Auguste, the Silver Princess

A young man called Regis, who could neither swing a sword nor ride a horse, was dispatched to the front lines, and it was there that circumstances led him to take up the position of strategist. The commander of his regiment, none other than Fourth Princess Altina, asserted that she would become empress, driven to reform a nation plagued with constant wars. And in order to support her, Regis devoted yet another day of his life to desk work.

“Urgh... My eyes are going numb...”

He had burned through many a candle over the night, yet the mountain of papers before him hadn’t even halved in size. It was surely almost noon by now.

Regis needed coffee, so he popped his head into the dining room meant only for commissioned officers. He would not normally have been permitted access, owing to him not having been commissioned himself, but being Altina’s strategist meant he was granted special permissions. While he wasn’t necessarily encouraged to exercise these permissions, the rank-and-file soldiers were reluctant to eat around a staff officer in the standard mess hall.

That said, a majority of the commissioned officers were nobles, so a commoner like Regis similarly felt irreverent whenever he was among them. In the end, he did his best to avoid standard meal times altogether so that he wouldn’t need to eat with anyone at all.

It was already past breakfast time, so the kitchen was busy at work preparing for lunch. There were no officers to be seen, and the only other person present was Altina, who sipped her tea alone while looking over a sheet of paper.

“Oh, Regis. Good morning.”

“...Good morning, Altina.”

Regis would have addressed her a little more respectfully had there been others around, but since it was just the two of them, he was acting somewhat more casually—at her request, of course.

“Wait, hold up. What’s with that terrible face?” the princess asked.

“I’m aware that I’m not particularly handsome, but do you really have to be so blunt about it...?”

“Not what I meant. I take it you stayed up all night again?”

“So much to do, and all...”

“You need some sleep, Regis.”

“I know, I know. I’ll make sure to call it a day before I pass out...”

“Yes, of course. Everything’s fiiine as long as you’re not passing out.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, really. I’m making doubly sure that I’m filling out all the forms correctly.”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Altina said with a sigh.

Regis cocked his head in confusion. “Well, just know that I’m doing fine. Are you still reading that?”

“...Yeah.”

The item in Altina’s hands was a letter from the second prince, Latrielle. He was her half-brother, with the two sharing the same father, but he was also the man who had assigned her to command the faraway border regiment. The letter didn’t contain anything entertaining enough to make Regis want to read it again—in fact, he found its contents rather depressing.

“He used to be pretty kind, you know...” Altina muttered.

“The prince?”

“When we were kids... we’d drink tea together, from time to time. Practice our swordplay too.”

“Is that so? Well, I suppose the royal family is still family.”

“It was him, Bastian, and me. But Bastian had a habit of acting out, so Latrielle was always shouting at him.”

“Hm... That’s the first I’m hearing about this. Acting up in what sense?”

“He’d turn over all the statues in the courtyard, or carry a cow up onto the roof of the stables. We were kids, mind you; he’s settled down now.”

“Huh...? No, that’s... I mean, just think about it—that sounds flat-out impossible. Did he have a band of misfits helping him or something?”

“No, that was all just Bastian. Incredible, right? He’s really strong. In fact, he has more brute strength than Latrielle, despite being eight years younger than him.”

“I... The age gap really isn’t what makes this so impressive. A normal human being wouldn’t be able to move a solid statue or carry a cow by themselves.”

“Really?”

Was there something special in the blood of the Belgarian royal family? Did they have a secret training regiment, or perhaps a special diet? Regis couldn’t even begin to fathom the explanation. But now that he thought about it, Altina’s ability to swing around a sword of such unwieldy length was rather strange as well.

“Everyone around me was so strong that I never really thought anything of it,” Altina continued. “Well, everyone except Auguste, that is.”

“The first prince? I’ve heard he’s very sickly.”

“Yeah. His condition is so bad that we’ve barely ever spoken before. He’s always in his bed, usually asleep.”

“If he were healthy, he’d probably be emperor by now,” Regis commented. Perhaps then there wouldn’t need to be all these pointless struggles for power, and the Empire would have achieved a more stable rule. So long as Auguste wasn’t a fool, at least...

“Hey, Regis... Do you know anything about Auguste?” Altina asked, broaching the very subject on his mind.

“I think you’d know more from having lived in the palace. As a commoner, the information I have access to is a lot more limited.”

“That’s not true at all. Remember how I never knew about that embarrassing nickname?”

“Right... The Arrow-Sparrow Princess, was it?”

Just hearing those words caused Altina to furrow her brow. Having witnessed her duel against the Black Knight Jerome, the soldiers at Fort Sierck wouldn’t call her that anymore, but she was most likely still being mocked in the capital.

“Enough about me,” Altina said, promptly moving the conversation on. “Please, tell me about Auguste.”

“Well, let’s see... I’m not that knowledgeable about the imperial court, but...”

Crown Prince Carlos Liam Auguste de Belgaria, first in line to the Belgarian throne, was feeble from birth—so much so that he couldn’t even take public office. As if that weren’t bad enough, his mother was the second consort; tradition and law stated that he was to be emperor, but there were many who voiced their dissent.

Auguste’s opposition, Second Prince Latrielle, was born from the empress consort. He had the support of many influential nobles and had effectively seized the highest commanding authority in the military.

“...And there were those rumors of assassination,” Regis continued.

“Yeah. I... saw him being carried away. There was a lot of blood.”

It had happened the summer of the previous year. On his way back to his room after a banquet, Auguste had suddenly coughed up blood and fallen unconscious. His weak constitution was common knowledge, but his symptoms worsened so rapidly from that point onward that word quickly spread he had been poisoned.

“The official record states that he collapsed from illness,” Regis said, “but whatever the case... Prince Auguste has not been seen since.”

“You used to at least see him during ceremonies, but now he sleeps even through those.”

“There’s another rumor going around, too...”

“Another rumor?”

“That he’s already passed. That’s what some people say, at least.”

Altina tilted her head. “That’s a bit of a stretch. I’ve met him a few times since he collapsed.”

“Oh, I see. Then it must just be another delusion. Right, of course... Had the prince truly passed away, the second consort would no doubt have grown desperate, but I haven’t heard anything about that.”

“Why would she grow desperate?”

“When a consort fails to produce an heir, her standing weakens. The second consort isn’t as young as she used to be, so there’s a high chance she’d be transferred to a villa far away from the capital. From there, it would be tough for her to even meet with the emperor.”

“I see. That’s what happened with my mother,” Altina said. As a woman who carried commoner blood, she had no prominent backers and no place in the court. The princess fell into thought for a moment. “Mn... Now that you mention it, though... it’s starting to bother me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve met with Auguste, but we’ve never sat down for a proper conversation. His eyes were as red as I remember them, his hair a beautiful silver... but he was either sitting in his chair or lying in bed, and in both cases, I wasn’t allowed to get close to him. They said I might catch it.”

“His disease is contagious?”

“I don’t know, but I heard that his sister caught it as well.”

“Fifth Princess Felicia...” Regis muttered. “She’s currently recuperating in the countryside, right?” Thanks to that, there were doubtful whispers going around that the second consort’s blood was defective.

“Felicia was born when I was around six months old. She’s a bit of a strange case, that one.”

“How so?”

“She’s no good when it comes to using a sword—in fact, she doesn’t seem to have any interest in weapons at all. She prefers laid-back songs and books. How can I put this...? She doesn’t have any drive. She doesn’t have that oomph to her.”

“Altina... that sounds pretty normal.”

“Huh?”

Around that time, Regis and Altina were on the distant northern front, essentially in exile. They had no way of knowing that an assassination plot against Auguste was underway as they spoke.

✧ ✧ ✧

The Belgarian capital, Verseilles, was spread across a gently sloped plain. It had no high, protective walls, so its beautiful townscape could be gazed upon in full even from afar. At its center was La Branne, the imperial palace—an imposing white structure that looked much like a cross from above, with four gardens and a large park out front. In terms of size, it was about as large as a small village.

The palace was not only the residence of royalty: it was the very core of the nation, where political and military matters were discussed and decided. It was surrounded by the estates of powerful nobles, but not just those who were based around the capital—there were also numerous villas owned by nobles from distant provinces.

While there were no walls isolating La Branne from the rest of the city, there were guards stationed all throughout, meaning it was always under strict surveillance. Commoners who attempted to set foot on its grounds were stopped within ten paces, then promptly surrounded in the case that they were armed.

To the north of the palace’s white plaster walls and indigo roof was the annex where Crown Prince Auguste resided—a cylindrical, four-story building nicknamed the Volière. Its highest floor, constructed as a hemisphere, had paintings hung on its curving walls, and a splendid chandelier dangling from the flat middle of its ceiling. There were four large windows, all drawn with thick curtains, making the room as dim as twilight even during the day.

Placed atop a tanned hide rug was a golden vessel, filled to the brim with crystal-clear water. The master of the room stood before it.

“Phew...”

Their pale fingers submerged a silk cloth, lightly wringing it out before tracing a path across their own slender neckline. They next washed their white cheeks, sickly shoulders, and fragile arms, eventually coming to a chest bulge that had grown increasingly difficult to hide as of late.

“Nn...”

The cold water caused their nipples to prick up—even more of an inconvenience. In this state, it would take even longer to ensure that everything was appropriately hidden.

All of a sudden, one of the two doors to the room—namely the smaller one reserved for servants—swung open. In barged a child, standing bolt upright and dressed as a maid. Her name was Lillim. She had tanned skin, and her black hair was bunched into two loose pigtails.

“Dear, dear, Auguste! You’re still messing about with that water?!”

“I only just started...” came a grumbled response. The voice was that of a young girl, as was the body being dampened with a cloth; while this person was proclaiming to be Prince Auguste, there was no doubting that she was in actuality a woman.

She turned away from Lillim. “Wipe my back down.”

“I suppose I should.” The maid approached with a sigh, then began rubbing the damp cloth against Auguste’s pale skin. “We really must hurry up. There’ll be much hell to pay if someone else comes in and sees you like this, especially Prince Latrielle. We’d both be hanged on the gallows!”

“...Yeah.”

Lillim reached out her hand, brushing aside Auguste’s silver hair to wipe her nape. “Is the water too cold for you?”

“Yeah. It’s cold...”

“It was warm when I brought it here, you know. What have you been doing all this time?”

Auguste’s gaze flitted to a book on the bedside table.

“Reading fairy tales again?” Lillim asked. “I very much understand that you are bored, but you must ensure that you are dressed on time!”

“That tickles...” Auguste wriggled as her bottom was lightly washed, eliciting an unamused frown from the maid.

“Well, I can’t wipe too forcefully, or else your skin will redden.”

“I don’t care... Nobody’s going to see it.”

“For now, perhaps... but Her Highness would certainly scold me for it.”

Every maid assigned to the Volière had been handpicked by Auguste’s mother, the second consort. Tending to the prince was their second most important order, the first most important being to acknowledge that a young girl was said prince. At this point, Auguste doubted that the maids even knew the girl’s real name. She wasn’t interested enough to grill them about it, but it did wonders to drag down her mood.

“I’ll do the rest myself...” Auguste said.

“Very well. I shall fetch you your clothes.”

Auguste wiped down her legs, pulled up her undergarments, and strangled her chest in thick cloth; to avoid the risk of any female items being spotted in the laundry, she wore only clothing that was designed for men. She then passed her hands through the sleeves of what Lillim had brought over—a predominantly blue military uniform, the gold and silver ornaments of which were drearily heavy, as though they were shackles and fetters.

“Do I really have to wear this...?”

“The Ministry is sending the new head of the garrison over around noon. You must be properly dressed.”

“He’s just going to recommend that I abdicate my inheritance rights in some roundabout way... Same as the last one.”

“I have told the doctor to pick an appropriate time to intrude, so the meeting should not last very long. I simply ask that you endure it for a short while.”

“...Yeah. Thanks.”

Auguste squatted down in front of the full-length mirror; this was a man’s room, so there wasn’t a dresser she could use. A young woman’s gentle face was hidden away beneath makeup. She needed to look haggard—eaten away by disease. Had the real Auguste been alive, he would be twenty-four by now. He had been so scrawny and sickly that he didn’t appear much of a man to begin with, but it was still a great deal of work preparing a young woman enough that she could pass as him. The girl was still only fourteen years of age, after all.

“How long...?”

How long must I live like this? Can I really keep it up forever? I suppose it’ll continue until my true identity is revealed, and I’m beheaded for deceiving the emperor.

“Is something the matter?” Lillim asked, cocking her head slightly as she brushed Auguste’s hair.

The prince did not respond; divulging her feelings here would only bring trouble to the maid who was putting in so much effort for her sake.

An expert arrived to further adjust Auguste’s makeup, and once it was agreed that she looked adequately unwell, she was promptly returned to her bed.

I guess I’ll read until this new commander arrives, she thought. She liked stories, especially the ones with princes and heroes, and she didn’t care if people laughed at how infantile that was. The young woman quite adored when the captive princess was saved by her prince.

✧ ✧ ✧

Baudouin would turn forty-five that year.

Serving as the head of a count house, he had conducted himself perfectly across his entire career thus far. He had never taken part in any dangerous operations, meaning he had carried out his duties in relative safety, and while he hadn’t been recognized for any distinguished service, he was known to be reliable. Under the recommendation of not just his predecessor but General Latrielle himself, he was appointed as commander of the garrison that protected the capital.

He simply needed to endure this new position for another five—maybe ten—years without any grave errors, then he would be rewarded with land or money and could finally retire. Know your own limits—that was his personal creed. That’s the secret to a long and successful life.

Owing to his nature, while he never neglected to gather information, he was largely uninterested in whatever went on beyond the walls of the capital. While the nobles gathered in the court salon frowned, Baudouin alone remained as upright and unmoving as a statue, even as a conspicuously sour-faced individual approached him.

“I didn’t know you were here, Count.”

“Her Majesty. A good day to you.”

Try as she may to cover it up with gaudy clothing and thick makeup, the empress consort could never conceal her intimidating air; she emitted the threatening aura of a large, carnivorous beast. Baudouin wasn’t particularly skilled, but he was still a man of the military, and even he could feel a shiver run down his spine in her presence.

The empress consort opened her folding fan, placing it over her lips. “It isn’t a good day at all.”

“My apol—”

“Everyone here speaks of nothing but the little girl whom I drove out. Why must they speak of such filthy matters, I wonder? Is that not a blemish on the dignity of the court?”

“Certainly.”

A minstrel the empress consort had called to the palace instead sung in praise of Marie Quatre, the fourth princess. In a rage, the empress consort had the man exiled and drove the girl from the court. That event had taken place during the fall of the previous year.

It was childish arrogance to be sure, and the fact that the court had become little more than the toy box of a temperamental schoolchild made the empress consort all the more terrifying. And, like toys, people like Baudouin could be mercilessly discarded, forced into obscurity if they so happened to incite her wrath.

Marie Quatre, however, seemed to be an exception. While she had quite certainly been discarded, she had apparently achieved impressive results on the border. Nobody in their right mind had believed that a fourteen-year-old girl would be able to influence the war, and it was because of this conviction that these nobles would scoff and amuse themselves with baseless speculations.

Baudouin personally cared little for tales that took place 100 lieue (444 km) away, but he was aware that he couldn’t be quite so forthright about that.

“Please excuse my pertness,” he began, “but these tales of the fourth princess are so distant and transient that they will have been forgotten by tomorrow. This is nothing that you should worry about, Your Highness; the voice of the Arrow-Sparrow Princess shall never reach La Branne.”

Insulting a fellow royal like Marie Quatre was a potentially dangerous move, but Baudouin opted to take the risk hoping it would improve the empress consort’s mood—not that he could tell whether it had worked, since her expression remained mostly hidden behind her fan.

But then, the empress consort silently clicked it shut. She brought her right hand up to cover her mouth, using her fan to gesture toward the back room.

Baudouin responded with a nod. I presume she wants me to follow her there.

Fan signals were occasionally used by young noble lasses as a way of discreetly conversing with men they were interested in, keeping such interactions hidden from their watchful chaperones. They could also be secret codes for when a missus needed to pass a message to an adulterous lover. A talk with the empress consort, however, contained nothing quite so saucy.

Their conversation was moved to the neighboring room—an enclosed space not reached by the sun. It was akin to the cage of a vicious monster, and when the empress consort spoke, Baudouin couldn’t help but wonder whether this was how a poisonous serpent with vocal cords would sound.

“When will that man die?” she asked him.

The empress consort wanted her son Prince Latrielle enthroned so desperately that she didn’t know what to do with herself. She had the support of a great many prominent nobles, but the Crown Prince refused to give up his birthright, despite being unfit for public office.

If Auguste were enthroned, Latrielle would forever lose his succession rights, and while the emperor accepted most of the second prince’s proposals on other matters—albeit sometimes reluctantly—he had yet to make a formal decision regarding an heir. It was too dangerous to press him for a decision while his thoughts on the matter remained unknown, and so the simplest solution was to have Auguste succumb to an illness—even one that hadn’t been bestowed upon him by God above.

“...Ever since that incident, the Crown Prince has shut himself away in his villa,” Baudouin said. “His meals are prepared by a personal chef.”

Auguste’s illness was one of the stomach, so he needed specially-prepared food that was easy to digest—or at least, that was the excuse they had gone with. In addition to this, his allocated maids were all from the second consort’s personal territory.

The empress consort wore a cold expression. “If money can sway them, I will spare no expense.”

“No... They are all closely connected to her house, I am afraid. There is no easy way about this. One wrong move, and our plans will come to light.”

Were Auguste’s death to be revealed as a deliberate murder, it would be considered the assassination of a member of the royal family—a crime that carried the death penalty, even for the loup gris of an empress consort who had swallowed the court whole.

“Then make it so he is killed by bandits.”

“Y-You don’t mean...” Baudouin felt as though his very heart had stopped. It certainly wasn’t an impossible demand—after all, he was the one tasked with managing the palace’s security. “Please be merciful...” he said weakly. “However would I escape the blame for that...?”

He struggled to comprehend the empress consort’s request. Yes, it was her influence that had gotten him Latrielle’s backing in the first place, but that wasn’t nearly enough to compensate for him essentially taking the blame for Auguste’s assassination.

The empress consort opened her fan, using it to hide her face once more. Baudouin was the only other person in the room, so this must have simply been a habit she had developed for whenever a scheme breached her lips.

“Indeed, someone might protest in the case of negligent security... But what if the security was so strict—so all-encompassing—that not even someone playing devil’s advocate could complain? Would you not get away with little more than a change of station? I’ll personally ensure that any punishments are minimal.”

“I... see... Security so strict that it’s beyond criticism...”

Even that wasn’t absolute, but with the protection of a high noble, there was a high chance that he would get off with just a demotion—especially when Latrielle had such a firm grasp on the military.

“Count Baudouin,” the serpent whispered from behind her fan, “you need only clear your name by quelling some civil unrest and you shall be welcomed back to the capital. Sure, they may call you the commander of the garrison now, but you’re no more than a watchdog... What you really want is a seat in the court, correct?”

“Wh—?! Th-That’s...”

The court contained administrative bodies such as the Ministry of Ceremonies and the Ministry of Military Affairs. By securing an important position within any of them, Baudouin’s dream of one day becoming a marquis would actually become possible. He could already feel the sweat on his palms.

“But even if our security is airtight, there would be quite an uproar if someone manages to infiltrate the palace grounds. This outrage wouldn’t be contained to my garrison, either: many would demand an explanation from the commander of the First Army himself, General Latrielle.”

“Find a way.”

“I... Understood.”

Baudouin couldn’t help but wonder if even the serpent who had tempted the innocent children of God to sin was quite so vile.

“Do you not want to become a marquis, Count Baudouin?” the empress consort asked enticingly.

At those words, the count’s entire body became increasingly clammy. He even felt a sudden pressure in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“I... I know a man. He’s a knight of great renown who does not possess enough skill to warrant his reputation. Although he leads a house whose previous heads have been known to match a thousand men each—a house hailed as L’Empereur Flamme’s right hand—he himself does not hold a single achievement on the battlefield.”

By placing such a famed knight on Auguste’s guard detail, perhaps Baudouin would be able to escape criticism. It could easily be said that their security was breached due to this man’s incompetence, and the situation would be resolved before it became too great of a ruckus.

The empress consort’s eyes narrowed, then her fan snapped shut. “Very well,” she said. “Use him.”

With that, Baudouin reverently lowered his head.

“I’ll arrange for it at once, Your Highness.”

✧ ✧ ✧

In the southwest quarter of the Belgarian Empire, a rebellion by Marquis Trosa had caused a civil war. He was a noble who had funds but no war assets, so it was thought that this turmoil would be quelled soon enough. But owing to the outstanding mercenaries the marquis had hired, and what could only be described as the incompetence of the Sixth Army’s commander, the war had turned to a stalemate.

The conflict that was supposed to have ended in just half a month had now drawn on for half a year, and the men who had assumed they would be home by fall were now forced to watch the year end on the battlefield. Troop morale was at an all-time low. The half-hearted soldiers amused themselves drinking and gambling in broad daylight, with even the residence seized as a command room reeking of alcohol.

And through that very command room resounded an angry roar.

“Again?!”

“Y-Yes... Again, sir...”

The man screaming was a balding general—more specifically, the captain of the Sixth Army. And across from him, a scraggly-haired young man called Eddie scratched his head, a troubled look on his face. He was only nineteen and appeared a fair bit shabbier than the soldiers around him, wearing a mangled black mantle and grimy clothes. There was a cloth-wrapped sword hanging from his waist.

“Tell me, when are you going to accomplish anything?! Don’t you have even a shred of motivation?! Or are you just some lazy bum?!”

“That ain’t it, Chief. But... How should I phrase this...?”

“‘He’s from a house of esteemed swordsmen,’ they said. Well, to hell with that! Don’t you think you’re dragging their name through the dirt, not making a single military gain?! How many battles has it been now?!”

“Guess you’re right... I have to say, though—we’re invading a territory that doesn’t even have any forts, and we’ve got three times the men. I didn’t think we’d have this many battles in the first place...”

“Y-You wretch! Are you questioning my command?!”

“Hm? Not at all, sir. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

We’re quite a ways past that... Eddie wanted to add, though he kept that part to himself. He did have his criticisms of the man’s command, but there was no denying his own uselessness as well.

“Grr... You’re getting much too big for your boots!” the commander shouted. He was now red up to his scalp.

“I’m really not...”

“Inheriting a ducal house at your age... You must think you’re hot stuff. But in the military, I outrank you! I won’t accept your defiance!”

The commander was a viscount and a major general, while Eddie was a duke and a first-grade combat officer. There was no mistaking that the man held a superior military rank, but Eddie hadn’t said anything that was purposefully defiant, and he certainly didn’t have any mind to rebel.

This whole confrontation had stemmed from Eddie failing to wound a single enemy during their battle a few days prior—that was all there was to it. It wasn’t just that battle, though: Eddie’s forefathers were famous beyond belief, and while he himself was often praised for his brilliant swordsmanship, he had never cut down an enemy in his life.

“Is the treasured sword at your hip just a decoration?!” the commander continued to complain.

“This thing... Right. I wish it was just a decoration...”

His cloth-wrapped longsword was the Défendre Sept, a treasured blade bestowed upon the House of Balzac by the founding emperor as thanks for their aid in the wars that established the nation. It had been passed down to every succeeding head ever since.

Eddie sighed. “It’s pretty heavy, you know...”

“Oh, don’t tell me! You’re not in cahoots with the enemy now, are you?!”

“Hardly!”

There was a sudden knock on the door.

“Who is it?!” the commander yelled, screaming with all the force he’d been directing at the young duke.

The door swung open, and there stood a well-built military man, his splendid uniform housing a tightly-knit collage of medals and ornaments. He was not the sort of man who would usually come to a civil war out in the sticks, and there were four lightly armored guard knights around him.

“Please pardon me for interrupting when you’re so busy... I am Lieutenant General Baudouin of the capital garrison.”

“Th-The Lieutenant General Baudouin?!” The Sixth Army’s commander immediately paled, raising his arm in a frantic salute. “C-Come right in! Ghh... H-Hey, Sir Eddie. Make sure you watch your tongue.”

“Me? Sure...”

Had the commander’s brain taken an abrupt holiday? He had quite clearly been the one screaming at the top of his lungs. Eddie quickly decided that it was best not to dwell on the matter and instead met their new visitor with a dubious salute.

What’s a big shot from the capital garrison doing out here?

Baudouin faithfully returned the salute. “I presume you to be Duke Eddie Fabio de Balzac,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

So I’m the one he’s after...?

Not only did this seem like a wasted effort, but it reeked to high heaven of trouble. Eddie was more than aware that he couldn’t worm his way out of whatever this man wanted, though, so he responded with a simple nod.

Baudouin made his appeal in the tone of a gentleman. “As a man entrusted with the security of the capital, I have a favor to ask of you. Would you please lend us your strength?”

“Eh? You want me?”

“It pains my heart to remove a skilled duke from what is already such an arduous and drawn-out war front, but you are the only one who can protect the future of the Empire. Please, lend us your—!”

“No, wait, seriously! There’s a lot I have to say about this. Like, er... Well, for starters, I’m not skilled at all.”

“You’ve got that right!” the commander chimed in. Eddie had worked under him for half a year now, but this seemed to be the first time the two men were on the same wavelength about something. They even shared the same enthusiasm.

Baudouin, however, did not concede. “I have already received permission from the Ministry. Won’t you at the very least hear the details?”

With that, he presented a formal directive from the Ministry of Military Affairs. This went beyond permission—it was a personnel transfer notice.

“Oh, that’s right...” Baudouin continued, taking out another form. “The capital garrison and the First Army intend to send the Sixth Army three hundred elite horsemen as reinforcements. I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for the loss of your famed duke, but if you would please be understanding of our situation...”

No sooner had the lieutenant general stopped speaking than the commander’s expression drastically changed. He rushed over to Eddie at a speed unlike anything he had ever exhibited before, delivering such a hearty pat to his shoulder that it actually hurt.

“Duke Eddie, my boy! Yes, it breaks my heart, but if your transfer is for the sake of the Empire, I will gladly offer up my valuable best man!” he announced, having changed his tune so abruptly that it was almost nonsensical. “Glory to the Empire!”

Ah, you want those horsemen that badly? Well... yeah, makes sense. They’ll do you a lot more good than a revered duke without an achievement to his name.

Eddie was aware just how useless he was, and so he had nothing to say against his commander’s decision. Baudouin, meanwhile, simply narrowed his eyes and offered a confirming nod.

And thus, within the day, Eddie was put on a shaking carriage headed for the capital.

✧ ✧ ✧

The emerald carriage was certainly special—in fact, one might say it was the epitome of a pleasant journey. Its seats were the most extravagant sofas, comparable to clouds in how soft they were, and the interior was so luxurious that Eddie’s biggest worry was staining the velvet.

Eddie’s curly black hair wasn’t maintained in the slightest, long and untamed to the point that it hung over his eyes. He wasn’t clad in armor either, wearing but a tattered mantle over a soot-black uniform. He was tall with broad shoulders and had quite the impressive physique, but there was a certain perpetual slovenliness to his face that made him look like quite the wimp.

Only Eddie, Baudouin, and one younger attendant were seated in the carriage; the lightly armored knights were escorting them from atop their horses. As they traveled, the young duke was given more information on his new assignment.

“You seriously want me to guard a prince?” he asked.

“Indeed.”

As a lieutenant general, there was no denying that Baudouin held the higher military rank. In terms of noble status, however, Eddie and Baudouin were a duke and a count, respectively, so the man’s courteous tone never so much as faltered.

“His Highness Prince Auguste has been beset by illness for many long years. I believe we must provide him as much peace and quiet as possible to ensure his speedy recovery, and to this end, I wish to limit his guards to a select few elites.”

“I’ve heard the rumors. He’s apparently in quite a rut.”

“Have you ever met him personally?”

“Not in the past six months...”

As someone of such high status, Eddie had interacted with the royal family before: they would meet a few times a year for ceremonies. But as he had been out on the battlefield for quite some time, he hadn’t seen Auguste since his collapse.

“But palace security, eh...? That’s a first for me...”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, I always look forward to new experiences. Just don’t know whether I’m right for the job...”

“It won’t be difficult, by any means. The First Army is stationed around the capital’s perimeter, and all the buildings surrounding the residence have security of their own. In all honesty, I doubt there will be much for you to do at all.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Then why d’you need me?”

“Wouldn’t the Crown Prince having an acquaintance by his side put him at greater ease than having some unknown soldier?”

“Right... Guess it would be pretty worrisome having too many strangers around. It’s already so tense and stuffy in the palace as is,” Eddie pointed out, only to be met with a wry smile from Baudouin.

Was that last part uncalled for?

“Not to mention,” Baudouin added, “nobody in Belgaria can match the House of Balzac when it comes to swordsmanship. Having the young head as his guard will surely put His Highness at ease.”

“Let’s hope so...” Eddie said with a sigh. “A pretty sword is all I’ve got going for me.”

The expression seemed to disappear from Baudouin’s face entirely, then he swiftly changed the topic of conversation. “There is one thing I have been curious about, Sir Eddie... Do dukes not usually manage their own armies, such that they never need to step into battle themselves? And if you have decided to work as a foot soldier, why are you not leading any troops?”

It was a natural enough question to ask. Eddie racked his brain, thinking how best to phrase his answer.

“Well, any soldiers I bring along with me could end up dead, don’t you think?”

“I suppose that is true...” Baudouin murmured, though his dubious gaze made it clear that he hadn’t quite understood what Eddie meant.

So he doesn’t get it either...

“I can’t stand blood,” Eddie said, trying his best to explain.

“That’s... definitely something...”

“I know this ain’t what a knight should say, but... we’re all better off not fighting at all.”

“Even when your house is famed for its swordsmanship?”

“Oh, I hate swords too—hate ’em second only to people dying. I mean, they’re tools meant for killing people. If possible, I wish they weren’t around at all.”

Baudouin’s eyes dropped to the cloth-covered longsword at Eddie’s hip. The young duke supposedly found swords detestable, yet he carried with him one of the finest blades around.

Eddie shrugged. “My pops went and vanished. Said there was someone out there he needed to beat, and shoved the sword and the house onto me. He’s on a journey to master the blade, apparently.”

“O-Oh. Is that so?”

Eddie could tell from the way Baudouin was behaving that he wasn’t going to get much in the way of understanding from him. But that was fine. He was certainly used to it by now.

“The capital, eh...?” Eddie mumbled, rolling his shoulders. “It’s been half a year. Hope Gramps is doing well.”

“Sir Balthazar is in very good health.”

“Glad to hear it. Maybe I should get him a nice duck.”

After half a month in the carriage, on a sunny afternoon, the sublime townscape finally appeared.

✧ ✧ ✧

Baudouin stepped down from the carriage first, lowering his head. “My apologies, Sir Eddie. Our journey took longer than I had planned.”

“Not long enough to warrant an apology.”

They had expected to arrive early in the morning the day before, but by the time they reached Verseilles it was already dark out. Not wanting to wake anyone, they had spent the night at a nearby inn. This wasn’t too surprising of a development, though—they were traveling by horse-drawn carriage, so not everything could go exactly as planned.

For the first time in over half a year, Eddie set foot on the soil of the capital. Then, passing through the two-carriage-wide arch, he entered the palace grounds. This was merely the back gate for staff members, but it was still notably majestic in its appearance: there were exquisite carvings on the walls and pillars, while the floor was polished to a mirror sheen.

“I’ve never been in this way before,” Eddie said. “Didn’t know it looked like this.”

“Please pardon my haste, but we must hurry and meet with His Highness.”

“Sure.”

Eddie walked side by side with Baudouin, the two men accompanied by the count’s four knights and attendant.

The palace was the base of operations for various administrative bodies, as well as home to the servants who tended to them. In order to accommodate them, this section of the palace contained numerous large-scale stoves and washing areas, with countless attendants always busy at work.

Baudouin frowned. “Please forgive me for this unsightly display.”

“No, I actually prefer it this way. It actually feels like someone lives here. Not to say I, uh, hate the front door, of course...”

Perhaps Eddie’s attempted reassurance had only made things worse. It wasn’t as though he was making excuses, though, and his intention wasn’t to criticize the nobility—he just couldn’t stand to be around it all. How did extravagant jewels and luxurious silk dresses help anyone to survive? To him, they were as fleeting and unnecessary as the leaves that stuck to a cat’s fur as it passed through a thicket.

In Eddie’s eyes, all that he needed was enough clothing to keep himself protected, enough food to not go hungry, and housing sturdy enough to survive the elements. His lofty title and the emperor’s sword were both unnecessary weights, so heavy that he simply wanted to toss them aside, but he couldn’t bring himself to do something so irresponsible. He had an obligation to fulfill his duties and to pick up where his predecessors had left off. In that sense, perhaps they were more shackles than weights.

“Mn...?”

He noticed several soldiers walking in their direction, traversing the passage as busy servants passed them by. That wasn’t rare in itself—the palace guard had a break room around here, and the First Army’s commanding officers frequented the palace as well—but Eddie could feel that this was something else.

“Something ain’t right...” he said under his breath.

It wasn’t that they were dressed strangely—in fact, their military uniforms were practically pristine—so he could only chalk it up to the atmosphere they exuded. These weren’t proper soldiers—not the prestigious sort who would normally pass through the palace.

Are they from the front lines, maybe? Eddie wondered, but then he quickly shook his head. No, they’re more like mercenaries.

Even when walking alongside their comrades, they seemed constantly on edge. This was the safest spot in the Empire, yet these men exchanged looks as though they were marching through enemy territory. Eddie had a feeling he was onto something: it really was like they were freshly hired mercenaries.

There were six men in total, and the one taking the lead stuck out the most. He had narrow eyes and thin lips; it was like someone had taken a knife and carved slits into a blank mask.

This guy’s bad news.

Eddie knew it was pure intuition without reason, but he could feel a chill race down his spine. Had he been on the battlefield, he would have shouted for everyone around him to retreat without hesitation.

The narrow-eyed man stopped around three paces away, thumping his right fist against his chest in salute. The other men were a little behind, imitating salutes in form only.

“What are you doing here?” Baudouin asked, his expression bitter. “I’m certain that I instructed you not to leave the room. Especially not at this time of day.”

“Got sick and tired of expensive wine,” the narrow-eyed man answered. Then, he looked at Eddie. The moment their gazes met, the man’s hand twitched toward his blade.

“...?!”

Eddie shifted his left foot back in turn. In his head, he was carrying out countless simulations of catching the enemy’s attack with his own. Surely this man was doing the same.

Seemingly oblivious to this sudden moment of tension, Baudouin spat an irksome sigh. “If you are looking for ale, then you may ask the maids to accommodate you. I wouldn’t want you seen returning to the palace after drinking that cheap swill they have outside.”

“Fine. Gotcha,” the slender-eyed man replied. “Looks like this won’t be so boring after all...”

And with that, he led the other soldiers away.

Only once the men were out of sight did Baudouin pull out a handkerchief and dab the sweat from his brow. Eddie understood the feeling—there was a cold sweat running down his back.

“My humblest apologies, Sir Duke,” said Baudouin, his bitter expression twisting into an equally bitter smile.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody you need to worry about.”

“That’s not the sort of soldier you keep in the palace. In fact, you can hardly even find them on the front lines.”

Baudouin looked mildly surprised at this remark, pausing for a moment before finally offering a response. “Please keep this between us, but... they’re former mercenaries. I hired them as soldiers on the recommendation of a certain noble. Their skills are the real deal, but they are completely unsuited to garrison work.”

“I would think so.”

“I’m in the middle of searching for a unit that will accept them.”

“I see...”

Even with this explanation, something wasn’t sitting right. But Eddie had no reason to outright conclude that Baudouin was being untruthful, and the man surely had his own circumstances. Thus, he decided not to pursue the matter any further.

✧ ✧ ✧

Eddie was led to the royal annex nicknamed the Volière—a cylindrical building much like a steeple. Soldiers patrolled the yard outside, but there was no sign of any security within.

Once he and Baudouin had announced their arrival, a childlike maid opened the door. She slowly led them up the staircase that curled along the tower’s interior wall.

“The first floor houses the kitchen for Prince Auguste’s personal chef. There is also storage space for ingredients.”

“I see.”

They’re being careful because of all those poisoning rumors, Eddie thought, though he didn’t dare say it aloud.

“The second floor is where Auguste’s clothes and equipment are kept.”

“Equipment, you say?”

The door was shut, so Eddie couldn’t see what the maid was referring to exactly, but he assumed there was armor and plenty of swords inside. Auguste was too feeble to have ever stood in battle himself, but perhaps it was all simply for show.

“The third floor is where the maids are stationed. They can be promptly summoned to the fourth floor using a bell.”

“Sounds convenient.”

“Your room will be on the third floor as well, Sir Eddie. Though we also have a room in the main palace that you could use, if you would prefer that.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m a bodyguard, so I’d better stick close.”

“Very well. Should you need anything, please inform me or one of the other maids.”

“Thanks.”

The stairs to the fourth floor were locked behind a white door, so another maid circled around and opened it from the other side. This last staircase brought them to Auguste’s chamber, the walls of which sloped inward like an upside-down bowl. Thin lace curtains were draped around the canopied bed in the center of the room, in which lay a silver-haired man.

Eddie immediately noticed that something was off.

Hey, hasn’t Auguste shrunk a little? It’s only been, what, a year? Is it his sickness? The curtains, maybe? Or perhaps it’s because he’s lying down?

Auguste had always been rather small, but he had given off a slightly larger impression than the bedridden man before Eddie right now.

Baudouin reverently lowered his head. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. I am Lieutenant General Baudouin of the capital garrison. I have brought with me Duke Eddie Fabio de Balzac, though I believe the two of you are already well acquainted.”

“Indeed, I know him well,” Auguste replied. His voice was strangely muddled, and his short utterance was immediately followed by a coughing fit.

Has the sickness affected his throat, too? That ain’t good.

The childlike maid spoke up. “You would do well to keep your distance; we can’t have you catching the prince’s illness as well.”

Baudouin nodded. “I can see that you are doing quite poorly, so I will keep our exchange brief. This may be to the detriment of my decorum, but I ask that you please excuse me. I believe that having a great many soldiers coming and going would disturb His Highness’s rest and recuperation, and for this reason, I have asked Duke Balzac—esteemed wielder of one of L’Empereur Flamme’s treasured swords—to personally handle security. The duke alone is more capable than a hundred men, after all.”

“I see... So that’s your decision,” Auguste said. “I graciously accept your offer.”

Eddie silently lowered his head, while Baudouin took out a letter from his breast pocket, placing it on the bedside table. “Please refer to this for the finer details. That is all for my report.”

“Very well.”

“Now, unless there is an issue, I shall take my leave.”

With that, Baudouin bowed deeply to the prince, then gave Eddie a courteous salutation. The maid accompanied him back down the same path they had come from.

Only Auguste and Eddie remained in the room.

“Sir Eddie... Please do speak to Lillim if you are ever in need of something.”

“Oh, is she the maid who just left?”

“That is correct.”

Eddie cocked his head. “What’s wrong? Your speech is unusually stiff. You used to just call me Eddie, no strings attached. Remember?”

Auguste simply blinked in surprise.

“You’re the one who told me to treat you as a friend when nobody was around,” Eddie continued. “But I guess we’re not kids anymore, so if you want us all to respect our stations, that’s your call to make.”

“I-I remember now.”

“Hah... Well, it has been a year and all. I did try to drop by when I heard that you weren’t doing so well, but the doctor said you weren’t in any state for visitors and sent me away.”

“I see... Sorry.”

“C’mon, no need to apologize. That ain’t like you at all. I was expecting you to say something like, ‘Then you should’ve beaten up the doctor and come in anyway.’ Not that I’m doing anything like that, of course.”

All of a sudden, Auguste went into another coughing fit.

“Ah! Are you okay?!”

“...Yes. Please, don’t worry.”

He’s got it pretty bad... Eddie thought, still concerned despite Auguste’s attempted reassurance. “I have to say, though... I was sure that you of all people would refuse to have me as your guard.”

“Whyever would you think that?”

“Why? I mean... you know I can’t even cut people, right?”

“Wha...?”

Eddie was taken aback by what sounded like the gasp of a young girl, after which Auguste immediately started to cough again. Something didn’t seem quite right about the timing, but as far as infectious diseases were concerned, the less he knew, the better.

“I actually went to the battlefield just recently. Still couldn’t do it, though. I remember you telling me that enemy soldiers are no different from wolves, but even then... I couldn’t raise my sword against them. I mean, if I did, they’d die. I hate it when people die.”

“...How considerate.”

“A coward running away from his responsibilities, as Latrielle put it.”

Beyond the curtain, Auguste swallowed his breath.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked dubiously.

“...Latrielle is the true coward.”

“Well, he’s certainly merciless, I can say that much.”

“He has his sights on me... I may be assassinated any day now.”

“Was it really an assassination attempt, that last incident?”

“...It was.”

That’s rough... Eddie thought. He had known Auguste and Latrielle from the days when they all happily played together as children, but the burdens they shouldered after all these years meant the brothers were now at each other’s throats.

“Do you still want to become emperor?”

“...No. But giving up my succession rights would put Latrielle on the throne, and that is the one thing I shall never permit,” Auguste replied. His voice had sunk to an uncanny degree, and a deep hatred seeped through his every word. It was times like these that taught Eddie just how much things had changed while he was away.

“Auguste...”

The maid who had shown Baudouin out chose that moment to return.

Lillim, was it?

“Duke Balzac. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Oh, Eddie works just fine. Pleasure working with you.”

“A pleasure indeed. Allow me to show you to your room.”

“Got it. Well then, pardon me, Auguste.”

“...Farewell.”

Eddie was led to his room on the third floor. It was inconceivably narrow, especially for the head of a ducal house, but adequate enough given that his standing in the military was merely that of a first-grade combat officer.

The room was originally meant to be a guard station, but it had never seen any use due to a clash of opinions somewhere down the line. The second consort had apparently tried to bring guards from her own territory, but as the imperial army were meant to be entrusted with protecting the royal family, they considered this an inexcusable affront.

The ensuing argument ultimately resolved with the imperial troops patrolling only the annex’s perimeter, while no soldiers were stationed in the building itself.

Eddie was a special case—the second consort knew and trusted him. Or at least, she made it seem like she trusted him. Eddie wasn’t fully certain whether those were her true feelings or just a polite facade, since openly doubting his credibility would have been akin to calling the duke a potential assassin.

Incidentally, every prominent noble had their own standing army, which they would take command of after automatically being made a high official by the Ministry of Military Affairs. Eddie was the only duke who served in the military as a mere first-grade.

✧ ✧ ✧

Auguste’s life had changed quite a bit. For starters, she could no longer bathe as she wished. There was little that could be done about this, as she now lived with someone from whom she needed to hide the fact she was a girl.

She had seen Eddie a few times when she was young—back when she went by her own name and wasn’t posing as a man. She had watched him play with Auguste, Latrielle, and Bastian as though the three were brothers to him.

Unfortunately, as a girl, she was unable to join them in their games. The most she could do was watch from afar. The case could have been made that her gender wasn’t actually a limiting factor, since Princess Argentina often frolicked about with swords and rode horses with her brothers, but she was a strange exception. Most royal women were raised to be graceful.

And so she had never played with the others, only watched. But she had spoken to Eddie just once before. When he was alone, swinging his sword in the yard, she worked up the courage to talk to him.

She was eight at the time, while he was probably around thirteen. He had most likely forgotten all about their encounter by now.

“Do you like swords?” she had asked. “I find them pretty scary.”

At the time, she had considered it a conversation. But in hindsight, she got the feeling that she was just interrupting his practice. By this point, she actively hoped that he’d forgotten. If nothing else, their standings had changed now.

I can’t let him find out I’m a woman.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day—

Eddie had decided to stop by the prince’s room.

“Morning, Auguste.”

“Do you need something...?”

“No, I’m bored. How about a card game? It’s a perfect day to go outside, but I realize you aren’t quite the sort for something like that.”

“If you’re so bored, why not go outside and play on your own?”

“Nice try. You won’t catch me out that easily. The only reason you’re saying that is so you can shout at me later for abandoning my post.”

Come to think of it, that certainly is something he would have done... Auguste sighed as she recalled her late brother’s personality.

“We can’t play cards, though. If you get too close, you’ll catch my illness.”

“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about. I was talking to the maids, and they said they’ve all worked here for half a year now. No one’s quit yet, which goes to show that whatever you have can’t be infectious.”

The second consort had personally, thoroughly, and ardently trained every maid here, all to ensure they wouldn’t leak Auguste’s secret. If someone had asked whether the disease was contagious, they certainly would have given a sensible response, but it seemed that the maids loosened their guard when asked about themselves.

Auguste decided to change the topic.

“Very well, have it your way. I’ll concede to this card game of yours. What do I have to do?”

“I remember you were always pretty skilled when it came to poker. How about that?”

“No... No can do.”

Poker was a man’s game. It was a form of gambling. And as Auguste was now, she didn’t know the rules.

Eddie tilted his head quizzically. “Why not?”

“Urgh... Maybe seven-card rummy?”

“That ain’t a game for two. Should I call in a few maids to join us?”

“Ah, no...”

No matter how well-trained the maids were, something as drawn out as a card game would be a sure test of endurance. Perhaps someone’s tongue would slip. Lillim was the only one she could trust not to divulge any unnecessary information.

“Well, I suppose the maids are busy with their work...” Eddie murmured. “Ah! How about we play old maid?”

“Yes, that sounds perfect!” Auguste inadvertently exclaimed, quickly attempting to play it off with another coughing fit. Even she was surprised by her own reaction. I don’t even like card games that much. Why am I this happy...?

But after living the same day over and over again, bound to this bed as though she had been afflicted with some witch’s curse, Eddie’s proposal was a shining light in the darkness.

“Aight, I’ll deal.”

With that, Eddie expertly cut and shuffled the deck.

“You’re quite good at this.”

“Of course. You’re the one who taught me.”

“Hm?”

“Jeez, really? You’d always abuse your sickly constitution, crying about how ill you were so that you could skip out on studies and classes. Then you’d scurry off to practice card tricks or knife-throwing...”

A-Are you serious?! Auguste!

It was quite the frightening revelation.

Eddie dealt the cards, then placed one stack on Auguste’s bedside table. Right beside a book.

“Mn? The Blue Prince and the Thorn Princess...? Sounds like a book for girls.”

“Wh— Hold on!”

Another slip-up. She had left it out after finishing it the night before.

“Th-This is... Well...” Auguste began, stammering her way through an excuse. “Lillim, you see—”

“Lillim? Why would it be in here then?”

“T-To think she would forget a personal belonging in her master’s room. What an outrageous maid she is. Such a child.” In her head, Auguste offered an earnest apology to the capable maid.

But Eddie seemed to have accepted it.

“Well, it happens. Let’s get started.”

“Indeed.”

Auguste reached a hand through the curtain. It had been an incredibly long time since she had received anything without the maids acting as an intermediary. How could something so simple—so mundane—prove to be so exhilarating? She rifled through the cards like they were priceless treasures.

“These, and... these...”

Auguste and Eddie both picked out the pairs from their hands and placed them on the table. Auguste could see that she didn’t have the joker, which meant that Eddie did. He spread out his cards like a fan before holding them out to her, their faces directed toward the table.

“All yours!” Eddie announced.

“All right.”

Auguste’s heart raced as she pilfered a card from her opponent. The two of spades. She could pair it with the two of clubs in her hand, so onto the table they went. With that done, she once again stuck her two hands out from behind the curtain, spreading her cards so that Eddie could take his pick.

“Your move,” she said.

“Hm... In that case... this looks like a safe bet.”

“Have it your way.”

Playing the game with only two people meant that every pick would make a pair—that is, so long as they didn’t take the joker.

It was Auguste’s turn again, and when Eddie spread his cards out, she noticed there was one in particular that he was keeping especially hidden.

The point of the game is to make your opponent take the joker, so surely he wouldn’t put it somewhere I’m less likely to see it, Auguste thought, reaching for the card with a resolved “Mhm.”

“Hahaha!” Eddie roared with laughter. “Who falls for a simple trick like that?!”

“Wh—?! Inconceivable!”

It was, of course, the joker.

Gah, he got me. This is terrible. It’s not even like I can use the same move on him. He’ll see right through it.

Auguste wasn’t stupid enough to try and trick Eddie with his own technique.

Soon enough, her mind was working through strategy after strategy, so much so that she had become completely immersed in the game. They continued playing old maid until noon, after which she taught Eddie how to play rummy and watched him perform a few card tricks.

When it was time for dinner, Eddie returned to his room.

The day had passed like a dream, but Lillim made sure to caution Auguste as she ate. “Err... Prince Auguste... I heard you crying out and giggling like a girl. Are you quite all right?”

It was only then that Auguste realized her mistake, the shock and fear rendering her bedridden for real this time.

But still... it had been an enjoyable day.

✧ ✧ ✧

“I’m so screwed. This is the worst. It’s the one thing that I—”

Eddie was facing quite the predicament. It was now a week since he had started guarding Auguste, and he was confronted with a problem so important that it put the House of Balzac’s continued existence at risk.

I’m actually starting to find Auguste cute!

While they were enjoying their games together, the prince had somehow managed to grasp Eddie’s heart and refused to let go. Everything about him was near infatuating: the heartwarming smile he made when he won, his irresistible scowl when he lost... But what was even more unforgettable was the excitement in his eyes as he looked forward to the next game, or the overjoyed expression he wore when they were about to play.

The situation was so bad that Eddie had seen Auguste in his dreams three nights in a row.

“I can’t believe this... He’s a guy! He’s older than me! He’s royalty! Why is he so damn cute?!”

Auguste was twenty-four, five years Eddie’s senior, but there was something about the way the prince acted that made him seem much younger. Perhaps Eddie was simply mistaken, though.

Either way, I need to keep my focus on women! the young duke told himself. As the head of his house, it was both his duty and his obligation to produce an heir.

Once Eddie had polished off the sautéed chicken he had been served for dinner, he went to do his daily sword practice. While he needed to stay in close proximity to Auguste as his guard, this training was something he couldn’t do inside the annex, so he went and stood right outside the front door.

“Hnn! Grah!”

He swung incessantly, as if trying to swipe away his worldly thoughts. The sword in his hand was a regular weighted blade, since it would have been unbecoming for him to use the emperor’s treasured sword for something as simple as basic practice.

As Eddie was working up a moderate sweat, he suddenly sensed a presence. A figure leaped out from the shadow of the building in the blink of an eye, thrusting a blade toward him.

“Haaah!”

“Knh?!”

Eddie avoided the sword at the very last moment, swinging his own to counter in tandem. While the training blade was dull, it could still do a considerable amount of damage.

“Yaaah!”

“Hngh!”

The weapon thrust out by his foe was drawn back in an instant to parry the slash, the unknown attacker then following up with a sudden kick. Eddie swung his leg out as well, pushing himself away when their feet collided to create some distance between them.

Stepping out from the dim twilight, the mysterious figure finally came into view.

“Gramps!”

It was Eddie’s grandfather, Balthazar Basil de Balzac. His old, wrinkled face scrunched into a grin, and then he lunged forward with another battle cry.

“Hyaaah!”

“Wait, we’re still going?!”

“It’s been a week since you returned! A week! And you haven’t come to see me once, you foolish grandson!”

Contrary to his words, Balthazar sounded absolutely overjoyed. Eddie parried the next slash, locking blades with his opponent on the return stroke.

“I’m a bodyguard now! I can’t just leave my post!”

“Not even a letter, though?!”

“I ordered a duck to be sent to you!”

“Ah, I see! You know me all too well. So, how’s work treating you? Doing your job?”

“Ech... M-More or less!”

The two men exchanged more blows than words before finally backing away from one another again. It took Balthazar a while to collect his breath.

“Seems my age is catching up to me. To think that brief exchange would be enough to wear me out...”

“Normal people get winded after twenty strikes,” Eddie commented, though he personally didn’t seem exhausted in the slightest. “You look like you’re doing well, Gramps.”

“Yes, yes. To see you here, serving as a bodyguard to royalty... Snff...”

“Are you crying?!”

“After all that nonsense about not being able to cut people down, and your total lack of achievements on the battlefield, I was sure this was it for House Balzac... But now, in my final years, it’s one piece of good news after another.”

“Oh? Has something else happened, too?”

“Indeed. It involves Princess Argentina. Do you remember her?”

“’Course I do—I’d never seen anyone that strong before. But, well... I haven’t seen her since she came of age. Got no clue what she’s up to now.”

It was around the age of ten that nobles began preparing to enter high society. Women had much to learn, and they were apparently taught not to meet with men so casually. For this reason, Eddie had barely seen Argentina since she turned ten. It was as though she had disappeared by the time he even realized one of his usual playmates was a girl.

“After you left on that campaign, Princess Argentina was made the commander of Fort Sierck at Prince Latrielle’s suggestion.”

“Hah?”

Balthazar went into more detail, explaining everything that had happened at the distant border. “Isn’t that great news?” he concluded.

“Absolutely. It’s incredible.”

“Perhaps she’s found herself a good strategist.”

“It’s the part about beating Black Knight Jerome that surprises me most.”

“How about you try taking him on, too?”

“Don’t think I could beat either of them, to be honest.”

“Khh... Pathetic! All those techniques I bestowed upon you are going to waste!”

“Well, they’re meant for killing people. We’re all much better off without them, if you ask me.”

“Our ancestors honed those skills over the past eight hundred and fifty years!” Balthazar exclaimed. “Why, back in those—”

“Ah. This story always drags on. Could we skip it?” Eddie asked, raising a hand to stop his grandfather. They had gone through this same routine countless times before, to the point that even Balthazar had grown weary of repeating himself.

“You’re right. Well, no matter. You’re here fulfilling your duty. Princess Argentina is doing well for herself... I’m happy. We’re all happy. I’ll have no regrets when heaven calls for me. In fact, I’d much rather they call me soon before this all takes a turn for the worse.”

“Why are you assuming it’s gonna get worse?”

“Well, I expect you’ll get sacked eventually. It happens.”

“Hey now...”

Balthazar grinned. “Or maybe... Hm... How about you promise me some great-grandchildren? Do that and I’ll live to a hundred, or however long it takes.”

“Ah, ngh... Yes, well... Eventually...”

It was quite normal for a man Eddie’s age to have a wife: among the Belgarian nobility, the early birds married at fifteen, and the late bloomers at twenty. It wouldn’t have even been unusual for him to have had two or three children by now.

“You were away from the capital for half a year. You could have at least come back with a wife!”

“I was fighting! In a war! But I’ll... I’ll marry! And have kids! Someday!”

Of course he would. Without a wife and children, the House of Balzac would cease to exist. Eddie didn’t have any siblings, after all.

His plan was to have kids, then teach them how to fight with swords. How they used that knowledge would be up to them. At the very least, he wanted to honor the will of his father, his grandfather, and his ancestors who came before them—to nurture a loving household, as they had done for him.

That was Eddie’s intention, but there was one huge problem: the very mention of marriage and children brought one face to mind, and that face belonged to Auguste.

“Urgh...”

“What’s wrong? Not having illicit thoughts, are you? You can’t go after a married woman. Oh, but don’t worry about status—if you fall in love with a commoner, marry her. Doesn’t bother me.”

“You sure are jumping to conclusions. It’s nothing like that.”

But in truth, Eddie was having illicit thoughts. There was a reason Balthazar had managed to survive to such an old age: his intuition was spot on.

“Gramps... I’ll marry someone who can have kids. Just you wait.”

“Eh? What are you getting at here?”

Eddie held his aching head, when all of a sudden, Balthazar’s expression firmed up. “Incidentally, O grandson of mine...”

“What’s up, Gramps?”

“Have you ever heard of Le Dragon du Fer?”

“I’ve heard they’re master mercenaries,” Eddie replied, though his six months spent on the front lines of a civil war meant he wasn’t too knowledgeable about current events.

“They’re skilled, to be sure,” Balthazar explained, “but I’ve heard they also take up kidnapping and assassination jobs. Tales of their valor come hand in hand with some very dark rumors.”

“Well, they’re mercs ’n all. I’m sure there’s a lot they’d do for the right amount.”

“They’re here.”

“Here?”

“In the capital.”

“Doing what? Who hired them?”

“I don’t know. But the information comes from a trustworthy source, and nothing can really be done about it right now. Nobody’s breaking any laws simply by hiring them.”

“But... this is the capital, ain’t it?”

“Be on your toes.”

“I shouldn’t have a problem guarding the prince. I doubt he’s gonna be attacked by mercenaries in the middle of the palace.”

“The possibility of that happening is exactly why I’m telling you this. If this were the sort of danger you could foresee and avoid yourself, then I wouldn’t be bringing it up.”

“Guess you’re right...”

The fact that his grandfather found it necessary to bring up these mercenaries likely meant that he thought there was a high chance Eddie would encounter them.

“Gramps... D’you know their captain’s name?”

“Last I heard, it was Damien. Be extra careful. There’s a rumor that everyone in Le Dragon du Fer slathers their swords in poison.”

“Poison, eh...? They sound more like vipers than dragons.”

And with that thought, Eddie recalled the narrow-eyed man he’d met a few days prior.

✧ ✧ ✧

“No, Eddie... You can’t... Not there.”

“Shh, it’s fine. See? I just need to... H-Huh?”

“Is it... Is it stuck?”

“I just need to take it slow. Trust me, it’ll slide right through...”

“You’re being too forceful.”

“Quiet down. How about I move it around a little, like this? Think that’ll do it?”

“Ah... Eddie, no... It... It’s going to—!”

The wooden blocks clattered to the table.

“Man...”

“You’re always going for the risky blocks, when you easily could have taken a safer one.”

Today’s game involved a tower of colored wooden blocks, with players taking turns to pull out pieces until it eventually collapsed. There were a few other rules too, of course, such as each player only being able to use one finger.

“I thought it was free, y’know.”

“I told you to go for the blue one. What a shame...”

“But you won. It collapsed on my turn. Isn’t that, er... how you play the game?”

“I know, I know... But it’s more fun to keep it going as long as we can.”

“I see,” Eddie replied with a chuckle as he industriously retrieved the fallen pieces. Two weeks had passed since he was first stationed in Auguste’s annex.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Eddie, what I’m about to say is important,” Auguste said, fixing him with a serious look. “You would do well to remember it.”

“What is it?” the young duke asked, straightening his back.

“A certain merchant is stopping by tonight.”

“Oh? Are you doing some shopping?”

“You can always put in an order if you need anything... But in this case, an art dealer from one of the provinces recently managed to do business in the capital. He wants to send a gift to the royal family as a token of gratitude.”

“I see.”

If the man presented something rare and wonderful, word would spread through high society in an instant. Anything considered good enough for the royal family immediately became more desirable among the nobility as a whole, and as an art dealer’s target market was of course nobles, he would no doubt produce something of astounding quality to promote his name.

“So you’re telling me it’s time for my first job. Don’t you worry—I won’t let my guard down for a moment, even if we’re just dealing with an art dealer here.”

Eddie couldn’t read minds; it was impossible to know how much of a threat someone posed purely based on their vocation and outward appearance.

“That’s not what I’m worried about...”

“Then what can I do for you? I’m not much of an art appraiser, you know. The attic in our house is littered with paintings, but I couldn’t tell you a thing about them.”

“I’m not expecting an expert opinion, either. What I was going to say is that I must ensure my appearance is appropriate for his visit. Make sure you do not enter this room under any circumstances.”

“Your appearance?”

Auguste nodded, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly—yet another gesture that seemed to separate him from the prince Eddie had once known. As the young duke beheld this unexpected expression, a rather peculiar feeling washed over him.

“That’s... Yes, that’s right,” Auguste replied. “Listen well. Do not come in, no matter what.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” Eddie said with a nod. He began gathering up the wooden blocks, as well as the playing cards, the darts, the senet board, the chessboard... They had certainly played a lot of games. “Erm, should I call the maid...?”

“Please.”

He rang the bell and Lillim arrived in no time at all, a pot of warm water in her hands. “Prince Auguste, I have brought the— Wait, what’s all this?! You have a guest today?!”

“...Yes.”

Eddie chuckled. “We’ve been playing since morning, but I might’ve brought a bit too much with me.”

“If our guests see this room, rumors will surely spread that Prince Auguste’s disease has finally affected his mind, too!”

“Huh? Is it really that bad...?”

“To think the head of a ducal house is playing children’s games in His Highness’s room... Do you not have other, more important things to do?”

“You’ve got me there.”

She seems more like a home tutor than a maid... Eddie thought, offering a wry smile. Meanwhile, Auguste bashfully pressed his arms against his sides, making his shoulders look even narrower than usual.

Lillim poured the hot water into a larger vessel, while several other maids began showing up with more waterpots. “We shall take care of the cleanup,” she said. “Get in the bath, Prince.”

“Yes, ma’am...”

“Sir Eddie, to your room at once!”

“Gotcha, gotcha.” After bowing to the prince, Eddie made his way down the staircase, heading to his room on the floor below.

Several thoughts played on his mind as he walked. For one, Lillim was incredibly reliable despite her childlike appearance; she certainly didn’t seem like someone who would leave a personal belonging in her master’s room.

There was also something wrong with Auguste—he clearly wasn’t the same man he had once been. Back when Eddie first arrived, when they had yet to exchange more than a few brief sentences, he had chalked this up to the prince’s illness. But now...

Eddie wouldn’t hesitate to admit that his own intuition was terrible, but even he could tell that something was amiss. Auguste was hiding something—there was no doubt about it. He had simply changed too much.

Well... he has a secret. So what?

Auguste was Belgaria’s Crown Prince, and Eddie had accepted a mission to protect him. That was all there was to it. It didn’t matter that he had started to look strangely cute lately.

“I won’t give in, no matter what happens.”

Eddie soon reached the third floor. When he closed the stairwell door behind him, the footsteps of the maids transporting water grew distant.

“Phew...”

He felt anxious. Strangely anxious. Why did hearing that another man was about to take a bath make him so restless? He had met affable, attractive men in the past, but none had made him feel emotions like these.

“Looks like our house’s days are numbered, Gramps.”

Instead of returning to his room, Eddie gazed out the window. That was when he heard it—a loud shattering noise coming from upstairs, accompanied by a woman’s scream.

“What?!”

He moved without thinking. After tearing the cloth from his sword, he kicked open the door he’d just come through and bounded up the long, winding staircase.

“Auguste!”

When Eddie reached the final few steps, he could see straight into Auguste’s room. The prince was completely without clothes, a broken water pot and a profusely apologizing maid down by his feet—not Lillim, but another maid whom he’d either never met or simply didn’t remember. But that was the least of his concerns.

The duke froze, his eyes immediately drawn to Auguste’s body. He’d been sure that the man’s skin would be haggard from his ailment, but it appeared clear and healthy. His torso was so slender that it couldn’t have possibly belonged to a man, his slightly prominent chest only raising further suspicions. Then there was his small navel and rounded hips.

But above all else, the prince’s lower body lacked what should have been there. In fact, Eddie could see nothing but a light thicket.

“I’ll be damned...”

“E-Eddie...”

“Oh my Lord!” Lillim cried. She threw the empty water pot in her hands, managing to strike Eddie square in the head. It shattered on impact, but the duke remained exactly where he was, frozen in fear, his face pale.

“The prince... turned into a girl...” Eddie was so flustered that even he didn’t quite know what he was saying.

After leaking a slight whimper, Auguste closed his eyes and collapsed, the strength having completely drained from his body.

“Auguste!”

Eddie threw down his sword and burst up the last few steps. He leaped over the handrail, reaching out to catch the falling man—or rather, the falling woman?

Her pale and soft-looking body was set to land on the shards of glass below, but Eddie dived across the floor, just barely managing to reach her in time. She was limp and powerless in his arms, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Eddie heaved a relieved sigh. When he glanced to his side, he spotted Lillim running over, the color having completely drained from her face.

“Ah, err... Nn...” the maid stammered.

“Looks like there are a few things you need to explain.”

Lillim fell silent for a moment, her eyes cast down. When she eventually raised her face again, her eyes were filled with resolve. “Thank you very kindly for saving Prince Auguste,” she said. “I will explain everything—I promise I will. But before that, please place the prince on his bed.”

“...Aight.”

Eddie supported Auguste’s slumped body from under the knees. She was light—so light that he wondered whether she really was a human just like him. He kept his eyes forward as he walked, taking care not to look at her skin, and moved his feet cautiously so that he wouldn’t trip. The ever-tactful maids opened the curtains around the bed and pulled back the covers.

The prince was carefully laid down on the sheets to rest. The maids would probably handle things from there.

Lillim brought a chair over to Eddie. “Are you sure you want to hear all this from me? Or perhaps...”

“No, I see what you mean. It really bothers me, but... I should wait until Auguste comes to. Right. When he wakes up, could you say something to him for me? Tell him: ‘Eddie didn’t see a thing. But if there’s something you want to say, he’s all ears.’”

“Heavens. Are you saying that you do not mind acting as though you never saw anything?”

“Yes. Well, pretty much,” Eddie said, declining the chair that Lillim had offered him and turning back to the staircase. “It’s my own fault, really. I broke a promise because I mistook a maid’s scream for his. I defied the orders of an imperial prince. Why, I could be sent straight to the chopping block.”

“Perhaps... but you only did what was natural as His Highness’s bodyguard.”

“It’s out of my hands now. If the prince tells me to forget all about it, then I’ll do just that.”

“Are you not going to report this to Latrielle...?”

“I... Well, I am a soldier, yeah, but it ain’t like I was hired by him. Not like I was ordered to investigate Auguste’s body, either.”

“...Thank you.”

“For now, I should give you some space.”

“Ah, you’re bleeding...”

“Hm?”

Blood was streaming down the back of Eddie’s hand. He must have sliced it open on the fragmented water jug when he slid across the floor.

“It’ll heal up in no time,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’m not so sure about that... Here, let me treat you.”

“Ah, you sure? I’m all yours then, I guess.”

Eddie’s wound was disinfected and wrapped in bandages. Then, once he had retrieved the treasured sword he had thrown out into the corridor, he quietly returned to his room.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was nearly twilight when Auguste was awoken and informed that her guest had arrived. Eddie was called to stand at the ready in one corner of the room.

The art dealer was a man whose gaudy attire, including a heavy-looking ring on each finger, made it painfully clear that he wanted everyone to know he had money. There were a number of metal necklaces dangling from his neck—so many that one had to wonder whether they were the wares he was actually here to tout. Jewel-covered earrings had stretched his earlobes so low that Eddie had already taken to calling him “Donkey” in his head.

Resting behind Donkey was a cloth-covered parcel—presumably a large piece of art—and the four servants tasked with carrying it. The man approached the bed where Auguste lay.

“Your gracious audience is the very reason I am here. It is the greatest honor of my life to have been granted such an extraordinary opportunity. Thinking back on it all, perhaps the forty years I spent toiling away were leading me to this very moment. I was once but a poor, unsuccessful street artist, yet the previous head of our firm so generously hired me as a servant, and—”

“Prince Auguste tires easily, so if you would please make this quick...” Lillim urged, causing the droning art dealer to frown. But he could hardly ignore her candid advice in the presence of royalty.

He cleared his throat.

“Please excuse my drawn-out salutations,” he said, evidently having considered his life story to be a greeting of some sort. “I am here on this most wonderful day to report that our firm has set up a storefront in the capital. If you go straight down Verseilles Boulevard from the palace gates, you will find it at the intersection with Jean-Garla. We have completely renewed the old building...”

“Um...”

“Ahem! If you ever wish to visit, please do let us know; we will put out a massive signboard so that you won’t miss it. To accompany this news, I wish to present a wonderful painting as a representation of our firm. A splendid piece that I guarantee will be a feast for His Highness’s weary eyes...”

The art dealer seemed to exude confidence. The previous emperors had gathered the greatest art pieces from all over the world to exhibit without fanfare all over the palace, yet this man boasted about his artwork to a prince who had already grown up around extravagant works.

“Very well...” Auguste listlessly replied, her gaze more focused on Eddie in the corner. Something rather shocking had happened around noon that they still hadn’t spoken about. Perhaps they weren’t going to speak about it at all... It was an understatement to say that she was quite on edge.

Lillim tactfully whispered to Donkey. “Owing to his illness, the prince has been eating less and less, and his temperament has suffered as a result. You risk putting him in a bad mood if you keep him waiting for too long.”

“Mn... Is that so? In that case...”

The man’s servants briskly undid the ropes around the parcel he had brought, and, in a grand display, the art dealer theatrically whipped away the cloth.

“Look and be amazed!”

Auguste remained silent on the bed, while Eddie couldn’t see the art from where he was standing. The only notable reaction came from Lillim, who offered exaggerated words of surprise.

“Ah, how wonderful! Utterly amazing!” she exclaimed. “Wouldn’t you say so, Prince Auguste?! Ah, I knew it! The prince is thoroughly delighted.”

The art dealer seemed somewhat skeptical. “Is... Is that so?”

“Of course! I have served him for so long that I can easily pick up the reserved and elegant manner in which he shows his amazement!”

“Oh, I... I see. As expected of His Highness—he doesn’t wear his enthusiasm on his sleeve like your common rabble. So long as it pleases him, I couldn’t be...”

“You couldn’t be...?”

“Couldn’t be...?”

There was a peculiar moment of tension. Donkey was quite clearly waiting in anticipation of something—a request that he couldn’t vocalize. Lillim pondered the matter, while Auguste remained silent, her gaze still on Eddie. But the young duke hadn’t the knowledge to intrude on a transaction between an art dealer and royalty, nor did he particularly have the motivation; such a task wasn’t his role here.

Finally, Lillim clapped her hands together in realization. “The papers have been requesting an interview lately, and I’m certain this splendid offering will make it into the article! Thank you!”

“My word! Is that true?! That’s certainly a load off my mind. It is my pleasure, I assure you!”

“Allow me to show you the way out.”

“Yes, I apologize for taking up so much of your time. Please display it somewhere it will stand out! It’s an incredible piece that would cost as much as a noble’s manor!”

“Indeed. We understand.”

The moment their business with Auguste had concluded, Lillim showed Donkey and his servants to the door. The room grew quiet, and once more, only Eddie and the prince remained. Along with one massive painting.

“Get it out...” Auguste muttered, unmistakably speaking in the voice of a girl.

She would at times let out a high-pitched tone when she got too caught up in their games, but Eddie was surprised to learn that her normal voice was so calm and clear, like wind stroking the water’s surface.

“You want me to move this thing? Not to your tastes?”

“It’s a picture of war.”

Eddie finally got a good look at the artwork. It displayed gallant knights mowing down barbarians and enemy soldiers.

“I see...”

While fine for a prince, it was not a painting to send to a lady. Lillim would most likely hang it somewhere frequented by guests but not Auguste herself.

“He said it’s worth a pretty penny...” Eddie murmured.

“I don’t care about the money.”

That’s fair enough, Eddie thought. He moved the art into a corner, facing the wall.

“Does that work for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be off. It’s almost time for dinner and all.”

“Hold on, Eddie.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Sit.”

He doubted she meant on the floor, and the only chair in the room was right beside the bed.

“Hm. Well, if you say so...”

He walked over, placing a hand on the backrest.

“No, not there.”

“Ah, right. Sorry about that. You really did mean on the floor...”

“Over here.”

The lace curtain was drawn back, and Eddie immediately swallowed his breath. Auguste’s melancholic countenance was so beautiful that it sent a shiver down his spine. He wished that he could somehow frame it, preserving it forevermore.

Auguste patted a hand against the edge of the bed. “Right here.”

“Me? You want me to sit... there?”

It was then that Eddie experienced nervousness for the very first time.

✧ ✧ ✧

Eddie took his seat, immediately feeling his body sink into the mattress. He had quite recently thought that Baudouin’s carriage had seats like a cloud, but now he had to correct himself: those were merely well-made leather benches, and the real clouds had been here all along.

No sooner had Eddie sat down than the curtain around the bed was pulled shut.

“Hey, Auguste... What’s this all about...?”

Her face was so close to his. A short while ago, when Eddie was sure that she was a man, he had been at a loss on how to describe these emotions. But now he knew. He found her charming. Her sunken, shadow-covered expression was irresistibly endearing. He had to hastily suppress the urge to reach out and touch it.

“Did you hear about what happened... half a year ago?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“Are you talking about when you... collapsed...?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

She softly bit down on her lip, and then—

“Auguste was murdered.”

“What?!”

With those words, Eddie finally understood everything. It was all so terribly simple, to the point that he couldn’t believe his own lack of insight. But then again, as far as he was aware, there had only been one silver-haired, crimson-eyed person in the world.

“Then who are you, exactly?” he asked.

“I’m... his younger sister, Felicia.”

“Huh?!”

“We’ve only spoken once before...”

“Have we?”

Eddie frantically scoured his memory, but he couldn’t seem to recall speaking to a girl with such notably unique features.

Auguste—or rather, Felicia—sighed. “Don’t worry if you can’t remember. It was only once, after all...”

A few tears started to well up in her eyes, and it was that very expression that helped Eddie connect the dots. “I see!” he suddenly exclaimed. “You’re that kid who hated swords!”

“Ah...” Felicia’s eyes opened wide.

“I remember! That was you! What you said to me was so shocking that my mind completely blanked, and I must’ve forgotten everything else.”

“Erk... S-Sorry...”

“You said that you were scared of people dying—that’s the reason you hated swords. That was it. What you said had never even occurred to me before, and that fact was what terrified me the most.”

“Eddie...”

“To be honest with you, I’d completely forgotten who it was that said it. The words had such an impact on me that they were the only things that remained. I did remember that it was a girl... and thanks to that, I’m a bit antsy around girls now... Oh, but I’m grateful.”

“Grateful...?”

“Yeah. There was always something playing on the back of my mind when I swung my sword about. Wouldn’t go away no matter how much I trained. But then I realized. I finally realized. I hate swords. I don’t wanna kill people. That’s why I decided to get so strong that I wouldn’t have to.”

At thirteen years of age, Eddie’s hesitation disappeared, and the way he handled his sword started to change beyond belief.

Felicia tilted her head. “Eh?”

“Hah, I’m not all that good at explaining it...” Eddie said, scratching his head. He was used to people failing to understand what he meant. She likely still shared his fear of people dying, but his assertion that this was the very reason he trained to improve his sword-fighting skills probably came off as contradictory.

“I don’t really understand, but... thank you for remembering me.”

“Auguste’s sister... Felicia... That’s kind of nostalgic. Well, maybe not that much. I mean, we’ve been seeing each other every single day lately.”

“No, it is nostalgic... It’s been so long since the last time someone said my name. Finally... It finally feels like I’ve properly met you, Eddie.”

“I guess so.”

Felicia wiped the tears from her eyes. Her cheeks were moist from the crystal-clear droplets.

“The moment my brother died... I was brought out by Mother.”

“I see. You were swapped out?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure that everyone and their uncle could tell something was off, but... the red eyes and natural silver hair are all you really need to convince them you’re Auguste.”

“It also helped that I’d stayed at the family home since I was ten. Plus, I never really stood out to begin with...”

“Well, a normal girl wouldn’t stand out in that family.”

“You remember Argentina though, don’t you...?”

“Her? Yeah, well, I mean... She’s special.”

Eddie had heard the name from his grandfather just a few days prior. He broke into a cold sweat as he remembered their younger years. She had performed so many impressive deeds back then that the recent rumors of her beating the infamous Black Knight weren’t all that hard to believe.

Felicia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you... like her?”

“Whaaa—?! Maybe you didn’t see all the stuff she got up to, but Argentina was stronger than I was! In fact, for the longest time, I was sure she was a dude!”

“I-I see.”

To be more precise, the last time he had seen the fourth princess was before he reached the age when he was conscious of who was male and who was female.

“She was stronger than Bastian when it came to brute strength, she could race a horse faster than Latrielle, and she picked up swordplay even faster than I did... It’s been quite a while since we saw one another, but last I heard, she’d won a duel against one of the Empire’s strongest war heroes.”

Felicia put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my...”

Eddie shrugged. “But rather than strength, I think I prefer cu... cu...”

“Pardon...?”

“So, uh, do all the maids know that you’re Felicia? Do the other servants?” he asked, trying to seamlessly change the subject. The young duke, who didn’t cower in the face of countless soldiers, couldn’t bring himself to utter just a single word.

“The cooks don’t, but my twelve maids do... Apart from them, only Mother, the butler, and the attendant serving as my body double know.”

That was certainly more people than he had expected.

“You can add me to that list, too. Oh, but, uh... the second consort’s actually pretty scary, so if you wouldn’t mind keeping this a secret from her...”

One wrong move and she might have him poisoned to keep Felicia’s secret. Eddie thought that both the second consort and the empress consort were terrifying individuals.

Felicia looked rather perplexed. “So you really won’t say a word...?”

“Hm?”

For a brief moment, Eddie thought she was referring to the literal word that he hadn’t been able to muster. But it seemed that wasn’t the case.

“You’re not going to tell Latrielle about me?” Felicia clarified.

“I’ve already mentioned this to Lillim, but no, I’m not going to tell him. I’m not one of his pawns.”

“...Okay. I trust you.”

“In fact, I was specifically ordered to protect Prince Auguste, and that’s what I promised to do. And if you’re the prince, Felicia, then... that means I’m going to protect you.”

“...Thank you, Eddie.”

“You have my word. There’s one thing I want to know, though—what are you planning on doing from here on out?”

As Auguste, she was holed up in an annex, almost completely restricted to her bed. How long could she really carry on like that?

She tightly gripped the bedsheets. “Latrielle... killed my brother. I won’t let someone like him become emperor.”

“Makes sense.”

“And so... I’ll stay in this bed until His Majesty breathes his last breath.”

“I see...”

If the emperor were to die before naming his successor, then Auguste—who was first in line to the throne—would be crowned without exception. Once that happened, Latrielle would lose his chance in perpetuity.

There was of course still the problem of “Auguste” having heirs... but this was the second consort they were talking about. She would most likely take in the daughter of some noble whom she had influence over, falsify a pregnancy between her and the prince-turned-emperor, then take in a child from somewhere else.

“That’s pretty dramatic... And something tells me deceiving the people of the Empire is a major criminal offense.”

“If you’d rather slip away, now’s your chance. I’ll help you to resign.”

“C’mon, I literally just promised to protect you. How uncool would it be for me to say that and then back away?”

“Oh? Are you trying to show off?”

“Well, I am a man.”

“So am— Actually, no. For just this moment, I’m a girl, I think. Eddie?”

“Eh? R-Right.”

The way she was staring at him with bleary eyes made his heart violently hammer in his chest. His body was stiff, and sweat covered his skin.

Felicia allowed herself to drop back onto the bed and closed her eyes. Her pale lips let out short and fast breaths, her blush having made it all the way to her nape.

Eddie gulped. Lillim or the other maids could enter the room at any moment, or perhaps his grandfather might pay another surprise visit. They were both such likely developments, and yet the world remained uncannily quiet.

The evening sun sank over the horizon, its warm red glow fading along with it. Only the light of the candle sconces illuminated Felicia’s face.

Eddie placed his sword down beside the bed, then reached out a hand and tickled her forelocks with the tips of his fingers.

The lace curtain swayed. What a quiet night it was.

✧ ✧ ✧

Felicia—in Auguste’s clothes—stopped spending every waking moment immersed in games. She called in ministers and merchants, and while she remained in bed, she began to show interest in official matters.

Latrielle ruled the military, leaving her to petition tax reductions from the feudal lords and mediate the disputes between nobles. The good word of the Crown Prince was enough to change things, even if only little by little.

Eddie stood at her bedside as her guard.

Felicia was still fourteen and rather estranged from law and politics. Lillim, however, was a source of surprisingly astute advice, able to offer an appropriate plan for most situations.

Such was the case today as well.

The minister of commerce left with reverent gratitude, having had the imperial household weigh in on a petty dispute in the provinces. Lillim, who had directed the prince from behind the bed, emerged with a tired look on her face.

“That sure was a hard one...” she said.

“Thank you for your hard work,” Felicia replied, expressing her gratitude. “You certainly did a good job.”

Eddie nodded along in agreement. “Yeah, you even managed to convince me. I get that they had a contract, but that interest rate was absurd. Having them pay in full in exchange for negotiating a new, fairer rate certainly feels like a good middle ground.”

“In this case, the real problem was figuring out what that fairer rate actually was.”

“I-I see,” Eddie muttered, scratching his hair. He had been carefully listening the whole time, but it seemed the true essence of the problem had still gone right over his head.

“Let’s leave it at that today,” Felicia said.

Her words brought a relieved smile to Lillim’s lips. “I think that is for the best. If you start putting in too much effort all of a sudden, people will certainly grow suspicious.”

“Yeah...”

“Ah, on another note—the painting that you received the other day made it into the morning paper.”

“I see...”

“It came from a widely renowned painter and was the last thing he created before his passing. The article focused more on the art firm that obtained it than anything either of us said about the matter, though.”

The reason for that was most likely a monetary transaction of some sort.

“From now on, I’d rather only meet with those who actually benefit the country,” Felicia said.

“Most definitely!” Lillim replied. “Oh, it’s almost time for supper! Please wait right where you are!”

“Eddie... After dinner...”

“Yeah, I know.”

Life had changed. Now, for as much as she worked during the day, Felicia would summon Eddie to her room in the evenings.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Come on, Eddie... Faster...”

“Cut me some slack here. I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”

“We can’t light the candles, or else Lillim will notice us. She’d definitely get mad...”

“Of course she would. A sickly prince shouldn’t be staying up this late.”

“I’m always having to sleep during the day, so I can barely sleep at night. And it’s so boring lying here by myself...”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Precisely, so... faster, please.”

“S-Sure. Aight, how’s this?!”

Eddie flipped over one of the facedown cards laid out in a grid on the floor. Then, he flipped over another. Their numbers didn’t match.

“Pshh...”

“Another miss!”

A smug grin played on Felicia’s lips. “The card you were looking for is actually over here.”

“No way! It was literally right next to the one I picked!”

“And then there’s one pair here, and ooone... here.”

“I lose again! You’re way too good at concentration.”

“Fufu...”

In this game, the deck was laid out in a grid on the floor, with all the cards facedown. Players then took turns flipping cards over two at a time. If the two cards they chose had the same number, then they could keep them. If not, they were turned facedown again. This was a game of memory, and the player with the most pairs at the end was the winner.

In most cases, Felicia and Eddie would spend the time after dinner playing games, though there was the odd occasion where they would discuss the issues brought up earlier that day instead. When she played, Felicia seemed to regain a sudden youthfulness.

As he watched her, Eddie could feel a pleasant warmth in his chest. He would think back to that night and feel it was an incredible waste to have done nothing but pat her head. However, a part of him didn’t want their current relationship to change. Felicia may have only been disguised as a prince, but there was still no denying that she herself was a princess. What’s more, they each had their own houses to shoulder; they couldn’t act thoughtlessly.

“A kiss wouldn’t hurt, though...” Felicia muttered.

“Pardon?” Eddie was suddenly pulled from his momentary reverie.

“I said... maybe you’ll win the next game.”

“Oh, I see! You’re on!”

That was strange. Must’ve misheard... Eddie thought as he gathered up the cards. He shuffled them, then laid them out in a grid again. “This is my chance for a comeback!”

Felicia silently flipped over two cards. They didn’t match.

“...Eddie?”

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice sharp.

Felicia froze with shock on her face as Eddie pulled the cloth from the sword at his waist.

“I heard a scream...”

The door that the maids used suddenly flung open. It was strange for someone to enter without knocking first, but before they could question what was going on, Lillim sprinted into the room.

“Run!” she yelled.

And then she collapsed. There was a sword wound in her back.

“Ngh...”

Her small body trembled, blood trickling from her mouth.

“Lillim?!” Felicia cried. She hurried over and gripped the hand of the loyal, skilled young maid.

“Run... And please live.”

“Don’t die, Lillim! Please! I don’t want this!”

“Hurry... Felicia...”

Lillim’s breathing was erratic. Her eyes powerlessly closed, and the remaining traces of color faded from her face. This was the first time she had called the princess by her true name, but Felicia had never wanted it to happen like this.

“No... No... What do I do, Eddie?! What do I do?!”

“Stay calm. The palace has the best doctors, the best medicine, and the best facilities around. She’ll survive, but we’ll need to get her treated fast.”

“We... We need to get her to a doctor...”

“That’s right. So just give me a second.”

Eddie drew his sword. He took his stance at the servant door through which Lillim had entered, where six shadows now stood.

✧ ✧ ✧

The figures were dressed in black, with black cloth covering their mouths and faces. They carried with them green-slathered swords.

“Hssss...”

A low breath.

“I take it you’re Le Dragon du Fer,” Eddie said, pointing his blade at the intruders.

“Indeed...” replied the figure standing at the lead, a well-built man so large that the longsword in his hand looked more like a knife. He was certainly better suited for a larger weapon—a battle ax, perhaps—but it seemed speed was his priority here. That much made sense: with a poisoned weapon, he only needed to land a single scrape.

Based on their stances, the mercenaries were all exceptionally skilled. The room wasn’t all that narrow, but it also wasn’t wide enough to run about in.

Felicia cradled the wounded Lillim, placing her on the bed. The maid continued taking short, pained breaths.

“Would it be tasteless of me to ask what you’re here for?” Eddie asked.

“Hm... Eddie Fabio de Balzac. They’re calling you the Dull-Blade Duke, you know.”

Eddie frowned. That was the nickname they’d used to tease him on the battlefield, initially started by his commander. He had earned the dishonorable moniker after failing to cut down a single enemy in combat.

“I’ll say this now... In these circumstances, I can’t hold back.”

He could hear a child gasping for breath behind him; a girl praying that she would be saved.

“Out of the way, Duke!”

Only one man shouted, but three moved in to attack. From the front, the large man thrust his poisoned sword, while horizontal slashes came from both sides to block his escape. Eddie could deal with the middle assailant, but then he’d get cut on both sides. He could also turn to either of the flanking attackers, but then he’d get stabbed in the back. Even backing off wasn’t an option, since the thrust would still reach him.

“A sword to kill, eh...?” he murmured. “I’ll just smash through it!”

“Huh?!”

Eddie moved to counter. He had never intended to dodge, since Felicia was right behind him. She was their real target; they were here to assassinate Auguste.

First, he swung the emperor’s sword into the blade on his left. A dry snap rang out, before the green-slathered edge broke into pieces.

“How?!” his foe cried out in shock.

It was a move only possible thanks to the sheer sturdiness of the legendary blade, but Eddie was probably the only one who practiced it religiously—a technique created solely to break an enemy’s weapon.

Eddie immediately brought back his sword, pushing the thrust aside and parrying the right slash in the same motion.

Défendre Sept, the seventh treasured sword, was made with comb-like notches along its spine, designed to catch an enemy’s blade. Normal iron would have bent at the weakest point when put under such stress, but this blade was made out of a special metal called trystie that didn’t warp or break. By twisting the emperor’s sword, a simple lever principle would place an immense load on the flat of a caught blade and break it, though it took considerable strength to take on two weapons at the same time.

“Haaah!”

The sword of the attacker on the right shattered, but the large man who had thrust head-on managed to yank his blade away just in time. It had chipped, yes, but it still held firm at the base.

Green liquid scattered through the air as the tip of the broken sword spun toward the floor.

“Bastard!”

“You’re stepping in too close, goddammit!”

Eddie shifted his center of gravity around a half step forward, holding the treasured sword right in the path of the large man’s swinging hands. He had moved so quickly that his foe didn’t even react; his fingers came down against the blade with an uncanny sound, scattering blood and flesh alike.

“Gaaaaaah?!”

The giant winced. Meanwhile, the men who had attacked from the sides pulled their knives and thrust without missing a beat.

“Hrah!”

“A-Are we still doing this?!”

Eddie swiftly launched a kick into the left man’s knee. The attacker was no doubt well trained, but he couldn’t move fast enough for Eddie to consider him much of a threat. His kneecap shattered at the impact.

“Nngyah?!”

In that same breath, Eddie swung his sword, severing the right assailant’s outthrust arm at the wrist. With injuries like these, both men would need to retire as mercenaries.

Blood spilled over the floor.

The next two attackers that came at Eddie were of about the same skill level. He began by breaking their swords, and when one refused to give up, he sliced him across the leg. The other seemed to recognize just how outmatched he was and attempted to run, but...

“Le Dragon du Fer does not flee!”

The last assailant, who had been watching from behind the whole time, swung his sword. There was no doubt in Eddie’s mind that this was the man he’d met in the palace corridor. His mouth was covered, but he had the same menacing air about him—and the same narrow eyes like knife slits.

The man who had attempted to run was decapitated in a single swipe, blood erupting from his open throat like a fountain. The cards laid out along the floor were splattered with red, and Felicia raised a shriek from behind.

“Close your eyes!” Eddie called, his gaze not once moving from his foe. “It’ll all be over soon!”

Severing a head in one slash required an abnormal amount of strength and technique. Eddie’s instinct had been right: had he met this man on the battlefield, he undoubtedly would have fled without a second thought.

So this is the head merc...

“You’re... Damien, if my memory serves me.”

“A knowledgeable man you are, my duke.”

“I just know someone who likes to gossip.”

Damien’s narrow eyes shifted to Eddie’s hands. “That’s a nice weapon you’ve got there. I’d expect no less from one of L’Empereur Flamme’s famous swords. I’d thought this job was gonna be boring, but it looks like I’ll actually get a chance to enjoy myself.”

“You think this is fun? That ain’t normal.”

“I could say the same to you, Duke... Would a normal person hone their skills to such a degree? We both trained to kill.”

“Don’t lump us together. I thought up a way to not have to kill people before I perfected my skills.”

“If you’re overwhelmingly stronger, you can send your foes packing with a broken weapon or some bruises. Is that it?”

Was it because he was also a skilled swordsman? Eddie had found someone who truly understood him in the strangest of places.

Damien took his stance. “With such technique, why stay silent as they mock you? Give them a hundred years, and any human will perish. And if you leave them be, they’ll just continue to multiply. They’re no different from cows and pigs.”

“I’ll take a life if that’s the only way to survive, but otherwise, that ain’t how it is with me. I’m not gonna do what I hate unless I have to.”

“Interesting... I guess you can live like that when you’re born a duke.”

“I get that there are folks out there who became mercenaries out of poverty. But I’m not kind enough to just let them cut me.”

“Poverty? How presumptuous of you, Sir Duke. I didn’t become a mercenary for mere coin.”

Eddie hadn’t met anyone like this before. In fact, he hadn’t really known any mercenaries at all.

Damien slowly, cautiously closed the distance. “I was born into a comital house, you see. I wanted for nothing. But I was bored. Uninterested. It was like I was living in a prison cell. Then, one day, it happened... I stabbed a servant. An accident. But in that moment, it felt like I was alive for the very first time.”

“That’s... You’re crazier than me.”

“You’ll understand when you kill someone. The longing you feel once you reap a soul is the only cure for life’s mediocrity.”

“How idiotic. I’d just think of them and regret it forever.”

“I’m used to not being understood.”

“What a coincidence... That’s why I’m protecting someone who gets me. No matter what.”

“Is this... affection? There was someone I held dear myself, once upon a time.”

“You’ve fallen in love before? Then you should understand just how precious life is.”

“Dear, dear... A young servant. The first I ever loved. And the first I ever killed.”

“Eck.”

This man’s sick, Eddie thought. He was at a complete loss for words. There was something fundamentally different about his opponent’s way of thinking.

“Now then, we’ve made a bit of a ruckus, so I imagine there’ll be others on the way,” Damien said with a grin. “I’ll pluck your lives and take my leave.”

“Not on my watch!”

“You’ve only ever known lukewarm battlefields, Duke. Do you really think you can wound me?”

With that, Damien launched the first attack.

“Haaah!”

“Graaah!”

Eddie moved his blade into the path of the oncoming sword. He only needed to catch it and twist, then he would be able to shatter it. But the moment before impact, Damien drew back his weapon. It changed course, now a slash aimed straight at the duke’s neck.

That much was expected though, and Eddie changed his stance accordingly. When he was up against just one sword, he was confident that he could block it.

“On the defense again, are we?”

“That’s my job.”

“Hah!”

Another slash, this time from on high. It was aimed right at his guard.

What followed was a metallic clang. Eddie had caught Damien’s sword, the notches of the Défendre Sept biting into it.

“Got you!”

“Think again, Duke.”

The man had already let go of the weapon and drawn a knife from behind his waist. Eddie’s sword was still entangled, and the sudden lack of resistance threw him off balance such that he couldn’t muster a swift counterattack.

“Die!” Damien yelled, coming forward with a sharp thrust.

Right behind Eddie was the bed where Felicia and Lillim were, so simply dodging the attack wasn’t an option. But the knife was already closing in on his heart.

In an instant, Eddie used his free hand to grab the blade caught in his treasured sword. Then, with the two weapons still joined together in a cross, he lunged toward Damien.

There was the sickening sound of pierced flesh as the two swords plunged deep into the tips of the mercenary’s shoulders. The knife, meanwhile, grazed Eddie’s chest before deviating past his flank; he bled nonetheless.

“No hesitation...” Damien wheezed. “You read me like a book...”

“Some head of my house from generations ago thought up the technique, even giving it a pretentious name. I didn’t read your movements, nor did I think up the move.”

“...Kill me.”

“Hell no. I want you to tell me who your ringleader is.”

“The poison’s going to kill me anyway.”

“Th-That’s...”

“And you, too!”

The knife that had gone past the duke’s flank suddenly turned, encroaching on his torso.

There was no time to hesitate. Eddie released his grip on the two swords, practically collapsing to avoid the knife. Then, from his low position, he kicked up into his foe’s abdomen.

“Guh?!”

Damien was knocked off his feet, and the two swords clattered to the ground.

Eddie immediately picked up his regalia and stood. It didn’t take long for Damien to regain his footing as well, though he shambled as he returned to his feet. He let out a low laugh.

“Kukuh... I lost... I... lost...”

The wounds on his shoulders bled profusely, but his hand still clutched the knife. Eddie diligently kept his blade at the ready.

“Accept the loss and throw down your knife. I’m going to have you name your client in court.”

“Surely you already know...”

So it’s Baudouin... Eddie sighed, recalling their exchange.

“Unfortunately, I don’t feel like standing trial. Nor do I plan on leaving evidence...”

Damien brought a lit candle to a parcel on his back. Eddie squinted, and that was when he realized—

“That’s...?!”

Oil, perhaps? Did he plan to set the entire annex ablaze? If everything burned to the ground, there certainly wouldn’t be any evidence, but...

Damien’s lips curled into a grin. He truly was enjoying himself.

“This, my good duke... is black powder.”

Without hesitation, Eddie leaped onto the bed to shield Felicia and Lillim. The explosion wasn’t far behind him.

Damien’s body was blown apart, the blast taking all the injured mercenaries who had been writhing on the ground with him.

All of the glass in the room shattered, the canopy was blown off the bed, and gaping holes were opened in both the floor and ceiling. In its half-destroyed state, the annex called the Volière went up in flames.

✧ ✧ ✧

Another day—

Eddie arrived at a room in the palace, right on schedule.

“Pardon me.”

“...No need.”

The door opened, and there stood Felicia, perfectly dressed for her part. There was a smile on her resolute face.

“How are your injuries...?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

Only those who knew the circumstances were gathered, and they spoke at ease to one another. Also in attendance was Lillim. She had more or less recovered, still serving as Auguste’s maid and secretly as her staff officer.

“Prince Auguste, I shall be waiting for you outside.”

“...Understood.”

With a curtsey, Lillim swapped places with Eddie and stepped out into the hall. Her wound still ached, but the antidote had apparently been a success. He couldn’t have hoped for more.

“...It’s because we got you treated so quickly,” Felicia said. “Both you and Lillim.”

“Yeah. If we’d taken much longer, the poison might have proven fatal.”

As much as Eddie didn’t want to thank Damien, the explosion had done a spectacular job at waking the doctors. By the time he had come to, there were people running around, carrying him out of the burning building and examining him.

Dressed in her male attire, Felicia slowly came closer.

“You protected me...” she said.

“That’s my job.”

She was still Auguste to the world at large. On that night, thanks to Eddie’s protection, she had gotten off nearly unscathed and thus protected her identity.

“Watch this.”

She sat down, then slipped a pair of boots over her feet.

“What are those?”

“I spoke to Mother, and she had them specially made.”

They looked just like normal boots, though perhaps a little on the chunky side. Once she stood up with them on, it looked as though she had suddenly grown.

“What do you think?”

“How...? Ah, the soles are raised. I couldn’t even tell.”

“Right?” she said, smiling like she had won a board game.

Eddie once again took her in from head to toe. “That’s incredible. At that height, no one would even suspect you’re a girl.”

“I... never could muster the courage to stand in front of people. But I can’t keep that up forever.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you’re with me, Eddie, I think I’ll be all right,” Felicia said, giving him a hard stare. At her new height, her face was even closer, and now that they were holding back on the makeup used to make her look sickly, her features were all the more beautiful too.

Eddie awkwardly averted his eyes. “Ahem... They never did say how long I was meant to serve as your guard.”

“Would you leave if they ordered you to...?”

“I’d resign, perhaps. And I’d hope—if possible—that my next job treated me just as well.”

Felicia chuckled, putting a hand to her mouth. “Just stay here, okay?”

“As your guard?”

“As whatever you want.”

“I... I see.”

Felicia had a sword dangling from her hip, though the metal fittings weren’t properly fastened. Eddie reached out to correct it.

“This... is supposed to go like this.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you really want to go out there? It’s a party, right? You’re going to meet loads of people.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, because you’re going to be there with me.”

Eddie couldn’t help but feel that was quite a big responsibility.

“I’ll warn you now, though,” he began. “I’m no good at dancing.”

“And I only know how to dance the girl part.”

“Sounds about right...”

“But we need to show that the Crown Prince is alive and well. I won’t let Latrielle have his way with Belgaria.”

After properly affixing Felicia’s blade, Eddie stood up beside her. “Got it.”

He had removed the cloth wrapping that he usually kept around his treasured sword. He wouldn’t cut people, but neither would he hesitate to fight for those he needed to protect.

There was a knock at the door, and Lillim called out from the other side.

“Prince Auguste... It’s time for the party.”

“Indeed.”

Felicia turned to the door.

“I am Carlos Liam Auguste de Belgaria, and I will become Liam XVI. Would you accompany me, Sir Eddie?”

“Certainly, my lord.