Epilogue: The Reincarnated Prince and the Twilight Knight

A few days had passed since the Games of Contest concluded. Herscherik, accompanied by Oran, had made it through the castle town to the hill that overlooked the capital, lit up by the setting sun nearly the same rich orange as Oran’s hair.

“Wow!” Hersch exclaimed at the sight, as Oran helped him off of the horse. “Thank you for bringing me here, Oran!” Herscherik smiled, the setting sun on his back.

Oran squinted into the brightness.“Thank you so much for bringing me here, Sir Octa.” Oran could almost see the smiling face of his fiancée overlapped with Herscherik. “I used to come here with her, all the time.” Oran took out the ribbon from his pocket, the one he was never able to give to her, and held it tight.

Oran had never returned to this place after her death. It reminded him too much of her. But now that the case, although unsolved, had been settled somewhat, Oran felt like he needed to visit this place again. He had asked to bring Herscherik, unable to muster the courage on his own.

“Thank you for taking care of the orphanage, Prince. It means a lot.” After Baron Armin’s death, no one had stepped up to help the orphanage, seeing it as a burden.

So, Herscherik had sent a request to the Aldis family. “I only requested the help of Marquis Aldis. I didn’t do anything special.” Herscherik gazed down at the capital below. “I’m so glad you won, Oran. This will keep the orphanage afloat for quite some time.” The money he had won from secretly betting on Oran was all put toward the orphanage’s expenses. Even if Oran hadn’t won the Games, Herscherik would have made it work somehow—mostly by squeezing it out of the ones who were embezzling the orphanage’s funds, likely as not. Still, there was no harm in having a healthy cash flow.

Even the money he had borrowed from Marx had gone straight to this particular cause. “I don’t have anything else to use it for,” Marx had said.

Now that the Aldis family was in charge of running the orphanage, no one else could interfere. No one would dare defy the Blazing General—they knew that the consequences might be hazardous to their health. General Aldis, who had too much time on his hands since his retirement, immediately agreed to it.

“I will train them into the best knights this country has ever seen! And my wife will teach them scholarship! Leave it to us!” he had answered with great enthusiasm. While the orphans being trained in knighthood wasn’t exactly what Herscherik had in mind, he was relieved that the Marquis had agreed to take on the task. And some measure of schooling would help the orphans work toward a stable future. That would be a great tool for them, whether they became knights or not.

The orphanage—later named the Armin Academy—would go on to become a well-known institution that produced many great knights and civil servants alike.

But that’s a story for another time.

Watching the capital soaked in sunset-orange, Herscherik continued. “It won’t last forever, though. We have to make some changes in this country so they can receive proper aid... Hey, Oran?” They were by themselves, without Kuro. Herscherik had turned down Kuro’s offer to accompany them, since he had something to say to Oran alone. “You once asked me why I made you my knight of service. Do you remember?”

“Yes. You never answered me, Prince.”

Keeping his back to Oran, Herscherik answered. “Oránge. I don’t need a knight who just does whatever I tell him to.” He heard Oran’s sharp inhale behind him, but he continued. “I need a knight who can stop me when I make the wrong call.” Herscherik thought during the tryouts that Oran was not someone to be chosen but someone who made choices. That he was a knight who would choose a master worthy of his loyalty.

Herscherik recalled Ryoko’s memories, which were already starting to seem like the distant past. She’d had a male colleague who had climbed up the career ladder rather quickly; his quality of character had earned him trust from customers, coworkers, and bosses. He had taken care of Ryoko since she first entered the company, taking her out for drinks when things got tough. He rose from team-lead, to head of a department, and on up to managing a new branch in a short time span—faster than anyone else she knew.

When Ryoko met him again after some time apart, though, his gentle expression had vanished. He had a sharp glare in his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. The branch he managed suffered from poor reputation and performance. Ryoko grew concerned for him, but he insisted everything was fine whenever she reached out to him. Finally, she reluctantly contacted an employee of the branch and was shocked to hear about the situation.

He had taken a perfectionist approach to everything. This in of itself wasn’t a problem, but he had tried to force his team to be perfect, too. He never let any little mistake slide, and he grew visibly angry every time someone made one. That wore his team down, and the resulting tense atmosphere drove down sales. Even Ryoko, who had no knowledge of psychology, could easily see that the pressure of managing a branch had gotten to him.

Ryoko’s concerned calls and invitations for drinks went unanswered. Finally, she reported to their boss, which she had hesitated to do for the sake of his reputation—but at that point it was too late. He had fallen ill and had to be hospitalized. After that, he was demoted from branch manager and eventually resigned from the company.

She was later much relieved to find out that he had found another job, gotten married, and began building a happy family. One of the veteran workers of the branch had said that no one had put a stop to his behavior or even tried to talk to him. If someone had just sincerely listened to him, and perhaps served as a buffer between him and his workers, the whole thing could have been prevented. Ryoko blamed herself for not being that person. A change in environment or status also changed the person... for better or worse. Herscherik, in his previous life and this one, had read plenty of historical accounts and fictional stories of political rulers who had a change of heart that turned out to be for the worse, much to the detriment of their country.

Herscherik knew that he was by no means an exception to this flaw. “I know I’m not perfect. I’m pretty full of shortcomings, actually.” How could he know for sure that he wouldn’t change, or that he was somehow special enough to always be right? “That’s why I need someone to stop me when I start going down the wrong path.”

“You have your black dog.”

Herscherik thought of Kuro. “Yes, Kuro will always be by my side. Because that’s what I wanted. But he would never stop me.” Kuro was a former spy-for-hire. He had chosen to stay by Herscherik’s side, but not for the sake of their country. “Kuro would probably do any heinous thing I asked him to. Even if I am wrong, he will never work against me.” Right or wrong didn’t matter to Kuro. All he cared about was what his master wanted.

“Oránge... I scare myself, sometimes.” Herscherik was aware of the cold, dark emotion within him that felt like it was freezing him to the core. It was hatred, and burning wrath. Just imagining what would happen when those emotions took control terrified him. “What if I change, some day? What if I lose sight of what’s important?”

Just as Rick had been enraged with him, Herscherik would hate anyone who took someone dear to him. There was always a chance that he would go down the wrong path, as Baron Armin had. If that were to happen, Herscherik might lose sight of his position, ideals, and dreams. He might order Kuro to murder someone. Kuro wouldn’t hesitate, because he didn’t care whether an order was good or bad.

“That’s why I need a knight who’s stronger than Kuro. Someone who could even stop him, if necessary. Oránge, I am counting on you. There’s no other knight for me.” Herscherik turned around, facing Oránge straight on. “Oránge—I mean, Octavian Aldis. I will hold no hard feelings if you refuse... Will you be my knight?”

Oran accepted Herscherik’s sincere look in its entirety. The prince was concerned with what could happen in the future, creating a contingency plan for his own actions because he understood that he wasn’t perfect. At the same time, the prince had declared his absolute trust in Oran. Come to think of it, this prince had wholeheartedly trusted Oran from the beginning, even when he demeaned the royal family.

Oran truly believed that the prince wouldn’t blame him for refusing. Herscherik could have easily just ordered Oran to take the post, but the prince only exercised his power when it was absolutely necessary. Partially he did this out of kindness, and partially from the understanding that he couldn’t just order people to feel a certain way.

A gust of wind blew between them. Then, the twilight-colored ribbon brushed the back of Oran’s hand, as if to give him a gentle push. Oran realized that he wasn’t even considering the option to refuse. This was the path he wanted, the path was supposed to follow. Oran approached Herscherik, and presented his sheathed sword to him.

“Hersch, take this, please.” Oran addressed Herscherik by name for the first time. Herscherik’s eyes widened as he reflexively took the sword presented to him.

I’ve always been looking for...

Oran knelt on the spot, clutching the ribbon close to his chest. He bowed.

A master to devote myself... To devote my life to. Oran felt like a void in his heart was finally being filled. The following words simply sprang from his tongue unbidden. “My Liege, my body is a sword that cuts through your enemies, a shield that protects you from harm, and a staff that guides your way.” Oran completed the pledge of loyalty and lifted his head, staring straight at Herscherik. “If it is your wish, I will live with the crime of killing my own master, turning the rest of the world against me... I will give my life to protect your cause.” Oran bowed again, deeply. “I present to you, My Liege, with my sword, my loyalty, and my life. If you’ll allow it.”

Herscherik closed his eyes at Oran’s oath. Then, he stared back into his knight’s eyes. “I allow it, Oránge. Do not break your oath. If that time comes, strike me down with this sword,” Herscherik declared and returned the sword.

Oran took it with a ceremonious gesture. “I won’t, My Liege.”

“What?” A question mark popped up on Herscherik’s face.

Oran gave the prince a grin. “The black dog and I won’t let it come to that, Hersch.”

Herscherik stood dumbfounded for a moment. When those words registered in his mind, the prince lit up with a brimming smile.

In later years, the story of the Seventh Prince of Gracis would become a favorite tale for bards. Of course, the story of those who served the prince were a hit among children, too. In particular, boys were entranced by the story of the Twilight Knight.

The Twilight Knight was said to be the strongest knight the kingdom had ever known. His twilight-colored hair that resembled a vibrant sunset waved in the wind as he strode through countless battlefields, leaving behind numerous tales of bravery. However, the Twilight Knight’s true strength didn’t lie in his mere combat skills but in his wise choice of master.

Today, members of the royal family are taught to become the kind of person the Twilight Knight would choose, while future knights aspired to become like the Twilight Knight himself and choose their own masters. On the surface, these may all sound like praise to the Twilight Knight. However, the Twilight Knight only served one master in all of his life. All the glory he gained was all for the sake of the one he served. The one and only master of the Twilight Knight was Herscherik Gracis, the Seventh Prince of the Kingdom of Gracis.

The Reincarnated Prince and the Twilight Knight — Fin.