Suffer? You wanted my boy to suffer?"

    "AH! NO! PLEASE! I DIDN''T! Noooo!"

    Ice encased the wound, creeping up his shoulder and enveloping his entire left arm. Sharp icicles pricked his red cheek, causing hot blood to seep onto the crystals.

    The ice stopped.

    "My husband is not nearly as kind as Bellavarn. And I am nowhere near as pleasant as either of them. Do you have an idea what would cause a woman to carry a sword? A pregnant woman?"

    The man''s teeth chattered, but no answer was forthcoming.

    "There is only one answer. It is obvious. Even someone like you can guess."

    The man''s eyes were full of panic and despair as he gazed into winter orbs. The Duchess''s hair became undone, the platinum blonde strands falling. She yanked the sword out. His frozen arm tore off, shattering on the floor.

    "For her child. Only for her child."

    The man looked down at his missing arm and screamed. Trisha stepped back, sheathing her gladius.

    "The only thing I don''t understand is why you ran for Lady April instead. Was she part of your plan? Was she in on it? Or, since you could not reach my son, you ran for the nearest noble, hoping you would still get paid.

    The man was hysterical.

    "No! The man told me to attack Sallow. But I couldn''t get to him. He told me if I couldn''t, He-He said...run for the girl. And Sallow will throw himself in the way. And-and he did! By the gods, he actually did! B-but. He didn''t let go. He didn''t let go! Crazy. He was going to kill me. Kill me. He was going to kill me."

    Henry''s eyebrows knitted for the first time. Uncomprehending. Was it a lucky guess? The whole attack was obviously planned. The mob. The timing. Having another noble present. The mastermind was likely hoping for Bellavarn to kill the crowd in anger, plummeting all his hard-earned reputation.

    "What was the man''s name? The one who hired you. It wasn''t a woman, I presume."

    "He. Him. It was him. A him. His name. Name? Talon. Like a hawk. Talon. Called himself Talon."

    Henry looked to the Duchess.

    "Sounds like a fake name."

    "It is a taunt. We are the Sallows. Our crest is a Swallow. He is declaring his desire to hunt us."

    "Then why didn''t he choose a lethal poison?"

    "Arrogance. He wants to play a longer game. It will end with his head on a pike; his eyes plucked out by crows."

    Henry only nodded. Her words ringing true. The captive kept staring at his stump, hoping it to reappear. Trisha dismissed him. Turning around.

    "I am finished. Leave him for the Duke and the others to take a turn."

    "What are you planning?"

    Trisha strode away, not looking back. Henry went without his answer.

    =

    "It is called Wither Leaf. I don''t have an antidote, and it would take days to make. I suggest that is where the Duchess went. To procure the tonic. There is only one place that keeps the poison in bulk while also saving the antidote, and that place is the palace."

    Simon proclaimed his hypothesis to the room. Those present listening in.

    "She went without a guard."

    "She has Parcy."

    "Parcy isn''t a guard."

    "Do you really believe she needs one?"

    "The Duchess is pregnant!"

    "She will tear the Palace apart if they don''t cede to her wishes."

    "She won''t do that."

    There was no answer.

    "She won''t...

    The slurping of soup.

    "...right?"

    "You''ve never seen her at war. She is plenty terse with nobles, but only the souls of the dead understand incurring her wrath spelled their doom."

    "That was poetic, Oslo."

    "Yes, well, I thought it would get the point across. The Duchess is not to be crossed. I pity the fool who stands in her way."

    "Mom... Dad..."

    Oslo stood next to a sitting Kerv.

    "Has he been like this the entire time?"

    Kerv nodded glumly.

    "Yeah. He usually calls out for his parents. But half the time he thinks them dead."

    Misses Vale chimed in.

    "He also called out for someone named Veronica."

    "Who is Veronica?"

    "No idea."

    Then Ester spoke quietly.

    "He mentions Melody too."

    "Melody..."

    The room became quiet as everyone present lowered their heads. Vienna''s face almost dipped into her soup. Wilson was the first to speak.

    "Did anyone know her? Before she came to the mansion, I mean?"

    "No."

    "I didn''t."

    Head shakes all around.

    "She reminded me of a more bold Lannie."

    "Ester."

    "I didn''t mean it to be rude. I just meant that she had me fooled too. I trusted her and thought of her as a friend during her time here."

    "Did you hear she disappeared?"

    "With that much money? She was probably robbed."

    "No. I heard there is no trace of her or the money."

    "Maybe she is in hiding."

    "Or lying in a shallow grave"

    "Who cares. Why are we talking about that bitch anyway."

    Ester and Lannie stared wide-eyed at Wilson.

    "What? I never believed her in the first place."

    "Liar."

    "Am not."

    "Are too."

    Oslo interrupted.

    "Gentlemen. Ladies. Now is not the time."

    More lowered heads.

    "What are we supposed to do?

    "Soup."

    "He knocked the bowl away last time, Vienna. You''ll have to wait until he wakes."

    "Soup..."

    "We can''t all stay here, can we? We have other jobs."

    Misses Vale intervened.

    "Why not? All we do is cook and clean. We can have meals delivered here. The mansion can go without constant cleaning for a while. Most of us can either work here, or relax here. We''ll redecorate, make it a common area... Bellavarn hated this room."

    "Because of her."

    "Is there enough room? It is pretty crowded as it is."

    "Remove the dressers and closets, bring in a couch, a larger table, a desk. Easy."

    "And keep the huge bed on that side of the room?"

    Misses Vale wanted to whack someone, but she was missing her ladle. Vienna was hiding it behind her back.

    "Does it really matter?"

    "We can try something, Misses Vale, but you are presuming Bellavarn will be like this for a while. If all goes well Bellavarn should be back on his feet in... what, Simon?"

    Simon looked up from his bowl of soup. He was basically useless at the moment.

    "Without the antidote, Bellavarn will have increasing fits and may even wake in a state of hysteria. It will last a week before being purged from his system. During which Bellavarn will feel as if he''s walking through hell."

    He slurped his soup.

    "With the antidote, we can reduce the symptoms and he can be back on his feet in three days. That is only if he receives the tonic by tonight."

    The others looked sideways at him. Torn on whether to ridicule or thank him for the information.

    Oslo cleared his throat, picking back up.

    "Well. The Spring Equinox is five days away. We can still plan to take him out for the festival."

    "That''s right. We were planning that. Keeping it a secret was hard."

    "All you had to do was not talk about it, Kyle. Literally, the easiest thing to do."

    "I am not good with secrets, okay?"

    "Just don''t blab about it when he wakes up."

    The banter was halted by Bellavarn''s shriek.

    Incoherent, a mess of strangled words. Yelling and writhing. Kerv and Potter darted over to hold him down. Kyle rushed over with Cynthia as well, each taking a leg. Bellavarn kicked and elbowed, managing to knee Kyle in the eye. Bellavarn''s wound reopened. Blood began to seep through the bandages.

    "Hold him still! The wound reopened."

    Oslo jumped in to help.

    "I got him."

    "Ah. I got his leg now."

    "He is strong."

    "Adrenaline."

    "No... Fear."

    "MELODY!"

    Bellavarn bellowed before collapsing, his muscles exhausted. The guards parted. Cynthia readjusted her hair and uniform. Retreating silently.

    Kyle spoke between pants.

    "It is getting worse."

    "Should we tie him down?"

    "And what if he wakes up like that? Tied to his own bed?"

    "What do we do if there aren''t enough of us here to hold him down. When it is the middle of the night, and we are exhausted from staying up?

    "We can take shifts."

    Oslo had the last word.

    "We will make it work. Trust in the Duchess; we will manage until she gets back."

 Warpath (2)

    The palace was as needlessly grand as usual. The lengthy walk really invites you to hate the designer.

    "Jerome, couldn''t we have taken a carriage? I don''t feel like walking the rest of the way."

    "You denied the carriage saying, and I quote, ''Men walk on their own two feet''."

    "Did I really say that?"

    "You did."

    "Well. I changed my mind."

    "Ash is wearing full gear and isn''t complaining."

    "Ash hasn''t been on her feet since this snow replaced the sand."

    "You have disproved your own words twofold."

    "Come on~ Jerome. Can''t you grab a carriage?"

    "Out from my pocket?"

    "Then where do I find a carriage?"

    The distant sound of wheels and hoofs reached the trio. Klein perked up.

    "So you did call one after all. Why did you bother with the charade?"

    "That''s not for us."

    Klein shrugged his shoulders.

    "No matter. They''ll stop once they see me.

    "Duke... I really don''t think-"

    "OVER HERE!"

    Jerome sighed as Klein waved an arm to catch the driver''s attention. The horses didn''t slow. Ash watched the carriage, uninterested. Klein continued his shouting as the vehicle got nearer.

    "Hold a minute! Let me catch a lift-"

    The horses virtually bowled them over as the carriage shot forward. Klein coughed and waved away some dust.

    "Why didn''t they stop?"

    Jerome patted his jacket.

    "Did you see the crest? A blue s wallow."

    "The Sallows? Could it be the Duchess? Come on, hurry! Something exciting might happen."

    "You want to duel her."

    Jerome sighed as Klein didn''t bother listening, already making up the distance, his previous exhaustion evaporated like morning dew.

    "Does he always have to do that?"

    Jerome turned to Ash. Or rather, the space she previously inhabited. She was stepping in stride with Klein a ways away.

    Winter wind whistled.

    =

    "I believe we passed Duke Raiden, Duchess."

    "I saw him."

    Parcy held her tongue. Trisha could hear the unspoken words anyway.

    "I don''t have time for his childish shenanigans."

    Leaning her head slightly, Parcy intoned.

    "I believe he is catching up. I even see Ash running next to him."

    "Ignore him."

    "I reckon he won''t give us the chance. Is is better to deal with him as soon as we step out rather than have him follow us."

    The Duchess'' jaw tightened. Those few final minutes dragged on longer than the hours it took to ride this far. The last rays of sun slithered over the horizon. It would be a miracle if they could return before the next day ensued.

    The twilight cast the castle in foreboding hues¡ªa mockery.

    The equines stomped their hooves, slowing their pace before finally halting entirely. Their hot breath spinning wisps through the frigid air. Dancing.

    Parcy held the door, stepping out first. The sight of Duke Raiden standing smugly with his hands on his hips directly in the way irritated her. Parcy shooed him back to allow more room. He didn''t move until Ash pulled at his arm.

    "Duchess Sallow. It is you. I hoped as much. Will you honor me with a duel?"

    Trisha didn''t even have time to exit before the words assaulted her. Her wrath clear on her face. She stepped out into fading light, cool blues tinted with warm oranges. A sight to bewitch any man. A gaze to skewer that same man. She bore a hole in Raiden, then dismissed him entirely, walking away towards into the palace.

    Raiden followed. Speaking casually.

    "I recently returned to the capital after several months on campaign. I was hoping we could celebrate with a clash of swords. Finally decide which of us is stronger!"

    Trisha didn''t halt her pace as she belittled Klein.

    "What pretenses are you under that would allow you to assume I will accept your challenge? Have you no eyes?"

    Raiden waved his arm, keeping the other on his sword hilt.

    "You are wearing your sword again, are you not? It has long been whispered which of us is better. The Empress of Ice and Fire versus the young, handsome, talented, prodigy war hero. Name pending."

    "You have no ears, as well."

    Raiden grimaced.

    "I know it is a bit lengthy and perhaps a tad pretentious, but the people have yet to grant me with another title. I only listed words the people call me. They often refer to me as War Duke Raiden, but that seems so mundane, no?"

    "No brain either."

    Parcy whispered that. Ash smirked. Raiden prattled on, following the duo through the interior blindly.

    Jerome was still missing.

    "I was planning on challenging Prince Kly, it has been a few years since our last fight, but I think the long-standing question deserves an answer. For the people, if no one else. What do you say?"

    "I don''t have time for you, boy. Leave."

    The floor became slippery from the frost. The servants in the corridor didn''t dare block their path. The two were both notorious for causing damage, after all.

    Raiden heated his steps, preventing himself from slipping while also regulating his temperature. He was about to continue but was pulled back by Ash. She shook her head, pointing.

    "The Duchess is pregnant."

    A boggled Raiden.

    "What! Why haven''t I heard about this?"

    Parcy called back.

    "Because pregnant women don''t interest you, Duke."

    Ash was internally glad there was nearby ice for that burn.

    Klein Raiden was known for his promiscuity. Why shouldn''t he be? He was young, handsome, single, and a war hero. Why wouldn''t women be falling all over him? Should he deny every one of them and commit to celibacy? That was only worked for nuns.

    Well. Half of them anyway.

    Yes. Klein liked women. He treated them well, and they always left happy. What was the problem with that? Klein didn''t see it, so he brushed off Parcy''s comment.

    "I see. I should apologize, at least for not noticing. But you can also forgive me for being confused. Why would you bare your sword while pregnant?"

    Trisha replied coldly.

    "For my child."

    A more confused Raiden.

    "For the kid? I don''t understand. Ash, what does she mean?"

    Ash took a moment, then spoke steadily.

    "I believe it would be in relation to her other child. The one that is grown."

    "Bellavarn? That''s strange. Isn''t he a loner?"

    Trisha sneered.

    "I had mistakenly wished there were those left unaware, but seeing you so clueless only irritates me. Parcy, you explain it to them. I am going on ahead."

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    So she said before skating through the rapidly freezing halls.

    Raiden paused, stopping to gaze in wonder.

    "Her aura is always a sight to behold."

    An aura was the manifestation of external mana and will. Few others could boast of being able to use such a thing, let alone wield it with mastery. The Duchess''s control, combined with the extent of her power, trumped all, including him. No one can compare. The sight of her vanishing around a corner thrilled him¡ªthe chance to fight such a person.

    "She seems spry for her pregnancy."

    Raiden turned his head.

    "Parcy, was it? Care to fill me in on what I am missing."

    "No."

    "No?"

    Parcy pursed her lips, her hands folded in front of her.

    "No."

    Raiden looked sideways at Ash, looking for support. Ash smiled. Raising an eyebrow, he looked back. Parcy was nowhere to be found.

    "Oooh. She''s not a maid, is she?"

    "No, Duke. I think not."

    Raiden scratched his slight stubble.

    "Who is going to talk to me now?"

    A voice called out from behind.

    "If you don''t mind, I can accompany you"

    =

    "This way, Irene. Hurry."

    "Princess. I don''t think this is wise."

    "Come on. This is perfect. I just so happened to stumble into secret passageways? Why would I not use them?"

    Lecil felt like a child again. This was so out there; it had to be fake. Like she was in a mystery novel, filled with secrets. She didn''t care that her clothes and face were layered in decaying dust. Passing the spider nests had been a dramatic moment for both of them, but things worked out.

    Unfortunately, there was another problem.

    They were required to move sideways to pass through the tight corridors. Now, they reached an even smaller space where a wooden beam made traversing the passage nearly impossible. Lecil managed to squeeze through, but Irene couldn''t move.

    "Princess. I... I don''t believe I can go further."

    Lecil turned her head back, avoiding some cobwebs. Narrowing her eyes, she saw Irene stuck, her chest smushed against the old beam. Looking down at her own chest, Lecil felt a new emotion.

    "Irene?"

    "Ugh. Um... Hm?"

    Celia asked a pertinent question.

    "What cup size are you?"

    "Cup size, Princess?"

    She groaned. They didn''t have such measurements here. Of course, Irene wouldn''t know. Celia estimated only a C-cup on Irene. But that would mean that...

    "Did they get smaller?"

    Irene set aside the princess'' scary whispering.

    Realizing she would need to change her situation, Irene braced. Sucking in, she held her breath, standing on her tip-toes, finally squeezing past. Breathing heavily, she patted her sore bosom.

    "Princess. How far are we going? I don''t believe I can do that again."

    Lecil came out of her thoughts, looking away from her own chest.

    "There should be another exit somewhere; I won''t make you go back. I just want to hear what all the commotion is about."

    "With Duke Raiden?"

    "Mhm. With all of them. Come, I think I can hear them talking around the next corner."

    =

    Nine people occupied a meeting room. Two more watched, hidden from sight.

    Prince Tristan leaned back against a wall, glaring.

    Prince Kly sat at on end of a table, across from a young man of unknown importance.

    Duchess Trisha Sallow occupied the center of the room, the rug under her feet frozen solid. A maid standing resolutely behind her was unperturbed by the presences of royals. Not the Princes. Not the Dukes and posse. Nor the hidden figures.

    Princess Anne stood oddly close to Duke Raiden, just having entered the room with him, Ash, and a sour Jerome.

    The atmosphere was thick and unbreathable. The lights in the room produced an eerie ambiance only outdone by the frigid threat of winter intruding on the meeting¡ªfrom within and without. The Duchess was cold.

    Cold didn''t begin to describe her. She radiated an arctic inhospitality. The storm already brewing, her sword was prepared to act as the searing knife that cuts through any obstacles. Her words dripped from temperate lips.

    "I care not for what I interrupted. I have stated what I seek. I will not exit without it."

    Prince Tristan sneered.

    "You have heard my words as well. You forget your place, Duchess. Barging in on private matters between members of the royal family is intolerable. The fact one of your rivals is here only makes matters worse. Leave us. Your son can wait."

    The air rippled.

    "Surely, you aren''t saying that my son should continue to suffer, all so you can finish your meeting, are you?"

    Tristan ignored the warning signs.

    "Of course I am. Bellavarn Sallow can wait. He won''t die from the poison."

    Raiden whispered loudly to Princess Anne.

    "What poison? What happened?"

    Anne stage whispered like an expert.

    "Bellavarn Sallow was attacked at his charity event and was poisoned. It doesn''t seem to be lethal, but I hear it causes great pain.."

    Jerome muttered.

    "Wither Leaf."

    Raiden said back.

    "That is torturer''s brew. Bellavarn doesn''t deserve that shit."

    Prince Tristan laughed, having easily overheard the conversation.

    "You haven''t heard, Raiden? Bellavarn is a scoundrel who forces himself on his own maids."

    Tristan continued, speaking as if it were gospel.

    "He is a villain who cried for mommy to cover up his crime."

    His voice became accusatory and acidic.

    "A man like him deserves to suffer."

    Tristan''s head jerked sideways. His temper flared as he reached for his sword. Then his world turned white, instantly cooling his insulted ego.

    Trisha''s murderous eyes communicated her restrained wrath. Her womanly affliction tickled the back of his mind and the others in the room. The sneering eyes of a mere maid. The pitying look from Ash. The First Prince''s blood boiled for retaliation. But Tristan could only hold his tongue, preventing him from losing it.

    Raiden was the first to break the silence.

    "I''ve known rapists. I have known scoundrels. Pillagers and raiders. Evil men. I''ve killed them with my own hands. I imagine the Duchess has too. There are men, and women, out there that deserve no quarter."

    He paused. Letting that sink in.

    "But, I have met Bellavarn Sallow. It years ago. He was quiet. Reserved. Perhaps a bit awkward. But I saw no evil in him. I do not believe these rumors the public seems to hold onto."

    The Duchess stayed silent while Parcy breathed through her nostrils. Of all the people to stand up for Bellavarn...

    Unfortunately, the moment didn''t last.

    "Don''t be so sure, Klein."

    Klein Raiden noticed the dapperly dressed man sitting in a plush chair. When the man stood, his height came no further than Raiden''s collarbone. Long hair tied behind his head, monocle on his right eye, a knowing smirk that made you want to punch him.

    A Duke.

    "Astor. I see you still haven''t grown."

    "And you are as brutish as always. Again, you barge in on my affairs."

    Raiden nudged Ash, chuckling.

    "I don''t think he has anyone to have an affair with."

    Astor didn''t dignify the remark with a reaction.

    "Putting aside our glaring differences and the hasty words of Prince Tristan..."

    Tristan bristled. Duke Astor continued.

    "...it is impossible to derive the true nature of Bellavarn Sallow. He seldom attended social events, was privately tutored, and grew up completely sheltered. How are we to understand his mental state? Especially after having suffered a terrible memory loss. Who is to say that those memories aren''t still missing? Or perhaps his mental faculties aren''t all... present, as it were."

    Parcy interjected, to the surprise of some in the room.

    "Your words are no different than Prince Tristan''s. They are only dressed to sound prettier."

    Duke Astor nodded in affirmative, moving around his chair, pacing.

    "That is exactly the point. Words need to be dressed properly to be acknowledged and conveyed. Just as no one would normally listen to a beggar off the street. A crier who doesn''t exude trust is bound to have his words seen as false. Similar to how you wouldn''t have any credibility or even be offered the chance to stand in the room if it weren''t for your position as the Duchess'' personal attendant. My words were meant to give credence to genuine possibilities."

    "And you would ignore the testimony of an eye-witness to events leading up to a wrongful incrimination."

    Astor beamed widely. It was as if Parcy''s fanciful words proved his point.

    "The fact remains that no one will ever truly know why Bellavarn Sallow was attacked. All that remains is speculation."

    "You would understand perfectly if you spent a single moment talking to him."

    "Parcy."

    Silence.

    "That''s enough."

    The Duchess moved back to the center of the room, leaving a fuming Tristan to stew.

    "I am not here for my son to stand trial for a crime he didn''t commit. Or to be sentenced by those who don''t know him in the least. I came to speak with Prince Kly. The rest of you can stay silent."

    "I hardly see that as fair. We all have rights to speak-"

    "SIT."

    "I-"

    "NOW."

    Astor felt the chill crawl up his spine and decided to wage battle another day. He took his seat, crossing his legs, smugly smirking.

    Raiden wished he could laugh, but he knew the Duchess was likely to attack him at the moment, and that would be bad for the baby, so he held himself back.

    "Prince Kly. The antidote. I am told you produce both poison and antidote nearby. Tell me where."

    Silent Kly rested his elbows on the tabletop. Interlocked his fingers, he shook his head.

    "The location is a state secret. Only the King knows."

    Trisha was a fraying rope.

    "A state secret, you say... Then how exactly did the attacker obtain the poison?"

    Kly admitted.

    "An unidentified transport was hijacked. We are investigating."

    Trisha said nothing, but her hand went to her sword. Glittering crystals formed at her feet.

    A minority hoped for her to attack. The others only watched with increasing worry. An attack on royalty would spell doom for the Sallows and all who sided with them. More than a slap from a pregnant woman would not be overlooked.

    Parcy readying herself for anything. She would protect her mistress.

    "An antidote."

    A soft voice. Controlled.

    "How can I receive an antidote?"

    The atmosphere vanished. The cold erased like a forgotten past.

    Prince Kly spoke solemnly.

    "Please wait, Duchess."

    "How long?"

    "Until morning. That is the best I can do."

    Trisha monotoned.

    "I understand."

    She turned.

    "Parcy."

    "Yes, Duchess."

    Duke Raiden ushered Princess Anne out of the way, leaving the exit path open.

    Anne blushed unnecessarily. Ash noticed and rolled her eyes. Jerome pieced together the contents of the final conversation. Prince Kly basically told the Duchess the same thing as Tristan and Duke Astor. To sit still and allow her son to suffer in agony. Jerome also easily picked up on the fact that Duchess Sallow would not sit quietly as most wanted her to.

    "What a bitch."

    Tristan tripped, his feet frozen to the floor.

    =

    Elsewhere...

    Lecil made a peep, having received a pop-up.

    -

    Hidden Event - Aid the Sallows

    Rewards: ???

    Consequences: ???

    -

    Shitty game. At least give me the details! Why should I help someone who will kill me when he sees me?

    She brushed away the notification. Lecil wouldn''t be helping the Sallows in any way. It was clear they were on the losing side; why would she hurt her chances of survival by joining them? Bellavarn may be innocent. But that didn''t change the fact that he would rebel against the kingdom. He killed all those people at the charity event. He would go on to kill many more. In order to stop herself from becoming another notch on his belt, she would easily decline the quest.

    You should do it.

    Why should we?

    Maybe something will change.

    Nothing will change.

    Then why are we fighting to survive?

    They were silent at that. Thinking too hard on it induced a massive headache.

    "Let''s head back, Irene."

    "You don''t want to hear what they have to say?"

    Lecil looked back at the figures in the room, hidden from sight and unnoticed. Old enchantments protected the pair of eavesdroppers.

    The numbers above the Duke''s heads held 15% and 20%, respectively. Her chances were normalized. Lecil wouldn''t die from a first encounter. Her brothers were tolerable, and Anne had a decent rating for now. Things could be left as is. Knowing the contents of further conversation sounded tedious. She''d got a decent impression of everyone present, enough to form plans.

    Duke Raiden wouldn''t be as bad an option as she previously thought. His looks from afar were enough to make her goggle. That wasn''t enough to pick him, though. Seeing Anne cozying up to him gave her a different idea.

    She was having new doubts about Duke Astor. He was smart and cunning. Attractive to a degree. He wasn''t her type either, but it seemed like if it came to prolonged conflict, Astor would be the last standing.

    Tristan was still a moron, and Kly needed more work, but staying at home was still her best option.

    Lecil could leave satisfied if it wasn''t for her splitting head.

    Irene did end up getting stuck again. Lecil needed to push from behind to get her past the obstacle. The whole situation would have been comical if it wasn''t for the nagging feeling and persistent headache scratching her brain.

    But she let the feeling die. Unwittingly setting the course for the future.

 Poisoned Dreams

    Drilling.

    Muffled machinery.

    A musical melody mourning the mundane world left to die. The yellow crane broke to pieces, glittering into a breaking skyscape. A balanced beam of metal plummeted towards the ground, screeching its cry of distress and despair. Shattering, splintered into dust particles, separated by eternity.

    Drilling.

    Beating drums rocketed eardrums through headphones. Bouncing in beat to a fluttering heart. The metal skyscraper frame toppled. A house of cards folding. Backdropped by honks of impatient traffic, it all tumbles down.

    Piles of material and tools avalanched, breaking across the construction zone, engulfing oblivious workers. Buried beneath boundless rubble. They, too, glittered as they faded into the abstract obscurity.

    Drilling.

    Dream.

    Danger and delirium disguised.

    Bells.

    The clocks echoed, signaling a change in shifts. The headphones came off.

    Mother''s voice out keyed by louder pings of plucked string. The shrill outcry blasted away the walls. A familiar sky outlined distress¡ªbrilliant light receding through the gaps in reality.

    Father''s figure stood on each black key before being snuffing out by hasty fingers. Apparitions of perfection and expectation. Slamming his hands on the keys. Laughing faces washed away through rage and bitterness.

    Copies appeared, surrounding his stage of reflected floor and abyssal surroundings. The chords cut. Each figure turned, proceeding to flee the grieving tune.

    Struggling to forget. To cut away the hurt. Being left with a broken shell unable to create. Floundering.

    The instrument rebelled. Refusing to sing so mournfully. Particles drifted away¡ªdesperate playing. Little remained until the final two notes waved a sorrowful goodbye, twirling a duet into the obscured ether.

    Bellavarn folded himself, huddling in the darkness. Sky too scary to face. The ebony floor reflecting his hideous image.

    "Melody."

    Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to cry. Nothing to hurt but himself.

    Bellavarn sat in a corner, under the highway. Dismal. Rejection and inability. Passive and allowing. Relapse.

    "Veronica."

    Surrounded by noise. Surrounded by trash. Surrounded by broken wishes. Sobering realization.

    Two voices.

    "Gone."

    Synchronized. The two met, mingling without words. There was an inherent understanding.

    Worlds apart, they met at the eternal divide. Eclipse. Nothing alike at all. Bellavarn''s clean clothes, shaved face, shiny golden hair, and unblemished porcelain skin faced off against rags and poverty. Scruffy beard. Grime. Disgusting and mangey mop. Youth hid beneath a battered exterior.

    The mirror cracked from a punch. Bellavarn pivoted. Seeing his other reflection.

    Punch.

    Blood dribbled down previously unmarred flesh.

    Swiveling.

    Another punch. Symmetrical scars.

    Bellavarn faced a final reflection but held his hand.

    "Melody."

    She stood as his reflection, smiling kindly. Exactly how he remembered her.

    "Melody..."

    Bellavarn stumbled forward. The mirror blocking his touch. Melody shimmered.

    Torn clothes. Bloody. Bruised and Battered. Petrified. Her scream broke the glass outward, scarring Bellavarn''s skin.

    Running away, he encountered another mirror¡ªa whimper.

    "Melody."

    Huddled in warm sheets. A fire backlighting her casting flickering shadows. Her glare of indifference and apathy stung more than the glass buried in his flesh. He reached out.

    Her feet backtracked.

    "No."

    Staggering forward, a hand reaching out.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "Dont''!"

    Melody smirked, taking the final step into the fire.

    Bellavarn sprinted into the roaring flames. Grabbing Melody. Holding her, he clung to her as his body melted. The scorched piece of paper clutched to his chest burnt a hole straight through.

    He howled his lament. Shrieking as his lifeforce flickered.

    Curled in a ball on the ground. He wheezed through empty lungs.

    A corpse he laid.

    =

    "I found this in his jacket."

    "This is..."

    "It fell out when I cut it open."

    Henry accepted the burnt paper gently. Kerv''s expression told him what he would find.

    The journal paper held a portrait. A once beautiful drawing of a girl. A maid wearing a content smile. A hole burned through the left corner. Edges blacked¡ªthe parchment glowing glumly of wear and tear.

    "This has been in his pocket the entire time?"

    Kerv''s silence shared Henry''s suspicion.

    "I don''t know what to do with it."

    Henry stared at the paper.

    "I don''t either."

    "Melody..."

    Bellavarn''s strained voice reached them. Kerv was too quiet.

    Henry talked instead.

    "How do we heal him?"

    "The antidote."

    "I mean his heart."

    "..."

    Kerv held his fist, clenching.

    "We can''t."

    "Should we let him keep this? Or burn it; finish the job and make it disappear?"

    Kerv escaped his seat, throwing his arms.

    "That won''t fix anything."

    "Then what?"

    "Give it back."

    "Why?"

    "What else can we do?"

    "..."

    No clues.

    "Let him throw it away himself."

    "Mm. We can give him time."

    Kerv scoffed, an ugly scowl crossing his normally carefree face.

    "I''d like to punch whoever said time heals all wounds. It doesn''t heal. The wounds just scab over, being picked at until the day we die. We run our fingers along the scars thinking they are healed, only for them to reopen. Always reopening. Always finding a new way to bleed."

    "You didn''t fail, Kerv. You saved him."

    Henry soothed. Kerv exploded.

    "Don''t patronize me! You know I always fail when it matters."

    Henry chose silence.

    It kept for a minute.

    Then two.

    Then three.

    "Leave the picture."

    Those were the words Kerv used to stomp out.

    Henry watched him go, giving Kerv time. He might be right that time didn''t heal wounds. Not completely. But time did serve to give reprieve. The moments in-between. The moment to live for.

    Tucking the paper carefully in Bellavarn''s pants pocket, Henry took Kerv''s seat.

    He waited.

    The time would come.

    =

    "That barbarous savage! He dared! In my own home, no less? He had no right! No right, I say!"

    April hid. A child again. Scared to crawl out.

    "If I were here, I would have turned him around. This is our house, after all."

    "Please... You couldn''t have gotten past a single one of his knights, Jeffrey."

    There was no response¡ªjust the click of a woman''s tongue.

    "You wouldn''t have helped. But now that he is gone, we can finally use this as an excuse to change sides. There are rumors Duke Astor will welcome any noble to his side. Doubly so if they are allies with the Sallows."

    "But we''ve been an ally of the Sallows for three generations! My uncle was close friends with Belial Sallow. We can''t abandon generations of work."

    A resounding slap. April winced, ducking further into hiding.

    "Do you understand what he did to me? The embarrassment? The depravity? No! I will not stand for it. You will make contact with the Astor household on the morrow. I believe he will be interested in the bargaining chip we hold."

    "She is our daughter! You will not force her into your plots."

    "You say that as if you haven''t also kept her homebound for years."

    "It is for her protection."

    "From the sun, yes, of course. She already has a few blemishes; more won''t hurt if she can continue to sway the Sallow boy."

    "You must stop this. Using me, my family... I can''t stand by while you use our daughter to raise our standing. What of her wishes? Of her aspirations and dreams?"

    "That is all she has. Dreams. Her fragile little books. Even her embroidery is paltry. It''s taken half a decade for her to stop poking herself."

    "She is a child!''

    "She is 19! Old enough to be wed. No skills. Just fanciful fiction."

    "You expect too much."

    "And you don''t expect enough. Society is brutal. She needs to learn now or else-"

    April closed her door. Letting the shouts fade.

    She knew.

    She knew she dreamed too much. Of being a princess. Of being an action hero. Creating wondrous miracles of magic, ushering in a new age.

    As a little girl, her mother read her a book of a white knight riding in on a brilliant stallion, rescuing a princess from an evil wizard. Mother was so fascinated by the white knight.

    "Find yourself a White Knight, April. Make yourself the damsel if need be. Have him save you and capture his heart. It is your ticket to freedom."

    "What about the wizard, momma? Didn''t he want to marry the princess?"

    "Hush, the evil wizard never wins. He dies on the Knights sword. Be sure to choose the right side in the future. The evil wizard will drag you down with him."

    April hustled over to her bedside. A familiar children''s book hiding under the mattress.

    "Why is he evil, Momma? What did he do? Didn''t he just want to be loved?"

    Turning the pages, she saw illustrations where the white knight fought the wicked wizard''s evil underlings. They died in droves, defending their master. To the last, they fought. Protecting.

    The Knight destroyed the map room, filled with plans and outlines, locked in perilous battle with the evil wizard.

    The wizard died pitifully. All his work ruined. His friends dead. His legacy forgotten.

    And the Knight freed the princess from her perch atop the tallest tower. Not a jail cell. Not a prison or pillory. Not a monster-infested pit.

    No.

    She sat on the softest looking bed peering out an open window. The land rolled out before her. Majestic and beautiful. Honored with the gift of perspective. To be able to look past the walls that supposedly confined her.

    April closed the book. Setting it down on her mundane mattress, she glimpsed out a foggy window. The night sky reflected blue hues onto her frail skin. Her tangled hair resting over nightly pajamas.

    The stars invisible past the colored glass; they still shone in her emerald eyes.

    Tomorrow.

    The day things changed. The day the evil wizard won. The day the Princess chose to protect him.

    "Will he like it?"

    She held a folded handkerchief in her lap. Laying down, she held it to her chest, an embodiment of hard work. The tutor guided her, but no more. This was her own design. Something she created for herself. Not a dream.

    "It is not a dream."

    Closing her eyes, she could see it. Bellavarn''s smiling face as he saw her design.

    Sleep didn''t take her, having napped earlier. Instead, other, darker thoughts took hold of her.

    "I believe he will be interested in the bargaining chip we hold."

    "She is our daughter! You will not force her into your plots."

    April recalled.

    They want to use me. Bellavarn.

    They were going to switch sides. Betray the Sallows.

    What do I do? I like you.

    All the mini-Aprils sat around the table. Silently looking into each other''s eyes. Searching for answers. A way to set things right.

    I am not a princess. I''m just a lowly baron''s daughter.

    One of the mini-Aprils walked over to a lever. Pulling it, the tears started to flow. They passed around tissues.

    If I asked... Would you... Would you...

    April sniffed. Her voice cracking.

    "Would you steal me away?"

    =

    In the recess of a quiet enclosure overcast by cloudy night, a report was issued.

    "The others are dead, boss. It is as you planned."

    "..."

    "Do we continue with the next step?"

    "..."

    "Should I contact our accomplice or approach our new employer first?"

    "..."

    "I''ll start right away, then."

    "..."

    The communication cut.

    A falcon''s cry broke.

 Mobs, Minds, and Maids

    Mini-Aprils.

    A figment of the imagination. A personification of brain cells. A metaphor that creates comic relief during hectic scenarios.

    Of all the Mini-Aprils, there was one that always reacted the same. It would puff on a pipe, blowing bubbles, and in a hard-boiled voice say...

    "This idea wasn''t our brightest, was it?"

    The words would accompany a feeling of self-deprecation and a mental face-palm to exemplify a lack of foresight, or adherence thereof.

    More simply, it means...

    April fucked up.

    The incredibly not hard-boiled words usually came after too much sugar before bed. Or staying up all night to binge a book. Or trying to create an entirely new filing system from scratch, only to realize later that it had eaten up all the hours she should have been using the perfectly good filing system already in place.

    You know, normal situations that anybody can screw up at.

    Now, however...

    April dangled from a bundle of sheets three stories off the ground.

    While most of the Mini-Aprils were in their usual panic, the ''hardboiled'' April leaned forward along a counter next to a bottle of scotch and puffed on her pipe. The look in her narrowed eyes was grave, the light hitting her face dramatically, she spoke deeply.

    "I believe, *Puff*... I believe we are currently as high as a kite."

    The disorganized panic quickly organized and whirled on a central figure¡ªHard-Boiled April.

    "That doesn''t make any sense!"

    "Stop acting tough, you dingus."

    "You think yer funny, do ya?"

    The collective criticized the lone April covered in a dark brown trench coat for trying too hard. HB Apri, as it were, shrugged her shoulders, puffed once, and adopted a far-off gaze, ignoring the fan-fare.

    In the real world, April swung awkwardly at the end of the rope, trying not to scream for help. She was in the middle of a covert operation. It required stealth. Secrecy. Discretion!

    "Mommy."

    She glanced up at the two stories she inched her way down from, then back to the swaying ground below. To be honest, she didn''t think she''d get this far.

    The planning all started and ended with the thought of sneaking out, which she''d never done before. This was how they did it in the books, so obviously, it should work. Right?

    Wrong.

    She didn''t have nearly enough sheets.

    "I... I think there is a lot of snow piled up down there. I''m... I''m going to jump for it."

    The collective turned.

    "No!

    "Are you stupid?"

    "Don''t kill us, please."

    "Life is fleeting."

    HB April received a smack.

    "Here we go.

    April swung lamely.

    "Hyap!"

    April plummeted. The impact came before she could scream. A bellyflop into a thick layer of snow.

    "Ooo...."

    The collective winced.

    A muffled groan.

    Looking from above, her pose could easily be replicated by a chalk outline.

    "Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are we?"

    "Shut it, HB."

    "Go in the corner and puff."

    "I''ll pop all yer bubbles."

    "You don''t even know what hard-boiled is."

    "I do too..."

    HB April broke character to pout. The others ganged up on her. HB didn''t have any real street smarts, so she was forced to make a hasty retreat. Grabbing the whiskey bottle, she hoofed it, being chased by a mob of identical munchkins. Bubbles trailed out of her pipe as she huffed. Sometime during the chase, the label off the whiskey bottle fell away to read "Seltzer".

    Big, grown-up April was reeling a clumsy landing but managed to extricate herself from the imprint. Looking around, she saw no one in sight¡ªa sigh of relief.

    The reason for her escapade was a simple one.

    A boy she couldn''t stop thinking about.

    Combined with a lack of drowsiness, angry and protective parents who might be a tad manipulative, and a whimsical fascination with fantastical dilemmas.

    It all leads to this.

    Puffing out her chest, she took the first steps on her journey.

    Tiptoeing away from the family home and out into the night. She got as far as the sidewalk before a sudden thought rammed her.

    Looking left and right and every which way...

    No traffic.

    No pedestrians.

    Not even a stray cat.

    And most importantly.

    No carriages.

    *Sigh*

    "I really didn''t think this through..."

    =

    *Knock-Knock-Knock*

    The clunks were muffled but clearly audible. They were strange, though. No one would knock this late. Most people didn''t knock at all. They were usually ushered in by a guard, a grumbling Kerv, or accompanied by one of the household figures.

    *Knock-Knock*

    It was clearly happening. Something that never happened. This was a moment that shouldn''t be. Yet, it was.

    *Knock-Knock-Knock*

    Vienna looked around. For somebody. Anybody. Other than her. A professional.

    Was there an adult around? Someone to take responsibility? She was a cook. A soup cook. Soup is her specialty. Not answering doors. As evidenced by the half-filled pot of soup cradled in her arms.

    *Knock*

    Vienna whimpered.

    Her footsteps were echoing in the cavernous entry space. Moving according to ambient moonlight streaming through thinned windows, Vienna could hear the howling wind outside. The shadows creeping in. Jumping at every persistent knock.

    *KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*

    They got louder and more insistent the closer she came.

    *KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*

    Edging toward the door. She finally reached it.

    No more knocks.

    Slowly...

    Hesitantly...

    Vienna used her elbow to push down the handle. Creaking the door open, she saw...

    "Hi, there!"

    Vienna tumbled backward, backing against the wall. Heaving. Puffing. She kept her treasure safe.

    The grotesque figure oozed in through the open doorway.

    "Oh. I''m so sorry. I didn''t mean to scare you. Are you alright? Um. I apologize; I don''t know your name."

    Murky brown eyes as large as saucers peaked through long bangs, goggling at the abominable snowman talking to her. Vienna hugged her pot tighter in an attempt at comfort.

    "Hm? Ah. Stupid snow."

    April dusted herself off, becoming more womanly and less snow-man-y. Closing the door behind her and eliminating the draft, April examined the petrified soup-girl.

    "Is there no one else around?"

    Two scared shakes of a head.

    "I see... What you got there?"

    "...soup."

    "Ooh! Is it warm? Would it be rude to ask for some?"

    April''s stomach growled. She blushed. Vienna blushed harder, as if in competition.

    After a moment, Vienna slightly loosened her death grip.

    "Soup?"

    "Yes! Please? Can I?"

    "Soup."

    "Hey, wait a tic."

    April snapped her fingers, startling her only company.

    "You''re Vienna, aren''t you? Bellavarn mentioned how much you love soup."

    The girl in question perked up significantly, smiling broadly.

    "Soup!"

    "Don''t mind if I do."

    Thus two new best friends were born.

    =

    Wilson walked into the kitchen, gripping a lamp. Looking around, he saw a lone figure standing near a chopping table. He called out courteously.

    "Vienna? Is that you? Where did you go?"

    "Soup."

    "Then why aren''t you carrying anything?"

    "Soup?"

    "Yes... Where is the soup?"

    "All gone."

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    "Gone?"

    "Yes."

    "Where did it go?"

    Vienna smiled like a child.

    "Ate it all."

    Wilson tilted his head.

    "You did?"

    "No. I did."

    April appeared from Vienna''s shadow. Wilson jumped in fright.

    "Why-Why is she here?"

    "For soup."

    Wilson rubbed his face.

    "I mean... why does nobody else know that she is here?"

    April replied.

    "We were eating soup."

    "Ohdeargod, I get that. But why... How... What... I don''t know why no one else noticed..."

    Wilson started stuttering.

    Vienna and April looked at each other and grinned. They both spoke at once.

    "Because of soup."

    Wilson broke down. Sobbing.

    =

    "I came to see Bellavarn. I heard... I was told that he was injured because of me. I had no idea. I just went home without a worry and then sat in a lump after I heard."

    April twiddled her fingers.

    "I couldn''t sit still or fall asleep. So I snuck out and came here. Figuring I could do something or talk to him. Tell him I''m sorry. Thank him for saving me. Or... I don''t know, make him tea or something. I don''t know! Just something..."

    Wilson sighed dramatically at April''s rambling.

    "You can''t do any of that. A Duke''s family resides here. Dropping by at 2... no, 3 in the morning isn''t normal. You must have come during the shift change. Most of the guards are gone with the Duke, and the rest are centered around Bellavarn''s quarters, so security is lighter on the outside. The wards should have tripped, though... I''ll need to report that."

    April fidgeted in her seat.

    "Um... Is it okay for you to be telling me all this?"

    Wilson started. He slapped his forehead. April trudged on with her selfish request.

    "If it is alright, can I see Bellavarn? Is he well?"

    Wilson sobered. Looking straight at April, making her uncomfortable.

    "No."

    All levity fled from his voice.

    "He is not well. And I don''t believe he would want you seeing him. Nor would I think the Lord and Lady would condone it."

    April drooped in her seat.

    The whole situation was her fault. Someone came after April and Bellavarn stepped in the way to save her. That reassuring smile. One to wash away her worries.

    "Wilson."

    "Hm? Vienna? What is up with you today? "

    Vienna stirred a large pot over a magical burner.

    "April is nice."

    "Being nice doesn''t have anything to do with it. Master Bellavarn got injured because of her!"

    "Wilson."

    Vienna stopped stirring.

    "April. Is. Nice."

    "But I can''t just-"

    "Nice."

    "Fine! Fine... I will talk to the others and explain that you are here. Don''t move. An escort will come for you. Either to take you home or..."

    Wilson didn''t finish speaking before he walked out the open entryway. The flickering lantern light fading away. April turned back to Vienna, her face glowing orange from the nearby firelight.

    "Thank you, Vienna. I owe you."

    "Soup friends, best friends."

    April felt her cheeks lift. Looking down, she muttered.

    "Friends."

    "Mhm. Friends."

    =

    "Lady April?"

    "I am still here."

    "Come with us."

    Saying goodbye to Vienna, April allowed the two unfamiliar guards to escort her. Both were incredibly intimidating, bulky and muscular underneath their armor. After turning away from the entrance she came in, it was clear where her destination was. The ''others'' decided to allow her to see Bellavarn.

    Walking along, her footsteps sung out of tune to the guards'' ordered march. The hallways became darker and foreboding. Flickering torchlight becoming moody. She thought she could hear the wails of a ghost. April''s rational mind told her it was the wind outside battering against the windows. April would know. She trudged through a blizzard to get here. The snow came back with a vengeance this night. It''s likely to be the last of the winter.

    Luckily the distance between the Sallow mansion and her home wasn''t great, and there were ample side streets for cover. The hardest portion of the journey was walking up the driveway after the last heat scrolls lining her jacket flickered out.

    "You shouldn''t be here."

    The guard''s words were unexpected. April kept her gaze low.

    "I know."

    "No. You don''t. Master Bellavarn is not lucid. I highly suggest you go home."

    That just made her feel worse.

    "I want to tell him I''m sorry."

    "He won''t hear you."

    "Still! If I can help at all, I want to. I need to set things right."

    "You can''t-"

    The other guard punched the talkative one.

    "Enough. We''ve had this discussion. She''ll understand when she sees."

    Both guards shut up. As they got nearer, she could hear more clearly. The ghostly wails believed to be the wind were obviously from something more mortal. The howls of pain hindered her steps.

    "Come on now. Hurry."

    The guards pushed her forward, but now she was having second thoughts. The screams were illegible but full of agony.

    The light from an open doorway. Strained cry''s bouncing off the stone walls. April entered, hearing loud whispers.

    "I told you, I am against this. It isn''t right."

    "He is in pain. He shouldn''t be seen."

    "Vienna vouched for her. She''s never done that."

    "It could be dangerous."

    "Look, she is already here."

    The many eyes in the room swiveled. April was briefly at the center of attention. She''d never seen a small room so packed before. There were easily over twenty people in the cramped space. Servants. Maids. Cooks. Gardeners. A busboy. Guards. She recognized Oslo, the head butler/secretary for the Sallows. He was the one to greet her.

    "I am not sure whether to reprimand you or warn you. You''ve come at a bad time."

    "MELODY!!!"

    The shrill cry caused April to jump. It was loud. The others seemed used to the volume. Looking over, she saw a few people gathered around a bed, holding someone down. Closer inspection yielded the answer as to whom.

    Her expression was telling.

    "Is... Is he..."

    "Delirious? Extremely. We''ve avoided tying him down for now, but it is getting worse by the hour. None of us expected it to get this bad so soon."

    The downcast faces told the story.

    "Can I talk to him?"

    The portly butler shook his head.

    "No. Several of us have bruises from his thrashing. He will likely lash out at your voice."

    "But why? It doesn''t make sense. Why is he suffering? Did someone want to do that to me? I don''t know of any grudges."

    Oslo pitied the girl. Ester called out from nearby.

    "The blade wasn''t meant for you. It was meant for him all along."

    "Ester."

    "What? As if someone would poison her. Everyone hates Bellavarn. Not her."

    "That isn''t the point."

    "Veronica!"

    April glanced back towards the bed.

    "Who?"

    "We don''t-"

    "MELODY!"

    Commotion. Bellavarn broke free. A group of men went tumbled back.

    "Where are you!"

    "Grab him! Hurry."

    "Where did you go!"

    Bellavarn glowed bright blue.

    A worker went flying into the wall.

    "Shit!"

    "He''s using magic."

    "Watch out!"

    "IT HURTS!"

    Bellavarn rocketed to his feet, throwing people left and right, crashing into furniture. Clattering objects, shouts of distress, and scrambling orders. Chaos as people tried to tackle Bellavarn to the ground.

    "Dammit. Where is Kerv? Henry?"

    "They switched shifts."

    "I got him!"

    "AAARGH!"

    The man fell to the floor. Bellavarn rushed around the room, barreling over everything, swinging his arms. April stood frozen in shock, uncomprehending.

    That was when he attacked.

    Bellavarn dashed for April. His massive figure loomed dangerously.

    "MELODY!"

    A hand clawed in front of her face. Stopping inches away.

    "Why! Melody? Why did you burn me? WHY!!!"

    Oslo held Bellavarn in place. It didn''t stop April from seeing the madness. Bellavarn''s shirtless form, drenched in glistening sweat, the black veins sprawled across his skin like infectious roots. The wet blond hair fell in front of maddened eyes.

    This wasn''t him. This wasn''t Bellavarn...

    Oslo gritted his teeth.

    "Ester. Get her out of here."

    Bellavarn tumbled backward together with Oslo. Grappling. Rolling on the floor as more joined in the struggle.

    April didn''t register being dragged away. Nor that her feet didn''t work. The sight scarring her. Ester grunted as she pulled.

    "This... is why... I said... it was... a bad... Idea."

    April stammered.

    "That-That isn''t. It can''t be- That wasn''t- it wasn''t him."

    Ester dropped her a ways down the corridor.

    "Of course it is him. Just the crazy version."

    "Because of me... I did this... He saved me."

    "Stop that. Didn''t you hear? He isn''t calling your name. You didn''t do anything."

    April looked at her hands.

    "I didn''t do anything? What was I supposed to do? I came to help, but what can I do?"

    Ester rolled her shoulder before bending down, poking April in the forehead.

    "Nothing. No, Thing. You can''t help. You shouldn''t be here."

    "Who. Who is Melody? Why is he so angry. So sad?"

    Ester sighed, shaking her head.

    "Come on, get up. We''ll go to the library while things calm down. Can you walk?"

    April couldn''t move. Thus Ester was forced to drag her again as April shivered.

    Screams of agony drowning her thoughts.

    =

    Ester leaned back, splayed out on a couch. April was still shaken but managed to sort through everything Ester told her.

    "So, this... Melody person broke his heart. I understand that, but why is he so..."

    "Insane?"

    April didn''t respond.

    "Half the poison. Half what I told you. Melody, that bitch, did a number on him. It was his first love. An innocent and naive love. He is pretty hopeless, in my opinion."

    Silence.

    Ester scratched her head. Completely out of maid-persona.

    "To be fair, I trusted her too. I thought of her as a friend. Can''t believe that got by me. I''m usually a better judge of character."

    "Who is Veronica, then?"

    "Hm?"

    "Veronica. Didn''t Bellavarn call her name too?"

    Ester shrugged.

    "Don''t know. His mind is all whacked out, so maybe he is getting a name wrong. Nobody knows who Veronica could be referring to."

    April didn''t feel like it was nobody. It had to be important for Bellavarn to cry out the name with the same fervor as Melody.

    It suddenly occurred to April that she knew next to nothing about Bellavarn.

    All she knew was he worked hard, liked books, and was generally a good person. Was that enough? It made her crush seem pathetic.

    A little girl. That was what she was. Her mother was right. She did dream too much. Through wishful thinking, April put Bellavarn on a pedestal without actually getting to know who he was.

    But wasn''t that the purpose of courting someone? To get to know them. To go on dates and talk. To fall in love gradually? To develop a crush into something more? Their parents set them up initially, so it couldn''t be expected for them to know everything about each other. They didn''t start as childhood friends after all.

    Bellavarn didn''t know much about her either. All she did was nag him about books.

    But she loved books. That was who she was. That was-

    "Hey!"

    "Huh?"

    "Stop moping. You are bringing me down."

    "Oh. Sorry."

    "Stop apologizing. Bellavarn will heal, and the poison won''t kill him. It just makes him loopy."

    Ester twirled a finger over her temple.

    "Isn''t it painful?"

    "OH YEAH. Uber painful. Did you hear those screams? I wouldn''t want to be him right now."

    April felt conflicted.

    "You aren''t very good at cheering people up."

    Ester shrugged her shoulders again, angling her head back.

    "So I''ve been told. I am tired of frivolities and pampering. Lannie can do that."

    "Aren''t you a maid?"

    "Yup."

    A pause

    "Isn''t that a problem?"

    "Nope."

    "..."

    Ester groaned and sat up straight.

    "Look. I am tired. I''ve been up since 5 this morning... Yesterday... Whatever. I am tired. We are all tired. If you want someone to talk to, I can get Lannie. She will be happy to chat with you all night regardless of how tired she becomes. She''s too polite to speak up about something like that."

    "No... That''s okay. I..."

    Now what? What was she supposed to do? Her whole purpose in coming here went down the drain. Bellavarn was unreachable. There wasn''t-

    "HEY!"

    "What!"

    April snapped.

    Ester shrugged her shoulders.

    "Nothing."

    April fumed.

    "You are intolerable."

    "I know."

    "UGH!"

    Throwing up her hands, April didn''t know what to do.

    "At least you aren''t moping. Why don''t you look around? I am sure you can dig up some real info on Bellavarn as long as you aren''t drowning yourself in books and talking someone''s ear off the whole time."

    "I don''t-"

    "You do too. And we both know it."

    April held her retort.

    "He spends all his time here. Even sleeps here. That is his blanket you are sitting on."

    She jumped. Ester rolled her head.

    "It doesn''t have cooties. Relax. It''s cleaned. I am saying that Bellavarn spends all his time here, never going back to his room. This library is his home now. Search around. Maybe you''ll find his diary or something. I''m going to take a nap. If you have a question, don''t wake me. Ignore my snoring."

    Can a maid act like that?

    April didn''t know, but since it was happening, it wasn''t impossible.

    Getting up, she shuffled in place, examining the room. There was definitely more to this place than just books. There was a desk. Couches. That blanket. Wait. Were those cookies on the desk?

    That was how April spent the rest of the night dawdling around. Distracting herself.

    Among the things she learned was that Bellavarn was a talented illustrator. His drawings were amazing. She even found a sketchbook with a bunch of still life and portraits.

    Bellavarn had a sweet tooth. He liked sleeping on a couch for some reason. And it appeared he was learning how to knit¡ªhe wasn''t very good at it.

    On top of that, the plans for his doohickey seemed detailed. She tried playing with the thing-a-ma-jig invention resting on a shelf. After ten minutes of flipping and turning, she managed to hold it just right. When it started spinning, she nearly peed herself in surprise.

    Fascinated. April wanted one. In yellow. Did she ask for that already? What did he say?

    Her thoughts got woozy as more of her mana disappeared into the little device. She stared at the spinning device like a crackling fire that held all the world''s mysteries.

    Then she slumped backward. Dropping the device, she fell into a deep, mana-deprived slumber.

    Ester found her lying on the floor in the morning.

    Yawning, Ester left her there.

    The next person to find her was a very peeved Duke.

 Apple Juice

    "Someone is going to have to shovel all of that."

    Outside, it was a plain of glittering white, the sun reflecting brightly across the snowed landscape. Unmarred by the passage of pedestrians or plebeians, the mute winter was serene and calming, if not nerve-wracking and a tad eerie.

    "It will likely melt by the morrow. Only a few paths need be shoveled, and what isn''t will be trodden underfoot."

    Lecil raised an eyebrow.

    "Did your speech pattern change? Why are you speaking so eloquently, as if you are an old maid? Oh, wait."

    Irene winced. She was trying to sound more professional, like a Lady. However, she''d forgotten exactly who her company was.

    "I am only a handful of years older."

    "You''re twenty-five?"

    "I am."

    "You don''t look that old."

    "Is that a compliment, or?"

    "I was only teasing you. You look amazing.

    Irene shifted.

    "Oh. Thank you, Princess."

    Celia''s gotten used to the stuffy moniker, giving up trying to change it somehow. Better ''Princess'' than ''that bitch over there''. Lecil had overheard that gem from her sister. It wasn''t recent. But it still happened.

    "Where is Rain? Why haven''t I seen him around."

    "He'' not a fully fledged Royal Guard yet, so he needs to train with the others. Unless you''ve decided on going out again?"

    "Nah. Not today. I heard there''s is a festival around the corner."

    "The Equinox Festival celebrates the end of Winter. The capital will be in full swing with events."

    "Let''s do that then. Today, I want to hide away under the covers. Talking with Anne this morning has already drained me."

    "Was the Second Princess amiable this time around?"

    "When I mentioned I wanted to help her get with Duke Raiden, she was all over me."

    Irene stopped wiping the dresser mirror to give her full attention.

    "You want to set her up? With that Duke?"

    Lecil rolled her eyes.

    "I know, right? Fortunately, I know his type. Me."

    Irene squinted. Lecil clarified.

    "Duke Klein Raiden gets around, but he has never fallen in love. The reason being he is often at war and doesn''t have time. The girls he frequents are those that throw themselves at him. They give him fun but no substance. What he wants in a life partner is someone with flair; someone who talks back and speaks their mind. Someone like me."

    "Are you sure you aren''t acting conceited, Princess?"

    Lecil whirled, thrusting a finger to the air. A professor.

    "On the contrary, my dear Irene. I know all too well. A princess would be a good fit. Financially. Politically. It would be perfect. Me. That is. He wants to chase someone he can''t have since he has had everyone. I also have little interest in him."

    "Men do often chase women who aren''t interested in them..."

    Lecil snapped her fingers.

    "Exactly! A princess who fawns over him would be second best¡ªthe Second Princess. Anne doesn''t understand. She is good at everything I am not, but that makes her blind to men''s true feelings."

    Irene deadpanned.

    "And you know the secrets to all men''s true feelings... Princess."

    The last word was an afterthought. Like she forgot who she was talking to.

    "Yes."

    Unabashed, she called on knowledge from countless romance games.

    Men fell into types. Categories. They were easy to read, as well. How to handle them was her specialty.

    In the real world, Celia was quite stunning. She got her fair share of confessions. By note. Via a friend. Even a heartfelt spoken confession.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Three.

    It was only three times. But they still happened!

    One was in elementary school, and the other turned out to be false gossip, but the third was real.

    Celia turned him down.

    Real men just didn''t measure up. And the ones that did, she always found a fatal flaw. It may have been a product of too high expectations, and all those expectations could be met soundly within games. They always followed what she thought they were going to do. No muttered words. No ghosting. No chance of another girl coming into the equation unless it was scripted.

    Mistakes made could be rectified by clicking the "load previous save" button.

    Celia was addicted to games for the thrill without danger. Making up for her discrepancies in real relationships.

    Lecil bemoaned her counterpart''s thoughts. If anyone heard, she would die of embarrassment.

    "I want some chocolate."

    "Chocolate is expensive."

    "I am a princess! I can have some chocolate if I want to."

    "You will gain weight, princess."

    "Then I will be this world''s first fat princess. Please fetch me some chocolates."

    The brief silence made Celia wonder if Irene would refuse. Lecil was half hoping, but then Irene acknowledged the request.

    "I''ll make a run to the pantry. Do you need anything else?"

    "Some orange juice?"

    Irene''s glare could match her own.

    "...Apple juice?"

    "Apple juice it is. Anything else?"

    "No. Thank you."

    "It is my duty to serve."

    Watching Irene go left an odd taste in her mouth. It felt like Irene''s personality kept shifting. She was becoming more relaxed. Or maybe less reserved. Like a friend.

    Lecil smiled at the thought. Then the doors to her room slammed open again.

    "This isn''t the bathroom."

    Her smile vanished.

    Wasn''t there a new lock on that door?

    "No. It is my bedroom. Please don''t start pissing all over the floor."

    The intruder bellowed laughter. Boisterous and full-bellied.

    "Were you waiting for my maid to leave so you could sneak in? Not very gentlemanly."

    The laughter stopped¡ªa curious expression.

    "So you knew I was there?"

    "Of course."

    -

    Main Event - Make the Date

    Rewards: Affection+

    Consequences: Lose a love interest.

    -

    Klein Raiden rubbed his chin with a smirk.

    "You are interesting. For a princess. I knew it when I saw your hiding place during Trisha''s rampage."

    Was it intuition or were the enchantments more worn out that she thought? It didn''t matter. He didn''t get to judge her after barging into her bedroom.

    "And you are a Duke lacking in manners. Barging into my room and speaking of a Duchess without her title."

    Raiden glided over to a chair, sitting down and getting comfortable.

    "It is alright. We are rivals of a kind. Like friends. Friends can call each other by their first names."

    "That isn''t how aristocracy works."

    "I think it is."

    Lecil realized she wouldn''t get anywhere with this line of conversation. So she switched the direction discreetly.

    "What happened with your friend. Did she get her antidote?"

    Raiden crossed his fingers over his stomach.

    "That she did, though she didn''t wait. She stormed the jail cells during the blizzard and took the antidote for herself rather than wait for an investigatin.. They called me to stop the intruder but I couldn''t touch her since she is pregnant. I smoothed things over. No one died. No bid deal. Right?"

    "I would think it is."

    "Eh. You can''t stop Trisha once she''s put her mind to something. She has that kind of fiery temper. Kind of like you."

    "Please... Don''t."

    "You think highly of yourself and have your own sort of flair. It is attractive."

    Groaning internally, the conversation was at its destination. She just didn''t like the stench.

    "And did I overhear you are going to set me up with your sister? That is a tempting proposition, but I will have to pass. She seems fake."

    Lecil chortled.

    "Unfortunately, her infatuation is real. I can get her to act more normally. Make you the perfect pair."

    "Do you really believe that? Or is this your way of rejecting me before I even ask?"

    "Both."

    "Why?"

    "You are not my type."

    "Oh?"

    Raiden stood. Striding over, he came close to Lecil, invading her personal space but not touching. Lecil leaned backward. Raiden leaned forward, adopting a charming smile.

    "Am I really not your type?"

    "Hm..."

    GODS YES!

    Was he serious? Of course he was her type! He was every women''s dream. Everything from his defined jawline to his knowing smirk. Powerful shoulders and rusty red-brown hair. His rugged looks screamed badboy. The toned muscle hiding under his shirt made Celia want to extend a hand to feel. He was beyond sexy.

    Was her nose bleeding? No? Good.

    Giving these goods to Anne was a sacrifice that won a staunch sister/ally in addition to the Duke''s power. Why accept the Duke''s offer when she could have so much more?

    So with a sniff, Celia''s indecent proclivities were shoved into a box and Lecil answered with the expression that earned her the title of Ghost Princess.

    "No. You are not my type."

    Raiden''s smug face fell.

    "Oh. I see. Well then, there''s no help for it. I suppose we could go on a date. What do you say?"

    "No."

    "How about during the festival? I''ll win you lots of prizes."

    "Not interested."

    Raiden tapped his foot.

    "I am a Duke, you know. There aren''t many legitimate options for a princess, are there? What will going on a date hurt?"

    My sanity? My sister? Most importantly, my future.

    "I have told you my answer many times now. You should open your ears."

    "Is there no compromise to be had? Few women manage to pique my interest as you do. You were correct in assuming you are my type. I don''t fancy a long chase, however."

    Poor guy really wasn''t used to being rejected. The way he was trying to prod her into acquiescing was derogatory and insulting. These childish actions helped shatter Celia''s rose colored glasses.

    "How about you take my sister on that date? I am sure she would love it."

    "The Second Princess isn''t my type."

    "Like I was trying to say. She is your type. You just don''t know it yet."

    "I think you are trying to fight fire with fire."

    That was the first smart statement he spoke all afternoon.

    "Tell you what. I will compromise. Take my sister out. Win her gifts. Buy her food. And I will tag along. Anything she doesn''t accept, I will happily take."

    "I feel like I am getting the short end of the stick here."

    "You are. But it is either that, or I tell my brothers you snuck into my bedroom when I was alone."

    Raiden jolted. Even for a Duke, that was a lethal allegation. Worse because it was true.

    "Alright. Alright. You win. I''ll take Anne out once. I''ll leave you to tell her. I have to... um... there was this thing that... Oh! I think I can hear Ash calling my name. Gotta run."

    Finding an unlikely excuse, Raiden fled.

    A minute later, Irene returned with chocolate and juice. She found Lecil lying flat on her new, more mundane but significantly fluffier bed; arms splayed out wide.

    "Did something happen?"

    Lecil let out a long, guttural groan.

 Waking Up

    An immense weight burdened his eyelids¡ªthe promise of sight both temptation and distraction.

    With great effort, they opened.

    Bleary, he looked around. Yellow light streamed into his retinas, making him squint. Refocusing, vague voices reminded him he had ears. Retuning, it took a moment to process. There was a keyword mixed in there somewhere. A name.

    After another minute, he could see fully.

    He was in a room. As unfamiliar as it was occupied. Some sort of rest area. A work area. A serving station. It resembled a hastily built triage center without partitions: the centerpiece, being him and a bed.

    Looking around at the many faces, he recognized them one by one. Kerv and Henry were on his left. Ester and Lannie stood off to his right. Jeral backdropping his sister. Wilson, Cynthia, and Denise sat at a table. Even Nem and Vienna sat on a couch nearby.

    "About time you woke up."

    Ester. Brash as usual.

    Bellavarn blinked. Wincing.

    "Why do you all look as bad as I feel?"

    Several people sported minor injuries and sore bruises. Ester lifted a slung arm, the worst off.

    "You are more muscular than you look."

    Looking down at himself, he saw his wrapped stomach and bared chest. Bellavarn tried to cover himself but realized his arms and legs were bound.

    Before the blush registered, an eyebrow arched. His lips passing words automatically.

    "I didn''t realize I was your type, Ester."

    "Pfft."

    Ester waved her good arm in exasperation, exiting the boisterous room. Bellavarn''s ears rang slightly from the accompanying laughter.

    "Did you all have your way with me? I feel like I was run over by a carriage."

    Kerv slapped Bellavarn''s chest. Eliciting a sharp wince as Bellavarn couldn''t retaliate.

    "Ow! What! What is so funny? Stop laughing and untie me. Why am I tied up?"

    Confusion defined him.

    "Oof."

    A tackle caused the wind to be knocked out of him.

    "Lannie... I can''t... *huff* ...breathe."

    She didn''t let go. She whispered in his ear.

    "Ester was crying."

    "What?"

    Lannie extricated herself and fled before there was further questioning. Others taking her place. A teary-eyed Wilson was an unwelcome sight first thing in the morning. He blew his nose before hugging Bellavarn as well.

    "Get off of me! What is going on? Someone explain it to me. Kerv! Untie me. Untie me!"

    Then Wilson started to rub snot on Bellavarn''s shoulder.

    "Ew! Stop it! Stop! Please. Somebody. Get him off! Off! Shoo. That is disgusting. I am not a tissue; wipe your nose elsewhere."

    Kerv''s sardonic grin met Bellavarn''s pleading eyes placidly. Henry folded his arms and watched in amusement. The cheer in the room was exuberant. Lifted spirits and shared laughs. A good day. For everyone barring Bellavarn.

    "What the hell happened..."

    =

    "Soup?"

    "Aaah. You''re my savior Vienna."

    Bellavarn moaned in response to the intoxicating fumes. Was there a more lovely scent than this?

    Digging in, he filled his stomach with heaven''s nectar until it got uncomfortable to breathe. Feeling his full stomach impacting his lungs, Bellavarn handed the large pot back to a beaming Vienna. Her smile became infectious.

    "It was delicious. Much appreciated, Vienna."

    "Mhm."

    Vienna tiptoed away, the empty pot causing a spring to enter her steps.

    Most fled soon after Bellavarn awoke, expressing their relief and returning to other duties. Two additions he didn''t notice until after he finished eating were his parents.

    "Um... How long was I... I am not sure what to ask first."

    A cold smack attacked his cheek. He barely had time to register the pain before he was wrapped in a warm embrace. It was a nostalgic hug that only a mother could elicit.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    "Mom. You''re smothering me."

    Trisha said nothing, squeezing harder. Bellavarn honestly thought something might break, but that was when she let go, holding him at arm''s length.

    "I know I raised you to be good and kind, but you didn''t have to take a dagger to the gut to prove it to me. Never scare me like that again! "

    The memory flashed. A mob. A glint in the crowd. Pain. Nausea. And then here.

    There was also a vague recollection of shattered glass and scorching fire.

    He shivered.

    "I won''t. I promise. I am not looking to repeat such an endeavor."

    "Good. Now let me look at you. You look malnourished but considering you just consumed an entire pot of soup; I believe it is within reason to say you will make a full recovery."

    "I feel odd. A bit lighter."

    Braster answered the open question.

    "A side effect of your so-called endeavor. You unconsciously tapped into magic and expanded severely stretched your mana pool. It remains unstable for the moment, but after a few days rest, you will have more utility."

    Bellavarn''s face screwed up.

    "I''d rather have eaten untreated stinkweed."

    Trisha smiled brightly, pleased by her son''s answer. If Bellavarn had said he was glad to be attacked, she would have throttled him.

    "I imagine you would. The doctor''s recommendation is that you keep to the bed for at least another 24 hours. Your magic sped up your recovery, but don''t give that wound a chance to reopen. Anything you need can be brought here in the meantime."

    Kerv and Henry both nodded. Two other servants in the room bowed. Bellavarn was thankful to have them all, but his head couldn''t get wrapped around the time he''d been under.

    "Three days."

    Did he leave a kiln running?

    After reconfirming that they were set on a timer, more pressing questions bubbled up.

    "What happened with the attacker? The people? Is the charity still running? April! Is she safe?"

    When Braster didn''t speak, scratching his cheek instead, the Duchess spoke for him.

    "April is alive and healthy. Your father had harsh words with her, but we''ve gathered she didn''t have anything to do with the attack. She is in the study under temporary guard."

    "Under guard?"

    Braster.

    "There were some developments. She is unharmed, don''t worry. For now, know that the attacker was captured by Henry and that your mother and I are taking care of everything else. The staff continued your charity without further interruption and the people seem very pleased."

    "Considering they all kept their heads, they better be overjoyed. Or I will rectify that mistake."

    "Mother."

    "Now I am mother again? Why can''t you call me mom like earlier? Or Mommy like you used to."

    "Ew. Mom. No."

    Trisha sighed dramatically, having returned to her old self.

    "They grow up too quickly, Braster. He doesn''t even allow me to dote on him anymore."

    Bellavarn swatted her hand away as she was trying to smudge his cheek.

    "There''ll be a little one for you to dote on again. I bet they''ll even call you mommy."

    The situation became awkward as his parents started to act lovey-dovey. Whispered words. Hearing his mother giggle spelled doom for all.

    Not knowing how to feel or act in such a situation, Bellavarn tried to ignore what was happening by focusing on other occupants. It didn''t help that the staff remaining in the room were trying to look every which way except at the couple.

    Henry covered his eyes with a hand while Kerv stood ram-rod straight, facing the wall.

    "Pfft."

    Bellavarn laughed. It was too funny. His parents stopped.

    Kerv''s voice called over without turning.

    "What? What''s going on? What did I miss?"

    Bellavarn started coughing, holding his stomach as he laughed harder. Out of breath.

    Wiping at his eyes, he relished the moment.

    =

    "Thank you, Kerv."

    "What for?"

    Bellavarn buttoned his shirt.

    "For everything."

    It was just the two of them. The silence between them felt unnatural as Kerv avoided Bellavarn''s gaze.

    "I failed you."

    "You didn''t."

    "No, I did. I put you in a position where you could no longer rely on me to protect you. If I''d been more diligent, if I trained instead of goofing off, I could have handled the situation with ease."

    Bellavarn was about to say that this kind of talk wasn''t like him but stopped himself short. This hardheaded self-criticism was also a side of Kerv. Continuing to say it wasn''t Kerv''s fault would be like denying a part of him.

    "Do you still have that baton of yours?"

    Kerv''s expression flickered. Caught off-guard.

    "Yeah. It''s right here."

    The baton appeared in his grip. Slick and sheen. An ivory rod imitating the appearance of metal. It would fool most now that it was painted. Kerv held it awkwardly.

    "Grip it."

    Complying, Kerv gripped the small side handle. The baton was a more unique variety that Bellavarn recognized as a tonfa. He''d never heard of a baton being made from clay, but there was a first time for everything.

    "Practice a few swings and strikes for me."

    The baton lowered with a sigh.

    "I am not really feeling it right now, Bell. Is this important somehow?"

    "Just do it. Please? I want to see how you use it."

    A hung head. Bellavarn waited.

    Kerv stood with a huff and moved to an open space. Taking a stance, he wielded the baton in his left hand. He moved in rhythm. Slashing more than bashing. It turned and twirled in his grip. The whole time Kerv pivoted only one foot, keeping a defensive stance.

    Then he stopped.

    "There. Are you happy?"

    "I am satisfied. Are you?"

    Kerv crossed his arms. His eyebrows knitting and he was about to quip when Bellavarn cut straight to his heart.

    "Why did you fail?"

    A twitch.

    "Because I am not strong enough."

    "Bzzzz. Wrong. Try again."

    Kerv became flustered. Angry at the reversed positions. Why did Bell always have to act like he knew best? Shouldn''t Bellavarn need cheering up? Kerv is the adult in the room and could handle his own emotions. He didn''t need to stand this.

    A deep inhale through his nose, Kerv tried to relax but held his breath instead of releasing it.

    "There were too many. It was chaos, and I got caught up in the mess."

    "Closer. Elaborate."

    Rolled shoulders.

    "I couldn''t draw my sword. Killing or maiming wasn''t an option and subduing each of them took too long. If I trained more in hand to hand combat, I could have freed up my space."

    Bellavarn smoothed out a fold in his blanket, smiling wryly. Why are answers so clear when viewing a problem that is not your own?

    "Why didn''t you use the baton?"

    Kerv blinked twice. Finally breathing out as he stared down at the new weapon.

    Bellavarn laughed bitterly.

    "The others are likely blaming themselves as well. Henry for not realizing the true nature of the crowd or preventing it. Jeral for getting distracted and hitting me. Kyle likely felt trapped in evacuating everyone and feels guilty for not joining his friends. And the non-combatants? What could they do except watch everything fall apart?"

    The stone ceiling was one Bellavarn vaguely recognized. It used to be blocked by a wooden overhang. It was gone now, along with the beams that supported it. His bed. His entire room was transformed.

    It took longer than he would have liked to figure it out.

    A sad smile.

    "I blame myself for all of the above. I lacked the foresight to prevent the situation and combat skills to solve it swiftly. I could do nothing but throw my body in the way of an attack. I didn''t tackle the attacker or push April out of the way. I took the blow straight on. Hah! Why do you think that is? To prove I could do it? To frighten the attacker?"

    Bellavarn shook his head.

    "Forget it. Philosophy isn''t productive. We were talking about you."

    "Bell."

    He held up a hand.

    "It''s fine. About your baton. You are clearly skilled with it already. Use it. No one will expect such an unorthodox weapon. Waiting for me to enchant it or doubting your ability will waste time and potential."

    "I suppose you are right."

    "I know I am."

    "You take after the Duchess."

    Bellavarn''s face screwed up.

    "I''ll accept that statement for the positives in it. But, Kerv?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Can you bring her to me?"

 The Girl

    Everything is so clear in hindsight. The mistakes seem so obvious and blaring that everyone should have noticed. Those little breadcrumbs previously overlooked in favor of more pressing or interesting matters. Bellavarn should have known.

    Fool me once¡ªshame on you. Fool me twice¡ªshame on me. Fool me thrice...

    It was time to prepare and set the board in his favor. The first piece... Perhaps the most important piece was the person he called to meet him.

    Sitting upright in his bed, he was calm. Determination replacing possible anxiety. A figure appeared in the doorway¡ªa petite, recognizable silhouette. Bellavarn smiled with his eyes.

    She walked over to sit on a wooden chair near his bed. Many people rotated through that chair already, regaling him with their own stories and feelings. He''s learned everything that happened in his absence, from one mouth or another, or seven at once. Now, it was finally her turn.

    Bellavarn tossed.

    "Think fast!"

    Both her arms raised to block the object. The folded piece of paper fell harmlessly into her lap.

    Ester glared, replacing her arm in the sling.

    "Jerk. What is this?"

    Chuckling.

    "Instructions. Along with your pay increase, as promised."

    Ester tsked. Puffing out a lip.

    "I just finished fooling the others. Why do I have to do another job so soon?"

    "Lannie said you cried. Was that true?"

    She folded her arms. Looking away.

    "It was part of the act. It was difficult to create believable crocodile tears."

    "I thought I told you not to lie to me."

    "No. You didn''t."

    "...I am saying it now. Also, your concern for me is touching."

    "I told you I didn''t..."

    She trailed off. Bellavarn held a knowing smile. Then it faded. He remembered the tales of the others who came to him. Serious, he spoke softly.

    "It was bad, wasn''t it?"

    Ester looked at him sideways then glanced away with a huff. A small nod was her answer. Bellavarn sighed.

    "I don''t remember much. Just a lot of pain. I was lucky you were able to get my message during such a garbled mess."

    Ester huffed.

    "I am a cut above the others."

    "Yes. You are."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Ester relaxed, unfolding her arms and picking up the paper.

    "So, what is this about?"

    Bellavarn smiled.

    "First, tell me if the number on top is good enough for you."

    An eyebrow flinched. She eyed Bellavarn.

    "This is four times my salary. Are you bribing me? I don''t need the money."

    Bellavarn enjoyed teasing her more than other people.

    "That is sweet, but it will be required if you decide to take the job. I''ve set it aside slowly over the past month. No one will know about this. Not my father, my mother, or even Lannie."

    Ester read the information in silence It wasn''t long, but there were a lot of details that would need to be memorized. The farther she read, the more she put the pieces together. Her eyebrows rising further and further until she held the paper with both hands. At the end was an image, unrecognizable without the accompanying information.

    Incredulous.

    "This is madness. Not to mention dangerous."

    "Will you take the job?"

    "This isn''t just about the job. If I am caught, I will be killed. I am not that great of an actor!"

    "Ester..."

    "Why do you have to do this? Why do I have to do this?"

    She stood with a harrumph. A stern voice halted her stomping.

    "Ester."

    Bellavarn knew it was a lot to take in, but Ester was the only one he could trust for this mission. She was to only one to pick up on Bellavarn''s message. The intelligence lurking behind Ester''s uncaring facade was second to none. She was just too lazy to use it.

    "No one else can do it. If I did it myself, do you realize how easily things would fall apart? You are the only person I can trust to get it done in secrecy. I need you."

    Her arms hung at her sides. Looking down at the bedridden Bellavarn, she was glad he wasn''t insane anymore. Instead, he was only mad.

    Maybe if it had been me and not Melody that day...

    No. Ester is a terrible teacher and would have lost her patience. Looking at Bellavarn now, seeing a completely different person from a year ago, Ester knew she could never have brought about the man in front of her. Bellavarn was a man worth following now. Madness and all.

    Not to mention betraying his trust would make her feel shitty.

    "Fine. I''ll do it."

    "Thank you, Ester."

    "Yeah, yeah. Do I still have to teach you to knit?"

    Bellavarn blinked.

    "Ah. No. I''ll have Lannie help me. I''ve almost got one half-finished."

    "What happened to all that inspiration from earlier, hmm?"

    Looking ashamed, Bellavarn rubbed the back of his head.

    "I failed. Again..."

    Ester smacked her face. Maybe taking the job wasn''t the best idea. Bellavarn twiddled his fingers, abashed. Then his mouth formed an O.

    "Oh! Can you do me another favor?"

    Her stare melted a hole straight through him.

    "What? It''s not big! If was going to ask you to bring April here, seeing as I am bedridden on doctor''s and father''s orders. Maybe stationing someone outside the door would have been smarter, but I wanted this conversation to be private. Ah, if you could ask Misses Vale for some cookies. And Vienna for more soup! Also, ask Wendle to set aside another small plot for flowers. I wanted to grow something tamer. Ah, and actually, if you could also-You know what? I will make a list for it. Here, just let me..."

    He reached for parchment and pen but stopped.

    "Ester? Ester! Where''d you go?"

    =

    "April."

    "Whaat! I wasn''t touching anything, I swear!"

    A spinning top swiveled to a stop.

    April grimaced.

    "Bellavarn called for you."

    Ester left before April had a chance to object, interject, intervene, intrude, iterate, or pronunciate.

    ...

    April has been stuck reading a dictionary to calm her nerves.

    She''d gathered that he was awake by now. That was why she''d been so nervous and fidgety. She''d found the small spinning top placed on one of the bookshelves during her second day here. It had been hidden behind a thick, robust dictionary. With little else to do but read, that was what she did. When she got bored or anxious, she played with the spinning top since it didn''t drain her mana and make her pass out and be found/awoken by an angry, angry duke and be rebuked for over an hour before the Duchess came to her rescue.

    April glared fiercely at the toy like it wronged her.

    Suddenly realizing that all the waiting was over, she became overly conscious of her appearance. She''d been stuck here for a few days, grateful but also unwilling. Thankfully the Duchess took care of her, along with that maid Parcy. Otherwise, she wouldn''t have even had the chance to bathe or change clothes.

    Looking down at herself, she liked the green she wore. Bellavarn once said he liked the color on her, so it''s become one of her favorites colors. It was a favorite before, of course, but now it was her favorite-er-er!

    Smoothing out a crease, she stiffly walked over to the guards at the door. Only wobbling an itsy bit.

 April and The Renegade

    April''s breath caught in her chest. The surroundings faded away, and her whole world became a singular person. A man standing when he should be lying. His entire existence a shining beacon overshadowing an inky umber night. Golden hair glittering. His back provided a cozy shade where lost souls could seek sanctuary. The stalwart figure turned, smiling, his words lost on her ears.

    Her verdant green eyes were unable to retreat from his visage. Her ears allowed the fantasy to continue for another moment before they brought her back.

    "April?"

    She blinked.

    Bellavarn sat up in his bed. Clothed. A hand resting over a small journal on his lap. His image was not unlike the one in her mind. The only difference was that this visage looked mortal¡ªan inspiring and beautiful visage. But mortal.

    Her throat betrayed her. Making the words squeak out softly. The words were meant to mean so much, but offered so little. Sorry for everything and more. For the past and the future. Recognition of wrongful deeds and a promise to correct mistakes. An oath of loyalty and commitment. Pitiful words from a little girl hopelessly in love.

    "I''m sorry, Bellavarn."

    His smile hurt her. The kindness in his eyes was too much. The way the corners of his lips turned his cheeks, his nose twitching slightly. She averted her gaze toward her hands, examining thin fingers dancing awkwardly with themselves.

    "I made a choice, April. I didn''t think I''d be poisoned, but I would do it all again. As long as it was me and not you."

    Her whole body twitched¡ªcomplex feelings whirling through her stomach. April''s neck squirmed into her shoulders.

    "Why..."

    There wasn''t a response to her trailing words. Her eyes flickering up, registering a sweet expression before flickering back down¡ªpicking nails.

    "Why, what? Why did I do it? Or, why would I do it again?"

    April only bobbed her head, orange hair blocking her sight.

    She could hear his intake of breath. Goosebumps crawled across her skin, all the way down to her clammy hands.

    In her periphery, she glimpsed Bellavarn leaning back, relaxing his neck against a plush pillow. April''s imagination conjured a dozen different scenarios before Bellavarn answered.

    "Because of pain."

    Her eyebrows pressed together. She tried to make the word fit into a mold she conjured, but it fit none of her expectations. She stopped picking her nails and looked back up at Bellavarn. April expected him to look tired or drained, but he was resolute. His ocean-blue gaze could be interpreted as intense, but to April it looked like a calm sea rippling against the short of a summer green prairie.

    April realized she was seeing her own eyes reflected in Bellavarn''s. The colors blended together to make something otherworldly.

    "I jumped into that blade to receive its pain. Whether I was trying to punish myself or not, I haven''t figured that out. All I know is that I didn''t want you to feel it."

    He continued.

    "If I wanted to be more grandiose, I could say I received the pain of the people. Their starving hunger and rational fear. Metaphorically, I received their burden and helped them overcome it."

    "But you suffered for it!"

    The ferocity of the words surprised her and she found herself on her feet, eyes pleading for something unknown.

    "I did."

    Bellavarn''s voice was low and solemn.

    "It hurt."

    April''s legs sat herself back down.

    "It hurt a lot."

    Her heart twinged. April remembered the screams and shrill cries of utter agony. That rampaging creature lashing out, his soul was weeping.

    "I know that you were here when I was... not... right. I wish you didn''t see me in that state, but I''ve accepted it. It did hurt."

    A pause.

    "But I would do it again because I know I can handle that pain. More than you. More than the others."

    "It hurts others when you are in pain."

    Once again, her own words shocked her. Where had they come from?

    Bellavarn nodded.

    "I am grateful to have friends like them. They''ve helped me, and I owe them the world. And I will give it to them should they ask."

    April felt a twinge of jealousy.

    "Which brings me to my point."

    She waited, holding her breath.

    "I''ve been cold to you."

    Bafflement.

    "What! No, you haven''t. You''ve been nothing but kind to me. You took a blade in the gut for me!"

    Bellavarn shook his head.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "No. I''ve been suspicious. We all have. You''ve heard it from my father."

    April shivered.

    "And my mother."

    April literally froze, remembering her first encounter with Trisha Sallow. She shook her head violently. Not wanting to remember that.

    "I was betrayed by someone close to me. I bounced back, became friends with the staff, and was in the middle of creating a brand new invention. Then, all of a sudden, you walked in. It was like fate was repeating. I would''ve be an idiot not to be suspicious of your intentions and motivations. It was unfair, but I never truly trusted you."

    "You didn''t?"

    Bellavarn shook his head sadly.

    "No. I didn''t."

    "Oh."

    April came to terms with that. If she''d been in his shoes, it might have been the same. The words felt oddly comforting to her at this moment. She was working up the courage to speak when more words pierced her heart.

    "I like you."

    Time stopped for her then. The words weren''t expected. Not at this moment. No. It was a complete 180. She expected him to say "let''s be friends" instead. To tell her that it wouldn''t work between them. That there was no trust.

    "I like you, April. And I want to make it up to you."

    His smile was so pure and delicate. His heart displayed on his sleeve. Open as a book.

    She felt her eyes welling up. April could see the truth of his words and it made her heart flutter.

    "You make me smile when I see you. And it is time I stopped denying your feelings, as obvious as they are."

    He leaned forward and wiped a stray tear. His face was close. Too close. Hammering in her chest. His laugh was gentle, and his smile was her world. She couldn''t get her eyes off his lips...

    And then they brushed hers.

    Melting.

    =

    Bellavarn pulled away, his face still warm. Breathe coming short. The vision of the girl in front of him did crazy things to his heart. Seeing her pink lips, imagining how sweet they tasted, then realizing he knew. He tried focusing on her eyes instead, but he quickly got lost in twin shimmering emerald marbles.

    They stayed like that for a while. Gazing into each other, remembering the moment, wishing for more.

    With a breathy exhale, April leaned back. Bellavarn did the same, taking a moment to cool down.

    "That was my first kiss..."

    Innate shyness bubbled up.

    "Ah. Well... I hope it wasn''t bad. I''m not exactly experienced either."

    "It was... magical."

    He felt all the blood rush to his face and quickly averted his gaze. He hadn''t planned the kiss, but it felt right, and he couldn''t resist. What he actually wanted to say was this...

    "So. I was thinking. Maybe we can go on a real date. There is a festival coming up and..."

    He trailed off, leaving the offer open-ended. It pained him to realize that their "date" to the charity ended so horribly. It also caused massive internal suffering when he conjectured their trip to the cemetery as their first date. Bellavarn wanted to get rid of those feelings immediately, scratching them from the board. Their first date could be different. Planned. Perhaps a tad magical?

    An odd sensation overcame him for a millisecond. A vague distinction of rattling. Like the clinking of chains.

    "I..."

    He turned to face April once again. Except, her eyes were different.

    "I''m sorry, but my mother has plans for me."

    It wasn''t her voice saying those words. It was, but it wasn''t. It was like all the emotion was gone and all that was left was cold pragmatism.

    "Oh. Then... Maybe another time. Did you have something else in mind?"

    April''s silence pained him. Looking at her, Bellavarn worried. Something seemed to switch off. There was no trace of the emotion or moment they shared. It was almost like that day at the palace.

    "I''m sorry. I don''t know if we will be able to see each other for a while."

    This was April. It was April. It was her. But something was different. What chilled his bones was that he recognized that look. Twice. One from the palace on the face of a princess. And the other from someone he once cared for.

    "I''m not sure I understand. Did my father say something to you?"

    There was a faint click in her jaw, as if she didn''t want to say these words.

    "I think we should slow things down. Take some time."

    "Was it the kiss? I didn''t mean to scare you."

    Her lips sealed.

    Bellavarn felt something stir in his chest. Was it pain? He felt himself grasping regardless of how intangible it was.

    "I know I wasn''t wrong in that you liked me. I like you too. So what is standing between us? Your mother?"

    Her eyes avoided his. He moved, trying to catch them. She was retreating. Going somewhere far, far away, and he didn''t know where.

    "Don''t pull back, please. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won''t push you away. I said I would carry your pain, didn''t I? Tell me what is wrong and I will fix it."

    She kept her gaze away from his until he got right in her face again. What he saw was absence. Something chilling. Did he see something? Were those... Chains?

    April abruptly stood. He pulled back so they wouldn''t headbutt.

    "Here."

    The offered hand was unexpected. A small folded cloth was held gently in April''s outstretched hand.

    Bewitched, he accepted the gift. He recognized it as a handkerchief. It was an offering of affection among the noble circles. The mixed signals were pulled him in two directions. Bellavarn knew something was wrong but couldn''t understand how to fix it. He felt as if he were a marionette, the puppet master cackling in delight, watching Bellavarn''s awkward struggle.

    The small colored image stitched into the fabric resonated with him. All his hair stood on end.

    A wizard.

    An inch tall. The golden-haired wizard smiled. Covered in purple robes, holding a sparkling wand.

    It hammered into his soul. Drums were beating in his ears. He heard them before they came.

    They were chains wrapping around his consciousness. They were illusionary, but the effect was real. Bellavarn could feel it bringing up all his fears. The fear of betrayal. Fear of rejection. The fear of inadequacy.

    The intangible chains bound him in fear like a demon who knew how to exploit the primal emotion.

    Fear consumed him as it did April and those before him.

    No.

    The chains rattled.

    I won''t let you.

    The cold iron burned.

    Scorching hot.

    Pain.

    Ozone and the taste of iron. Bellavarn bit his tongue.

    The chains oozed against his consciousness like melting magma determined to distract and agonize.

    It took away his vision, trapping Bellavarn in the darkness of death once again.

    That was the demon''s mistake.

    Rebellion.

    A renegade revolted.

    This pain was nothing.

    This pain is tolerable.

    Preferable!

    Never as painful as isolation. As the searing flames of rejection. As a maiden''s cry for help.

    *SNAP*

    Cacophonous shattering.

    The illusion broke and Bellavarn awoke. Blood dribbled down his lip. Through bleary eyes he could see the retreating back of April. The green undertones in her clothes fluttered away. Curly ginger hair bobbing.

    "April..."

    A scratchy voice. Bellavarn tried again.

    "April!"

    She didn''t respond as Bellavarn clattered to the floor. Grunting. His wound reopened. She couldn''t hear him. He had no other choice. A piece of paper snapped between his fingers.

    *Bang*

    His world flashed white in an instant, eardrums ringing.

    Reorienting. Groaning. Warm crimson liquid chilled his skin. A deep breath.

    "KERV!"

    Bellavarn''s vision shimmered back into place as he stumbled to his feet. April continued out the doorway as if she hadn''t been affected by the flashbang. Then she stopped, bumping into an armored figure.

    Kerv.

    "Hold her still. Don''t hurt her!"

    Kerv complied, grabbing April''s shoulders. April thrashed wildly. Completely unlike herself. She tried to kick and bite but was unable under Kerv''s magic enhancements. He called out, a bit perplexed.

    "What happened, Bell? Should I-"

    He didn''t get a chance to finish as Bellavarn took April from him. Shaking her, he shouted.

    "Snap out of it! April. Are you there?"

    "Let go of me. Let go!"

    She kicked and squirmed. A punch landed on his wounded stomach, causing him to fold in. Still holding on, he called to her.

    "Wake up. You are safe. It is me."

    A hand clawed at his face; he dodged narrowly.

    "April..."

    "Murderer! Rapist! Savage! Unhand me!"

    "Bell, let me-"

    "Master Bell! What is going on-"

    "Is that April? What is she-"

    Even as others arrived, no more words were uttered as the unthinkable occurred.

 Devils Playground

    Holding herself, April wandered her mindscape in solitary silence. It was an unfamiliar and scary place. This and that she recognized, but with no sky or plants, the cold gray walls felt like a dungeon.

    A brisk wind blew through the office building. Paper fluttered. A trash bin rolled across the floor like a tumbleweed. A turned over conference table seemed to have acted as a shield against an unknown foe.

    A snack dispenser flickered and buzzed as an overhead light swayed. Ereie whistling from a distant teapot. A large board of blinking lights. Labels in another language. Levers.

    April stretched upward for the levers. Maybe they would open a door or make her wake from this nightmare. Alas, she couldn''t reach. The curse of her short existence.

    *Mphf*

    Muffled sounds. A floor panel opened. Out popped a miniature version of April.

    Dessed in a brown trench coat and matching detectives cap, the mini-april looked around with narrowed eyes before climbing out. Small round feet plopped onto the tiled floor. Posing, Hard-Boiled April puffed on her pipe. Bubbles floated out anticlimactically.

    For some reason, neither of them were overly surprised to see the other.

    "Who are you?"

    "No time. Follow."

    HB''s footsteps made criminally cute sounds as she towed April to a hidden door behind a filing cabinet.

    Searching left and right. HB waved April through. Walking in tandem, HB''s detective cap was level with April''s belly button.

    "You don''t remember the other times. Only I do."

    "What don''t I remember?"

    HB put away her pipe, appearing serious, dramatic lighting framing her face.

    April wanted to pinch HB''s cheek. She was so cute and small and all dressed up. But it would be like pinching herself and April thought it might hurt. Wait... Did she just call herself cute?

    Shaking away the thought, April listened intently to HB''s cutesy voice.

    "The chained ones. They come to bind us, dangling our worst fears in front our noses, manipulating us to act the way they want. We tried to rebel, but resisting hurts us. We were close this time. So close..."

    They walked through a dusty hall. HB dragging April by the hand.

    "Stay low."

    April complied, ducking her head underneath some fallen support beams. Backstage to whatever machinations went on inside her head. April whispered.

    "Where are we going?"

    HB paused. Turning with unnecessary drama

    "To free the others."

    =

    The further April traveled, the more worried she became. The damage to this complex wasn''t negligible. Crossing wires sparked and sputtered, blocking their path forward. HB searched all around before craning her neck.. April''s gaze followed, noticing a bent vent.

    "Up."

    HB threw both her hands up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. HB wanted April to lift her.

    She''s so cuuute!

    HB''s stopped bouncing and pouted her cheeks. It was a cuteness overload.

    "Hurry. We don''t have long."

    "Ah. Right. Up you go."

    HB weighed next to nothing. Firmly inside, April was next. Jumping, she heaved her arms up, proud of her upper body strength. Squirming her way in, she was met with a burst of air.

    *Pft*

    "Uuck."

    "Sorry. It''s the seltzer."

    "Uwah. It... Why does it smell like strawberries?"

    April could vaguely see HB shrug through blurry eyes.

    "That''s what you want them to smell like. Now come on, we don''t have long. The time difference is vast but not nearly enough to get comfortable."

    Gagging a bit, April grunted and followed along. Crawling on hands and knees. For once, she was glad for her small stature, making it easier to worm her way through the vents. That was the strange bit, though. Vents. How did she understand that they were such? There was no such engineering in existence. Normally runes would serve to heat or cool homes. Air filtration was never an issue. These vents might as well be secret passages hidden between palace walls, harboring vermin, eavesdroppers, and fugitives.

    The Waning World.

    It was a book she stumbled upon while categorizing history texts in the Grand Library. Instead of simply filing it away, April read the whole thing. She ended up classifying it as fiction because it explained the existence of strange machines and mechanical engineering.

    What about the previous room. Wires? So much metal. Levers and blinking lights.

    Harnessing Thunder.

    A theoretical thesis describing golem creation using controlled electric currents. Tossed into a recycling bin by a professor after being ripped apart by the judges.

    How could April rationalize moving screens? Pictures captured in eternity, recorded for viewing.

    "Thank yourself for reading so much. Since you stretched your imagination, our mindscape is different from others."

    HB whispered from ahead.

    "Everyone''s head looks this way, but they perceive it differently and aren''t able to interact with it in the same way we can. The downside is that the chained ones know this place better than we do."

    "The chained ones?"

    "They-shush."

    Clattering.

    Peeking through a grate in the vent, they saw something crash into a turned-over filing cabinet. Papers and folders spilled everywhere. April felt a throbbing in her head as the documents spilled out. The figure damaging the room wasn''t so much a figure as a mass of swirling, clinking chains.

    Her pounding headache worsened as the amalgamation demon tossed everything else in the room before moving on. spun out of the room.

    "Jerk. The others are going to make me clean that up."

    A pause.

    "Not that I''ll listen."

    HB continued forward, grumbling. April''s headache subsided, deescalating into a mere sense of loss. The cabinet. April felt like it held something important but couldn''t pick out what exactly.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "They always create a mess. It makes it more difficult for both of us to operate, but they prefer it that way."

    "Are those files my memories?"

    "What? No. Well. Kind of. It is more complicated than that. Our memories are stored elsewhere. You can think of that cabinet and the mess they create as decreasing your rationality. You''d only be a bit more irritable, or jittery, or..."

    HB tooted.

    "...gassy."

    =

    April recovered. She blocked out the journey to the end of the vents. Holding her nose, she watched worriedly as HB jumped up and down on a grate.

    "Isn''t that dangerous? What if there are monsters out there."

    "Hah! Monsters... *jump* More like... *jump* Invaders...*jump*."

    HB crashed through, falling several feet to the floor below with a clatter. April poked her head out.

    "Are you mad?"

    Wincing. HB recovered quickly.

    "We need to hurry. Can''t you hear the words you''re spouting?"

    "What is that supposed to mean?"

    April hopped down, more gently than HB did. One of her pants legs still got torn. April lamented the loss. Though... it did give her more of a "sexy-survivor" appeal.

    HB sighed.

    "In the real world. Outside yer noggin. You''re spouting nonsense."

    "What am I saying?"

    "You''re rejecting Bellavarn."

    "WHAT!"

    "Shhhh."

    HB jumped on April, muffling her tantrum. April struggled but couldn''t throw off the persistent munchkin. Calming down, they separated. April hissed.

    "You better explain. How do we fix this? I don''t want to reject Bellavarn!"

    "Yes. Yes. Follow. I will explain."

    April did, stepping over scattered office supplies and unopened snacks. HB drew in a breath.

    "They like Bellavarn. And I mean really like him. They didn''t show up much before we met him. A bit during childhood. A bit in adolescence. Nothing extreme like today. Now, they are wrecking the place, determined to hurt Bellavarn."

    "Why does everyone want to hurt him? What did he do?"

    "Nothing. Not that we can tell. But the chained ones are determined to break him. Or to control him. They want him to act out. They are controlling you to reject him."

    "Why, though? Why can''t they just let him be happy."

    "If you don''t know how am I supposed to? I am your subconscious, I can speculate, but that is it. We need to fight back. To do that, we need the others."

    "Fine. Where are they?"

    "Right here."

    April stopped. Looking around, she saw nothing but an empty room. HB pointed up. April gasped.

    High above, roping chains writhing across the ceiling, restraining hundreds of small figures. Bound, they appeared unconscious. Spinning in place, April got dizzy trying to count them all. The Mini-Aprils looked to be having nightmares.

    "See! Look at the monitors."

    April tore her eyes away from above and looked at the far wall filled with screens. A few were broken, but together they made up an image of what was happening outside. Speakers displayed filtered sound.

    "I think we should slow things down. Take some time."

    April was furious.

    "Why am I saying that? I don''t want things to slow down. Kiss me again, dammit!"

    HB stopped fiddling with controls to raise an eyebrow.

    "What? It... it was nice. Don''t judge me, you''re me.

    April hid her embarrassment in anger.

    "Anyway! What is going on, and why did I say that?"

    "They are controlling your actions. I intended to free the others, but we don''t have time. Quick, pull that lever."

    "What does it do?"

    "Hurry!"

    April did. She heard Bellavarn''s voice.

    "Was it the kiss? I didn''t mean to scare you."

    There was no response. She thought the feed froze, but she could still see Bellavarn''s worried face. The lines in his forehead creasing. She wished she could reach through and rub them out. HB wooted.

    "If you have nothing nice to say, don''t say anything at all!"

    *BLARE*

    Red lights flashed. A siren rang. The duo covered their ears, swiveling around.

    "Uh-oh."

    "Uh-oh, what!"

    "I wasn''t thinking. They know we are here."

    The ground shook, and she could hear distorted warbling overlap the alarms. HB slammed a button, the alarms turning off. Continuing, she moved to a console, typing furiously.

    "What now? What do I do?"

    "They are coming! We can''t beat them without the others."

    April''s breathe quickened, searching for a way to bring the others down. The chains didn''t lead anywhere. There was no convenient link to free them. The doorway they came through darkened. The atmosphere grew chilly.

    A huge writhing mass of metal links thrummed as they clanked against one another. A ball of cold iron floated, only darkness inhabiting the center of the demon.

    April flopped her arms.

    "We''re boned."

    HB finished typing. Shouting.

    "The red button! Push it!"

    April whirled, searching. It was against the far wall, huge, round, and tantalizing.

    Why does it have to be so far!

    April sprinted for the button. HB waddled for the opposite button.

    The creature of chains screeched. Links shooting out. Racing.

    Three more steps.

    Two steps.

    One.

    *Ting*

    "I did it!"

    A chain wrapped around her ankle.

    "Oh, poo-wooooaah!"

    April flew into the air, held aloft, she dangled there. An upside-down pirouette, April spun to see HB hanging with her. Folding her arms, she droned.

    "That did something, I hope."

    HB frowned, which was actually a smile. She jerked a thumb back to the screens.

    April witnessed herself standing, holding out a gift. The gift. The one she embroidered herself.

    Lurching and motion sickness.

    *Thud*

    April smacked into the ceiling, squishing HB and a few others. Reorienting, April saw the figure at the computer, tentacled appendages keying and pulling levers. She had time to see her real body turn away.

    "Hey! I wanted to see his reaction! Turn me back or else."

    April squirmed and pulled. Trying to free herself. Unable.

    Helpless, she watched herself walk away. Then she heard the creature speak, clinking oddly to create words.

    "...transmission... failure. Receptors."

    "What is it doing?"

    HB''s head popped out from underneath April''s abdomen. A deep breath. She coughed.

    "Uh... It is switching off the sound."

    "Why would it?"

    A flash and the monitors were all the same color. Like April had just been blinded.

    April turned to HB.

    "How do we get out of here?"

    "I have something sharp in my pocket. Can you reach it?"

    "You''re underneath me; how can I?"

    "Right. Sorry. Maybe try wiggling?"

    April wiggled.

    "Ow! Ow! Ow! New plan. New plan."

    April stopped. HB panted.

    "Get. Angry."

    April dead-eyed the trapped munchkin. HB attempted a nod.

    "Good start. Now, really angry!"

    "You want me angry; you got it!"

    "Great! More. I, uh, I spit in your tea! Yeah! I ripped that new lime dress you bought."

    "I was planning to wear that next week!"

    "I threw out that book you were halfway into."

    "YOU WHAT!"

    The book comment threw her over the edge. She writhed and fought, trying to crush the traitor beneath her bottom. Then all of a sudden, a chain link popped..

    "Huh?"

    April was so surprised she stopped fighting.

    "Don''t stop now!"

    The beast rotated. A flurry of chains slammed into them, wrapping April like a mummy. April groaned at how tight it was.

    Sweat dripping off her forehead, April wheezed.

    "Hey. Isn''t that Kerv?"

    HB''s words came muffled, squeezed between April and a hard place.

    "Good on you. You remembered his name."

    "Shut it. Hey! Bellavarn''s back. What is he shouting? I can''t hear him."

    "Audio is still off."

    The monster below tapped the keys furiously. April saw her real body fight. Punching. Kicking. Biting. Not unlike her actions a moment ago. The sound turned back on.

    "Let go of me! Let go!"

    "Those are my words!"

    "Perhaps it likes irony."

    April watched her own fist land on Bellavarn''s wound. The pain in Bellavarn''s eyes hurt her.

    "I didn''t mean it, Bell!"

    "April..."

    "Murderer! Rapist! Savage! Unhand me!"

    April fumed.

    "NO! Those aren''t my words. Bell! Please! It''s me. I''m here. I''m here!"

    The monster seemed to laugh at April''s futile struggle.

    Then the whole world turned white.

    =

    In the real world...

    "Oh my."

    "Master Bellavarn."

    "Did he just? Is he..."

    "Are my eyes playing tricks?"

    "No! He''s just kissing her, you moron."

    "Turn around. Stop watching."

    "I can''t stop staring."

    "He''s good at it, too."

    "I''ll say."

    *Whack*

    "Alright! Show''s over. Turn around, or I''ll beat you with this stick."

    "Aww. Kerv, you''re no fun."

    The staff begrudgingly turned.

    =

    The demon blew backward, flying out the doorway. April felt the kiss on her lips. It was rough at first. Filled with desperation. Then it was soft and caring. Warm. Like the first.

    The chains all broke into motes of light¡ªa virtual rain of Mini-Aprils.

    April landed comfortably on plushy bodies.

    "Hey!"

    "Oops. Sorry."

    A bespectacled munchkin got up with a huff. They all began waking, getting up, groaning. One near the monitors pointed up.

    "Hey. Are we still kissing him?"

    Another called out.

    "Oh yeah we are!"

    "Someone press the button that makes us break away."

    "Hm... I don''t really want to."

    "Prudes."

    "I heard that. Who said it?"

    "It was her."

    "No, it wasn''t. It was her."

    "Liar."

    "Nu-uh."

    A bungle of Mini-Aprils rolled around, fighting. April smacked herself.

    "Alright, that''s enough. We should stop the kiss. I feel short of breath."

    Then the lights went out.

    =

    "April? April!"

    "Did she faint?"

    "Was it that good! Can he kiss me next?"

    Cynthia bonked the younger maid on the head.

    "Ow! Hey... I was just saying."

    =

    The feed went out, switching to static and blue light. April turned. Looking to the dark doorway, ambient light shone off metallic chains. The mass grew. And grew. And Grew!

    The monster of metallurgy hovered, twenty feet tall.

    A boss monster.

    It spoke¡ªgarbled words barely decipherable in over static.

    "...anomaly... It is... abnormal- twice as resistant as... Mel-. At this rate... Orders?"

    A response came that shook the entire room.

    "...Insignificant..."

    The mass sped up. Gyrating faster. Faster.

    Screeching.

    A warm hand grabbed April''s wrist.

    "Take this."

    "Boltcutters- oof."

    Heavy.

    "Don''t worry; I''ve got your back."

    HB pulled out Excaliber. The grin on HB''s face was manic. April thought it unfair.

    "And you have my axe!"

    Another bespectacled munchkin stepped up beside her, wielding a huge battleaxe.

    "You have my sword."

    "My bow."

    "Maces smash!"

    "Hiyah!"

    "Clipboard of Power!"

    A row lined out before her and behind her. Each calling out their support. The last shouted a battle cry, wielding a dented clipboard.

    A broken security camera sparked to life. A blinking red light.

    The monitors buzzed, lighting their backs.

    An army.

    April couldn''t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. With a huff, she the boltcutters along her shoulder. Tilting her head with a smirk, she posed.

    "Don''t mess with a girl''s imagination."

    *Ttttring*

    Both sides charged.

 Snooze

    "Where did you get all that experience?"

    "I didn''t. She was the one who kissed me."

    "Uh-huh."

    Bellavarn snapped.

    "She kissed me. I meant it to be short, but she kept me there until she ran out of breath. It''s almost as if..."

    Kerv folded his arms, examining the girl lying unconscious on the bed. Bellavarn scratched the back of his head.

    "You didn''t see them either, did you?"

    "See what, Bell?"

    "Chains. I saw chains. Felt them, too."

    Kerv shook his head.

    "All I saw was you too smooching."

    "Tch."

    April slept sound on his bed. Former bed. The one he should be laying in right now. Instead, Bellavarn loitered next to Kerv, watching over April as the doctor examined her. Bell could have sworn April was smiling, but her face was blank. Asleep and unaware.

    Simon, the doctor, shook his head.

    "I don''t know what you did, but it wasn''t good."

    If Ester were here, she''d have a witty comeback. Instead, only hard glares met the doctor. He sighed.

    "She''s in a coma. Don''t know how. Don''t know why. It isn''t illness. No concoctions or poisons caused this. My specialty is cardiology, so there may be some sort of magical factor, but I''m unable to detect anything. As far as I can tell, she just doesn''t want to wake up."

    Bellavarn was convinced there was a magical origin, so he ordered Kerv to sense for any traces. He complied without quipping but was unable to detect anything. Bellavarn concluded that whatever those chain were, they were either extremely advanced forms of magic, or natural phenomena.

    Watching over her, he whispered.

    "What''s keeping you?"

    Simon craned an ear.

    "What was that?"

    "Can I ask you to check back regularly?"

    "Sure. That is what I''m paid for. I seem to recall you being my patient, too."

    He wagged a finger.

    "Do your parents know you are up?"

    Bellavarn twitched.

    "I feel much better. I can walk. See? Besides, I need to get back to work quickly."

    She deserves her gift before she wakes up.

    Bellavarn held April''s handkerchief in his palms. A smiling wizard. It meant something different to Bellavarn. Different, but carrying the same intensity.

    Folding it, he placed it in his pants pocket. Confused, he felt something else familiar already residing there. Deciding to address it in a moment, he headed for the door.

    "Kerv. Come with me."

    Simon huffed and was about rant when Kerv answered boisterously.

    "Where to?"

    "Where else?"

    They left hurriedly without fanfare.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Simon was all riled up, muttering to himself in an empty room.

    Then he deflated. Realizing the horrible truth.

    "Who''s going to tell the Duke?"

    =

    Kerv sat on the couch, playing with his stick. A black stick. The baton.

    Hehe.

    A list of puns lay ready and waiting for his use. He only needed someone to talk to. It was unfortunate Bell was engrossed in work. He''d followed diligently, but Bell was back to booking. In fact, one hit Kerv in the square on the noggin.

    Flinching, he looked over his shoulder to witness Bellavarn tearing books off the shelves and leaving them wherever they lay. It looks like he''s gone bonkers.

    Women tend to do that.

    Right now, Kerv was wondering how to prepare for the future. Things seemed to be picking up, and Kerv had no idea what to do next. He could train more. But he was stuck in a library, without a sparring partner, and he''d run out of Misses Vale''s soft pretzels. The world was cruel, indeed.

    Putting his hands on his knees, he stood.

    "If you don''t need me, I''ll be heading outside to train. You know, that thing I was doing before you called. And then you dragged me here, only to watch you make a mess. For an hour. Which is usually my job."

    No response.

    His insults missing their target, Kerv sagged. Heading for the door.

    "I''ll be going then. Don''t stay up-"

    "Where is your shield?"

    One foot halted mid-step.

    "My what?"

    Bellavarn paged through a tome before tossing it aside.

    "Your shield. You fight with a shield, but I''ve never seen it."

    "How do you-"

    "I''ve read the dossier Father keeps. Not all of it. But enough to know your fighting style."

    "Isn''t that stuff supposed to be private? I thought we were friends-"

    His words were cut off a second time as he had to duck a flying book.

    "Hey! What is up with you?"

    Bellavarn picked up another, reeling back.

    "Why did you dodge?"

    Indignant.

    "Maybe because I don''t enjoy being domed by a fancy tree carcass."

    Bellavarn threw two more. Kerv dodged the first and awkwardly swatted the second. Bellavarn taunted.

    "If you had your shield, you could have blocked it!"

    "I don''t use it anymore!"

    "Why not? You are most proficient with sword n'' shield. Why only use a sword when you are better with both. I saw that you were second in your class."

    Kerv swatted another heavy tome. It whacked the door directly next to a young maid''s face. She yelped and quickly fled the debacle.

    Blood started to rush to his head. Why was Bellavarn acting like such a rascal? So messy? So... So... belligerent! So what if his little girlfriend fell asleep? She would wake up. There was no reason to take it out on Kerv like this. Bellavarn knew what he was talking about and was deliberately trying to hurt Kerv by bringing up the past.

    "You know why. I told you why! There''s no way you''ve forgotten, so stop prodding me and deal with your own emotions."

    Bellavarn huffed, about to throw another book before he realized it was the one he was looking for. Setting it down gently on the desk, Bellavarn continued his words.

    "Just because you were one-upped does not give you the excuse to quit what you are good at."

    Kerv fumed.

    "I wasn''t just one-upped."

    "I remember. She is back in the capital, isn''t she?"

    He bit back an insulting remark. Furious and annoyed.

    "Is this your coping mechanism? You can''t focus on your own problems, so you latch onto mine instead?"

    Bellavarn stopped his perusing and tilted his head. Thinking deeply.

    "You know. Maybe you are right."

    Kerv blinked. Not expecting to be right. Or for Bellavarn to admit it so easily.

    "I am?"

    "You are."

    "Oh."

    What did he say to that? Kerv rubbed a sweaty palm against his pants. Bellavarn sighed, flipping through his book and landing on a page. Gliding a finger along, he searched the text. Frowning, he didn''t like what he saw.

    "Honestly speaking... I somehow managed to get the girl and lose her at the same time. Hopefully, she wakes up, but I get the feeling she won''t anytime soon. And that is a problem for me. Because by the time she wakes up, the world will be entirely different."

    If she woke up, he would rush to her. However, he couldn''t stay immobile and paralyzed, constantly waiting and worrying. Instead, Bellavarn would greet her with a smile after completing her gift.

    Stepping around his desk, he continued.

    "Trouble keeps coming our way. I can easily imagine you getting the chance to encounter Ash once again."

    Kerv flinched at the name. Bellavarn questioned.

    "Why do you think I was throwing those books at you?"

    Thinking hard. Kerv answered.

    "To get me to admit my faults and finally pick up my shield again?"

    Bellavarn''s face screwed up. Exasperated.

    "No! I did it to test my aim. I''m pretty good at it."

    Kerv felt like strangling Bell. But that would be manslaughter.

    Warm light beamed through thin windows. The sun high in the sky and warming any remaining snow. Bellavarn felt oddly refreshed. Determined. Picking up his prototype, he spun it on a finger before it fumbled. Speaking as if Kerv didn''t see...

    "I am physically incapable of using a sword, so I need something else. Maybe I could make my own baton, but I have a better idea. I''m going to complete this device come the festival, and you are going to learn to wield that baton of yours if you insist on not using a shield."

    "The fesitival is in 48 hours. There''s no way you can complete the device in that time."

    "You just set a flag. Thank you."

    "Flag? What''s that supposed to mean?"

    Bellavarn grinned maliciously.

    "It means... I am going to throw rocks at you until your black and blue."

    A madman. His best friend and, ironically, his boss, was going to drive Kerv insane.

    Bellavarn clapped twice, puffing out his chest.

    "Off we go. There is a convenient mound of rocks and pebbles outside the workshop. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!"

    If only there were a bell Kerv could ring to plead for mercy.

 Two Dukes

    Outside an illustrious merchant district, carts and peddlers were in constant motion. Sweepers and cleaners constantly cleared cobbled roads. That cobble transitioned to smooth stone, trampled by the most sought after of stallions and stable wheels. The loud commotion transferred into gentlemanly and refined banter. All dressed in their best clothes. To be seen in less could tarnish a family for generations.

    The smiling faces were truthful.

    Those who traversed this area were the most well-off and successful businessmen and women in the Kingdom. They were swimming in luxuries and riches. They could have any choice in suitors based on their appearances, real or magically fabricated. Life was good, and they deserved their happiness. It was well earned after surviving years in cutthroat business and crawling up from the bottom. The commoners couldn''t understand since they hadn''t made it here yet.

    In contrast, everyone in this district could understand a commoner''s perspective. Why? Two reasons. The first was because success requires you to know your clientele. The second is because they are all first generation money. They''re called "nouveau riche" by the old bloods that frequent the Palace district.

    The old bloods were entitled and comfortable in their luxury. Their sole desire was to hang on to their power and keep others beneath them. That was why there was such a rivalry and hostility between the two groups. Separated by the drive and ambition of the nouveau riche, who always wanted more.

    From Ash''s perspective, they were both annoying to listen to.

    Ash. That was her name. It used to be different, but Ash stuck to her like its namesake. It was more theatrical and easier to write a sonnet about. And there were several written about her. It grated on her ears every time Raiden frequented a pub. After every battle and victory, the soldiers sang of her tale. She could never deny the soldiers their merriment, but that didn''t mean she had to like it.

    "Do we have to meet with that miscreant, Duke?"

    That was Jerome''s voice. The third in their little party. Smart. Capable. Weapons master and strategist. He also had a song about him. It wasn''t very flattering... Something to do with a unicorned goat and a thousand men.

    "Might as well. Not much else to do in the Capital. Besides, Lecil kicked me out."

    "If you were not a Duke, your actions would have been considered harassment."

    "It was only two carts of roses. I figured three wouldn''t fit in her room."

    "She burned them."

    Klein chuckled in amusement.

    "She did. Didn''t she?"

    Ash would rather be crawling in disease-infested trenches than continue listening.

    She''d spent her fortune from the most recent border war on silencing scrolls.

    Unfortunately, they ran out on their trek back to the capital.

    "Say, Ash?"

    "Yes, my Duke."

    A soldier. That''s what she was. She would act no different.

    "Wasn''t there a guy you used to be sweet on that lived around here?"

    "No."

    "Really? I was positive there was. Ah, well."

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Klein shrugged, whistling as he practically skipped down the center of the road. The most embarrassing part was that people parted for the war hero, even the rich.

    People ran up to him to bring gifts and flowers constantly¡ªa fame freak.

    "Thanks, darling, how''d you know I wanted roses?"

    The young girl was a teenager, barely able to whisper her affection before running off in embarrassment. Klein held onto the roses while handing the other material gifts to Jerome to carry. Ash refused outright.

    The Duke''s face became serious and brooding.

    "Maybe a third cart of roses will seal the deal?"

    =

    "Raiden."

    "Astor."

    A janitor swept scattered roses out of the room and closed the door.

    "Now that you are finished desecrating my office with dead flora, perhaps we can participate in meaningful discussion."

    Raiden scoffed, collapsing into a chair that cost more than a soldier''s life. Ash and Jerome stood at attention to either side. Rubbing a pinky in his ear, Raiden blew away what he found. Astor''s face was the picture of restrained disgust.

    "You speak like a textbook. No one actually talks like that."

    "Just because your diction is lacking doesn''t mean I have to dumb mine down."

    "See! You could have just said, "fuck off, you lousy wanker", and it would have been the same thing."

    "I didn''t ask you to come to exchange barbs with you."

    "That''s a shame because that is why I came. Jerome''s told me, you captured a hole filled with diamonds from Eul, only to have your ready stock stolen directly under your nose."

    "First of all, it was a gem mine, not purely diamonds. Second, nothing was stolen."

    Klein rolled his eyes.

    "Sure. And I am a mongoose."

    Astor tapped his desk rhythmically, debating his choices, and if there were better options. Astor didn''t even need Raiden''s assistance. Things would be hairier, but not impossible. The safer option was to manipulate him. Raiden wasn''t the smartest bloke on the block. His instincts were phenomenal, as exampled by the dozen assassins the janitor had to sweep off the carpets, but Raiden had no sense for political intrigue.

    Thus, Astor was as blunt as a bludgeon.

    "I require your assistance in reducing the number of Ducal holdings in the Lionel kingdom to two."

    Jerome stirred while Ash held no outward reaction.

    Klein chuckled.

    "If you think I''m going to fall on my sword, you''re mistaken."

    "You know what I mean, Klein."

    The word tasted like acid.

    Klein, for his part, stopped laughing. Astor could see the soldier now. The emotionless machine in him.

    "I am not your tool, Daven Astor. Be careful with your words, or I might decide to notice the treason in them."

    Astor picked up a pen, playing it between his fingers.

    "It is not treasonous if the majority are aligned. There is no easy way to depose a Duke, even by the King himself. So other, more careful measures need to be taken."

    The words revealed a lot. Even to a more simple-minded individual, they spelled trouble. Jerome was busy throwing out countless plans, rearranging others, and drawing up new ones by the millisecond. Ash felt something indescribable flicker inside her. Unable to express or even process it, she kept her peace.

    Raiden, however, relaxed.

    Reclining, he placed a large fist to his jaw and gnawed.

    "Speak."

    =

    Ash counted the seconds, nothing better to do. An old habit from days on the frontline. It helped keep her sane.

    In minutes, the conversation lasted 34.

    Ash was relieved for it to end. Then once again, horrified as a new conversation picked up.

    "Fine. The way that works is fine. You can speak with Jerome more later. I have to order more roses anyway."

    Astor was dismissive.

    "Don''t stay on my account. I have more business to tie up before my upcoming date."

    Klein''s raucous nature returned.

    "You! A date? Hah. Who''s the gold digger hanging off your knickers?"

    "She is more refined and intelligent than all the floozies that have warmed your bed."

    "That''s past me. This is the new me. I''m a one-woman, man now!"

    Astor actually snorted.

    "That''d be the day pigs flew."

    "Challenge accepted! Loan me a few, and I will throw them off the parapet."

    "You... It pains me that you are serious. No. I will not loan you pigs that will end up smearing the sidewalk outside my door."

    "Tch. You have no sense of adventure. No spunk. Entirely unlike my date to the festival. Now, that is a woman with fire!"

    "She rejected your advances, didn''t she?"

    "Only a few times. But that is the fun of it."

    "I implore you to stay far away from me during the festivities. I''m afraid you''ll scare off my date."

    "More like steal it. Hah! But, no, seriously. I''ve changed. Truly."

    "Oh? And who is this mystery woman?"

    Ash watched Klein fold his arms and declare with intense enthusiasm.

    "The jewel of the kingdom! Princess Lecil."

    A moment of silence.

    Then two.

    A third.

    Klein opened his eyes.

    Ash watched the staring contest between the two Dukes for 23 seconds. Then, for the first time since the recent war, both corners of her mouth inched upward. Entirely satisfied with the silent irony.

 Mishap and Gossip

    Misses Vale was outraged.

    "How could you bungle cooking rice? It is rice! All you have to do is boil the water and let it sit. What was so hard about it!"

    "I got nervous! I''ve never cooked it before, so I was watching it, you know, because I was afraid it would overcook or catch fire or explode or, I don''t know... Summon a demon? No one taught me how to cook rice."

    A vein throbbed. Misses Vale rubbed her temples.

    "Then why would you try without assistance? Importing rice is expensive!"

    "Please stop yelling. I was scared you''d all laugh at me. And I wanted to act independent, like an adult."

    The experienced head cook didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. It was a disaster. Wilson used almost the entire stock, not accounting for how rice expanded. Everyone in the castle would get rice for dinner tonight and the next three nights. It would be a crying shame for it all to go to waste.

    "Forget it. Go take some soup from Vienna."

    Vienna stirred a pot nearby, pouring some creamy potato soup into a wooden bowl. Picking it up with both hands, she addressed the cowering Wilson.

    "Here."

    Wilson accepted it gratefully, about to take a sip.

    "Oh, thanks, I-"

    Misses Vale smacked him across the head.

    "It''s not for you. Take it to Lannie. She''ll feed it to April."

    Apologizing out of hand, Wilson took the soup gratefully. He fled quickly before the furious woman could find her rolling pin.

    "Where is it? I just set it down for a second, and it is gone."

    "Here."

    Vienna produced the baking utensil/improvised weapon from an unknown location. Misses Vale grabbed it swiftly, looking around for her target. Not finding the blubbering boy, she bonked the nearest person instead.

    "Ow."

    Vienna rubbed the lump on her head.

    "That is for saving him."

    "Yes, Chef..."

    Vienna got back to work stirring her pot while Misses Vale attended to the rice fiasco. The other cooking staff, having avoided getting involved before, started clamoring with gossip like normal. Several whispered thanks reached Vienna''s ears.

    "Nice job."

    "Vienna''s a gem."

    "Rarer than rice."

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Is rice really that rare?"

    "Aye. Especially after a long winter. You know how it grows, don''t you?"

    "Vaguely. I heard it grows in paddies. Whatever that is."

    "It grows in water. Technically, flooded soil. There are only certain sections of the kingdom that have the right conditions. Most of it is imported from Eul."

    "I had no idea."

    "It is one of their main exports. If you want to know more, I suggest checking the library. Master Bellavarn is bound to have a book related to Eul or rice."

    A few cooks nodded.

    "Have any of you seen master Bellavarn lately? I heard he took to throwing rocks at Kerv."

    "He must still be upset that April hasn''t woken."

    "They did get along well, didn''t they?"

    A maid passing by joined in exuberantly.

    "I''ll say. You didn''t see them kiss!"

    Mutters and shocked whispers.

    "Why haven''t I heard about this?"

    "What happened? Tell us. Quickly!"

    "Spill the beans."

    "NO SPILLING BEANS!"

    The gossip stopped from Misses Vale''s angry shout. The guilty party spoke.

    "Just a figure of speech, Head Chef. Harmless."

    Misses Vale grumbled, going back to cleaning the mess.

    The chatter picked back up. The maid still excited as ever.

    "It started off with the alarm. Bellavarn triggered it, and seeing as I was nearby, I joined the others to run and see what happened."

    "But, you''re just a maid; what would you have done if it was an intruder?"

    "Shut it, let ''er tell the story. Not like you wouldn''t ''ave gone running."

    The cook shrugged.

    "Eh. True."

    The maid continued.

    "As we all ran up, the first thing we saw was Kerv in the distance, holding onto a squirming April. Then, Master Bellavarn came out and grabbed her, shouting for her to wake up."

    "That doesn''t make any sense- Yow! That hurt!"

    "April was acting out. Punching. Kicking. Calling Master Bellavarn evil names. Then, all of a sudden, he kisses her! Straight on the lips."

    Whoah''s and aww''s were exchanged. The young maid set down her burden of towels to gesticulate.

    "But it didn''t stop! It kept going! And going. And going."

    Her lips smirked by themselves.

    "What! For how long?"

    "Long enough to make me lose my breath. They kissed so long; that is why April passed out!"

    The redness in her face wasn''t from the close fires; she was remembering the events vividly. Up until Kerv made them turn away and Cynthia hit her.

    The young maid wasn''t even eighteen yet. She was younger than Vienna, around Wilson''s age. Likely the youngest and least experienced. One could tell from her excitement and the fact she was relegated to towel duty.

    More whispered gossip exclamations and short words were exchanged before Vienna spoke.

    "Why is April still asleep?"

    It was good that her friend had a moment with Bellavarn. But she should be awake and continuing to have moments. Soup was best eaten while awake, after all.

    The young maid, Ness, scratched her head.

    "You know... I don''t know. I thought she was waiting for Master Bellavarn to kiss her again. You know, to wake her up?"

    Most of the cooks rolled their eyes or chuckled. A particularly grouchy one answered.

    "That only happens in books. You''ve been spending too much time in the library and not enough time doing laundry. Don''t you have a job to do?"

    Ness winced and drooped. Picking up her load, she shuffled out.

    "What''s with you? You didn''t have to be so mean."

    Several others voiced their agreement, but the gruff cook only grunted.

    "Gossip leads to misunderstandings. Or have you all already forgotten?"

    Lowered heads. No one could answer.

    Much more reserved chatter sprung up. Like what the best local restaurants were, arguing what goes best with salad, and how to pop a cork using only an elbow. Normal things.

    As they continued to prepare dinner, several switched what they had planned with something that would go together with rice. Seeing as they now had bucket loads. A few even made trips to the pantry to grab extra ingredients or spices. Tonight would be the last day before the festival. Many of them planned on going out and spending quality time with family.

    There were confirmed rumors that they would all be heading home soon. Back to the North.

    Before that happened, Vienna was hoping to spend tomorrow with Bellavarn''s group, testing festival broths and gumbo. It''s supposed to be a party.

    That is... if Bellavarn still feels up to it.

    =

    Bellavarn sneezed.

    Shrugging, he continued pelting rocks at Kerv.

    *Ting-Ting-ting-ting-Ting-ting*

    He was trying to sound a christmas carol off Kerv''s shield.

 Before the Palace Garden

    Among the most prestigious locales for those of noble houses to go to, one of the most famed was the Antithetic Royal Garden. Any visitor to the Lionel Palace finds this place pleasing. Flowers of all kinds are grown here. Black Irises that grow only along the northern icy shores, past barbarian homelands. Desert wildflowers that only sprout in air pockets beneath the sandy dunes. Winding Tometosas, which some say are rumored to cause gales and avalanches among the spired mountains. There is even legend that at the center of the unsolvable hedge maze, there was a Winter Sprite, a glassy blue bud that whispers in the language of the faeries. The last of its kind.

    The Antithetic Royal Garden was named such because of its unbelievable diversity. The fantastic scenery displayed was only possible through the culmination of generations of gardeners and florists. Its keepers were paid exorbitant fees to keep it running. Magical fields and traps were installed to keep the area safe and lively. Around the clock, knights were positioned to catch any interlopers attempting to desecrate or steal from the national treasure.

    Which made the center of the maze the perfect place to hide.

    "I thought it was supposed to laugh."

    Rain, Lecil''s personal guard, leaned down to tap twice on the glassy treasure.

    "It did. Then I threatened to crush it. It stopped."

    The flower vibrated menacingly. Rain backpedaled.

    "Don''t forget that you also threatened to drop it into the bottom of that well."

    Irene pointed to the quaint well being shadowed by an elder willow tree.

    Lecil reclined on a bench that likely cost more than her entire wardrobe.

    "I didn''t mention it because it didn''t work. The stupid flower hit me with a snowball."

    The projectile managed to catch her off guard, and she actually did drop it. The flower sunk to the bottom of the well. Job done, Lecil thought. Unfortunately, the accursed flower didn''t dissolve as she hoped. The assumption originating from the wrongful notion that the flower was made of ice.

    It wasn''t.

    The water somehow amplified laughter instead of muting it. It also gained a warbled texture. Lecil fished the flower out and stomped on it furiously until it stopped. Despite her rampage, it was still in perfect condition.

    The ethereal flower seemed to get tired of the game and asked to be planted back in place. Lecil responded with a firm "Hell no!" To which the sneaky sprite promised to get rid of her migraine. Deciding that she could always smash it later, she humored it. And to her utter shock, her head cleared!

    Lecil wiggled her eyebrows.

    It still feels a little fuzzy. Like something is trying to break out?

    "Hey, you. Yeah, you, you stupid flower. Did you mess with my head? Something feels like it''s bouncing around, but my head is numb."

    Giggling.

    "Band-aid! How the hell do you know what a band-aid is?"

    "Princess! Please stop using that word, especially when you are threatening something so... mysterious."

    Lecil turned and was about to snap, but Irene didn''t deserve that. It wasn''t her fault.

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    All was going well for Lecil. The fact that she managed to weasel both Dukes into going on a double-date-fake-date tickled her every minute. Her brothers were off her back, and she was making steady progress with their affection scores. Anne wasn''t the total bitch she thought. Irene was becoming a good friend. And Rain was fun to tease.

    Everything was on the up and up.

    Except for her headache. It''s been a constant for days. Every time she tried to think, her brain would throw an Anne-sized tantrum. It was getting to the point where she had trouble sleeping. Taking medicine helped mildly, but no amount of medicine could sustain her sanity when encountering Duke Raiden for a third time. The rose fiasco sent her down a spiral. Maybe that was why she wouldn''t tolerate being laughed at by a flower.

    Gods. The headache was unending.

    That was why Lecil hid here. To get away from potential disasters. It was also the reason Lecil jumped at the opportunity the talking flower offered. Crazy or not, there was barely any pain left.

    "Hey, Rain."

    "Yes, Princess."

    A salute and excellent posture. Like a well-trained puppy.

    "Why is your name, Rain?"

    "My name, Princess?"

    "Yeah. What''s up with it? Is it normal around here, or am I the crazy one?"

    Lecil glanced to Irene for support. Irene tilted her head left.

    "I''ve never really thought about it, Princess. It is a bit odd, but not crazily so."

    An aggressive finger.

    "See! I knew I wasn''t the only one. So, what about it, Rain? Why don''t you tell us the story of how you got your name while we all relax and try not to think about anything, hm?"

    The guard relaxed his stance to a casual one, using his spear for support. It was the kind of posture and negligence that would earn him twenty laps.

    Irene decided if they were going to be a while, that she might as well sit. Smoothing out her uniform and plopping down on the soft grass, she elicited a raised eyebrow from the Princess sitting on the wide bench.

    Shrugging, Lecil got comfortable and listened.

    "The story my parents told me was that they both went out to dinner on the same night, in separate company. Coincidentally, both their dates abandoned them, and they were left to eat alone. They sat at separate tables, where they would have never seen each other in other circumstances. Facing each other, both eating their meals alone, both being stood up, they pushed their tables together and struck up a conversation. They''ve been together ever since."

    "That is sweet, Rain."

    Irene awwed. Lecil liked the story for how short it was. The act of stumbling into love sounded so pure and romantic. The only thing left was his name.

    "Don''t tell me that the reason they named you Rain was because..."

    "Yup. Both their dates called a raincheck."

    "Hahahaha!"

    Lecil chortled. Pointing.

    "Princess, pointing is rude."

    "But that is pricelessly funny. Sweet, but hilarious. I can''t not laugh at that. Please tell me you have a brother named Checkers."

    "No. I have a sister."

    "Named checkers?"

    "No. Named Abigal."

    "Abigal!"

    More chortling. The name was too unexpected to Lecil. Rain and Abigal? Come on!

    "It isn''t that funny, Princess."

    Irene tried to whisper.

    "Yeah, no. Maybe. I am just in a loopy mood right now. Say! Do we have any chocolates?"

    Seeing Irene''s serious face.

    "Alright, that is a solid no on chocolates. Well. I suppose we can count the clouds until the festival starts."

    "Shouldn''t you be planning what to wear? I am sure Princess Anne is frantically searching for you. She seems keen on your advice now more than ever."

    Lecil restrained a groan.

    "Why do you think I am hiding? I already told her what to wear, but she keeps second-guessing. Speaking to her now would only bring back my headache. Plus, the Dukes are wandering the Palace. Together. I wouldn''t want to be Anne right about now."

    =

    "Hee. Hoo. Oh no. Ah! Kinsey, hide me."

    "Princess Anne?"

    "Quick. Before its too-"

    "Princess Anne! Have you seen your sister around?"

    "Greetings, Princess Anne. We''d like to have a word with Princess Lecil if she is available."

    Cursing inside, Anne stepped out from behind one of her maids. running a hand through her hair nervously. What conditioner did she use today? Why did she have to pick such a mediocre dress?

    The two Dukes stared down at her. One did. The other was at her eye-level, but it made the situation no less nerve-wracking and intimidating. Normally she could handle this flawlessly, but the upcoming double date impaired her judgment.

    "I.. Dukes! How wonderful to see you. In each other''s company no less. Are you similarly excited for tomorrow?"

    The glares she received. The glares directed at each other. Barbed comments back and forth. Arm raising. Shouting. A call to arms. Dismissing the yellow alert. A taunt, an insult, and a disgrace. A pulled weapon. There was a dogpile on Duke Raiden while Anne held back Duke Astor, apologizing profusely for Lecil''s absence.

    If only she were here she would see the numbers ticking.

 During the Spring Festival (1)

    "Jeral? Are you okay?"

    "..."

    "...Jeral? Jeral. Jeraaal? Jeral!"

    "Yes, Lannie."

    "Are you going to leave like mom and dad?"

    "Never."

    "..."

    "..."

    "...Liar."

    =

    The day of the festival.

    Bellavarn finished in time. It was completed.

    The device stopped spinning. Resting, it looked like a children''s toy or something a cat might play with. There were three successful spinners. One purple. One black. One yellow.

    Other than the yellow one, there was no specific reason for the colors other than personality.

    "Congratulations, you''re a wizard Bell."

    Bellavarn corrected him, smirking.

    "No, Kerv. I''m an artificer."

    "You can call yourself whatever fancy titles you wish, but do it later, or on the move. Everyone is waiting."

    Touching the spinners affectionately one last time, he turned away. Wiping his hands, Bellavarn slid his arms into a light jacket, silver and blue, leaving it unbuttoned. He patted Kerv''s shoulder twice, avoiding the rounded shield acting as a backpack.

    "You''re a good friend."

    Kerv followed Bellavarn out, grumbling about how friends didn''t pelt each other with rocks.

    Upon exit, Bellavarn used a bronze key to lock the door and trigger the security ward. The door outlined in bright blue before returning to mundaneness.

    "Don''t worry about your inventions, master Bellavarn. I''ll keep an eye on it for you."

    Jeral approached alongside Kyle, both in uniform. Kerv high-fived Kyle.? Hard.?

    Bellavarn thrust his hands into his pockets, addressing Jeral.

    "I know you volunteered to stay behind, but Lannie will be disappointed you aren''t joining us. Are you sure you don''t want to come? Taren, Korel, and the others can handle this."

    A nod at the locked door.

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    "We''ve already discussed it. Go ahead and have fun, master Bellavarn."

    "Oh, we will, don''t you worry, Jerry."

    Kerv threw an arm around Jeral.

    "Don''t call me that."

    "I don''t know. I kind of like it."

    "I don''t."

    "Knock it off, Kerv. Let''s go. Are you going to be the one to hold us up?"

    Kerv twitched, separating from Jeral. Bellavarn started walking away when Jeral grabbed his shoulder. Leaning in close, he whispered.

    "If you make any moves on my sister as you did with April, I with smash your treasure."

    Off guard, Bellavarn whispered back.

    "I wouldn''t do that. And I could always make more spinners anyway."

    "I was talking about your jewels."

    Jeral separated, walking back to stand guard at the library door. Bellavarn rejoined Kerv.

    "I didn''t know Jerry had a sense of humor."

    Bellavarn deadpanned in horror.

    "It wasn''t a joke."

    "But-"

    Turning back, Kerv spotted the deadly gaze aimed their way. The same threat was aimed at Kerv.

    "Ooh. Okay. Cynthia is more my type anyway. And you have April, don''t you? There was no need for threats."

    Jeral smiled innocently. With the inclusion of Bellavarn and Kerv, he''d made a total of 32 threats today. A new record.

    =

    Rounding the corner, Bellavarn saw the waiting crowd. Everyone was out of uniform. Adopting casual apparel, some were more dressed up, going on dates, others planning to meet up with family. A few people looked stiff, but all of them, without exception, turned and rejoiced at the last arrivals.

    "About time. My feet are getting tired, and we haven''t even left yet!"

    "Ester, honestly."

    "There''s my handsome son! Look at you, all grown up."

    "Mom. Let go of my cheek. "

    "Kerv, you ugly mug. What took you so long. We were expecting you a half-hour ago."

    "It wasn''t my fault, Potter, I swear. Bell insisted on decorating his little inventions."

    Kerv held up a hand conspiratorially.

    "There''s still paint on his hands."

    "Does he ever stop working?"

    Kerv shrugged and twirled a finger next to his temple. A fist collided with his arm.

    "Ack! Since when were you so violent, Henry?"

    A toothy grin. Kerv took back the thoughtless words.

    "Point taken. Say, where is-"

    *CLAP*

    "-the Duke."

    Braster Sallow attracted everyone''s attention.

    "Now that everyone is present, we can depart. Continuing the chatter will be equally as enjoyable while walking. Make sure to enjoy yourselves fully tonight."

    A collective cheer. Those in front moved out the large entryway doors and out into fresh air. Dirt and budding grass trampled underfoot instead of crunchy snow. It was a relief to many but discomfort to those used to it.

    Bellavarn walked in tandem with his parents. Kerv and Henry took their spots. Cynthia, Denice, Ester, and Lannie formed a group. Wilson paired Vienna and Ness. Oslo plus Parcy guided the crowd from the front, joined by Misses Vale, Wendle, and Nem, who would split off later to spend time with their families.

    The guards lining the perimeter of the procession joked and taunted each other in a friendly manner, excited for festivities and determined to enjoy themselves. The servants, cooks, maids, and staff that Bellavarn got to know these past months all mingled and mixed. The light and jovial atmosphere lured Bellavarn away from his constant musings. Grinning from ear to ear, he locked arms with his mother, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.

    =

    Celia was the unluckiest girl in the world.

    At times, her terrible luck would grant her once-in-a-lifetime breaks. Others, it literally killed her. All this time, she was wondering where she went wrong, but she knew all along. It was the stupid game''s fault. Arbitrary percentages that rose due to mundane actions or plummeted with nary any warning.

    Escorted out, she saw two carriages waiting for her. One with too many sparkly jewels and velvet. The other overflowing with roses. Two men greeted her, bowing.

    "Princess."

    In unison. They offered a hand.

    Astor: 9%

    Raiden: 14%

    Then, looking behind her at the escorts sending her off...

    Kly: 10%

    Tristan: 5%

    Why did they all lower? Weren''t they all twice as high yesterday?

    Next to her was Princess Anne, dressed too elegantly for a festival.

    Anne: 0%

    Why is it zero? What the hell happened!

    Lecil exhaled sharply through her nose.

    The offered hands, her waiting sister, and watching brothers... There was no doubt in her mind. The answer was so simple that she wanted to cackle crazily.

 During the Spring Festival (2)

    I''m in hell.

    The answer was that Celia died and went to hell. There was no other conclusion that made sense. And what made it worse was that if she made the wrong move, she would die.

    Again.

    Likely painfully.

    She wished Irene could tag along. Or even Rain. Or for his namesake to wash away the entire festival.

    Drench us all so I don''t have to go through with this.

    A deep breath, she signaled Anne.

    Together they stepped forward. Lecil to Astor and Anne to Raiden. Offering hands to their respective dates.

    Astor''s number went up a percent as he kissed her hand. Duke Raiden did the same to Anne, but Lecil could feel the tightened atmosphere.

    Astor looked straight into Lecil''s eyes, confident.

    "Princess, I am honored for the chance to attend the festivities together. Shall we adjourn to the carriage? I assume Duke Raiden and Princess Anne also wish to leave post-haste."

    Lecil didn''t have to look around to feel the eyes on her. It was unfortunate, but things couldn''t be left this way if she wanted things to go well with both parties.

    "And I am honored to join you. However..."

    The pause caused Astor''s eyes to falter.

    "This is a double-date. That''s why I prepared a separate carriage."

    With a turn of her head, she signaled the palace carriage to roll around. Grander than the Dukes'' while thankfully being less flashy. It held the most room on the inside, ample enough to provide distance between parties.

    Astor stared, slightly off-balance, but he quickly recovered.

    "If that is what you wish, princess. I see no reason to deny it. We can always split off later."

    That last comment was directed at Raiden. Luckily, it slid off his shoulder. Anne was a different matter entirely.

    Anne''s eyes screamed, ''Let us ride alone''.

    Lecil eyed back, ''Trust me. You don''t want to do that''.

    Anne''s eyes somehow performed a "tch" without the use of a tongue. Smiling broadly, Anne locked arms with Raiden.

    "I see no problem. Do you, Duke?"

    "Call me Raiden. Or Klein. Duke is confusing when there are two of us."

    As Raiden signaled his carriage driver to dispose of the roses, Anne''s ears grew hotter. Lecil tried to catch her eyes and communicate that calling him by name wasn''t what was, but Anne was already lost in la-la-land.

    Lecil waved to Kly and Tristan as she got in the carriage with everyone else. They hadn''t shared any words, but guessing from Tristan''s folded arms and Kly''s posture, something was different with them. The worst part was that she would have to wait to return to figure out what.

    =

    Spacious. Soft cushions. A few refreshments; crackers and cheese. Lecil was eating away her anxiety. Then, remembering it was a festival, she stopped shoveling food into her mouth and decided to address the carriage. Clearing her throat.

    "Excuse me. I assume everyone has questions for me, but fore that, please let me say..."

    All eyes were on her. Angry. Amused. Intrigued.

    She wiped the crumbs from her mouth. Then spoke in a rush, almost too fast to catch up.

    "These are the best crackers and cheese I have ever sampled in my entire life. The cheese is cooled and fresh, and these crackers! Mmmm! So good. Here try. Try!"

    "Sister. I don''t-"

    "Try."

    It was the same tone as before, but everyone heard something different. The energy in the word was that of demonic insistence.

    Coerced. No one wanted to stand out the same way as Lecil. They all jumped on the bandwagon and partook in the small delights. Raiden cheered up, savoring the crackers. He claimed they reminded him of his days on the front lines with barely any travel rations, launching into a long-winded war story. Princess Anne was entirely entranced.

    Astor spoke solely to Lecil about the ins and outs of cheese, its history, the business aspect, and how it paired with different wines.

    Lecil truly enjoyed the history lesson and compared it to her own knowledge of fermented cheeses, the niche culture of blue cheese, and all its byproducts. Astor was so enamored with the amount of abstract fondue knowledge that he stopped speaking about the several wineries he owned across the country, fully engaged. Learning something new, he pulled out a pen and started taking notes.

    Each couple was equally absorbed in their own conversations. Raiden and Anne found the cheese business incredibly dull and not fascinating, choosing to revel in tales of gallantry and war. Lecil and Astor were similarly disgusted with the constant cruelty and barbarism of battle and conflict.

    The trip passed like that. The entire hour. Gone. Pleasantly. And all it took were snacks.

    The royal driver smiled to himself, knowing he filled his shoes that evening, oblivious to his role in the climbing numbers.

    =

    The quartet was dropped off just outside the range of the festivities. Bright yellow and orange lights, all the shops were open. Criers drew attention to games and food stalls. Children ran and played. The scent of a thousand delicacies wafted through the air, mixing into the most wonderful aroma.

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    Lecil thanked the driver and told him he could park the carriage somewhere and enjoy himself. She didn''t know if he would actually do that instead of waiting, but being polite to the man who might have saved the entire evening was the least she could do. Maybe paying more attention to the other staff would be helpful. Irene was the only person she really trusted, but others might be willing to join her side.

    "It''s so vibrant! I hardly know what to do first."

    Anne''s senses were overstimulated. So many things occurring all at once in a condensed setting. There was no inane bickering like when the King held his court. There was no shadowed conflicts or high strung emotions like on a ballroom floor. No subtly. Everything was loud. Boisterous. Real.

    Walking into the crowd, she saw true and unfiltered joy.

    In a way, it was more priceless than all her family heirlooms. More valuable than the national treasure that hung from Duke Klein Raiden''s waist.

    Thinking about it. Anne had an unexpected epiphany.

    Lecil was unaware of her sister''s inner thoughts, but when she glanced at the space above Anne''s head, her eyes boggled. The counter spun like a slot machine.

    Anne - 30%

    Sweet Mother Mary and Joseph. What in the bloody hell did I just say?

    "Sister? Anne! What just happened? You must tell me!"

    This can''t be happenining. Any second now it''s going to drop back down into the single digits.

    Three seconds later, even though nothing happened, Lecil doubled down.

    Hell, it''ll probably go negative. She''ll grab a nearby skewer of meat and drive it through my...

    Five seconds.

    ...my-

    Ten seconds.

    ...my heart?

    Anne snapped out of whatever trance she''d been in. Beaming. It surprised the entire group when Anne threw her arms around Lecil. Squeezing, nearly picking up her elder sister.

    "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! This is so amazing! I never thought... I-I didn''t think that all this could be the answer."

    Putting her sister down. Anne fixed Lecil''s hair, ignoring her own.

    "People! It''s the people. That is the answer! I didn''t think it would be so simple after so long. Come on. Lets go already. Lets go, lets go, letsgoletsgoletsgo!"

    Anne pulled a disconcerted Lecil by the arm, dragging her into the crowd.

    The whole time, the Dukes were ignored.

    =

    Smoke was steadily perfuming out of Astor''s ears. He was coming up with theories and conspiracies as to what exactly was going on. His line of thinking branched off every second. He was on the verge on theorizing the correct answer when loud laughter interrupted him.

    Startled, Astor cursed.

    "Is this deserving of laughter? They ran off without us. Princess Anne''s words must mean something, something hidden; perhaps they are plotting something."

    Raiden smacked Astor''s shoulder playfully, nearly knocking over the short man.

    "They are! They''re having fun, as should we. Screw back on your head so we can catch up."

    Seething inside, Astor begrudgingly followed the lumbering giant. Raiden''s tall form cleared a path through the crowd.

    Astor would find a way to get back at Raiden. It was his fault. He must have put Anne up to this. To separate Lecil from him and make his entire plan for the night go awry. The over-muscled man was smarter than he looked. He probably had Jerome help in this scheme of his. If only Astor could piece together what the goal was, he could-

    "Oof."

    Astor rubbed his nose. Running into Raiden''s back was like running into a boulder.

    Klein''s head turned over his shoulder, peering down at Astor with the largest shit-eating grin.

    "Hey, Astor."

    Nine parts furious and one part perturbed, Astor questioned with an expletive.

    "What!"

    "Fly."

    Before Astor could object, he was already flying through the air. He didn''t scream.

    Flailing like a fish out of water or a human falling out of the sky, he passed over the heads of Lecil and Anne, who looked up and pointed. Getting ahold of himself, he twisted a ring on his finger.

    Suddenly, he halted in mid-air. Righting himself to a standing position, he floated down to the ground gently, as if he were riding an invisible elevator¡ªthe product of being rich and carrying many magical items.

    The people around him stared in awe or parted willingly. Astor appeared fine and gentlemanly, but his demeanor exuded killing intent.

    Duke Raiden was already standing in front of him. Looming over.

    Both of them faced off, neither backing down. A crowd quickly formed a circle. Lecil and Anne found their way to the edge, momentarily worried.

    "Klein Raiden. I challenge you to a duel."

    Gasps.

    "I accept."

    More gasps.

    The stare-off continued, on a knife''s edge.

    Both Duke''s held their hands out. A small object was placed in each.

    Beanbags.

    A very nervous game master backed away.

    "Best of three?"

    "Scared you''ll lose so soon?"

    "Hardly. I just wanted to give you a fighting chance."

    "I''ll have you in tears."

    "You''ll be groveling at my feet."

    The crowd stayed silent as both dukes, the epitome of their kingdom in terms of status, wealth, and power, competed furiously in the most intense game of beanbag toss in history.

    =

    "And here is your prize, Young Master."

    Bellavarn glanced down at the large stuffed animal with confusion.

    "I didn''t win your game, so why are you giving me the prize?"

    The game master stuttered.

    "I just thought... That, of course, you would win. Just because the score says otherwise doesn''t mean you aren''t victorious. You are a future Duke, after all!"

    Bellavarn wasn''t overly upset at losing. There were other games he was more accustomed to and better at. Losing wasn''t the problem. The fact that this man wanted to forcibly make him a winner was.

    It soured the mood.

    "Rewards should be given to those who deserve them. I didn''t win, and I won''t take what I haven''t earned. Keep it until someone manages to win it fair and square."

    "But Young Master Sallow!"

    Bellavarn didn''t dignify a response. He waved a hand, walking back to a few group members. Young Ness looked like she wanted the large overstuffed toy. Wilson saw this and puffed up, determined.

    It would be all well and good if Wilson won. Even if it ended in a loss, it showed his effort.

    That game master might have had good intentions, or maybe he wanted to repay Bellavarn for something. Or to show his support for the rising young duke.

    On the other side of the coin, there may have been a hope to earn favor by bribing him. Bellavarn might have even surmised the toy was a listening device or a weapon if it wasn''t for the people surrounding him.

    His family.

    They distracted his mind. The guards kept him safe. The staff shooed away those who viewed him in an ill light, vetting most of the stalls. His friends dragged him around, joking, laughing, and partying. Today was a day to let loose and have fun. And all of them were all determined to keep it that way.

    =

    "And you said you saw Bellavarn Sallow leave our sister''s room?"

    "Yes, Prince Kly."

    Kly''s grip tightened on his armchair. Tristan cursed and threw his glass.

    "That insect dares lay a hand on the royal family! I knew there was something wrong with her neck. So it was Sallow after all! I knew she would never try to commit-"

    "Tristan."

    The words halted before he spoke them aloud. Rumors of a princess harming herself would ruin the royal family. Best to focus on the scum who attacked royalty.

    "This is a serious accusation. Do you have proof?"

    The maid spoke in a monotone; only the tiniest of tremors in her voice could be heard.

    "Yes. This rope. He had his guard dispose of it."

    She produced the evidence, placing it on the table. It was frayed near the cut section. Kly examined it closer, noticing specks of dried blood. Waving an artifact over it, it lit up, confirming the presence of spilled royal blood.

    Kly sat back. Drained. The implications painted pictures he''d rather not see. Tristan, now with confirmation of the deed, had to ask.

    "Why was this not brought to our attention immediately? You''ve allowed a traitor to the crown to remain at large for months. Why?"

    The maid shivered under the intense gaze¡ªvoice breaking.

    "I didn''t... I mean, I was..."

    "Spit it out!"

    "Yes, Prince! I was threatened not to reveal it until tonight."

    "By who? The Sallow kid?"

    "By the King."

    Kly was up. Astonished. Tristan''s constant scowl collapsed, dread-filled. The prince''s looked to one another, expressions mirrored. The implications drowned them in questions. Was it all this part of King Lionel''s plot? Why now? Why would their ruthless father allow the maid to live at all?

    Then they understood.

    Oh... They understood.

    The timing. Why the maid lived. The Dukes.

    It all made sense.

    Tristan waved his arm, but his strength wasn''t in it.

    "You may leave."

    "Yes, Prince."

    Irene didn''t stay, shutting the door and leaving the princely brothers to their musings.

 During the Spring Festival (3)

    The portal opened. Scenery flashed by. A green meadow ripped with battle scars. Tilting.

    Rolling as the gravity shifts, falling. Another portal.

    Battling at velocity. Shining lights reflected of the surrounding skyscrapers, attempting to pierce the falling combatants. Windows burst from sonic clashes. Nearing impact with the ground.

    The pavement opens. April plummeted, the gravity once again shifting as she deflected an incoming attack.

    Broken monitors crashed and fell to the floor as incoming attacks were parried

    A battle raged within the confines of fictional eternity. Transgressing time and space within this mindscape. Was it all a construct of April''s imagination, or was she really going to all these wonderful places?

    There was nothing but fighting. When April was losing, she switched environments. Hoping for a battlefield that would work to her advantage. The mass of wriggling chains was ever-adapting and proficient in all environments. It had been submerged in boiling magma and frozen solid in northern icecaps, none of it worked. It emerged nearly undamaged. Immobilization was impossible, and the number of chains seemed unlimited.

    Huffing, all she could do was fight. The Mini-Aprils were cut off and separated in the many renditions of reality, unable to follow her throughout the encounter.

    "Just die already!"

    More attacks came. Her footing was off as she felt what remained of her clothes get ripped further.

    Falling. Gravity shifted as she fell through a portal.

    Standing.

    Stopping.

    She recognized this space.

    "The wizard''s map room."

    Then this is...

    Whipping around, she saw a horrifying display.

    Scars and grooves lined the room; paper scattered and still fluttering like snowflakes¡ªblood, scarlet with the stench of deep copper. A white knight standing over a shredded corpse, sword still piercing the wizard''s chest. His white and pearly armor was stained with a red so dark that it turned black as sin.

    Tearing her eyes from the horrific scene, she searched for her own immortal foe.

    "April."

    Goosebumps.

    April froze. The white knight turned his head. Handsome visage pristine and clean, his lips moved.

    "Resisting is a futile effort."

    A breathy exhale. Her arms quaked. Her fears come alive.

    A sick squelch as the sword was pulled from its gruesome sheath. The wizard made no move.

    The knight paced forward, speaking in a dozen voices.

    "You cannot change a story already written."

    "Your struggle is pointless and your defeat inevitable."

    "Your story will end as it should, regardless of folly or girlish delusions."

    "Continue, and you will meet the same fate as the wizard."

    The fluttering and falling paper in the room eluded the Knight as if it was afraid to touch him.

    "Ha."

    A tremor. Was it insanity? The entire situation was fucked. The boltcutters in her hands barely classified as scrap metal.

    The knight paused his march towards her; his delicate face raised an eyebrow.

    "Don''t take my word for it. See for yourself."

    He waved an arm, a floating rectangle flickering to life.

    [April Wyre Character Sheet]

    [Classification: Librarian]

    Expand ->

    =

    Bellavarn laughed. Vienna dragged him by the arm towards a stall, exclaiming a single word over and over again. He humored her and spent time sampling several soups. Vienna''s commentary was something to behold.

    "Pinch of salt, dash of pepper sprinkled on diced tomatoes and chopped onions. Lukewarm temperature detracts from potential spark of flavor. Stirring regularly has suffused flavor but also depleted the natural consistency and texture."

    Bug-eyed; nearly everyone.

    Vienna went on to sample every soup they came across, rating it and comparing it using eloquent sentences. Some chefs she advised too it hard, but most were excited to have such a specialized critic. Bellavarn interrupted her once they toured over ten soup-specific locations.

    "Vienna, do you want to enter the pie-eating contest with me?"

    "Pie?"

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "Yeah. Pie. I assume there are different kinds too. I am sure they would be ecstatic to hear your comments."

    "Pies aren''t soup."

    Bellavarn tilted his head, smirking.

    "Isn''t pie just soup with a shell?"

    Vienna stopped walking. Stuck to the spot.

    Cynthia waved an arm up and down. Simply, she commented matter of factly.

    "You broke her."

    "Just wait for it."

    There was a tick as the assorted group watched. Then it came.

    "SOUP-PIE!"

    Vienna''s exclamation tore through the crowd. Bellavarn felt himself flapping in the wind as Vienna pulled him like a kite. It took a few minutes to tell her she ran past the competition...

    =

    "What do you think about this set?"

    "That is a knock-off, master Bellavarn. It looks nice but is made of lesser material. You don''t want the handle to break off a teacup as you bring it to your lips."

    "Indeed. That would be bad. What do you suggest?"

    "Eul Porcelain is expensive and the height of luxury."

    Bellavarn toured the small shop. Searching.

    When he found it, he knew it was the right one.

    "I''ll take this one."

    Denice fixated on the pattern.

    "Master Bellavarn, are you sure? This is an exorbitant price even for porcelain."

    "I''m sure. I like this one, don''t you? I can practically smell the rain."

    Denice''s small smile was what he was hoping for. It seemed she remembered their first chat as well. The tea set that Bellavarn had wrapped up safely was painted with blue raindrops. One could almost hear the subtle plinks of liquid from the exquisite artwork.

    All wrapped up, Bellavarn paid. Handing it to a startled Denice.

    "A gift."

    "Master Bellavarn, I couldn''t."

    "Don''t mind it. Let''s share a cup in the future."

    Denice sighed.

    "You''re hopeless, master Bellavarn."

    "Hm? What was that?"

    "Nothing."

    Smiling, she held the box close to her chest, certain not to break it.

    =

    Wilson was tearing out his hair. He lost again. Downtrodden, he turned to Ness, who wasn''t even looking at him. Bellavarn had won a game of beanbags, nailing almost every shot perfectly. He won a pair of stuffed animals. Cute and fluffy. He gave one to Cynthia and Lannie.

    Lannie''s exuberant demeanor and playfulness complimented Cynthia''s mellowness. Lannie waved the stuffed panda in the air, saying she''ll brag about it to Jeral.

    Ness looked longingly. Wilson was unsure if it was for the toys or something else.

    A tap on his shoulder. Kerv.

    He pointed a conspiratorial finger towards a sign reading, "Arm Wrestling Competition".

    Wilson''s eyebrows rose.

    =

    "And the winner is WILSSOOOON!"

    Wilson wooted, seeing the broken table and the giant man sculpted of hulking muscle on the floor. He paused, seeing Ness staring at him in a way he didn''t recognize, twirling her hair.

    Behind her, Kerv winked.

    =

    At some point during the festivities, there was an altercation between Kerv and Henry. They got into a bout of shouted words. It got serious enough that they requested the dueling square to settle the dispute. A specific stage set up to allow the use of magic and weapons without fear of harm coming to viewers.

    Bellavarn tried to talk them down, but they seemed too fired-up to be stopped.

    They both stepped into the square.

    "You''re going to use your shield?"

    Kerv was incredulous, pulling his shield off his back and taking a stance.

    "If you''re the one throwing daggers at me, I''d be an idiot not to."

    Chuckling. Throwing knives appeared in Henry''s fingers.

    "Afraid of facing Bell''s teacher?"

    Spluttering.

    "Shut your face. Come at me already- *Ting*."

    The dagger spun away. That was aimed at his neck!

    "Are you trying to kill me-whoah!"

    Dodging another dagger. Two. Three. Ten.

    They kept coming. Cynthia clapped rhythmically along with Denice. The crowd picking it up.

    More joined in and cheered. Some jeering. Laughing and sharing drinks. A festival in full swing. Someone was taking bets.

    Ester accepted the clinking bag of coins with money signs in her eyes. Trisha grinned toothily.

    "Hahahah! A hundred gold coins against the coward hiding behind the shield!"

    "Mom!"

    Braster chuckled, rubbing his mustache to cover it up.

    In the square, the duel heated up. Kerv rolled and deflected.

    "Where the hell are you pulling those things from? Wait. No. Don''t tell me."

    Grumbling. Assassins and their magic and their belts and their knives and their-

    *TING*

    Furious.

    "That''s it!"

    Kerv charged. Shield bashing. Henry tiptoed and leaped off the incoming shield. Bounding behind Kerv.

    Swinging. Their blades clashed with electric sparks.

    =

    Jeral didn''t have much to do. His job was a simple one and didn''t require a lot of work. The opposite, in fact. Standing outside a door.

    Sure, standing at attention all night and not batting an eye could be considered strenuous by most ordinary people. The boredom would set in. Cramps. Irritability. Wandering minds.

    Funny enough, it took training to be able to stand properly. If you didn''t learn the right way, you''d get torn a new one by your C.O.

    That is why there are shifts.

    No matter how trained, rest is required for any functioning human. To stay at peak efficiency, there is a rotating shift every hour. During the off-time, guards are still on call but are generally free to spend the time as they please. Sleeping, eating, playing games, etc.

    Why explain all this?

    Because the most vulnerable time to strike is in the middle of a shift-change, and sometimes that interval is extended by an unfortunate case of diarrhea.

    "Kyle. This will not reflect well on your track record."

    A muffled voice groaned through a wooden door.

    "Kyle? We are 10 minutes late. Can you knock it off?"

    Jeral heard subdued plops.

    Edging away from the lavoratory door, Jeral raised his voice an octave.

    "I''ll be heading back without you. Join me whenever you''re well."

    Jeral waited for a reply even though he knew one wouldn''t be forthcoming. Grabbing his gear, he headed out. Armored and in uniform, a sword at his hip. It was standard practice for most knights. Some specialists use shields, spears, or even maces, but he wasn''t one of those. Kerv was top of his class with a shield. Henry with knives. Kyle was one of the few spear wielders among the Sallow guards. Jeral remained a straight-cut swordsman.

    The hallways were lit with interspersed torchlight, aided by peeking moonlight. This mansion''s hallways were needlessly roundabout and maze-like, a far cry from the main Sallow residence''s stability and reliability. This building wasn''t designed to favor military matters, aimed primarily at the extravagance of old money nobles and their irrational desire for pointlessly long winding corridors.

    Jeral arrived. Taren and Korel were diligent and didn''t complain.

    "Anything happen?"

    Korel shook his head.

    "Nothing yet. You okay without Kyle?"

    Jeral wanted to roll his eyes.

    "It won''t be a problem. In fact, it is better this way. Go take your break; I''ll be fine."

    Taren and Korel gave a salute to their senior and marched off.

    Jeral''s company disappeared around a far corner. Standing watch, he continued his duty alone for twenty minutes with no sign of Kyle.

    The air was cold in the mansion. That was how Jeral figured that his guest finally arrived. Since the wards around the mansion were all connected and worked together, the fact that Jeral could now see his breath meant the wards were off.

    His mission. It was time.

    The door to the library faced out into an open garden courtyard. Stretching and rolling his shoulders, that was where Jeral walked. Leaving the door unguarded, he found a bench in the courtyard next to a plot of lilies.

    Bellavarn asked Wendle to plant these whit flowers. They were for Jeral and Lannie''s parents. A lily is a flower with many meanings entwined. It was a flower of death and rebirth, suitable to place on a grave. It was also a flower of love, often thrown at weddings. A lily could mean devotion. Purity. Or be related to motherhood.

    In some cultures, specifically, it meant forgiveness.

    It was the perfect flower.

    He watched the flora bob ever so slightly in the night breeze. The moon peeking out from overcast clouds, causing the white flowers to glow with celestial light. Jeral could truly get lost staring into them.

    Removing his eyes, he determined his break lasted long enough.

    Walking back, he saw the door to the library ajar. Expecting this, he didn''t panic.

    Opening it fully, Jeral walked into something he didn''t expect.

    A shadowy figure stood like a statue in the darkness. The only indication of its life was the visible breath emanating from the figure''s mouth.

    Jeral put a hand on his sword, wary. He questioned.

    "Why are you still here?"

    No response.

    The figure attacked.

 During the Spring Festival (4)

    Sparks flew. A flurry of ringing metal left the majority of the crowd dumbstruck and unable to commentate. Two thin daggers parried, struck, and prodded. A sword twisted and spun. Footwork. Flow.

    It was a dance. A ballet of blades. The sparks creating dazzling lights.

    Pirouettes of electric fire.

    Mesmerized.

    Awed.

    Then the fireworks came over the horizon. Magical booms prompted colorful lights¡ªa slideshow of hues and thunderous applause.

    The two battled in a display of grace and tranquility while maintaining their ferocity. Even the crowd could read the undertones of broiling emotions. Bitterness and resentment. Comradeship. Honor. Duty.

    Their names and bets were forgotten and left behind, leaving only majesty.

    And then it stopped.

    Blades at each other''s throats. Panting. Sweaty. Tired and entirely mortal.

    Two last magical fireworks boomed¡ªthe entire venue cast in contrasting orange and blue.

    The only sound after was the heaving breathes of the two contestants.

    Someone inhaled.

    The crowd erupted.

    =

    Lecil nudged Anne.

    "Hey, what was that all about earlier?"

    "What was what about?"

    "You know."

    Anne gave Lecil a look. Then her mouth formed a small o.

    "It is a riddle father gave me a long time ago. I think I have the answer now."

    Lecil thought back to Anne''s small episode.

    "The answer is the people?"

    A nod.

    A pause.

    "So what was the riddle?"

    "Secret."

    Lecil eyed Anne for a while.

    "I''ll trust it isn''t something I need to know. You really surprised me, though. I didn''t think you''d suddenly turn so affectionate towards me."

    A playful jab.

    "What''s that supposed to mean? I can be nice if I want to?"

    "Weren''t you the one who ripped up all my clothes?"

    Anne had the decency to appear abashed.

    "I was angry. I''m sorry. And weren''t you thankful I did it?"

    "I knew you were listening."

    A visible flinch.

    "Ouch. My bad. I''ll remove it."

    "It''s still there?"

    Another flinch. Lecil spoke again before Anne could feel bad.

    "I''m just teasing you. Don''t worry. I don''t blame you. Destroying my clothes and furniture did help me in a roundabout sense. It was just difficult, you know? I''ve always felt so alone in that place. Ever since mother died, I feel like everyone blames me."

    Anne turned, shocked.

    "That''s not true at all! We know it''s not your fault. I think... I think everyone coped with her passing differently."

    "The servants and cooks haven''t been kind, not to mention the guards... You and Kly stopped talking to me, so I just, sort of, hid away."

    Lecil''s voice was subdued and not its usual tone. Celia recalled all the hardship even though the voice wasn''t her own.

    "Tristan seems to have it out for me specifically."

    Anne examined her flat shoes. Trying to find a good answer. But there was none.

    "Tristan misses mother most. Are you aware he goes to her room every morning? He has to pass by yours on the way, and I think he negatively associates."

    Lecil quieted. She didn''t know that. It didn''t make what he did right in any way. Not at all. But it explained more than she knew.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    "I didn''t realize."

    The two stood there unsure of what to do or say. There were too many years between them to sum up in a few sentences. Too much to tackle in one conversation. They couldn''t hope to hash things out and say everything was fine. It was not fine. They both knew it. But one of them had to be the adult. And it was Anne''s turn.

    "I''m sorry we''ve been neglecting you."

    "And I''m sorry I haven''t been pulling my weight."

    As they stared awkwardly at each other, they knew there was a hug in there somewhere. But they coughed instead and turned away.

    A moment passed.

    Then Lecil coughed again, raising an important question.

    "Do you think we should stop them?"

    "Do we have to?"

    Piles of gifts and stall prizes were piled up on either side of them, nearly as tall as they were. Wrapped presents. Flowers. Jewelry. Perfume. Bags filled with clothes. Even a cart each of piping hot food and assorted desserts.

    Anne picked up a pair of frosted biscuits.

    "Biscuit?"

    "Thanks."

    They both bit into their biscuits, watching absently as the two Dukes tackled another stall game. The total score tied again at 27 - 27.

    =

    Bellavarn drank alcohol.

    Just a bit.

    He wasn''t a drinker in either life. Bellavarn Sallow sampled it in the past, the drinking age being practically nonexistent. It was never to his liking, and the effects always seemed negative. Braster laughed and teased his son for being a lightweight. What did he expect from a fifteen-year-old? It wasn''t cheap beer either, but refined wine that was aged for years.

    It hurt Bellavarn at night, thinking of how rare his father''s laugh was. He''d rarely heard his father laugh so exuberantly in all his years. Earning a chuckle was a cause for celebration.

    Bellavarn could recall so many occasions of his father smiling. The way his mustache curved upward with his mouth. He used to make fun of it, saying it looked like a crescent roll because of the shape and golden color. That was when Braster changed his curly mustache to a shaved goatee.

    More often than not, his father''s smile looked pained. Like he would rather be scowling and saying what was on his mind.

    You could tell if the smile was real by how his eyes shone with a tinge of aqua-green. The few times Bellavarn saw that smile, it was always with family. When seeing grandfather off before heading to the capital. Whenever mother came back safely from battle. When Bellavarn hugged his father for the first time in what must have been years, right after his memory incident. When Bellavarn proposed his invention idea.

    And now.

    Braster Sallow drove a rickety wagon, touring a part of the countryside just outside the festival venue. Trisha was sprawled out on bales of hale in the back of the wagon, fast asleep. Every now and then, she would spout a few words. Some decipherable. Others not so much.

    Bellavarn sat in the front seat with his father. The night air was cold, but the alcohol in him warmed his blood.

    The clouds stayed parted, revealing a beautiful moon. Bellavarn wondered if it was the same one he''d always known or if it was somehow different.

    The twinkling stars blanketing the night sky provided abundant ambient light, illuminating the rolling fields.

    "This moment won''t last... will it?"

    Crickets and other chirping insects filled the void of voices. Braster adjusted his grip on the reins. Their speed stabilized to what would normally be an agonizingly slow trot. No one else was around¡ªthe Duke''s word forbidding company for the duration of this ride. Most of the staff stayed out to party while a few went home early to spend time with their own family.

    Braster sighed through his nose, speaking through tight lips.

    "No. It won''t."

    The words were so sad that they hurt.

    "But that doesn''t mean we can''t enjoy it."

    Braster smiled. It wasn''t a happy smile per se. But it was genuine, and Bellavarn fully appreciated it.

    "Hey, Dad?"

    The word of endearment was hesitant.

    "Yes, son?"

    The responding word made Bellavarn tear up a little. He began to worry he was a sad drunk.

    "Am I? I wasn''t entirely truthful about my amnesia..."

    "In what way?"

    Braster held the reins, his full attention of his only son.

    "I lost my memory. But I gained another''s. I have both now... I am your son. Bellavarn Sallow. But at the same time, I remember my life as a different Bellavarn. I remember my other parents. I remember laughing with them as they bought me toys and played with me as a child. I remember them supporting me throughout school and helping me with homework and studying. I remember sleepovers with friends. Get-togethers. Birthday parties..."

    A shaky breath.

    "I thought they were so obnoxious and overbearing at times. They were so protective. They would always walk or drive me to school and make sure I got in the door. Embarrass me in front of my friends. Sing stupid songs and tell the dumbest jokes. Mom would kiss my cheek in front of the girl I liked, and Dad would laugh and offhandedly mention an old bedwetting story."

    Braster remained silent.

    "And then they died, and I was alone."

    In the back seat, Trisha''s expression was unreadable as she laid an arm across her brow.

    Bellavarn choked up.

    "They died. In a world where death isn''t so common. In a freak accident. I remember attending their funeral. I remember crying my heart out. And I still have all these emotions inside of me from an entirely different life and sometimes I believe myself mad or insane. It doesn''t make any sense. Why would it happen? Why me? Is it because we share the same name? For a reason so simple?"

    Sniffing, Bellavarn wiped his eyes and sighed. Waving an arm.

    "I am terrified you and mom are going to go away. Someone will get you. Or you''ll perish in a wagon accident. I don''t know! I''m trying so hard, but I''m scared because I don''t think I could live without you two."

    A firm hand clasped his shoulder. Braster looked his son in the eyes. It was painful and calming at the same time.

    "You are my son. Our son."

    Braster didn''t glance back at Trisha, who kept wiping away her tears, biting her lip.

    "You are stronger than you know, and even if we do disappear one day, you will never be alone."

    "But-"

    "Never. Or are you forgetting some people?"

    His eyes widened. Remembering. Smiling faces. Waving hands and voices calling out his name.

    "We love you. No matter who or what you become that will never change."

    Salty tears now. Bellavarn couldn''t help it. He tried to forbid them, but they came all the same. Braster held his grown son, proud of who he was. The world will keep spinning, and continents will shift, but his son would always remain such.

    Trisha couldn''t hold it any longer and pounced up from her spot, embracing both of them, the least composed of any of them. Her words were incomprehensible as she sniffled and rubbed Bellavarn''s hair affectionately.

    A family.

    That is what they were. And that is what they will always remain.

    =

    Later, Bellavarn sat in the front seat with his parents in half-comfortable silence and half awkward silence. Braster thankfully filled the void.

    "We are leaving in five days. I''ve worked it out with the King and we will be going home soon."

    Bellavarn let his mother rest on his shoulder, looking down at her stomach. A sibling.

    "Home, huh?"

    =

    Jeral bent down over the thief''s corpse. The stench was awful.

    Searching the perp''s pockets produced Bellavarn''s inventions. Twirling one between his fingers, Jeral sighed.

    "I gave you plenty of time to steal it. So why didn''t you leave quietly?"

    The man''s face was frozen in a rictus of pain. The cuts on him were mostly superficial and not life-threatening. Jeral had tried to take him alive, but the idiot swallowed a poisoned pill. A gruesome one too.

    "Jeral?"

    He whipped around, seeing a female figure in the doorway. One he easily recognized.

    "Lannie?"

    Blood splattered as a sword pierced through her chest. A stuffed panda falling to the floor.

    "LANNIE!"

 During the Spring Festival (5)

    Bellavarn took some time to himself. The festivities were still ongoing, but he needed to step away. From his friends. From his parents. Just to take a moment to free his head and relax.

    This part of town was all hills and inclines. Developed but not convenient for a party. Trudging up the cobblestone path illuminated by infrequent magical streetlights, he passed by couples looking to find some alone time. Distracted, he ignored most of it and continued up.

    And up.

    He came to a stone bridge overlooking the color lights of the Equinox Festival. Resting his elbows on the stone railing, he exhaled nostalgically.

    Gazing outward Bellavarn admired how the way the lights twinkled. They reminded him of a place far away called Earth.

    =

    "Are you alright taking them both home?"

    "Yeah, I called for backup. It''s not like I can carry either of them."

    Anne gestured to the two drunk dukes.

    Some date it had been. They were too busy competing with each other to give either of them any time.

    "Will you be fine wandering about? Shouldn''t you call for a bodyguard?"

    Lecil waved a hand, giving some offhand excuse. Anne didn''t seem to mind too much, but the fact that she asked in the first place showed their improving relationship.

    The night hadn''t been all that exciting. She got more reasons as to why the Dukes were terrible options. Astor turned out to be an egomaniac of the same caliber as Raiden. The night''s one highlight was about a half-hour ago when Astor was still semi-lucid. Before the second drinking contest.

    A strange man met up with Astor, whispered a few words, and handed him an object. Astor then excused himself and approached Lecil. His words were benign flattery that was actually roundabout back-patting concerning his business sense. The point in the conversation that stuck was when he offered her a gift. He claimed it was the first design of his newest product, which he would be revealing to the public post-haste.

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    It was a fidget spinner.

    Purple. Bulky and not made of plastic, it was unlike what Celia remembered from Earth. It lit up and spun using magic. The purple paint made the blue mana glow turn a luminescent violet. The spin was slow and hypnotic, and there appeared to be a limiter on how fast it would go.

    All in all. It was a fitting gift. Astor probably had no idea of its significance, thinking only of surface qualities like how the color matched Lecil''s eyes...

    Walking away from the group now, she twirled the object in her hand. Absently, she moved away from the crowd and up a hill. She didn''t know why her feet carried her upwards, but she continued her climb in unconscious musing.

    The festival was winding down. Shops were closing. Food was sold out. Games packed away. Children finally came off sugar highs and were put to bed. It was so eerily reminiscent of a festival back on Earth that Celia forgot the woes of her transmigration and reincarnation. The scenery felt... normal. Even the caged street lamps powered by long-lasting spell formations glowed the same way as fluorescent lightbulbs back on earth.

    Cresting the peak of the hill, she came to a stone bridge. It sat perfectly over a small stream that flowed down through town, past the thoroughfares, out into the farmland, and further still. Stopping, Lecil leaned on the stone railing, gazing out at her world. This is where she would spend the rest of her life and just as likely fade away. And that was alright.

    They didn''t need to be remembered They would both be happy to be left alone. To live a boring and uneventful life.

    But the world has other plans.

    =

    The son of a Duke and Earthbound human.

    First Princess of the Lionel Kingdom and normal Earth girl.

    Each leaned on a different bridge, separated by only an hour''s walk, wondering where home was.

    =

    All was right. Warmth enveloped Lannie.

    A comforting bath.

    "Jeral?"

    A name.

    She called out again.

    "Jeral?"

    Her brother answered.

    "Yes. Lannie?"

    Silence.

    Nothing.

    "Lannie?"

    Her eyes reopened.

    "...I''m here. Lannie."

    The bath turned cold.

    Sticky.

    "I love you, Jeral."

    "I love you too, sis."

    It was freezing now.

    Frigid.

    Scary.

    "Jeral?"

    No response.

    ...

    "Jeral."

    A whisper.

    ...

    Darkness.

    "...Jeral."

    ...

    ..

    .

 Hour of Judgement

    Duke Astor strode into the laboratory. His most esteemed employees worked away on different experiments, so immersed they didn''t see their boss enter. The foremost of the group was a veteran engineer of thirty years. He was the only one ready when Astor approached, bowing formally.

    "Duke."

    Pleased, Daven responded.

    "What have you learned? Is it as promising as we hoped?"

    His eyes gestured to the two spinners sitting on the table. One yellow. One black.

    The old yet refined researcher nodded formally.

    "The concept is without a doubt revolutionary. It''s a relatively simple construction with only a few pieces, yet they work together flawlessly, even with the engraved magical formations. To jump from the idea stage to a working prototype in nearly a month''s time, well... frankly, it is astounding. If I may be so bold, I have a hard time believing this came from that boy."

    Astor appreciated the last comment. Praise was well and good, but too much was going towards the inventor and not the object.

    "And its purpose?"

    "To expand one''s mana pool."

    Daven''s eyes glimmered.

    "So it''s confirmed. It''s not just a spinning toy."

    The researcher smiled back.

    "No. It is only hidden as such. Incredibly devious, don''t you think?"

    "When can you begin production?"

    More subdued, there was a moment of thought before answering.

    "If you wish to mass-produce it, we will need to hire an abundance of crafters. We will also need at least a dozen enchanters who aren''t complete novices since some engravings require steady hands and detailed line-work. Lastly, we need someone knowledgeable to assemble the pieces in order. All in all, it is an undertaking."

    "You will have all of it. Begin as soon as you can."

    Another bow.

    "At once, Duke."

    =

    Anne burst into the King''s office, happy as can be, interrupting her father''s discussion with her brothers.

    "I figured it out! I finally figured out the answer. It''s all thanks to Lecil."

    Anne didn''t register the atmosphere or the mixed emotions written across her brothers. Too excited at solving the problem her father posed all those years ago. She''d been blind, cooped up without having seen anything for herself. Her previous answers had ranged from money to power. To land and speechcraft. The Army. Magics. Trade. To foreign relations and more.

    Now was different.

    "The answer is the people."

    The King gazed at her.

    Anne huffed, the charged energy leaving her and being replaced with eager expectance.

    King Francis Lionel, the head which held the crown, was an older man. Wise? Yes. Shrew? Double yes. Ruthless? Always.

    His motto was that a King never forgives. However, his youngest daughter was his weak spot. The one person he tolerated no matter what. So it didn''t surprise anyone when he stood up from his desk and addressed Anne with affection.

    "Wrong."

    Blinking.

    Affection?

    That word didn''t contain any...

    It was blank. Almost disappointed.

    "The answer is not the people."

    Anne felt she might collapse.

    The King walked around his desk, standing in front of a slouching Anne. King Lionel stood taller than Anne but shorter than most men. Black and gray hair contrasting his daughter''s pure platinum blond. Lifting a weathered hand, he set it atop her head. She flinched at the contradictory gesture. He always did it, but today it didn''t match his words.

    "You will not have a chance at the throne."

    Her fists clenched.

    "One day, you will understand, but not today. Come. Sit. You have a role to play in upcoming matters."

    =

    The opulence of the Astor estate was filed away under unimportant. Bellavarn marched in, not bothering to stop at the reception desk or waiting to be allowed in. No-one stopped him, and those that tried found a blade threatening their throats. Kerv and Henry escorted Bellavarn through the flashy abode.

    Bellavarn did not throw a fit. Nor was he gentle in the way he handled the doors. Authority was his existence, and he''d come to confront the perpetrator.

    Daven Astor, all prim and proper, lounged on a lush chair. Sitting to his right was Duke Raiden, drinking a margarita. Jerome and Ash acted as banners, standing firmly behind him. None of the Sallow party cared for the extra company. They came for one person only.

    "Come on in, Sallow."

    The words were laced. The mahogany doors shut on their own.

    Bellavarn was unreadable as he paced around the furniture, sitting across from Astor. A weak coffee table acted as the only barrier between them.

    Crossing his legs, Bellavarn waited.

    And waited.

    "It''s nice of you to join us. We were just discussing your family and its recent... proclivities."

    Astor waved a pretentious hand, having fun with the situation. Raiden sipped his margarita like it was popcorn.

    "Have you heard of my new product already? It hasn''t even been announced yet, and you are already here to congratulate me. I am afraid it will be an exclusive item, so there won''t be any room for other sellers. You understand, don''t you?"

    The words were clear despite their dressing.

    Bellavarn didn''t respond. Not a muscle moved. Not him. Not his guards.

    If Astor was unnerved at all, he didn''t show it.

    Raiden motioned for Jerome to bring him extra margaritas.

    After it was clear Astor wouldn''t simply give in, Bellavarn spoke solemnly.

    "You think me a moron, don''t you?"

    A sick smile.

    "From my perspective, yes. it is you who plays the fool, constantly being strung along without a clue as to what is really going on in the real world. Naive. A penchant for trusting in the fairer sex. Guided by emotion... Stop me if I get any of this wrong."

    "The truth eludes you. "

    Cocky laughter. Daven''s head was in the clouds.

    "Truth? Your statement couldn''t be more hypocritical. I have all the truth I need. I know of your precious Melody. How you collapsed dramatically, fainting at the sight of your love''s wounds. I know of how she tricked you in that dank cabin and left you waiting in the cold for two nights. I even know you keep a ruined portrait of her in your left breast pocket, right next to your heart."

    Astor''s open grin was malicious. His true face.

    "I don''t know whether to be impressed by your commitment or to throw up. Honestly, there isn''t any way you could act more asinine. And poor April... I heard she rejected you too, right before falling into a coma."

    The last words were spoken through his lower lip, feigning sadness.

    "What a poor, tragic, and pitiable existence you are."

    A moment of silence.

    A pause.

    Bellavarn spoke calmly.

    "Are you done?"

    It was Bellavarn''s turn, his voice remaining even.

    "You know nothing, you pompous, egotistical, little, brat."

    Astor''s grin disappeared.

    "If you were half as good as you believed yourself to be, you would have guessed that Melody''s portrait was removed from my jacket days ago."

    Putting a hand in his jacket, he pulled out a piece of cloth¡ªApril''s handkerchief.

    "I was not rejected. This is April''s. A sign of her affection.

    Replacing it.

    "The feeling is mutual, by the way."

    Moving on.

    "You should also realize April is awake and with her parents. Or did Talon not communicate that to you?"

    Astor''s fingers clenched his armrest.

    "The first thief easily gained access to my workspace and took my inventions. Why do you think that is?"

    "Because-"

    "Because I allowed it."

    Astor''s eyes twitched for the first time. Bellavarn nodded, as a matter of course.

    "I planted the devices in plain sight, behind an easily pickable door with faulty wards, and I even ordered my guards to allow the intruder easy access. Even if your thief were a bumbling buffoon, he shouldn''t have had any problems. I arranged everything perfectly for the spinners to fall into your hands."

    Astor shook, jaw clenched, he was unable to hold his tongue.

    "Why would you."

    "I guess it only makes sense that you wouldn''t understand. My plan was to allow you to manufacture the devices on your own dime. If I manufactured it myself, you would have blocked the product. So, making you distribute it willingly was the best way to grow the Kingdom''s power. And you would never have known had I not told you. The designs would never be yours if I hadn''t allowed it."

    "You would willingly give up a fortune to a rival?."

    Bellavarn actually looked at him with pity.

    "I could guess you were self-centered, but I should have realized you were an idiot too."

    "How dare you!"

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    "HOW DARE YOU!"

    Bellavarn bellowed. Enraged, he rose. A dark aura pressuring. Suffocating and malevolent. Madness.

    Chains wrapped his ego.

    He let them. He didn''t care. This was what he wanted anyway.

    "Because of you. Two people are dead."

    He seethed through his teeth. Gazing into Astor, freezing his soul.

    "My friends died because of you! All you had to do was send a competent thief. But instead, you sent assassins to kill an innocent girl and her brother. Did you know they died in just out of arm''s reach? That they killer let them bleed out long enough to see the other die?"

    Insane laughter.

    "Jeral and Lannie''s blood is all over your filthy paws. And you will answer for it."

    The doors exploded inwards¡ªa dozen armed men entering the room. The one in the lead declared.

    "By order of the King, Bellavarn Sallow is to be apprehended and brought before the throne to answer for his crimes against the crown."

    Astor''s smiled sickly. Standing, he dusted himself off, wiping his hands of this affair.

    Bellavarn paid them no mind. Instead, he turned to the Klein Raiden, voice chilly.

    "Will you be joining the arrest, Duke Raiden?"

    Swirling a second martini, he sipped it casually.

    "I don''t see any need to."

    Bellavarn grinned.

    "Good. Kerv. Henry. Buy me thirty seconds."

    "With pleasure, Master Bellavarn."

    "I needed something to hit anyway."

    The authorities reached for their weapons, unable to react in time. Clashing with Kerv and Henry.

    Raiden waved Ash and Jerome down, all while Duke Astor chuckled haughtily.

    "You are only making it worse for yourself. Give up. Your fate is already sealed."

    It was Raiden who answered.

    "You''ve forgotten something important, Daven."

    Bellavarn moved around the table towards Astor. The prim duke backpedaled, looking between Raiden and the approaching Bellavarn.

    Surely... Surely he couldn''t be... And Raiden is going to sit there?

    Retreating, Astor perceived a blur before the impact.

    Thick meaty smacks. Almost rhythmic and musical. A disgusting melody.

    Raiden''s boisterous laughter resounded.

    "You''ve forgotten he''s a Sallow!"

    =

    Bellavarn knelt before the court. It was a full show with nearly every major and minor noble present¡ªall except his parents. Today, new blood and old blood found something more interesting to focus on than their rivalry.

    The accusation against Bellavarn Sallow:

    Assault on the royal family.

    The King reclined on his throne, peering down at Bellavarn. Prince Kly and Prince Tristan stood on either side as witnesses. The two Dukes were there as well. Raiden was expressionless  while Astor''s smug face appeared healthy and normal behind an expensive enchantment.

    Royal Guards lined the room. Everyone stared at him. He thought he saw April''s parents among the crowd.

    No allies. No parents. No guards. No friends. A sea of enemies determined to make an example.

    Not even the son of a Duke is beyond judgment.

    "You are accused of assault on the royal family. How do you plead?"

    Bellavarn wanted to grind his teeth, but he forced himself to answer immediately and without hestiating.

    "Not guilty."

    The king made no move, expecting this outcome. The other nobles chattered and whispered, grateful the theatrics would continue.

    "What words do you have to refute the word of your sovereign."

    Sovereign? You and the rest of your lackeys can go to hell.

    "What evidence is there besides your words?"

    Murmurs.

    "I see no injuries on your persons¡ªnone on your sons. You''ve dismissed both princesses, so I can only assume one of them is the injured party. But it is strange. I heard they were both happy and healthy last night at the festival. They were even attended by the two dukes standing beside you."

    You should have dealt with me quietly instead of having this farce in front of the nobles.

    "If one of the princesses was harmed, would it not have been one of the two standing beside you? If not, their negligence is surely a crime of similar worth."

    A susurration swept the audience. Raiden looked impressed while Astor continued to glare.

    "You have presented no evidence of foul play. No blood. No weapon. No eye-witness testimony. You have no proof other than your word that I have acted against the crown in any way."

    Bellavarn''s words elicited smiles from his judges. Prince Tristan spoke sinisterly.

    "We have all of it."

    Thus they brought out the rope. Lengthy explanations about its use and confirmation of the princess'' blood on the rope. Bellavarn''s objections of the blood being planted went unanswered. The entire evidence was been fabricated; there was absolutely no blood that day¡ªonly bruises and old scars.

    His word didn''t matter. They didn''t care for the holes he poked. They enjoyed a juicy story more than the truth.

    The maid they brought out as witness only saw him leaving the princess''s room with his guard. They never saw inside or what happened. They didn''t hear anything. No cross-examination was held, and no public defender was fighting for Bellavarn. The King could have coerced the entire testimony, and no one would be the wiser. Nor would anyone care. The monarchy was absolute.

    The crown was unquestionable.

    When they brought out Kerv, Bellavarn saw red.

    He''d been beaten horrendously, unable to walk on his own two feet. They used his continued silence as proof of criminals hiding their deeds.

    Fury boiled within him. Red hot and scorching.

    A kangaroo court. A sham. It was all a lie to cover up their own faults.

    First Melody. Now Princess Lecil.

    None of it was his fault. None of the damage was his doing. None of what they said was true.

    They were determined to kill him.

    They should be the ones kneeling!

    Fight back.

    Of course, he should fight back!

    Attack.

    He would plan his revenge.

    Kill them all!

    He would slaughter them for their insolence.

    It''s all their fault.

    Their fault.

    Them.

    The King

    Royals.

    Dukes.

    Nobles.

    People.

    Melody.

    The Princess.

    They will all pay.

    They will all perish.

    Starting with her.

    =

    Lecil was drinking tea with her sister. The oddity was that Anne never invited her before. The second was that her normally chatty sister was painfully silent.

    Noble topics, gossip, or the latest fashion trends¡­ topics that would normally Anne to go off on tangents all fell short. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything that would rouse the younger princess.

    "Anne. Why did you want to have tea if you didn''t want to talk?"

    Anne flinched and then tried brush the action away.

    "Erm. I wanted to spend quality time together. You know, since last night, we sort of bonded a bit."

    Glancing at the affection rate above her head, it remained at 30%.

    "I know you can tell a better lie than that. And if you can''t, you might as well tell the truth."

    Biting her lip, Anne debated telling Lecil. There was a chance she could get jealous, or angry, or throw a fit. All of which would be bad right now. But Anne decided that her sister, the First Princess, would understand her dillema better than anyone.

    "It''s about the answer to father''s riddle. It turns out I was wrong."

    "Wrong, how?"

    "The answer isn''t the people. It is something else."

    "Is it that big of an issue if you are wrong? Why does it matter?"

    "Because! Father said if I figured it out, I could... I could be considered eligible for the crown."

    Bafflement.

    "Why would he do that?"

    Bitter anger.

    "He said if I solved it, I would know what it was like to be king."

    "No. I mean, why would he suddenly let you, a woman, run for the position of king, which has always been seeded with masculinity? There''s no way that solving a riddle would make it okay. Even if you are father''s favorite, the backlash would be enormous."

    Anne clutched at her dress. Holding onto straws.

    "But there is a chance! He gave me a chance. If I can figure out what he wants me to say, I can become the first Queen in the kingdom''s history. I can change the way things are run!"

    Lecil set down her cup and shook her head.

    "That is why men will never accept a woman as ruler. They are afraid of the change a woman will bring."

    "But the riddle!"

    "Screw the riddle! What is wrong with your answer? What is this absurd riddle that tells you that you''re wrong?"

    Anne relayed the riddle in a voice that said she repeated it to herself thousands of times.

    "What is the most important thing for a ruler to have?"

    "That''s it?"

    Anne nodded hesitantly.

    Lecil scoffed.

    "That is not a riddle. That is an objective question. Whatever your answer, he can claim it is false. Why can''t there be more than one right answer? If you want to be queen, won''t your style of rule be different than Father''s? If your answer is the same as his, nothing will change."

    The mixture of emotions running through Anne was drastic until they landed on clarity and recognition.

    Anne - 35%

    Lecil added another note.

    "Besides, I like your answer a lot better than if it was something like ¡®the crown, or, an ¡®iron fist¡¯.¡±

    A little laughter.

    Then a thought.

    "By the way. Is something happening? I haven''t seen anyone else all morning. Not even Irene."

    "Ah. About that. You don''t have to worry. Our brother and Father are taking care of it. You won''t have to be afraid of him any longer."

    Seeing the way Anne reached over and grabbed her hands in a comforting gesture was a clear warning sign that something was off.

    "Him? Afraid? What are you-"

    The shattering pottery followed her stumble to the parlor door.

    "Celia!"

    Anne''s voice was indistinct.

    The migraine. It was back and pounding her head with alarms.

    Her vision was blurred, and her breathing became ragged. Clawing at her mind.

    Instability.

    Breathing.

    Hyperventilating.

    Breathing.

    Slowing.

    Back to normal.

    Her eyes focused in front of her, on the screen phasing in and out.

    -

    (Hidden) Main Event: Hour of Judgement

    Rewards: Life

    Consequence: Death

    -

    =

    The pain was still there, throbbing and ever-present. It remained persistent in its attempts to block her. Warning Lecil to turn back.

    An event screen kept trying to reappear in front of her as she walked, but it fizzled out every time. It seemed to want to tell her more but was being blocked by something.

    The hallways were barren of life. Ancestors'' eyes glared daggers through yellowed paintings. Stained glass windows attacked her senses with a multitude of hues. The click-clack of shoes dancing to the beat of her agonizing head. Clutching it, she tried to slow the blood flowa€¡±a fever well-past boiling temperature.

    Stumbling, Anne caught her arm.

    "Celia. You''re burning up. You have to stop."

    "No! No... I need... I need to see. Then it will stop."

    Anne held her tongue, helping her sister. This was defying her father''s wishes, but she didn''t see another way to stop her deranged sister.

    More hallways.

    More paintings.

    More stupid glass windows.

    More clicking clocks.

    More.

    And more.

    And more.

    Until...

    Through the crack in a doorway, between the shoulders of two guards, Lecil could see for the first time.

    Clear as day.

    Bellavarn Sallow.

    Sallow: 62%

    Why is it so high?

    Sallow: 61%

    It''s dropping? Why is it dropping?

    Sallow: 58%

    No! No, no, no! This can''t be happening. Why is that bastard''s score so high?

    Sallow: 53%

    I''m going to lose it all! Stop! I need to stop it!

    The clocks chimed Twelve.

    Eleven.

    Ten.

    Nine...

    =

    The scene changed.

    Lecil was floating, attached to the ceiling, looking down, past the grand chandelier. It was dark. Almost too dark. Lights were extinguished, save for the moonlight shining through the balcony. It cast familiar furniture in gloomy hues.

    Her viewpoint rotated, following a line of rope.

    Is that me?

    Her body hung suspended. Dead.

    Had it all been a dream? Have I been dead this whole time?

    The door opened. A figure bursting in.

    "Kerv! Get in here."

    A second figure.

    "Hurry. Cut the rope!"

    Lecil jumped from seeing her own body hit the floor. Even if the man cushioned the fall, that must have left a nasty bruise.

    "Two minutes. Give me two minutes. Please."

    The man was pumping her chest in a familiar fashion.

    Are those chest compressions? Is he doing what I think he is doing?

    "Bell, what are you doing?"

    "Cut her corset. Quickly! She can''t breathe this way."

    Lecil yelped when her clothes were cut. No one could hear. The background of chiming clocks too raucous. Her favorite dress, ruined.

    Was that what happened? But I thought...

    Bellavarn Sallow. This was him. He was trying to save her! Those chest compressions. Even the rescue breaths? How did he know how to do that? Why was he saving her? He is supposed to be the villain!

    Chimes.

    Fading.

    Lecil felt herself floating away.

    =

    A deep inhale.

    The last chime.

    Sallow: -23%

    It went negative!

    The numbers jumped.

    Sallow: -44%

    STOP! Please! Stop.

    Lecil tried to burst through the doorway, but hands caught her. Strong hands.

    She struggled, flailing uselessly. Unable to break free. Unable to stop it.

    Then she met Bellavarn''s eyes.

    She sent a prayer into those dark abyssal blue eyes.

    The coldness froze her. Stopping her struggle.

    Then the color softened.

    The falling number scrolled like an index.

    It stopped.

    Broken.

    Sallow: N/a

    =

    He didn''t care if the world burned.

    He didn''t care if they all died.

    Let them writhe and scream and beg for mercy. It was all? her? fault.

    If he hadn''t saved her, they had nothing to pin on him.

    He would kill her first.

    Rip her to shreds as a message.

    He would save no one ever again.

    No kindness.

    No mercy.

    No-

    Purple eyes.

    A figure hiding.

    No...

    A princess still fighting to break free.

    The chains he let bind him shattered.

    Free to think. Bellavarn saw the girl he saved, desperately trying to help. A figure held her back. One he vaguely recognized.

    Ash.

    Their eyes met and the threat was clear.

    Bellavarn sighed.

    He was tired of it all.

    Telling the truth and saying the princess tried to harm herself wouldn''t lead anywhere. Killing everyone here was implausible. Being declared innocent was impossible when immutable powers acted as his judge. They framed him for a made-up crime, and nothing he did could change their minds.

    Defeated, he asked.

    "What is the punishment?"

    A single word.

    "Death."

    =

    Braster kicked in the doors, one of them crushing an unfortunate soul. Squeaks signaled the person was alive.

    "Enough of this farce."

    His voice boomed throughout the room. A retinue followed him. Trisha wore her sword. The rest of the guards all came. Each member of the staff marched in with Duke Sallow taking the lead.

    Prince Tristan addressed the intruder.

    "This trial is over. Your deranged son admitted defeat. He will be executed for acting against the crown."

    "Then there will have to be a slaughter after all."

    Swords escaped from their sheaths. All weapons were drawn as the nobles attempted to get out of the line of fire.

    Raiden laughed, excited.

    "Come on then! Let''s get this party started!"

    Trisha drew her sword, ice coalescing around her.

    "Not another step, pipsqueak."

    "I won''t go easy just because you are pregnant, Duchess."

    The din was overwhelming.

    Shouting words that no one listened to.

    Orders dismissed.

    Clamor. Ready for a charge.

    "Silence."

    The king''s word halted all present. An air of authority only a King could muster.

    All attention was on the aged man rising from his throne.

    "There will be no spilled blood today. The kingdom needs its dukes; thus, I will allow for a concession to be made."

    He didn''t elaborate any further, and it was up to Braster to fill in the blanks. Sheathing his sword, Duke Sallow marched forward.

    "I, Duke Braster Sallow, will accept responsibility for the accusations against my son and any wrongdoing this day. Will you accept my sword, your grace?"

    Braster offered his holstered weapon.

    The king smiled wide for the first time.

    "No! This is what they want!"

    Too late.

    "I, King Francis Lionel II, accept your sword. As punishment for your crimes, you will be garrisoned in Duke Raiden''s most southern lands. Your task is to conquer the Badlands as the acting General."

    That was a death sentence! There was no point in conquering sterile land, the kingdom had no use for it, and the natives protected every grain of sand until their dying breath. Sending a Duke native to the cold north to the arid south was completely illogical and suicidal.

    Bellavarn couldn''t stand for it.

    This couldn''t happen.

    Luckily. He saw a potential way out.

    Rocketing to his feet. He spoke into the absence.

    "Duke Raiden!"

    All eyes turned.

    Raiden was curious.

    "What do you have left to say, disgraced son?"

    Mustering up his courage, Bellavarn declared.

    "I will show all present that I am irreplaceable and stronger than the proclaimed war hero of Lionel."

    Steely eyes.

    "I challenge you to a duel. Your title, your land, your people will become mine, and I will conquer the southern Badlands as its rightful Duke."

 Bellavarn Sallow Vs Klein Raiden

    "Heal him."

    The elderly healer lady scowled.

    "Do it. I know you can. If Astor can somehow show his face after I bashed it in, you can heal Kerv."

    The old lady growled.

    Bellavarn growled back.

    And that was that.

    =

    Bellavarn waited outside the infirmary.

    No one guarded him. If Bellavarn ran or backed out, it would mean the end of his family''s reputation.

    There were many visitors. Practically everyone he knew wanted to say a few words. It was touching, even if they all said the same thing. His parents didn''t say anything as they sat with him for a while. They showed their silent support that way.

    Henry was the last one to show up. He''d been preparing.

    "Did you get all our items back?"

    Nodding in the affirmative, he handed several items over. Bellavarn pocketed his belongings and set Kerv''s stuff off to the side. Bellavarn looked Henry up and down.

    "I''m glad they didn''t get a chance to rough you up too."

    A sad smile.

    "It should have been me. Kerv can''t handle pain the way I can."

    A muffled shout from behind the infirmary doors.

    The two shared a look.

    "I think he heard you."

    "No, those were his dying breaths."

    Louder shouts. Angry this time.

    They smiled. Chuckling.

    Letting the tension fade.

    =

    Kerv walked out on his own two feet.

    Or more like he was thrown out. He threw a few curses back inside, but in the end, he bowed deeply at the closed door.

    Bellavarn and Henry walked up.

    "Feeling better?"

    Kerv rolled a shoulder.

    "I''ll say. I don''t even remember what she did, but I feel better than before. All save this clinking sound in my knee."

    "You''ve always had that."

    "That was my ankle. This is my knee. See! My knee!"

    Kerv hopped on one foot, shoving his knee in Henry''s face. Henry smacked it down.

    "You guys are my best friends; you know that, right?"

    Bellavarn''s serious words cut the mood.

    "Your best friends are your employees? Now that''s bizarre."

    "I agree."

    "Bell''s so hopeless that he can''t make friends unless they are trapped in the same room with him."

    "True."

    Bellavarn punched both of them.

    And the mood was back to normal. That was what friends were for.

    Then Kerv mentioned what was on everyone''s minds in an off-handed manner.

    "So, how''d you bamboozle the great war hero of Lionel and his royal hiney into allowing this?"

    Bellavarn scoffed.

    "Raiden has an image to uphold. I sullied it by daring to compare myself to him. Combined with all the witnesses, such a serious allegation couldn''t go unchallenged. "

    "And what will happen if we lose?"

    Bellavarn shrugged.

    "It can''t get any worse."

    Henry asked the important question.

    "Do you believe we can win?"

    Bellavarn exhaled.

    "Frankly? No. Not a chance in hell."

    Silence.

    "I do have a plan, though."

    "But you just said-"

    "I know what I said. Do you want to hear the plan or not?"

    Henry and Kerv looked at each other and shrugged. They had nothing to lose.

    =

    The ticking clocks grated on Bellavarn''s nerves, constantly mocking the trio as they traversed the hallways. Their escort of Royal Guards lead the way, making sure they didn''t veer off course. The duel would take place on the official palace dueling square, so they would know the best route.

    More guards joined them the further they went. Acting as a procession.

    Over a dozen guards in glittering armor.

    And then they were gone.

    Henry and Kerv drew their weapons. Wary.

    There were only a handful of people who could order them away so suddenly.

    And four of those people showed up.

    Two Princes. Two Princesses.

    It should be said that Kerv and Henry didn''t lower their weapons. Not until Bellavarn waved them down.

    The two groups met.

    The last time they met all together was the night this started.

    Bellavarn looked at the heirs. All dressed up like this was the event of a lifetime. Tristan wearing dark blues and flashy pins. Kly wearing grays that aligned with shiny silvers. Anne wore deep purples, matching the sister she was trying to stand in front of. The hostile glares from the three of them were palpable.

    Lecil was similarly dressed, but it didn''t look like she wanted to hide. She looked almost desperate.

    A sigh escaped his throat.

    "Do you all have something to say, or do you wish to execute me here instead? For of a crime we all know I didn''t commit."

    Tristan clicked his tongue. Kly hung out an arm to stop his older brother, speaking ahead.

    "We''d rather not be here. It was Lecil who wanted to see you. She has questions for you."

    "Answer her quickly."

    Bellavarn rolled his eyes. Waiting.

    Lecil stepped out from the protection of her siblings to stand in front of Bellavarn.

    Her focus was elsewhere, somewhere above his head. Bellavarn''s eyebrows knitted, but he didn''t say anything, maintaining a neutral disposition. When their eyes met, he looked into those dark and searching purple eyes and glimpsed the hidden questions she couldn''t quite voice.

    "It was you that night."

    "Yes."

    "You didn''t hurt me; you saved me."

    "Yes.

    "That maid too. You didn''t hurt her."

    "No. I didn''t."

    "And the crowd outside the charity event, when you were attacked, you didn''t order them all to be executed?"

    Confusion.

    "No. I was stabbed by a single person. Why would they all need to be punished?"

    "That is the point. I thought you did. You were supposed to."

    Anger.

    "Why would I? Just because it would have been more convenient for you?"

    Lecil''s eyes broke away, glancing above his head again. Her expression worried.

    Bellavarn decided this was enough.

    "Is that all you have to ask? I am pleased you look healthy, but I have an appointment to keep."

    She searched his eyes again. Looking for something she couldn''t place. Bellavarn was getting tired of it. He disengaged and started to walk away.

    A hand grabbed his jacket.

    "Wait."

    "What?"

    "You... You''re not the villain. Are you?"

    "You tell me. Now let go."

    Bellavarn shook his arm loose, leaving her rooted.

    Kerv and Henry followed, the royal heirs parting for them. Lecil was left to watch helplessly as Bellavarn was swept away in the returning sea of glittering guards.

    =

    The duel was set. It would be a group battle.

    Klein Raiden changed the rules twice. First, it was a three on three because he pitied Bellavarn and thought that he needed help. The second time, he made it into successive rounds where Bellavarn, Kerv, and Henry, would face one opponent. Then two. Then all three.

    No one in the audience would think that Bellavarn had any chance. Henry held no name. Kerv was always second to Ash. Bellavarn was a coward, while Klein was a swordmaster and hero. The outcome was set. It was just a matter of how entertaining the ending was.

    Klein was looking to put on a show.

    There were pews and elevated stands set up to face the west. Half was filled with spectators of noble birth and the other seated of Bellavarn''s supporters. Both groups glared at one another, separated by a thin space of absent bodies.

    Somewhere, an emboldened April was on a secret mission to sneak past the lax palace guards, desperate to attend the event.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    The arena itself was barren land¡ªdirt like the inner ring of a baseball field. Several magical absorbers were set up along the edges to protect the viewers. By the charged air alone, Bellavarn could tell they were many times stronger than those during the festival.

    Walking into the ring with Kerv and Henry, Bellavarn let the crowd cheer or jeer or anything else. His eyes were on his opponents.

    Jerome. Strategist and Weapon Master.

    Ash. The Strongest Shield.

    Raiden. The War Hero.

    A dynamic trio that appeared as if they came out of a Hollywood movie. The hero''s party. A gallant and dashing man brimming with power. A cool and reserved female lead who''s a not-so-secret badass. And the smartly dressed tactician who plans the battles, acting as the glue in the team.

    Their hair perfect. Armor maintained. Weapons sharp. Raiden even wore a national treasure at his waist.

    "We look like a train-wreck compared to them."

    "I am going to assume that is an insult."

    Kerv glowered.

    The three of them looked positively normal in comparison.

    A sheltered noble''s son.

    A rugged jokester.

    And an unknown.

    The participants walked forward, were read the rules of the duel. Agreeing. Sportsmanship. Yada Yada Yada.

    Before they returned to their starting positions, Bellavarn had to ask.

    "Raiden. What do you get out of this?"

    His smile was large.

    "I don''t know what you mean. You''re the one that challenged me."

    "Why did you join the others in their schemes? Your interests don''t align, and I can''t see how you benefit from all of this. If you wanted to fight my mother, you could have waited. If you wanted the south conquered, you could have done it. And there is no reason for you to want to depose my family."

    Raiden''s large smile slowly fell away. Unamused.

    "That is the problem with you intellectual types. Always looking for an agenda. What if I just wanted to have fun?"

    Bellavarn narrowed his eyes.

    "I don''t believe you to be that simple."

    Raiden shrugged and went off to his side, waving a hand and not bothering to answer.

    During a short speech by the King, Bellavarn checked his personal shield device. It came in the form of a broach that would protect him from a certain amount of damage before going kaput, signaling his removal from the duel. He needed to make sure it was legitimate and not a knock-off that would break at the slightest rustle.

    Speech over. The King declared the duel official.

    Jerome took a stance at the edge of the square, a short bow in hand. A modest quiver rested across his back. A shortsword resting at his hip. The thin strategist looked out at his opponents.

    They stood in a line. Henry crouched in front, wielding a shortsword and a parrying dagger. Kerv took a defensive stance with sword and shield. And Bellavarn hid behind them.

    Laughs from the crowd.

    "I didn''t expect you to hide. But I suppose there isn''t a better option for you, is there?"

    Bellavarn was calm as he watched over Kerv''s shield shoulder. He answered Raiden''s taunt.

    "I trust my guards. And I know where my faults lay."

    Klein seemed impressed, grinning toothily.

    "Pretty words. Let''s see if they can protect you. Jerome!"

    "Understood, Duke."

    Jerome pulled back an arrow and fired. The duel commenced.

    Henry ducked, the arrow hit Kerv''s shield. The second as well. Henry dashed low, remembering the battle plan.

    [Can you dodge or parry arrows?]

    [Outside ten feet, yes.]

    [Good. Then just dash straight forward. Get within ten feet, and I will take care of the rest.]

    A fired arrow, Henry leaned right. The arrow clattered off the ground.

    Another. Parried by a dagger.

    A third and fourth. Henry spun, deflecting both. He continued forward. Low.

    Ten feet.

    Jerome smiled, thrumming his string.

    [How do you win against a strategist?]

    A light caught his eye. Jerome winced, firing.

    The arrow went wide.

    Henry closed in and swung. Jerome cursed, pulling his shortsword, barely deflecting in time. He shot a glance at Bellavarn; a laser pointer was aimed in Jerome''s direction.

    The distraction caused him to lose sight again. He stumbled.

    [...You use petty tricks.]

    "You''re overburdened."

    Henry thrust.

    =

    A shield blocked the blow. Ash intercepting it in the final moment.

    Everyone disengaged.

    Disappointed grunts and murmurs from the crowd.

    "Is that it?"

    "That wasn''t very exciting."

    "Is he really a weapons master? He looks like a normal archer."

    "Wasn''t that one of the pointers you can get at the penny store?"

    The general mood of the nobles plummeted, while Bellavarn''s support was filled with restrained hope.

    A messy April appeared. Twigs in her hair. Huffing, she poked a nearby noble.

    "Did I miss anything?"

    The look she got was not a friendly one. Seeing her parents nearby, April ducked quickly.

    Edging around the stuffy nobles, she found a spot among Bellavarn''s supporters. Vienna noticed her best friend and moved to hide April from the others. April grinned, and looked out at the duel, Duke Raiden''s laughter reaching her ears.

    "That was fast! I thought you would last a bit longer than that, Jerome."

    "The outcome was obvious. You knew I couldn''t handle three combatants in close quarters."

    "Ah! But it didn''t even come to that. You got tricked. You''re rusty."

    "It appears so, Duke."

    "No matter. Let us continue. Ash!"

    "Understood, Duke."

    Jerome walked over and retrieved the bow he dropped, and Ash took a stance in front of Jerome. Now it looked like he was the one hiding.

    The Sallow''s side waited in their formation.

    The next arrow was the cue to restart. Again Kerv blocked it. Henry dashed right. Skirting the edge of the arena. Ash went to cut him off, but Kerv and Bellavarn ran in the opposite direction, forcing Ash to choose. Jerome could match Henry as long as he wasn''t blinded, thus Ash chose to meet Kerv in combat and prevent Bellavarn from continuing his tricks.

    Jerome fired several more arrows in a repeat of the last encounter. He thought he had Henry this time when he engaged too close to dodge the next arrow.

    Since Henry didn''t have Bellavarn to rely on this time, he only had one option.

    Pulling out a piece of paper from his jacket, Henry snapped it in two¡ªan audible clap and flash of light. For most, it only drew attention. Jerome, however, was only several feet away and looking directly into the blinding light.

    He didn''t expect the same trick using a different method.

    The last arrow went wide, and Jerome pulled his shortsword again with a curse. Out of tricks, they were evenly matched. Henry was skilled, but Jerome was still a master when it came to weaponry. Their subdued battle of feinting and striking was overlooked in favor of the flashy battle happening on the other side of the square.

    Kerv met Ash with a bang. He took several blows on his shield and counterattacked with his sword. Deadly focused. They fought together before. Countless spars with the same outcome every time. Today would be the same.

    Bellavarn stepped back and watched the two rivals clash. They fought loudly and with brutal efficiency. They carried the same weapons. The same tactics. The same will to win. The same drive.

    "You haven''t changed, Ash."

    Kerv received a heavy blow to his shield, then returned it in kind. Ash didn''t even grunt.

    "Neither have you, Kerv."

    She aimed her sword and thrust.

    "I wouldn''t be so sure."

    Kerv dropped his shield. Ash''s eyes widened, her sword moving toward his unguarded neck. Even with the magical protection, it wasn''t enough to stop the damage that would be wrought. She attempted to pull back but couldn''t.

    *CLANG*

    "What-"

    Her sword was thrown back as it met a strange black rod. Kerv took an adapted fencer''s stance, his sword in front which the other hand guarding his neck, wielding a black baton.

    Ash was confused.

    "You aren''t a fencer, Kerv."

    Kerv chuckled. His eyes alight.

    "You''re right. I''m not. This is something different."

    Kerv lunged. Ash easily blocked. Thus Kerv had her. Reaching his baton over, he yanked her shield. She didn''t have time to reorient a block or parry. Kerv''s sword screeched past her face. The dueling shield flickering to protect her.

    Ash disengaged and made some distance. Checking herself. She beamed, her face unnaturally wide and brimming with new energy.

    "Good! Show me what you have."

    Kerv exhaled.

    "You are always like this."

    The two re-engaged. A new combat style evolving. Bellavarn watched silently. A mirror to Klein Raiden.

    Jerome was still entangled with Henry and didn''t have time to breathe. When the fight dragged on for another ten seconds, Bellavarn realized it was time.

    "Now!"

    Kerv redoubled his efforts, and Henry disengaged, running straight for Ash.

    "You''re insane!"

    Jerome cursed and ran for his bow. Henry was halfway there when he heard the twang of a bowstring. Bellavarn ran forward, wielding nothing but his body. Ash saw the approaching Bellavarn and dismissed him; she deflected Kerv''s sword strike and pivoted her foot.

    An arrow flew through the air, aimed at Henry''s back. His gaze trained forward, he threw his parrying dagger. Rolling. The arrow flew over him. Pulling out two circular objects, he powered them with mana, causing them to buzz. Completing his roll, he threw the spinning blades.

    Duke Astor rocketed from his seat. He recognized the spinners.

    Something like that is possible?

    It was too late for regrets.

    Four projectiles soared through the air, aiming for Ash''s back.

    Then a black baton thrummed to life, emitting a keen blue edge.

    "I''ve been saving this..."

    His sword collided with hers, and the now sharpened baton aimed to gouge out her side. Bellavarn was too close, almost upon her. The dagger. Arrow. Projectiles. Too much danger. She was overstimulated.

    I won''t make it.

    Ash panicked.

    Bellavarn tasted victory.

    It was not to be.

    *CLANG-TING-TSH-TSH*

    Klein Raiden appeared.

    "Hah. Monster..."

    Bellavarn stopped in his tracks as everyone else did too. The crowd was on the edge of their seats. Astor was having a fit. Kly had an expression of mild surprise, and Tristan looked annoyed. Anne was swooning over Raiden while Lecil was awestruck at the entire maneuver.

    Trisha had tears in her eyes and was becoming emotional. Braster was beaming with pride.

    April whooped.

    The entire display was phenomenal and breathtaking. Everything flowed together. It would have been a perfect plan if Raiden hadn''t stepped in.

    "I''ll admit. I didn''t believe you would be able to corner Ash. It seems I will have to take you seriously now. But I wonder what you will do now that all your tricks have been used up."

    Bellavarn repositioned himself.

    "Who said I am out of tricks?"

    "Even if you have dozens. You still won''t beat me. I''ve fought in battles countless times. This is your first fight, isn''t it?"

    "You know the answer to that."

    Klein sheathed his sword.

    "I suppose I do. Come, Ash, Jerome. Back to your starting positions. Let''s end this."

    Everyone returned to their positions. The crowd sat back down and now watched with bated breath. What would happen? Would the Sallows get thrashed now that Klein was joining the battle? Or would Bellavarn surprise again?

    [Honestly, I don''t think we stand a chance against him.]

    [I agree with Henry. I can''t imagine myself lasting long against him.]

    [Thats alright. Just a few seconds will do.]

    [What am I supposed to do, Bell?]

    [Keep Ash off me. That''s all. We only have about ten seconds total before he wipes the floor with us. So I will ask this one question...]

    [...]

    [...]

    [How do you beat a monster?]

    They all retook positions. Henry in front, after retrieving his dagger and spinners. Kerv took up his shield again. They both were breathing heavily as Bellavarn waited in the back. Again, he was without a weapon.

    "Take a moment to breathe. This is it."

    "We should be saying that to you."

    "Cram it, both of you. I am hyping myself up."

    They turned silent as they watched their foes.

    Klein was the picture of a hero. Flowing red hair and burning eyes. A rock-solid posture and wielding an amazing weapon. Ash was likewise impressive. Her face illustrious, being known as the Knight Commander who served beside Kein in war. Her sword and shield glimmered in the sunlight. Jerome was composed and unshaken. He held his bow again. Unafraid of being interrupted again.

    Ash spoke, her normal reserved voice replaced with eagerness.

    "Duke, I would request you let me face Kerv."

    Klein raised a single eyebrow but gave his word.

    "If you wish. You two seem to have history."

    "Just a bit, Duke."

    "I don''t assume you wish to take the dagger wielder, Jerome?"

    "No, Duke. I will leave the fun to you."

    "Good. I need at least some entertainment. It wouldn''t be fun attacking an unarmed man. Give the signal once you are ready, Jerome."

    Klein unsheathed his sword. The atmosphere became dense and suffocating. The trio narrowed their vision, blocking out the spectators. They were on the battlefield now. Nothing could stop them. They were the image of the perfect party. A Hero''s Party.

    The audience held their breath as Jerome knocked an arrow and fired. It clinked against Kerv''s shield.

    Klein exploded forward. Henry was thrown through the air as he took the blow. Bellavarn moved to cushion him, managing to stop Henry''s momentum and stay upright.

    That monster!

    *TING*

    Henry deflected an arrow. Bellavarn gave the order.

    "Offense is our only option."

    "Understood."

    They dashed together to meet Klein. He wasn''t smiling...

    Ash raced to meet Kerv, who met her in kind. They exchanged blows once again. Faster and faster. Ash''s grinning face was a rictus. Obsessed with the battle.

    "Come on! I know you can do better, Kerv. Pull out that weapon of yours. Let''s fight to the fullest."

    Kerv winced as he deflected another sword blow. His shield arm was getting sore from the heavy strikes. He barely had time to chuckle through clenched teeth.

    "Sorry, love. But this isn''t our show."

    "..."

    Ash''s head swiveled. Henry engaged Klein for a few seconds, trading monumental blows. Bellavarn was ignored as he flanked Raiden, taking out a black metal rod from his back, he let the blade glow with all his power. It thrummed and purred, emitting a shining electric light. His face ashen as it glowed.

    "You keep dismissing me."

    Henry had to deflect both an arrow and Klein, it taxed him too much and his protection winked out. Eliminated. Klein''s face was calm as he pivoted unnaturally fast.

    "I didn''t forget you."

    The profound swing of the legendary sword parted the air and impacted.

    *CLANG*

    The moment of backlash lasted a moment before Bellavarn was launched into the air. The crowd watched him fly. Trisha cried out. His clothes ripped and whirled into the sky, cut to ribbons.

    "The rest is up to you, Bell."

    Ash refocused on Kerv; he lit up like a Christmas tree. A dozen magical papers lined the inside of his jacket.

    "What are you doing!"

    Kerv grinned.

    "Winning."

    *BANG*

    "AAH!"

    Ash screamed as she became blind and deaf. Kerv was thrown back by the magical backlash. The magic interfered with the charm. He was eliminated.

    Bellavarn''s only thought as he rocketed through the air was how sore his arm would be in the morning. That strike really hurt. Still airborne, he could see Jerome below him, aiming up at him. Bellavarn wanted to snort but couldn''t bring any air into his lungs. He twirled his body and threw four spinners. Jerome cursed and dodged. The fourth spinner pricked him, and his shield flashed, still on.

    Oh well.

    Bellavarn crashed into Jerome. The shield flickered out and Jerome was eliminated. Bellavarn stumbled up. Kerv and Henry were out. Ash was blinded. Klein was already on him.

    "Enough of your tricks."

    "Hahaha! You still haven''t noticed!"

    Klein swung, a mountain crashing down. The baton sprung to life. Bellavarn''s existence went into blocking.

    *CLANG*

    The pressure was crushing. Bellavarn''s knees crumbled while he held on. The magic of his being flickering and wavering. He could feel his arm cracking and could taste copper in his mouth. Blood trickled down the corner of his lip from exertion, but his shield remained on. His arms both shook as they supported the magical blade. Klein''s were still steady as a rock. He wasn''t even breathing hard.

    "Hah. Haha. ha... Hey, Klein... I have a question for you."

    "What is it?"

    His voice was unimpeded while Bellavarn struggled for breath.

    "Haaa... I''m sorry. I can''t hear you. I guess I''ll ask anyway."

    Klein''s eyes narrowed. Bellavarn''s clothes. They were intact.

    "What are you..."

    Klein saw the wadded up cloth in Bellavarn''s ears.

    Bellavarn bellowed.

    "How do you beat a monster?"

    Klein disengaged, looking up.

    You were fooled once, so shame on me.

    The pressure lightened, and Bellavarn relaxed.

    You were fooled twice, so shame on you.

    The countless talismans cast flickering shadows on them both. Easily ten times as many as Kerv had used.

    The crowd gasped.

    Bellavarn snapped his fingers.

    ...

    ...

    ...

    ..

    ..

    .

    *BOOM*

 Conclusion

    The cry of a hawk.

    "..."

    "Sir."

    "..."

    "What is your command?"

    Static.

    "Were there any alterations to our plans?"

    No answer.

    "Then proceed with the next phase."

    =

    The snow was gone.

    The ground was cold and lifeless, only recently cleared of its burden. Buds fussed and refused to peek their heads out, refusing to believe it was finally spring.. To compensate for the absence of color and life, groomed flowers, freshly plucked, were placed gently onto the ordinary grave markers.

    Bellavarn bowed his head, forehead pressing into the dirt.

    "I''ve failed you. I couldn''t keep them safe."

    There were four graves now, all equally mundane. He wished to carve them statues, but that is not what they would have wanted. Being buried next to their parents is the best he could do.

    "I''ve made them join you early. Because of me, they died. On my order. My naivety."

    Raising his head, he faced the names carved in stone.

    Astel Cross. Loving Mother

    Paul Cross. Devoted Father.

    Jeral Cross. Treasured Friend and Brother.

    Lannie Cross. Saint and Savior.

    It was the one luxury Bellavarn allowed himself. The titles titles were grandoise. Jeral would have laughed. Lannie would have... He would never know.

    "The killer will be found if it is the last thing I do. I swear it on my name."

    The wind ushered him to look away. Rising to his feet, Bellavarn faced his new destiny, wiping the tears away.

    =

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    An angry mug slammed into the table.

    "Are you going to keep beating around the bush? Tell me the rest of the story, or I''ll throttle you till you spill it!"

    Placating hands. They did little to help the drunk''s mood.

    "Don''t get your knickers in a twist. Fine. Fine. I''ll tell ya."

    Taking a sip to wet his throat, the gossip restarted his story.

    "My cousin is friends with one of the palace servants, and he saw what happened after the bang. As he tells it..."

    =

    The dust cleared. Vision returning. Sound swept in, ringing.

    Bellavarn coughed and choked.

    "Monster."

    Raiden held his throat in a death grip, Bellavarn''s legs kicking uselessly. Klein''s pupils were whitem and blood was trickling out of his ears. Blind and deaf, he caught Bellavarn at the last moment.

    As the crowd remained in turmoill, the two enemies were frozen there like a grandiose statue. It was then that Raiden started circulating mana, speeding up the healing process. Magical regeneration. His eyes and ears were healed. Just like that.

    Like a monster.

    The scene Raiden returned to was Bellavarn grinning; the only thing preventing laughter was the meaty fist tightening around his neck.

    Looking around, Raiden noticed the panicked onlookers, His two companions remained unconscious. Kerv too. Henry was refraining from aggravating his injuries, but his menacing glare drilled holes into Raiden''s back.

    "Scary."

    The words indicated it was anything but. Returning to Bellavarn, he spoke with unnatural calm.

    "Your plan failed."

    Raiden could feel the chuckle rise through Bellvarn''s windpipe.

    "Did it? Did it, though?"

    A wheeze.

    "Check your broach."

    Raiden did. It was off.

    Bellavarn crumpled, finally release he coughed hoarsely and was barely able to kneel.

    Raiden pointed a finger at Bellavarn''s broach.

    "Yours is off too."

    Again with the smiling.

    "But whose winked out first? Do you know? Who could tell with everyone being blinded? I suppose there would only be one feasible result. One that no one wants."

    The King stretched out a hand to quiet the noisy spectators.

    A declaration with each word emphasized.

    "The duel is over."

    Dramatic pause.

    "The result is a tie."

    =

    The intoxicated listener slammed their mug down.

    "How''d you know what they''re sayin''? You weren''t there!"

    "I told ya. My cousin''s friend was there!"

    "You ain''t yer cousin. Stop spouting nonsense. There''s no way Duke Raiden, the war hero, would lose to some... child. And Spinners? What the hell are those supposed to be? Where''d he get all those spell papers at the last minute, and how''d he hide ''em? Who uses a baton? Somehow, little Bellavarn fended off a legendary sword, with a stick!"

    "I''m tellin'' it as I heard it. Don''t believe me if you aren''t gonna."

    "Pssh."

    The inebriated fellow shoved his chair back, leaving the conversation as beer spilled all over. A waitress shouted at him.

    "Hey, you have to pay for that!"

    The drunk responded with unintelligible words and a hand wave, moving for the door. Not bothering to stay to hear the end of the story.

    Bursting out of the tavern door, he stumbled and lost his cup. It rolled across the dirt, boucning out into the street, and was crushed by a heavy hoof. The drunk registered the incredibly tall stallion, but not the rider. He did, however, recognize the figure riding in tandem on an even larger horse.

    Duke Klein Raiden.

    Eyes wide, the drunk watched them lead a procession down the street. Countless civilians flooded outisde to watch and cheer the soldiers¡ªa military parade already in full swing. The drunk didn''t fully understand what was occurring, so he tapped a nearby wench on the rear.

    She punched him in the face, spinning him one-hundred and eighty degrees. Disoriented, he walked back into the tavern, catching the tail end of the conversation.

    "... Sallow didn''t win anything. The king ordered him to conquer the badlands in three months, all while working under Duke Raiden. It''s an absurd timeline, and we can probably expect..."

    The drunk''s head was spinning, blacking out, he fell on the floor, hearing only a few more words.

    "...He did save his father, though."

    Darkness.

    =

    Bellavarn rode next to Raiden on a dark horse. Eyes set to the South.

 Epilogue

    A dank stairwell. Round and round.

    Down.

    Trisha Sallow descended into the deep. Arriving at an unlocked wooden door.

    Pushing it open, she beheld a lush space filled with countless luxuries.

    Comfy furniture. Racks upon racks of the latest clothes. Embroidered upholsteries. Fantastic artwork and expertly carved busts. Countless shelves of historical tomes. Display cases of cut gems. Weapon racks and holders. Armor stands. A decades old winery accompanied by cheeses and a nearby brewery. An underground greenhouse filled with fresh vegetables and produce. Barrels of stockpiled grain and seeds.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    A bunker and treasury.

    Trisha walked forward, ignoring it all. Her eyes were set on the figure lounging on a couch, sipping wine, back turned.

    Stopping, Trisha looked down over the back end of the couch.

    "Are you having fun... Melody?"

    =

    End of Volume 1

 *Announcement and Teaser*

    So Today hasn''t even really begun and it is already a huge day. I just finished college. Woo! (And uh-oh) I am officially moving out today and have no idea where life will take me next but being creative will always be my passion. So you can look forward to more stories and accompanying art. Which brings me to the reasons for the announcement.

    1. The story will continue on RoyalRoad as a second attached Volume. There will be no new url. This story is not being published for money, so you guys get to read and reread it for free if you so wish.

    2. I am now broke and jobless. I have no income as of now and need to sell off all my junk while I do job searching. What does this mean for you? Chapters may be irregular in their release (Not that there has been a lot of regularity). I want to thank you all for your understanding and patience. This also brings me to my third point!

    3. I''ve adjusted my Patreon to be super friendly. You don''t even have to be a patron to see new artwork! PEW-PewPew-PEW! (Shoots fireworks). My goal is to upload advance chapters on Patreon for any huge fans that can afford a little love and become a Patron.

    4. MORE GOOD NEWS! I made art! The second volume cover is now finished. You guys will have to tell me what you think and if it should replace the old one. The Cover is available on my Patreon. See your main characters in the flesh. Lecil. Bellavarn, April, and Melody! (You don''t have to be a patron to view the artwork. There is no obligation what-so-ever.) You can also check out my Instagram as well. I will post links.

    5. I don''t have a fifth point. Oh! Um... Share this story with your friends or family or strangers. Promoting it on my own on top of writing, editing, and other stuff is just so difficult. I am also writing other books simultaneously. Anything you can do to help is Fantastic! I am choosing not to publish this book (or any of my other novels) for money, and it will remain free until I say otherwise. This is my hobby and I don''t necessarily want to make it my main source of income. Now... If at some point you want a hard copy of this novel, by all means, draw me a sign because I will get on it.

    6. I really don''t have a sixth. *Hands you a cookie*

    Thanks for being so understanding.

    Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/scanlonaustin</a>

    Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/scanlonaustin/</a>

    A teaser comes on Monday. Or you can read it now if you become a patron. What''re two days, really?

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    You know what... I couldn''t wait If I were you either. Here is a teaser of the teaser.

    =

    <div>

    <div>

    *Tap-Tap-Tap*

    The echo was rhythmic.

    *tap-tap-tap-tap*

    A metronome growing in distance.

    *tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap....*

    A clear pause to the tune to contemplate direction.

    Then it resumed. Faster.

    *...tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-TAP-TAP-Click*

    A shrill intake of breath. A throaty scoff.

    "Jelly."

    Panning up two rows and down 12 jars... Go as far as the Jam, past the honey, but before the apple sauce.

    "Grape?"

    No. Next? Strawberry? No again. Coconut?

    "How did they even... Ah. Blueberry."

    The jar clicked off the umber shelving, leaving a circular ring untainted by dust. A sign of a malfunctioning ward. Not that the sole occupant cared. No one ever came around to fix things.

    Well, someone did. But the scheduled cleaning was yearly and had been performed only five months ago. Visitors are exclusive.

    *tap-tap-tap-tap*

    The footsteps halted. The following sound was a low grunt as someone tried to unsheath a shortsword using only one free hand.

    *clatter*

    The sheathed weapon fell to the ground, kicked by the foot that was supposed to hold it in place.

    "Huaah."

    A deep sigh.

 *Authors Notice*

    So this month is really not... It''s just not going well.

    I moved into a new house with family and is so small and there''s no privacy. I count myself lucky that my family is so accepting and understanding, but in a lot of ways this place can be toxic. Real life is stomping me into the curb.

    Two Thursdays ago when I was supposed to publish that chapter... Our internet got cut off. Our service kept telling us it would be back in two days, then three, then five... first at 8am then at 2pm, then 6pm, then 8pm.... Honestly. Nobody has any idea what is going on over there. And Now. It is finally back... and I just feel so defeated.

    The chapter isn''t even finished. I have the outline but it is missing a few transitions and editing. The entire time the internet was out, all my drafts were here on royal road. Trying to do it on my phone using my limited data was giving me an ulcer... And now I wonder how I can even get back into it. Every day I push it further, saying "Oh, I''ll do it tomorrow" or "I have time after I do that thing."

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    I know there are some people who look forward to this novel. It''s taken over a year to get 90 followers, which seems like a high number considering where I started. There are days I am proud. Then there are days that I am bitter. Right now I just feel lost. I don''t know what happens next and I don''t have the will to write right now. I most definitely want to continue, but I can''t figure out how.

    So. I''m going to put the book on hiatus.

    The chapters I give you are so sporadic it is unfair. I figure that those of you who actually stick around to read deserve to know.

    The break may be short, or long, but I will definitely continue writing. It brings me joy. As does making art for the book. I will come back when I have something substantial to show, but right now I''m too divided and worried. I need to focus on my Art and how the f*ck I''m going to make a living because I can''t continue this lifestyle.

    Thank you so much for sticking around.

    You have no idea how much your support means to me.

    This isn''t over.

    I will be back.

    I promise.