Intermission: The King, the Former General, and the Witch

It was the end of summer, when autumn began to peek its head through the door and musical insects could be heard through an open window. Solye, the king of Gracis, was quietly tending to his tasks alone in his office, late at night. He finished reading through the report in his hand and placed it on the desk as he pinched between his brows with his other hand.

I must be getting old... Solye quietly grumbled. His usual workload had lately begun to weigh on him. Many people might have found it laughable if Solye, who still looked like he was in his twenties, had expressed this feeling in public. Inhaling deeply, Solye let out a long sigh—and not just because of his exhaustion. The contents of the report alone were enough to give him a headache.

The report he’d just finished reading outlined the entirety of the drug-related trouble that had occurred that summer, in extensive detail—written by the First Prince Marx, of all people. It included the full story of the incident from its history to the end result; anyone arrested in the process, dealer or otherwise; a list of the victims; and suggested solutions for the future, accompanied by the signatures of the heads of National Defense, the constabulary, and Research.

Notably, the document also included names of some powerful nobles who had been involved. It had managed to remain intact, without being brushed under any rugs or suffering censorship, because Marx had personally accompanied the report as it was ushered from department to department. If it had been passed up the chain of command under normal circumstances, Solye suspected that this document would never have reached him.

“I spoke with each department head myself and explained the situation to them in detail. They were all happy to sign the report.” Marx had smiled, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Solye looked down at the report again. It explained how Baron Armin, owner of an orphanage at the edge of the capital, had been passing on the drugs to multiple dealers. Ignac Naivey, who had been arrested at that particular soirée, confessed that he’d been buying drugs under the guise of charitably supporting the orphanage.

They’d asked the orphans who they sold the candy to, allowing them to trace the dealers as well as several nobles and businesses who were involved in the circulation. This resulted in several arrests. Of course, they’d been careful to keep the details of the crimes hidden from the children. With the only exception of the orphans, who had been taken advantage of unbeknownst to them, everyone involved in the circulation now faced the full judgment of the law.

That being said... Solye let out another sigh. Most of them, including the son of Baron Naivey, were either nobility themselves or had the backing of powerful aristocrats, which made it difficult to pass severe sentences on them. Moreover, they were simply dealing a dangerous drug—they weren’t the ones who’d stolen classified information, or even the ones who’d manufactured the drugs in the first place. Besides, Solye assumed that none of the victims’ families would press charges, instead choosing to keep the drug use of the victims a secret in exchange. At the end of the day, the ones they arrested for drug dealing charges would get away with a few years of incarceration at most, especially if they paid a large sum as bail.

Whoever’s behind this really knows what they’re doing. Solye let out another sigh. As to how many loose ends there were, he had lost count. Baron Armin had only been recruited to distribute the drugs in order to keep his business and orphanage afloat, while the other dealers simply bought from the baron and sold them to individual customers. The orphanage had only been used as a distribution center, so no part of the drug’s formula or any equipment had actually been discovered. The three unidentified bodies of the attacks didn’t produce anything useful, either.

If Baron Armin had survived, they might have a lead as to his source. Now that he was dead, however, that door was closed forever. What’s worse, the report stated that an antidote would take an incredibly long time to develop.

All this circumstantial evidence, and we still can’t pin down who’s behind it... And there’s the situation with Baron Armin.

Upon researching Baron Armin, it became clear that his business had only worsened in a manner that suggested a malicious influence behind the shift. When his business began to sink and no help seemed forthcoming from the government, the offer to distribute drugs swept in just in time, like a helping hand. It’s too much of a coincidence... Was it orchestrated? That meant that even Baron Armin and his orphanage had been taken advantage of, and the ones responsible for it still lurked in the shadows, their agenda unknown.

Hersch... Solye then thought of his youngest son. He figured that Herscherik had pieced this all together, too. Herscherik must have planned to smoke out the mastermind behind it all, arrest every knave involved in the past and current drug trade, and ultimately eliminate the threat altogether. Moreover, the young prince must have been struggling against the corrosive forces that lurked within the very castle itself.

In the end, Baron Armin was taken out like a lizard dropping its tail. They had gained no useful information from the buyers nor discovered who was behind it. They couldn’t even establish a meaningful connection between what just happened and the string of incidents that occurred two years ago, lacking evidence.

Solye flipped through the pages of the report. Herscherik’s name didn’t appear anywhere on it, a decision Marx had made to protect his brother. Marx was trained enough in sword and magic to protect himself, and furthermore he held the vital position of First Prince. On top of that, his mother was the Royal Queen and princess of the Principality of Parche, a neighboring seafaring nation that was an ally and important trade partner for Gracis. Antagonizing Marx would be a huge risk for anyone. Marx had calculated that much and elected to be the face of this investigation as a result.

Solye sensed that Marx had finally hardened his resolve. I’m glad that Marx has grown, but...

Solye frowned. Through Rook, Solye had kept tabs on most of what Herscherik was doing that summer. He was only able to do so because he had kept a close eye on Herscherik since the little prince was three years old. With all that had happened, there was a chance that Herscherik’s cover had been blown. And Solye guessed Herscherik was aware of that. Solye let out yet another long-suffering sigh.

The door to the king’s office opened without a knock. “Excuse me, Your Majesty.” Solye chuckled at what would have been a disrespectful entrance from anyone else. The gentleman who had just entered the room was the only one who could walk into the king’s office this late at night, without the barest concession to etiquette. It was the Blazing General, the former general of the royal army—Marquis Aldis himself. He made unannounced visits from time to time, often quite late. This wasn’t because he was being inconsiderate—he simply couldn’t visit during the day. It would certainly cause a scene and thus tip off the minister’s faction.

“It’s been too long, Master.” Solye stood, welcoming Roland into the office. He happened to be Solye’s swordmaster, even though the king had only received lessons in between Roland teaching the king’s second oldest brother when he was still alive.

“You’re no longer my student...” Roland chuckled before placing his hand on his chest in a show of loyalty. “I can’t thank you enough for looking after that son of mine, Your Majesty.”

“No need for all of that. No one else is here... Besides, I haven’t done anything at all.” Solye chuckled again. “I only opened a door. The decision to walk through it was his alone.”

It had all begun with a request from Roland to give his son, who had completely lost any drive and hadn’t even attempted to try out for the Knights’ Order, some sort of chance before he withered away completely. That was why Solye had created an opportunity: selecting Herscherik’s knight of service. While Solye left Herscherik to choose his own knight, he had hoped that it would be Octavian. In the end, that had turned out to be the case.

“Prince Herscherik has a good eye for character and some quality that draws people to him,” Roland remarked. “If I can brag about him for a moment, Octavian’s the most talented kid I’ve got. Never shies away from hard work, either.” Roland had trained numerous knights and soldiers over the course of his service—of course, he had trained his own sons and daughters, too. As it turned out, Octavian’s talent outshone the rest of them. Roland was sure that, if he could develop his skills and gain some experience, Octavian would grow to surpass even him, the Blazing General himself.

“Even so, he has one major shortcoming.” Roland sighed. Unlike his father and siblings, Octavian had a pure heart and seemed born to be a knight. A knight was no knight at all without a master to serve. In fact, a knight couldn’t even reach their full potential in combat without one. After his fiancée’s death two years ago, Octavian had grown distant from the royal family, to whom he was supposed to swear his loyalty. Even so, Octavian kept up his daily regimen—perhaps because deep inside, he was still looking for a worthy master.

And now, he had found one.

“Prince Herscherik reminds me of your father,” Roland remarked with nostalgia. While serving as general, Roland had also been the knight of service to the previous king. “The last king and I often snuck out into the castle town, too.” Even before the previous king took the throne, they had often gotten out of the castle to explore.

“Ro,” the previous king always used to say. “I only believe what I see with my own eyes. These secondhand reports are issued from behind masks of loyalty, filled with lies that make them look better.” Roland now believed all of that might have been simply an excuse to get out of the castle, but he couldn’t deny that their experience had come in handy a great deal. Just like the previous king, Herscherik was striving to act on his own, making his own decisions on what was just or moral, as well as what actions would truly aid his country.

The previous king, famous for his keen insight into the state of the nation, to whom Roland had sworn his soul in loyalty, was gone. At the battle that led to his king’s death, Roland had protected the nation from an external threat as a general of the army.

“Ro... My knight and dear friend... Protect our... country for me.” The king had requested Roland to protect their entire country—not just the royal family—in his last moments. If he had asked Roland to protect the royal family, to seek vengeance for the king, Roland would have. Without hesitation or any concern for tarnishing his own name, he would have become a monster of vengeance, raining hellfire down upon those who had hurt his master. Roland would have paid any cost, whether it was soaking the castle in the blood of the nobles who’d turned their backs on the king to line their own pockets, or ultimately facing the judgment of an executioner for his crimes. With his axe in hand, he would have slaughtered the entire clan of the man who’d killed his master.

The wise king had known all of this and restrained Roland with his dying breath. Neither the king, the First Prince, nor even the Second Prince who had been assisting the king had any chance of survival. The only royal who had lived was Solye. If Roland had slaughtered every noble responsible, the nation would have lost any semblance of stability, which would have been a prime opportunity for foreign enemies to invade and trample Gracis. So, the wise king had instead asked for Roland to protect their nation.

Roland had honored his master’s wish and protected the rulerless kingdom from all invaders. Even knowing that enemies lurked within its borders, he continued to fight in defense of the nation. But even Roland couldn’t overcome the course of time. Remaining at the top for too long would prevent new talent from rising. Eventually, Roland trained a few generals to take his place and then resigned his post. He left the future of the country in the hands of his young successors.

Now, as if it had always been destined to be, Octavian had met Herscherik on the brink of a significant change. Whether that change would be for better or worse, Roland didn’t know. “I truly can’t thank you enough, Your Majesty.” Roland bowed again.

“No, if I was able to handle more myself...” Solye felt Herscherik was taking on more and more that the king himself should have been tackling. Even so, Solye couldn’t afford to step out of line. If he did, everything he had endured to protect those dear to him would be for naught. On the other hand, Solye knew full well that he also lacked the power and determination required to cross that line. The enemy that dwelled within the castle walls was harrowing.

“How long are you going to stay there?” Roland called, not to Solye but to the figure who had been hiding in the room for a while.

“Aw, Roland! Why didn’t you talk to me sooner if you knew? I tried ‘reading the room’ for once, like humans do.” A woman’s voice, tinged with excitement, rang throughout the room. Just as it did, a woman revealed herself before them. The first feature that caught the eye was her amethyst hair. Then, one might notice her revealing dancer’s attire that covered so little of her well-tanned skin, inviting the lustful male gaze. Her right eye was scarlet red and graced by a beauty mark just below it, and her left eye was golden. Both were lit by a dauntless gleam.

“What is the Witch doing here?” Roland asked.

“Don’t call me that. I’m just the Oracle now. I have to talk to Solye about something.” The Witch’s lips curled into a grin. “Your kid’s hilarious, Solye! I like him!” She cackled, to which Solye could only respond with a chuckle.

While she appeared to be a young human woman now, this woman was a being who lived unimaginably longer than humans, someone said to have lived through the ancient days. Possessing more Magic Within than any human being, she was an entity known as a Djinn, who lived beyond the confines of aging and death. The very few who knew of her existence called her the Eternal Witch.

She had used a fraction of her vast magic to pass the castle’s barrier and infiltrate the king’s office, the castle’s most heavily guarded room, with ease. Even the sound of crickets outside the window had ceased, and there was no sign of the royal guard. These facts indicated that the Witch had set a barrier around the office, completely severing it from the rest of the world.

Djinns were beings who could cast extremely difficult space-bending magic without even an incantation. The Eternal Witch, in particular, could even peer into the possibilities of the future, to a limited degree, with her overwhelming Magic Within. While this served as her source of information as the Oracle, she was forbidden from speaking of events that might drastically affect the world. Not even a Djinn was permitted to purposefully manipulate destiny. So, she always posed a certain question when she met one of the select few humans who had the opportunity to actually choose their own destiny.

“How do you think he answered my question?” she asked Solye. She had asked many people a question similar to the one she had asked Herscherik, over the course of many years. The question always asked if they were willing to choose a certain path, even after knowing that it was a steep and dangerous one. Most people outright disbelieved the Witch or gave up on their path after seeing her in action and hearing her advice. Herscherik, however, had a different response.

“I decided to protect those dear to me,” Herscherik had said. In a determined tone, not at all sounding like someone bending beneath the weight of his responsibilities, Herscherik continued. “I will achieve everything I set out to do. I will make it all a reality. I will not stop until they come true. That’s what I decided... Back then.” Herscherik gave a smile that was far too mature for his age. It seemed like he was both answering the Witch’s question and renewing his resolve out loud. Herscherik didn’t take the Witch’s words lightly, nor did he dismiss them outright. Herscherik accepted what the Witch had said and still stayed true to himself, declaring that he would make everything he strived for a reality.

“He’s the second person ever to answer like that!” The brazenly ambitious Herscherik reminded the Witch of someone. In the distant past, there had been one single person who chose to fight their destiny, just as Herscherik had. History remembered him as a hero. Now let’s see how he fares... The Witch had found a good subject of observation. She had been considering leaving this failing nation, but now there seemed to be some merit in staying.

“So Solye, I think I’ll do you that favor after all.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise I will never sell any information on Shadow Fang to anybody, no matter the price.”

Solye had earned this favor with the Witch years ago. It was a small action on Solye’s part, but it was apparently quite the important promise for the Witch. She had promised to repay him in the future, in whatever way she could that matched the favor done for her. Schwarz, Herscherik’s butler of service, was a former spy for the underground guild. Many held a grudge against him, even though Kuro would tell them to blame his clients instead; he was just making a living, after all. There were few spies more skilled than Kuro, and many still desired his services.

When Solye realized that Kuro was working to cover his tracks but couldn’t find a way to silence the Oracle, he made his move. Any weakness in his butler of service was Herscherik’s weakness, too. Solye had decided to ask the Witch to pay him back, using Rook as a messenger. The Witch must have come to answer his request in person.

“You have my word. Even if someone were to offer me the equivalent of this country’s annual budget in cash. Besides...” She laughed. Neither Solye nor Roland had ever seen the Witch this emotionally expressive. As the two looked on incredulously, the Witch happily added, “I really like your kid.” With one last goodbye and the ringing of a bell, she literally vanished from the room, as if she was never there to begin with.

“Prince Herscherik has my sympathies...” Roland muttered. The little prince seemed to garner the affection of peculiar characters: Shadow Fang, Roland’s own son, and now the Eternal Witch...

“He’s our son, after all.” Solye seemed to have given up on the matter. Herscherik was already far beyond his protection. All Solye could do was back his son up, as much as he could.

“Oh, yes,” said Roland, recalling the initial purpose for his visit. “Prince Herscherik had requested something of me.” He went on to describe the details of said request.

Having returned to the familiar confines of her lair, the Eternal Witch leaned back on her favorite sofa. Using magic after going a while without was quite taxing. As she relaxed, she thought of Herscherik.

I didn’t expect to see a soul from another world. In addition to seeing premonitions, she had the ability to visualize souls. Souls cycled through their own predetermined worlds. The number might be larger or smaller depending on the world, but a soul tied to one world would never inhabit a life in another, according to the Way of the Worlds. But the Witch had seen that Herscherik’s soul was unmistakably different from the souls of this world.

Like a black ink stain on a pure white cloth, Herscherik’s soul stood out to those who could see it. It was a stain on this world, and it should have been forcibly returned to its origins by the universe’s process of purification. Despite that, Ryoko’s soul existed here. Not only did it continue to prevent the Way of the Worlds from forcing it out, the soul was starting to set down roots in this plane of existence. By all accounts, this shouldn’t be happening. It was a true miracle.

“Miracle? Impossible,” the Oracle whispered to herself. Someone had interfered with the Way of the Worlds, summoning Ryoko’s soul to this world. The Witch only knew a few people who could do such a thing. “As to who and why...”

The Witch only let out a sigh, giving up on deducing the culprit. Even though it defied the Way of the Worlds, Ryoko’s soul was being accepted by the world she inhabited now. By definition, then, her soul must be in accordance with the Way of the Worlds somehow. “I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show, like always.”

It had been over 5,000 years since the Witch was born into this world and given a purpose... She had stopped keeping count at 5,000, anyway. She had lived age after age, watching all sorts of stories and destinies unfold. She observed the humans, who relished their (compared to hers) tragically short lives. The Witch viewed human beings as something to keep an eye on and a cure for her boredom. She adored those foolish creatures, and she was also well aware that her perception of humanity was greatly influenced by her encounter with the first human she had known to defy his destiny.

The Eternal Witch’s shapely lips twisted into a smile. There was one more thing about Herscherik that caught her interest. Ordinarily, when a soul leaves a body, it circulates back into the world in order to be reincarnated. However, she had spied some particular soul that stayed closed to Herscherik, even after its death. In its purest form, derived from the Way of the Worlds, that soul spoke to her. The Witch, not looking into the matter too closely, didn’t know that the soul belonged to Count Ruseria. Still, it was that soul’s desperate plea that prompted her to further advise the young prince, as if on a whim.

“Now... What next?” The whisper of the Eternal Witch—the Oracle—melted into the air, unheard by anyone.

Solye visited the outer quarters, veiled in silence. Midnight had come and gone by the time Roland left his office, but Solye was struck by the urge to go see Herscherik before returning to the royal quarters. While he had expected his young son to be asleep already, Solye would have been happy to just see his face. When he climbed the staircase of the soundless outer quarters to the third floor, there was not even a trace of light. Just then, he spotted a shadow stir in the darkness.

“Who’s there?” Solye called to the shadow, calling upon his Magic Within so he could cast a spell at a moment’s notice. These quarters were only accessible by royalty and individuals who royalty allowed inside, but that didn’t mean it was free of unwanted guests.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty!” The voice of a young man answered. He lit a lantern that he must have had ready, and the light illuminated the man’s face.

“You’re Octavian, right?” Solye asked, as Herscherik’s knight of service stood in the faint glow of the lantern. Solye dissipated the magic he had prepared within him. As far he could recall, Octavian worked only during the day and not at night. However, Solye decided not to question the knight on his unusual hours but only declared his intentions for visiting the outer quarters. “I came to see Hersch. I’m sure he’s already asleep, but I just wanted to see his face.” Solye smiled. “Sorry to surprise you like this.”

In contrast, Oran looked uneasy. “The prince, uh, erm...” He avoided the king’s gaze.

“Has something happened...?” Solye’s expression and tone immediately flipped from kind to inquisitive.

Oran shook his head in resignation. “What choice do I have...?” he muttered to himself. “Please, Your Majesty.” He began leading the king down the hall. Soon, they came to another young man awaiting them.

“...Idiot knight. Escorting His Majesty here, against Hersch’s wishes? How stupid are you?” Herscherik’s butler of service remarked, first thing. Even the king, who hadn’t spent much time with Kuro, could clearly see that his smile was fake. Solye figured that the butler only employed a semblance of formality on account of his presence.

“Idiot knight...? Is that what you think of me?”

“Well, you’re also a meathead.”

“You’ve got just as many muscles as me!” Oran shouted, but he then quickly covered his mouth. Kuro gave him an icy stare. “The prince is still a child... It’d be better to have his father around,” Oran added.

“Hersch doesn’t want that.”

The knight sighed at the declaration. This black dog’s as stubborn as a bag of bricks when it comes to the prince.

“I think it’s high time I’m owed an explanation,” Solye interrupted. At this rate, he would never be able to see Herscherik.

“Listen here, Black Dog. The prince is sleeping, isn’t he? I think keeping this hidden any longer will only hurt the prince in the end.”

Kuro frowned and contemplated for a few beats before relenting with a shrug. Then, he turned to Solye. “A thousand pardons, Your Majesty. Prince Hersch is resting at the moment.”

“It is past midnight. And...?” Solye urged. If the prince was merely sleeping, neither of them would have hesitated to show him inside.

“Prince Hersch has been on strict bed rest for the past few days. He hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Bed rest...” The strange disease, exclusive to the royal family, that had taken his first daughter flashed into Solye’s mind. He could nearly hear the color drain from his face, though he wasn’t sure if anyone would notice in the dim light of the lantern. “How is he...?” He finally managed.

Kuro answered, “He is gradually recovering. The doctor told us that it was most likely just accumulated exhaustion, compounded by the change in humidity during this time of the year.”

“The Prince had asked us to not inform Your Majesty of the matter. I apologize for never reporting it,” Oran added, bowing low.

Solye easily guessed why Herscherik didn’t want him to know about this. Herscherik knew it might be a breaking point for his father. The king was sure Herscherik’s intentions were to keep him from worrying too much about his youngest son and thus adding more weight on his shoulders.

“You two are Herscherik’s right-hand men. You have my permission to always serve his best interest above mine.” Those of service were permitted to obey their master above even the king. In fact, Solye didn’t fault them at all for complying with Herscherik’s request. This only increased his trust in them. “May I go see Hersch...?”

Kuro silently stepped out of the way and bowed. Oran followed suit. Solye passed by the two men to see his son.

After watching Solye leave, Kuro let out a long sigh and glared at Oran.

Oran shrugged in response. “What was I supposed to do? Kick the king out?”

“Why are you even here, you delinquent knight?”

“To protect the prince. Sending his dad away isn’t part of my job description,” Oran answered, putting a hand on his sword. In fact, working at night wasn’t part of his job description either. Even Herscherik had suggested that he return home at sunset, but Oran chose to remain of his own volition for two reasons. The first was that Herscherik’s room was less guarded with only Kuro tending to him; even the living quarters of royalty were not entirely safe. The second was the real possibility that whomever Herscherik saw at the orphanage would return to attack him. Kuro himself could infiltrate the royal quarters undetected, and the butler had said that anyone with infiltration abilities at least on par with his sneaking into the quarters was a real possibility. So, Oran had volunteered for the night watch. At least until Herscherik completely recovered, Oran planned to remain by his side day and night.

“You’re one to talk. You haven’t told His Majesty that this isn’t the first time the prince has been on bed rest.”

“He never asked,” Kuro said with a straight face.

Indeed, this wasn’t the first time that Herscherik had been forced to take an extended rest like this. From time to time, like a taut string finally snapping, Herscherik became ill, having used up every drop of his strength. He always recovered after a few days, and his appetite remained as strong as ever, so Kuro agreed with the doctor that it was merely exhaustion... Still, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled seeing Herscherik like this.

Kuro shook his head as if to chase away those thoughts and faced Oran. “Speaking of, Sir Delinquent... I need to talk to you.”

“Huh? What? And make up your mind, Black Dog. Am I an idiot or a delinquent?”

“Do you prefer Sir Meathead?” Kuro joked and then transitioned into scolding Oran about everything he could think of, under the guise of conversation.

Solye entered Herscherik’s bedroom, careful to be as quiet as possible. Herscherik’s shallow breathing was the only sound in the darkness. Solye carefully approached the bed to find Herscherik asleep with a pained expression on his face. Solye saw a great deal of the boy’s mother in Herscherik, and he shuddered at the memory of losing his beloved. He placed his shaking hand on Herscherik’s forehead. He seemed to have a slight fever, his neck damp with sweat. On the other hand, Solye could reaffirm that he was alive by the heat that warmed his palm.

The cool touch of his father’s hand seemed to give Herscherik a little relief. His breathing slowed, and his expression relaxed. A smile bloomed on Solye’s face. I put so much on your shoulders, don’t I, Hersch...? Noble children of Herscherik’s age were spoiled by those around them, without a single worry on their mind. But Herscherik instead had chosen to protect his country and family—in exchange for giving up any chance of a normal childhood. Of course the little prince was making himself sick. Solye lamented the fact that he had sworn to protect Herscherik but now he was the one being protected.

“...ry,” a faint voice called.

“Hersch?”

“I’m... sorry...” Herscherik muttered an apology but showed no sign of waking up. He continued talking in his sleep. “I couldn’t... protect... again... I’m sorry...”

Solye knew whom Herscherik wanted to protect. First, it had been Count Ruseria. And after that, Baron Armin—along with the orphans, all the victims of drug addiction, and everyone who might end up suffering in the future because he couldn’t close the case.

“I’m sorry...” Herscherik apologized, over and over again.

Solye also knew that Herscherik wasn’t at fault and had no reason to apologize. In fact, Solye considered himself to be the guiltiest one of all. “You have nothing to apologize for, Hersch. You are doing so much. I’m the one to blame... I’m sorry, Herscherik. I’m truly sorry.” Even though he knew that Herscherik wasn’t awake, Solye couldn’t help but apologize to him.

Solye continued to stroke Herscherik’s hair, over and over. He stayed in the room until Herscherik’s fever subsided and his breathing steadied even further. When Solye finally left Herscherik’s room, the morning sun had begun to light up the sky.