Chapter Two: Shooting the Breeze, the Visit, and the Contact

The day after the New Year’s ball, Herscherik sat on his favorite sofa in his room. Having eaten breakfast already, he was looking out the window with a woeful expression. Three people occupied the room: Herscherik, Kuro (who was preparing their post-meal tea), and Oránge, who sat on the chair by the door cleaning his sword. An awkward mood had settled over the room. The awkwardness—and Herscherik’s morose expression—was caused by the arrangement Minister Barbosse had proposed the day before.

“Ugh, the old fox is trying to bury the hatchet...” Herscherik tsked, in stark contrast to his precious appearance. Neither of his men condemned his un-princely behavior. If anything, they shared the sentiment.

It wasn’t unusual for royalty or nobles to be engaged at young ages. In fact, marrying for love was the exception rather than the rule in this society, especially a marriage like the one between Herscherik’s parents. Some of Herscherik’s siblings were already engaged, or had at least narrowed down candidates for engagement. A royal marriage was a powerful tool for bolstering the nation’s prosperity—although the current king typically gave his children the ultimate authority in choosing their spouses.

Herscherik had recognized the possibility of one day being engaged to marry the daughter of a powerful noble, or even marrying into a foreign royal family. The issue with this particular engagement, however, was his future spouse. As the youngest prince who had no powerful patrons, marrying the daughter of the Marquis Barbosse would be an impactful political move. The Marquis Aldis, father to Herscherik’s knight of service Oran, could have been considered Herscherik’s patron—but since Roland, the head of the house, had retired from his position as general and his sons were not highly ranked despite their knighthood, they didn’t hold any political power that Herscherik could really rely on.

If Herscherik would agree to marry the minister’s daughter, the Marquis Barbosse himself would become his chief patron. His name was one of the most prestigious in the nation—in many ways, the minister was the true ruler of Gracis. Herscherik’s currently nonexistent status would skyrocket if he accepted this engagement. If the minister wished it, Herscherik could very well become the next king, despite all of his older siblings. What’s more, even though Herscherik’s father usually gave his children the final say when it came to their own marriages, he had no choice in the matter if Minister Barbosse was the one requesting.

What is Barbosse planning...? Herscherik asked himself, as he replayed the events of the previous night.

“I think... I am unworthy of the offer, Minister.” Herscherik managed to squeeze out after the ballroom had fallen silent. The young prince had composed his face into a slightly confused, humble smile as he observed the room. Even the members of the royal family were looking on in awe. His father, in particular, looked like he was going to pass out. The Sixth Prince, who was studying abroad, as well as the Fifth Prince and Second Princess were not in attendance to offer any objections.

“As humble as always, Your Highness!” Barbosse gave a hearty and dramatic laugh. “Your Highness’ wisdom never ceases to amaze me... And you have an upstanding character to match. I would rest easy knowing that my dear daughter will live out her days with someone like Your Highness... What do you say?”

‘Wisdom,’ huh? Biting sarcasm, Barbosse. You think I’d fall for that? Silently cursing him, Herscherik calculated his next move. I suppose this is how he wants to play it, instead of taking me out... Assassinations, I can prevent. Herscherik had initiated Operation Fortune Favors the Bold for this very reason. In fact, there had already been a few assassinations and attempted poisonings directed at him, but Kuro and Oran had made short work of that. His plan had been to wear out Barbosse’s patience until he made a risky move they could pin on him.

Alas, the minister wasn’t making it that easy for Herscherik. Now, the little prince found himself faced with a conundrum. A tactless ‘no’ might bring harm onto his father and siblings. On the other hand, he couldn’t simply walk right into Barbosse’s trap.

“Minister Barbosse, would it not be too hasty to deliver a response right here and now?” Marx stepped forward, as if to protect Herscherik as he struggled to answer. Even as he showed the minister his universally-loved smile, the look in his eyes was ice cold. “Herscherik is wise beyond his years, and he certainly has a bright future ahead of him. But he’s still only a child. Besides, this may be too public a place to discuss something as sensitive as a marriage. This is a decision that will last the rest of their lives, after all.” In other words, Marx told the minister to ‘look around,’ albeit in more politically correct words.

The minister laughed, diffusing the accusation. “Absolutely. It seems I’m getting ahead of myself. Speaking of, Prince Marx—has Your Highness any news in that department?”

“This is not the place to discuss my future, either.”

“Now, now. Your Highness will be leading our country, one day. As a servant of the nation, I can not help but be concerned.”

A bitter look flashed in Marx’s expression. “Terribly sorry for worrying everyone,” he responded with his usual smile.

Herscherik had asked Marx about this after the party to find out that he had a potential fiancée, but hadn’t gone through with the engagement. Apparently, Marx was in love with someone who didn’t return his affection.

“You’re still not over her, Mark...?” Oran shook his head knowingly.

At the end of the day, both parties settled on Herscherik holding a meeting with Minister Barbosse’s daughter at a later date.

“What are you going to do, Hersch?” Oran asked, obviously referring to the very incident that was weighing on Herscherik’s mind.

“I haven’t really got a choice... I have to meet her.” At this point, refusal wasn’t an option. Herscherik knew full well that, despite his royal birth, the minister outranked him. And, despite any sinister intentions that might be lurking behind it, this was by all appearances a fairly ordinary proposal.

“I could take him out,” Kuro muttered as he placed the tea on the table.

Herscherik looked up to see his butler’s eyes glowing like rubies lit by an eerie fire. “No, Kuro,” he reprimanded.

“I’m kidding...” Kuro turned away, half-pouting.

No you weren’t! I saw blood in your eyes! Herscherik gave Kuro a side-eye.

“But what do we do now?” Oran asked. “You don’t think it’s an honest-to-goodness marriage proposal, do you?”

Herscherik nodded. He suspected the minister’s intention was something like bringing him—the biggest potential hazard—into the fold, dividing the royal family as a result. It was efficient. But was he willing to sacrifice his own daughter for his scheme? It was an absolutely despicable thing for a parent to do, but it seemed entirely in character for the minister. The man had assassinated Herscherik’s grandfather, uncle, and his father’s first daughter when she was only a year old. Would someone capable of such things really treat his own daughter any differently?

“If I can’t say no, I’ll make her say it.” Herscherik sighed, unable to come up with anything else. “If I make her hate me enough, they’ll have to drop the whole thing. If he still pushes for the engagement after that, I’ll give a hard no with the excuse of being concerned for his daughter.”

“That seems the path of least resistance.” Oran would have felt guilty forcing such a young girl into a situation like that, even if it was the minister’s daughter.

“If they say there’s something wrong with you...” Kuro muttered with the same dark tone as before.

“Hey, Kuro—whose side are you on? And let’s drop the assassination threats, please,” Herscherik interjected, which was only met with a shrug from Kuro.

Marriage... Despite his male body, Herscherik’s mind had always leaned towards a female mindset, due to Ryoko’s memories. I was never even interested in marriage, or relationships, for that matter. Well, in the real world, anyway. In the world of fiction, Ryoko had lived through countless relationships. Would he really be able to get married, or even see this girl as a romantic partner in any way? Especially when Herscherik felt mostly female inside.

A female mind in a male body... I mean, I have accepted the fact that I’m in a male body now. Some things were different, certainly, but overall Herscherik had never really encountered any impediments in his life on account of his new anatomy. I mean, people get used to things. After getting eyes full of men’s bodies every day, I suppose I got acclimated to them.

In fact, there were much bigger things than his own anatomy that Herscherik had to be concerned about. Herscherik had often wondered how things would have been different if he had been born a woman in this world, too. Well, I wouldn’t be in this predicament, for one. If he hadn’t been born a prince, he might not have even been given a choice in the matter. As a princess, his father might have kept him completely in the dark until he was married off to some distant allied nation where he would be safe. I don’t think I would act any differently if I was a princess, though, Herscherik concluded in the end.

At this point, he glanced at his two men of service. They were good looking men. If I was born a girl, would I have a crush on them? Both of them were handsome and competent. In fact, they were quite popular among the handmaidens of the castle and the women of the castle town. If this had been fiction, Ryoko-turned-Herscherik might have felt something for them. Alas, despite living in a fantasy world of swords and magic, this was still undoubtedly reality. I’m like twenty years older than them, and they work for me. Herscherik, no matter how he looked on the outside, was a 34-year-old woman on the inside. With his previous life and this one combined, he had lived over forty years. What’s more, Ryoko had never been interested in real-life romance to begin.

“So... Do either of you have a girlfriend?” Herscherik had really only mentioned it as something to talk about that might distract from the problem at hand. His two men, however, froze in their tracks upon hearing their master’s question.

“That was... sudden,” Oran countered.

“Just curious. You’re both popular,” Herscherik explained truthfully. “I’ve seen both of you getting asked out pretty often.” Herscherik had, in fact, witnessed both of them being practically cornered by girls both in the castle and while out and about. On the other hand, he had never seen either of them actually spending time with any of the girls who approached them.

“I turn them all down...” Oran answered with a sigh. “I know I have to move on eventually, but I’m not ready.” While over three years had passed since the death of his fiancée, he still couldn’t get over her. In fact, he didn’t even want to. Oran was faithful—so much so that even the women he’d rejected couldn’t find it in their hearts to speak ill of him for it. “What about you, Black Dog?”

“What about me?”

“I’ve seen you engaged in a lover’s quarrel or two!” Oran proudly declared.

Kuro scoffed. “I’m not in a relationship with anyone. You must be mistaken.”

“Mistaken...?”

“As Hersch’s butler, I’m only trying to maintain an efficient work environment. They were all useful sources of information.”

Oran was speechless. Kuro considered anyone but Herscherik (and Oran, although he’d never admit it) nothing more than pawns on a chess board he could take advantage of. He had a very cut-and-dry outlook, as befitting his former profession.

Herscherik felt a twinge of concern for Kuro and all of the women who looked at him with stars in their eyes. “Girls’ feelings are delicate, Kuro. You have to be kind to them.” Herscherik reprimanded Kuro—without mentioning the fundamental problem with his mindset, of course.

After this point, Kuro did begin to treat the women who approached him with more kindness. Of course, that only led to his popularity increasing, dooming even more women to rejection.

“What about you Hersch? What kind of girls do you like?” Oran retaliated.

Herscherik put a hand to his chin and considered. Someone older, I guess? I really like Mister Rook’s voice. Herscherik recalled his father’s butler of service. His grounded attitude, humble demeanor, and his deep voice that reminded him of a voice actor Ryoko had liked. “Someone grounded... definitely the mature type, I guess.” Herscherik refrained from mentioning the specific person he was thinking about. “Someone wise and kind, but who’s firm in their beliefs.” They would have to be a good person, Herscherik thought to himself, nodding.

“What about looks?” Kuro asked.

This kind of conversation was a first for Herscherik. I can’t believe this is my first time ‘shooting the breeze’ with them, Herscherik realized. “Um... Doesn’t really matter, I guess. Once you fall for someone, everything looks... Oh, but...” Herscherik clapped his hands together. “I do like blond hair and light-colored eyes!” Many of Ryoko’s favorite characters were blond-haired and blue-eyed. That was the stereotypical look for a prince, after all. Silver hair and black hair are cool too, and I like Kuro’s red eyes and Oran’s orange eyes, but I can’t turn my back on the classics! Content with that conclusion, Herscherik reached for the now completely cold cup of tea.

“Calm, wise, kind, and has firm beliefs...?”

“Blonde hair and light eyes...?”

The men of service gave each other a look before turning to their tea-sipping master in unison. The prince had literally just described... himself. Neither of them had a response to that, so the conversation ended there.

A week had now passed since the New Year’s ball. At the sound of a reserved knock on the door, the figure in the room marked his page in the book he was reading. “Come on in, Herscherik,” the figure called to the door as he set the book aside. Even without hearing the visitor’s voice, he knew that no one but Herscherik would come knocking at his door at this hour—and with such a quiet knock at that.

“Thank you, Brother Eutel.”

Just as Eutel had guessed, his youngest brother Herscherik poked his head into the door. Eutel greeted him with a smile. “Thank you for always coming to see me. Sorry I’m just stuck here in bed.” He apologetically looked down at himself.

Herscherik hurriedly shook his head in denial. “Please... I’m always the one interrupting you.”

This room belonged to Eutel Gracis, the Fifth Prince of Gracis and son to the king and the Second Queen. He was fifteen years old, with wavy, lavender hair that fell to his shoulders and deep blue eyes that gave off a cold, unapproachable aura. However, Eutel had a soft expression that counteracted that cold gaze, so people usually had a warm impression of him overall. As a member of the royal family, he was blessed with picturesque beauty. However, now his cheeks were sunken and his skin was deathly pale. After taking ill with a fever the previous summer, Eutel had been confined to his bed by the window for half of a year.

“How are you doing?” Herscherik asked, concerned.

“I’m doing all right,” Eutel answered as he welcomed his brother. “The good weather helps.” He smiled faintly, his sunken cheeks accentuating his sickliness.

Of course, Herscherik couldn’t mention any of that. He only smiled politely. “I’m glad. Oh, here are some sweets that Schwarz made. Please take them for when you have more of an appetite.” Herscherik handed over a paper bag containing cookies that contained a few different nuts. These were the same cookies that Herscherik had for tea that day.

“Thank you. Your butler makes delicious sweets, Herscherik. Speaking of... is no one with you today?”

“No, they’re both a little busy today.”

Herscherik’s men of service had a lot more to do than just watching over him. While Kuro kept house and performed some office duties by day, he performed various reconnaissance missions by night. And though Oran’s main duty was in fact guarding Herscherik, the army had requested that he assist with the training of knights and soldiers now that he’d shown off his true potential. Oran now joined their training a few times a week. He didn’t mind working with the soldiers and knights, but he couldn’t stand how his brothers insisted on bothering him throughout.

Besides, I’m under strict orders not to leave the castle, Herscherik thought, unbothered by the fact that this made it sound like Kuro was the one in charge. In fact, ever since the initiation of Operation Fortune Favors the Bold, his life had been in danger several times. There had been assassination attempts, some covert and some simply made to look like accidents. After those incidents, he was no longer able to easily leave the castle at his own discretion.

I don’t want to die just yet... It’d be a lot easier if I could just protect myself... Herscherik let out a quiet sigh, frustrated with his meager combat skills. While having no Magic completely ruled out spellcasting training for him, he had kept up with his sword and horse-riding training since he was three. Perseverance is strength, they said... He was really hopeless when it came to the sword, although he had finally learned to get his horse to trot without assistance. After four whole years. How embarrassing. Herscherik cried a single tear—internally, of course.

Besides all of that, he fully understood the precarious position he was in. The rumors of his potential engagement to the minister’s daughter had spread throughout the castle and swiftly permeated throughout the entirety of high society. Even though nothing had been officially decided, most nobles considered them as good as engaged already. In fact, a few nobles looking to curry favor with Herscherik had sent him gifts to congratulate him. The prince sent back all such gifts, but he was still being subjected to intense scrutiny.

With all of this going on, Herscherik had come to visit Eutel. His room was also in the Outer Quarters, so Herscherik could safely go there without a bodyguard. But Brother Eutel really doesn’t look well. Eutel had never been the healthy-as-a-bull type, but as far as Herscherik had heard, he used to be able to attend the academy without issue. Now, however, he looked drained of color, and had apparently entirely lost his appetite.

When Herscherik first heard that Eutel had fallen ill, he thought immediately of that mysterious ‘sickness’ that only ailed royalty. That concern, however, was unfounded. According to the doctor, the balance between his Magic and his vessel had been thrown off, affecting Eutel’s already-fragile body. People of this world all had Magic Within, and a vessel to keep that Magic in their bodies. This “vessel” was not exactly an organ, but something else entirely. Ordinarily, one’s magic never exceeded the capacity of that vessel, like maximum MP in the video games Ryoko remembered. On rare occasions, though, one’s magic could overflow that vessel. When that happened, the body was overwhelmed, and the unfortunate person would become bedridden, just like Eutel.

The royal doctor declared that Eutel’s condition wasn’t something that medicine could fix. There were only two cures—wait until his vessel naturally increased in capacity, or attempt to speed up that process through training. The problem was that there was no pointing in waiting for the vessel to grow larger if the magic within it grew at the same rate. With strenuous training, Eutel’s frail body could end up in an even worse state. At the end of the day, all Eutel could do was wait for natural recovery. Concerned for his brother’s condition, Herscherik came to visit whenever he could. Even today, Herscherik had studied all morning, but he still found time to visit Eutel after lunch, before his afternoon tasks began.

“You’re frowning again, Herscherik.” Eutel tapped the end of his index finger in between Herscherik’s brows. Giggling, he massaged the frown line that had formed on his brother’s forehead.

“I’m sorry...” Herscherik apologized for giving his brother more reason for concern—and after specifically coming to cheer him up, too.

“You overthink everything, Herscherik. I’m all right. Promise.” Eutel smiled, and Herscherik could only nod in response. “And besides, you’re in a tougher spot than I am right now. I heard that pig of a minister’s trying to set you up.”

“Pig... What?” Herscherik widened his eyes in shock—he was surprised that the rumors of his proposed engagement had even reached his bedridden brother, but even more so that the gentle Eutel would use such language.

Then, a knock was heard at the door, much more forceful than Herscherik’s. At Eutel’s permission, another older brother of theirs entered the room. “Will? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I needed to see you about something, Eutel. How are you doing... Herscherik? Here again?” The figure who entered spoke to Eutel, and gave Herscherik a half-hearted glance. He was William Gracis, the Second Prince. His hair, platinum like his father’s, was grown out and loosely braided in the back. The gaze of his blue eyes, in contrast to Eutel’s gentleness, was ice cold.

“Hello, Brother William.” Herscherik rushed to bow upon meeting those icy eyes.

William only looked at Herscherik for a moment before returning to Eutel. Herscherik wondered if William’s expression was much warmer when he looked at Eutel than at him or if it was just his imagination. While all the royal children shared a father, William and Eutel also had the same mother. Perhaps that contributed to how close they seemed compared to Herscherik’s other brothers.

I understand that he’ll be a little more distant to me because we have different mothers... But did I do something wrong? Herscherik couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Things had changed. Even though he didn’t see William often, he had never been treated so coldly. First the triplets were way too touchy-feely, and now William was treating him like he didn’t exist. Herscherik thought back on everything he’d done recently, but couldn’t come up with anything that explained this change of attitude. He let out a quiet sigh.

In the end, Herscherik decided to let his two brothers talk and walked towards the door without another word. Once out of the room, he heaved a sigh as he turned away from the door. At that moment, Herscherik noticed someone basking in the sunlight pouring through the window, gazing out at the view.

The first thing that came to Herscherik’s mind upon seeing this person was “Shiro the cat.”

A cat with striking golden eyes and pure white fur had roamed Ryoko’s neighborhood, and she had given it the name Shiro. On her commute home, Ryoko would call to Shiro as he sat perched along a concrete wall next to the sidewalk, and the cat would always meow in return as if to welcome her home.

Herscherik had made the connection because the person before him looked exactly like that white cat.

The person by the window was shorter than Kuro or Oran and had long, straight, and stark white hair that fell below their waist. Their skin was pale as alabaster, and their eyes were a gleaming golden amber color. Moreover, they were so beautiful that Herscherik could only imagine they had been blessed by the goddess of beauty herself. He was certain that this person could entrance anyone they liked with a single smile.

The way this beautiful person furrowed their shapely brow and glanced away when they saw Herscherik only ended up reminding him even more of Shiro the cat.

I never thought there was anyone in this world more beautiful than my father or brothers... Having been surrounded by gorgeous people since his reincarnation, Herscherik thought he’d grown immune to them. But the beauty of the person before him was so perfect that it compared to—or even surpassed—anyone in his family. What a gorgeous woman... er, is she a woman? Herscherik titled his head.

There was something... lacking from the incomparably beautiful figure before him. One of their arms, which emerged from their snow white robe adorned with a few bracelets, was a little on the frail and delicate side. More importantly, there was one important curve missing from their silhouette. She doesn’t have breasts...? Even a small bust would show a tiny bit of curve, but this person’s robe fell in a straight line across their chest. No way...! Herscherik timidly looked up from the person’s bosom.

“What?” A light but unmistakably male voice emerged from that pair of shapely lips.

This fantasy world defies gender...! How fantastic! Herscherik silently shouted; he found himself nearly tearing up a bit, for some reason.

“Is that a way to speak to a prince?” a different voice called.

Herscherik turned around to spot a man in his late forties, dressed in the elaborate robes of a priest. His white-speckled brown hair peeked out from under his head covering, and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gave him a warm expression. The man approached Herscherik and knelt, which brought him down to the little prince’s eye level. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Prince Herscherik. My name is Hoenir, and I am the head of the Church of Light here in Gracis.” The man smiled.

Herscherik recognized the name. So this is the Hoenir, Archbishop of the Church of Light... The Church of Light was the most common religion across the entire continent. This religion honored numerous gods, who all ruled the Garden Above, with a single creator god at their helm. Their holy scripture described the manner in which the gods maintained the world, and most followers worshiped the creator god and another god who was relevant to their lives. For example, a farmer might worship the creator god and the goddess of the harvest, or a fisherman might worship the goddess of the sea. Knights would often honor a deity that ruled over warfare.

Herscherik and the rest of the royal family did not subscribe to any religion. While freedom of religion was a right recognized in Gracis Kingdom, the rulers of the country were supposed to remain impartial, without any religious influence.

“It’s a pleasure, Archbishop Hoenir.” Herscherik gave a charming smile, all the while observing the man’s each and every move.

Even after they’d discovered that the Church was involved in drug trafficking, no amount of research had led them to any concrete evidence. All they could find was common knowledge and conjecture. “The fact that we can’t find anything on them only means they have perfect control over information that gets out,” Kuro had said. Then, he added that they ought to be suspicious of any lead that was too obvious, as it might be a trap.

Now, the archbishop had appeared before Herscherik in the flesh. “What are you doing in the castle, Archbishop?” Archbishops were each in charge of their own diocese and they rarely ventured outside of that. Why was he here in the outer quarter of the castle?

“Herscherik!” A forceful voice called his name just as Hoenir was about to answer his question. Herscherik turned around to see William, his handsome face bitterly twisted in frustration. “Do you need something from my guest?” His deep blue eyes pierced straight into Herscherik’s soul.

Herscherik didn’t understand why William seemed so unhappy. Just as he was about to say something, Hoenir beat him to it. The archbishop stood up and stepped in front of the little prince as if protecting him before giving a deep bow. “Your Highness, I was the one who approached Prince Herscherik. Forgive my intrusion,” Hoenir said, which only made William frown even more deeply. Hoenir gave William an indulgent smile before turning back to Herscherik. “Your Highness, I am here to treat Prince Eutel.”

“Really? May I ask how?” Herscherik asked, glancing at William over Hoenir’s shoulder. The image of that drug they’d only recently eradicated flashed into his mind.

Hoenir continued, smiling as if he knew what the prince was thinking and wished to alleviate his suspicions. “I wield Divine Healing magic.”

“Really...” While Herscherik, who had no Magic Within to speak of, had only studied the basics of spellcasting, he knew how rare users of Healing magic were. Only a tiny fraction of the population even possessed the special sort of Magic Within that Healing spells required; Herscherik had read that the number was only one out of every ten thousand people. Moreover, actually using those spells required specialized spellcasting training, medical knowledge equivalent to that of a doctor, and—depending upon what they were treating—an enormous reserve of magical power.

Almost all users of Healing magic that did exist were associated with the Church. Healing magic was classed as Divine magic, and the Church essentially had a monopoly on knowledge about it; the vast majority of advanced users of Healing magic were Church officials. The fact that Hoenir could wield Healing magic that might aid Eutel’s complicated condition was a testament to his prowess as a Spellcaster.

“Herscherik. Archbishop Hoenir is here to treat Eutel. Go back to your room.”

Herscherik obediently nodded in response to William’s command. He had no other choice. It’s okay. Healing magic can’t do any harm, Herscherik told himself, then turned to leave.

Before he could make his exit, Hoenir called to him. “Prince. Does Your Highness have some time to spare?” The Archbishop smiled at him.

“I think so,” Herscherik answered, even as he began to sense something amiss behind Hoenir’s smile—a different kind of dishonesty than he felt from Barbosse.

“Come here.” Hoenir called the beautiful young man away from the window. He walked up to Hoenir with the same frown on his face, gave Herscherik a momentary glance, then turned to Hoenir again. “Your Highness, this is my adopted son. He has been studying at the Church’s citadel most of his life, but as this year is his coming of age, I have summoned him to the capital. He was raised within the Church and knows little of the world.” Hoenir chuckled, patting the young man on the shoulder. “The only thing he shows interest in is magic, and he keeps to himself—so I had him accompany me today. However, I can’t very well bring him into Prince Eutel’s room when His Highness isn’t well,” Hoenir continued his explanation with the same gentle smile. He paid no mind to the fact that his adopted child was looking increasingly unhappy. In fact, Herscherik was beginning to worry about that. “Prince, if you have any time to spare, would Your Highness be so kind as to show him around the castle?”

Herscherik pondered, examining Hoenir’s smile. Fortune Favors the Bold... Part Two? Both Minister Barbosse and the Church seemed to be making their moves, as if they were in perfect sync. Herscherik would have complained about this, if it didn’t seem almost like he was being handed an opportunity on a silver platter.

“Yes, I’d love to!” Herscherik innocently smiled at Hoenir. The expression of the handsome young man grew darker, but Herscherik paid him no mind.

William’s expression had also grown more stern, but the little prince did not notice.