Chapter Four: The Prince, the Sisters, and the Tea Party

In the royal quarters, a pair of sisters was shown to a room where the royal family met with formal guests, filled with well-made furniture. The two of them sat on the exquisitely comfortable sofa to graciously await their host. They were the daughters of the Marquis Barbosse, the most powerful man in Gracis. The younger was Violetta, a girl with curly sienna hair who would be turning seven this year. With a pair of big, vibrant, hazel eyes, a well-defined nose, and lips the color of light cranberry, her beauty was irrefutable.

“I want to go home,” the picturesque girl whined, puffing out her cheeks and dangling her feet off of the edge of the couch, which made the skirt of her dress ripple out in waves.

Her older sister, Jeanne, considered it a privilege of her sister’s that even childish complaining came across as adorable. Jeanne had the same hazel eyes as Violetta, but a set of straight copper hair that shone like a freshly minted coin. She was seventeen, which made her a little too old to still be called a girl, but still a little too young to earn the title of a lady. Unlike her sister, Jeanne gave off a reserved impression. She was often described as “pleasant” or “tidy,” but she didn’t consider those to be compliments when she was dressed to the nines. “Stop that, Vivi. It’s unladylike. Besides, this is Father’s decision.”

Despite Jeanne’s reprimand, Violetta only puffed her cheeks out more. “No! The youngest prince is just a baby! I want to marry Prince Marx!”

You’re still a baby, too, Vivi... Jeanne sighed, as her sister turned the other way. Violetta had recently entered a rebellious, can’t-wait-to-grow-up phase—which made her a handful when she wasn’t perfectly content. Jeanne could deal with her attitude because they were sisters, but she couldn’t let Violetta act the same way to strangers.

Prince Marx, huh? The royal prince of Gracis was known as the Royal Rose to everyone but himself. Jeanne had seen the Rose at a soirée or two, and had confirmed that his appearance lived up to his name. Moreover, the recent capital gossip was rife with rumors that the Rose Prince had grown even handsomer of late—all because he had finally gotten himself a girlfriend. While it was a common belief that women became more beautiful when they fell in love, Jeanne didn’t know if the same applied to men.

In any case, right now it was her responsibility to keep her little sister under control. “Be that as it may... We’re noble women, aren’t we? You knew this was going to happen eventually.”

Violetta only huffed, making no other complaints out loud. Despite her whining, she knew full-well that only a small fraction of those born into nobility were lucky enough to choose whom they married. In fact, most women would envy her for marrying a prince, albeit the youngest and ultimately least influential one. Besides, her sister was the only person Violetta couldn’t argue with for long. Jeanne’s lost and teary-eyed expression always broke her rebellious spirit. “Then, will you sing to me until the prince arrives? The song from before?” Violetta gazed up at her sister, her head tilted in a perfectly adorable manner that seemed almost calculated.

Jeanne hesitated. “I haven’t finished the words yet.” Jeanne had finally composed the requested song over a matter of years. The lyrics were another story. Jeanne had attempted to make her sister give up on the idea, to no avail.

Violetta kept gazing up at her sister. “That’s the song I want to hear. Please?”

“Oh, all right...” Jeanne chuckled. She looked around, confirming that they were alone in the room. Then, she began to hum. While the lack of lyrics made the song seem still incomplete, Violetta happily swayed to the tune. Watching her sister, Jeanne smiled.

Come to think of it, her younger sister was the one who ever listened to her music. It just wasn’t acceptable for a noble girl to play bard. She had composed this particular song with the slow transition from winter to spring in mind. She wanted it to warm people’s hearts, like the early spring sun. After a moment, Jeanne began to enjoy herself, and the humming grew more and more passionate.

“That’s such a wonderful song.”

The sudden intrusion caused Jeanne to stop her humming in surprise, and she turned towards the source of the voice to find a boy and a young man. The boy had light-blond hair that reminded Jeanne of the spring sunshine she’d imagined when composing the song. Combined with his emerald eyes, it gave the handsome boy a gentle expression.

Immediately recognizing him, Jeanne rushed up from the sofa and gave a deep curtsey. “Forgive me, Your Highness!” She had been so caught up in humming her song that she hadn’t even noticed the prince’s entrance—a mistake that a young noble lady could not afford to make. She turned to her sister to find her still seated at the sofa, looking in the other direction. “Violetta!” Jeanne scolded her sister in a hushed voice, but Violetta’s attitude did not improve. In fact, her temporary happiness had completely crumbled now that her sister’s humming had been interrupted. She could have been rightfully accused of disrespecting royalty.

In contrast to Jeanne, whose face was fast draining of color, Herscherik did not reprimand Violetta. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said to Jeanne. “I’m not one for too much formality. I’m sorry to have surprised you.” The prince smiled apologetically. “Nice to meet you. I’m Herscherik Gracis and this is Octavian, my knight of service.” The young man clad in a white knight’s uniform, who stood next to Herscherik, gave a silent bow of his head.

Jeanne didn’t need the introduction—she could tell that this was the prince’s knight of service from the sword on his belt. Jeanne also knew that the prince addressed his knight by the nickname Oránge, and that the knight was the third son of the former general Roland Aldis and he had shown incredible prowess in the games two years ago.

“My butler of service is with me, too, but I’m having him prepare tea at the moment. I’ll introduce him later,” Herscherik added with the same friendly smile on his face. Jeanne was entranced by the prince’s demeanor that resembled a character straight out of a fairy story. Rumor had it that the youngest prince was reserved and unremarkable, but now she truly understood how untrustworthy rumors could be. She wondered what about this adorable, kind, and precocious prince people considered unremarkable. “May I ask your name?” Herscherik inquired with a tilt of his head.

“F-Forgive me!” Realizing that she hadn’t introduced herself yet at the prince’s comment, Jeanne’s cheeks turned bright red from embarrassment. She yanked the still-sulking Violetta up by the arm, pulling herself and her sister into a ladylike curtsey. “My name is Jeanne Barbosse. And she, for the consideration of Your Highness, is Violetta...”

“Violetta...”

Seeing that her sister didn’t even curtsey, Jeanne would have growled out loud if she could. Obviously her sister was just as bratty in the presence of royalty. Not that Jeanne was blameless in perpetuating her behavior. “Enough.”

“But...” Violetta scrunched her face up as she was brought nearly to tears by her sister’s reprimand. A mysterious tinge of guilt struck Jeanne, but she knew that she couldn’t back down now. Just as she opened her mouth to lay down the law upon her little sister’s head, a faint laugh came from the prince’s direction. Jeanne turned to find Herscherik trying to contain his amusement.

Noticing her gaze, Herscherik cleared his throat and formed a smile to regain his composure. “Miss Jeanne, don’t be too harsh on Violetta. She’s only a child,” the prince said with a great deal of conviction, despite being the same age as Jeanne’s little sister. Jeanne reluctantly nodded. “It should be time for tea,” Herscherik declared, showing the sisters to a separate room.

“Wow!” Violetta cheered at the sight that opened up before her. Herscherik had shown them to a greenhouse within the castle. The space was used, in part, to research rare flora, so the humidity in the room was controlled by a magical device. The walls were entirely made up of glass panels. The sisters were welcomed by a black-haired young man whom they assumed to be Herscherik’s butler of service, as well as the eye-pleasing tapestry of green leaves and vibrant flowers that surrounded an immaculately prepared tea service. The table also held pastries and chocolates, while multiple serving carts arranged around it held sponge cake, pound cake, and shortcake, as well as a few varieties of jellies, sandwiches, and fruit.

It’s true... Girls look much more cuter when they’re happy. Violetta had completely dropped her rebellious attitude for age-appropriate excitement and a gleam in her eyes as they darted from one sweet dish to another. In any case, I think Kuro’s baking is improving by the day...

Herscherik didn’t expect anyone to believe that the treats were all baked by Kuro himself. The sweets were of beyond-professional caliber just in appearance—let alone taste. The cakes were not served in slices, but actual entire miniature cakes each decorated with chocolate roses, candy, or fondant animals. Dangit, they’re almost too pretty to eat. You know what, I want that chocolat for myself... No, snap out of it! Herscherik hurriedly shook off the hypnotic effect that Kuro’s sweets had on him. “This is Schwarz, my butler of service. He made all of the sweets, too.” Herscherik said, prompting both sisters to give Kuro an incredulous look, although Violetta’s eyes were half-lit with admiration as well as disbelief. “Please, take your seats,” Herscherik offered. “Tea, please, Schwarz?”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

Kuro began preparing the tea as Oran naturally guided Violetta to her seat.

Seeing this accomplished, Jeanne curtseyed where she stood. “I ought to be going.”

Shocked, Violetta leaped to her feet. “What do you mean?!” she cried, pouting like a kitten abandoned in the pouring rain.

Jeanne answered her with quiet consolation. “Violetta. You were the only one invited. I was only acting as your attendant in the meantime. Normally, a woman unrelated to the royal family—someone who’s not a queen, princess, or someone betrothed to royalty—would not be allowed in the royal quarter.”

Violetta shook her head and clung to Jeanne. “But you’re my sister! Besides, I don’t want to be engaged before you—”

“Vivi!” Jeanne covered her mouth, having reprimanded her sister too sharply and having called her by her nickname. Violetta’s face twisted up, visibly on the verge of tears.

“You really love your sister, don’t you, Violetta?” Herscherik interrupted, and Jeanne couldn’t formulate a response while Violetta blushed—but she didn’t deny it. “Miss Jeanne, won’t you stay with Violetta and I? I’m sure she would feel less nervous, and we have plenty of sweets. Please join us for tea.”

Faced with her sister’s pleading and the prince’s invitation, Jeanne had only one option. “Then... I will join you both, with pleasure. Thank you, Your Highness.”

Oran tactfully offered a seat to the now-compliant Jeanne; Kuro did the same to Violetta, who had gotten out of her chair. Herscherik was secretly impressed by how naturally they seemed to be acting.

Kuro poured tea into a porcelain cup and placed it in front of his master, followed by the chocolat cake. Of course, Herscherik hadn’t needed to say a word about his preferences. The prince tilted his head and looked up at Kuro, who had moved over to the sisters to ask them which of the sweets they wanted. Herscherik titled his head again, but fought hard against the allure of his cake while his guests chose.

After plates of cake and tea were prepared for the ladies, Herscherik spoke. “Shall we begin?” Then, he went straight for his cake. Using his fork to cut off a small bite, a smile grew on Herscherik’s face as he savored the taste. It wasn’t too sweet, but not quite bitter. Just how he liked it. Kuro did it again. Just how I like... Um? How I like it? The cake wasn’t quite sweet enough to please an actual child. Herscherik looked at Kuro, concerned that there was a chance one of the sisters would choose this particular cake instead. There was another chocolat cake in the selection that was only slightly different in appearance.

Herscherik was wondering about that when his eyes met Kuro’s, and the butler grinned. He knew exactly what I wanted! Hmph! Fine by me—it’s delicious! Herscherik continued eating his cake as if to hide his slight embarrassment, watching the sisters all the while. Violetta was having the shortcake with fondant, while Jeanne had chosen the cheesecake soufflé. The sisters were not very similar by appearance, since Jeanne had more reserved features while Violetta’s were more expressive. But when each of them took a bite of their cake and let a smile spread across their faces, their demeanors were practically identical. Then, Herscherik’s eyes met Jeanne’s, who was busy devouring her cake. Her face blushed lightly, perhaps in embarrassment over how caught up she was in her dessert—which Herscherik found rather cute.

“Does Your Highness always pass the time like this?” Jeanne asked, as if to clear the air.

“Let’s see... Most of the time, I’ll be studying or training, actually.” He didn’t disclose the classified portion of his busy schedule that included sneaking out of the castle to help out in town or dealing with various problems outside of the capital.

“Oh my, Your Highness must be very studious,” Jeanne said.

Herscherik chuckled. “Studious, you say?”

A shadow flashed over Jeanne’s expression. “Forgive me, Your Highness. Have I misspoke in any way...?”

“Not at all, Miss Jeanne. I try my best, but I’m not very talented with the pen or the sword.”

“Is... that so?”

“Yes... Especially when compared to my brothers.” Herscherik spoke honestly, as he didn’t consider this anything worth hiding. In fact, he appreciated having something to talk about. “I’m worried that my tutors will give up on me any day now,” Herscherik jested. “I’ve recently started taking music lessons, which I’ve also had difficulty with... Oh, by the way, what song were you humming earlier?” Herscherik recalled the tune, which was unlike any song he had heard in this world. It was an unhurried ballad that reminded him of a song Ryoko used to like. It had made him feel so nostalgic that he’d lost himself in the tune for some time.

Jeanne let her eyes wander. “I’m terribly embarrassed, but... I composed it myself.”

“Really! It was marvelous. You must be very talented, Miss Jeanne.” Herscherik smiled. He was happy that he had come across a song that had reminded him of his feelings.

Jeanne turned her gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

“Your Highness!” Violetta slammed the table and stood.

Herscherik turned to the startling sound to find two cleared plates and a half-eaten jelly in front of her. I’m glad she likes Kuro’s dessert. What girl wouldn’t, though? He then looked at Violetta to see that she looked angry, for some reason.

“How can you put yourself down like that, Your Highness?!”

“What?” Herscherik froze, wide-eyed, at Violetta’s accusation and her sharpened hazel eyes.

“The royal family must be a model for everybody to follow, like Prince Marx is!”

Herscherik blinked twice or thrice. “What about Brother Marx?”

“Prince Marx is proud, and princely, and perfect... His Highness is a master of sword and magic... And here is Your Highness, his brother, talking about himself so meekly!” Violetta continued to be outraged, praising Marx and putting Herscherik down.

Herscherik only watched her in confusion. Marx is a very admirable person... Herscherik looked up to his good-looking, talented, and good-natured brother, but he didn’t understand why she was talking about his brother at all right now.

How can you put yourself down like that?! Mulling over Violetta’s comment, Herscherik realized it must be a particular habit of his. I was maybe a little too humble. Humility was considered a virtue in Japan, and Ryoko was no exception. She tended to undervalue herself, especially out loud. In fact, Herscherik’s men of service had each criticized him on multiple occasions, admonishing him not to be too dismissive of himself.

But it’s all true, Herscherik thought. I really don’t have any talents. Besides, he thought it was better to undervalue than overvalue himself. If he made a habit of planning with the worst case scenario in mind and low-balling his personal contributions, he had a much better chance of mitigating losses when things went sideways.

However, Herscherik understood that Violetta wasn’t really trying to break him of his humility. Is she jealous of me over her sister? To support his assessment, he saw that Violetta kept glancing at her sister as she raged. I guess she felt left out that her sister and I were striking up a conversation. Was her tantrum frustrating? Maybe just a little, Herscherik admitted, but Violetta was also right. Besides, he found it a little bit cute that she was trying so desperately to regain her sister’s attention. It wouldn’t be very mature of me to get mad over a child’s tantrum.

To Herscherik, who had lived a life over thirty years long before his current one, Jeanne and Violetta were both children. Jeanne repeatedly reprimanded Violetta in a hushed voice, but her little sister showed no sign of slowing down. I’m sure she’ll stop when she gets tired, Herscherik figured. Maybe I’ll offer her some more sweets when she does. He decided to play the waiting game until then and reached for his cup.

Just as he took a sip, he froze. He had noticed Kuro, who had been wearing an immaculate butler’s smile until this point, staring at Violetta with a deadpan expression. Kuro’s seriousness wiped away the warmth growing in Herscherik’s heart, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Do you know how scary your deadpan is, Kuro?!

Herscherik immediately shot Oran a quick glance. Oran returned a knowing nod and moved to a spot where he could stop Kuro if worse came to worst and he did something rash.

Fortunately for Herscherik, things never came to that.

A light slap rang through the room. “Stop it, Vivi.”

Violetta, holding her cheek in astonishment, looked up at Jeanne to see that her usually mild-manner sister was seriously angry. “B-But...” Violetta began, teary-eyed.

“You must be so perfect, Vivi, if you can afford to criticize someone else like that!”

Violetta fell silent, and not a sound was heard in the greenhouse.

Herscherik was the one to break that silence. “Miss Jeanne. This is my fault in any case. Please don’t be too harsh with her.” It all started when he turned the conversation towards his own lack of talent as he searched for something to talk about. He should have considered a topic that Violetta would prefer.

“But...” Jeanne stammered apologetically, as Violetta stared at him with her hand still on her cheek.

Herscherik smiled in an attempt to clear the awkwardness. “I know. I heard that you’re an excellent dancer, Violetta. I was actually hoping you could help me learn.”

No one opposed Herscherik’s proposition. Anything was better than continuing to bear the silent greenhouse.

The group moved to a nearby ballroom, where the New Year’s party had been held. While the room had been packed with attendees then, it was now vast and empty.

Herscherik usually took dance lessons in a music room reserved for royalty, but even he couldn’t take his guests there without permission. Once in the ballroom, Kuro lifted the top of the grand piano there, preparing it to be used.

“Do you play the piano, Miss Jeanne?” Herscherik asked.

“I dabble from time to time...”

Herscherik requested that she play a well-known etude. Seeing that Jeanne had accepted the request and sat down at the piano, he turned to Violetta. She was avoiding his gaze, embarrassed, and twirling the hem of her dress. Herscherik felt that she probably understood how she’d overstepped, but didn’t know how to apologize for it. He approached her, kneeling down before holding out a hand. “May I have this dance with you, Lady Violetta?”

Violetta hesitated for a moment before putting her hand into Herscherik’s.

After the pair moved to the center of the ballroom, Jeanne began playing. The requested song was a leisurely one, which allowed the young pair to dance at a slower pace. The pair of silhouettes twirled before the small audience in the great ballroom.

“You’re a good dancer,” Violetta said, when they were about halfway through the song.

“Thank you.” Herscherik’s smile never wavered, but he was secretly relieved. He had a dance tutor, too, but he was apparently also lacking in that department compared to his siblings. After continuing his training despite this, Herscherik’s dancing wouldn’t have embarrassed the average noble. Perseverance is strength. Violetta’s compliment alone was worth all that effort.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Violetta whispered, visibly full of remorse.

Marx, the royal prince, was a bona fide prince that everyone loved. The ladies of high society all adored him, he had graduated the academy with impeccable grades, and he served the country in the National Defense department. He even took on his father’s duties during some events; in general he was the most recognizable figure in the country after the king. Violetta had always sighed in amazement upon seeing the Royal Rose at parties. She’d always thought that the word ‘princely’ was meant for people like him.

But now, she was face to face with a real live prince with golden hair who was kindly smiling at her. Prince Herscherik isn’t meek. She was sure of that as soon as she took Herscherik’s hand, which was riddled with hardened calluses—a testament to his hard work. One of those callouses was on the side of his middle finger, indicating the amount of hours he had spent holding a pen. Moreover, this prince had intervened when she was being scolded by her sister for putting him down. How could she have insulted such a kind, hard-working person by comparing him to his brother? Violetta was mortified by her own shallowness.

“Don’t worry about me. My men of service nag me about it, too,” Herscherik said, as they continued their dance.

“Nag?”

“Yes, they say that I sell myself too short. I think everyone’s overestimating me, though.” Herscherik chuckled. “Miss Jeanne isn’t mad anymore, either.”

“But...” Violetta nervously stole a glance at Jeanne, who continued to play the piano. Their eyes happened to meet, and Violetta hurriedly looked away. “She hates me now...” Of course she would, Violetta thought. Who wouldn’t hate a sister who’s so mean? Tears welled in her large, hazel eyes at the thought of her sister being so disappointed in her.

Herscherik purposefully tugged her close and twirled her around. Taking the lead like that, contrasting with his careful dancing until this point, had subsided her tears. “You’re too cute to cry,” Herscherik gave a sublime smile. “You really love your sister, don’t you, Violetta?”

“Yes... She is my favorite person in the world. She’s always been by my side since our mother went to the Garden Above.” Their mother had passed when Violetta was only two years old. While she still had a father and two brothers, Jeanne was the one who filled the void their mother had left.

“I see... I’m sorry I took up all of Miss Jeanne’s attention earlier. But don’t worry, she’s not mad anymore. Look—she’s just worried about you.”

Embarrassed that her juvenile concerns were more transparent than she thought, Violetta glanced over Herscherik’s shoulder at her sister to find her looking back at them with a concerned expression. His Highness is right! Violetta turned her gaze back to Herscherik, excited. His gentle eyes met hers. She could feel her cheeks redden as she stared into his emerald eyes.

Quickly, she averted her gaze and asked, “Wh-What is your mother like, Your Highness?” Violetta didn’t remember anything about her mother. Anytime she asked her sister or the servants, she was never given a straight answer. Violetta wanted more than anything to know what it was like to have a mother. Herscherik’s response, however, was not what she had hoped to hear.

“I have never met my Mother.”

Violetta’s eyes widened. “What?”

Herscherik chuckled. “She left for the Garden Above when I was born.”

“I... didn’t know.” Violetta didn’t know what else to say after discovering this similarity between them.

“I have seen paintings of her, though. She had the same blonde hair as me, and I hear that she was liked by everyone in the castle.” Herscherik smiled at Violetta, whose expression had sunk.

“Is Your Highness not... lonely?” Violetta managed. At least she had her sister. While she’d sometimes wished she still had a mother, Violetta rarely felt truly lonely.

“Well...” Herscherik answered, as they kept dancing. “I had a nanny when I was younger. I can’t see my father often since he’s so busy, but he takes good care of me. So do my brothers and sisters, and the queens. Besides, I have men of service with me now. So, no, I’m not lonely.”

Not to mention my past life, Herscherik silently added. He missed Ryoko’s life, and while Herscherik was grateful that his mother had given birth to him, he never felt alone. What’s more, he had a firm purpose. I guess I’m pretty dry about these things, Herscherik chuckled. To Violetta, it came across as a lonely smile. “I am very lucky.” Herscherik meant it sincerely, but Violetta took it as nothing more than bravado.

After watching the sisters make up and leave the ballroom, Herscherik had returned to his room to review the day’s events with his men of service. More accurately, he was being scolded by them as he sat up straight on the sofa.

“So, Hersch. Remember the original plan?”

Herscherik waited a long beat before answering. “Yes, sir...” The original plan, of course, was the whole ‘have her turn down the engagement’ plan.

“But for some reason, you set up a second date,” Oran said, giving an exasperated look next to Kuro.

“Well... They didn’t seem like bad kids,” Herscherik attempted a retort as he averted their eyes. Herscherik was never the type to do anything mean to other people. In fact, he loathed anything manipulative. If Violetta and Jeanne had acted haughty and cruel, Herscherik could have easily come up with a few ways to ensure that they weren’t charmed by him.

But, as it turns out, they were just normal girls. At first, he thought that Violetta—his potential fiancée—was the kind of holier-than-thou aristocrat, but once they started talking, it was clear to see that she was just a regular girl her age who loved her sister. Jeanne, too, was a reserved but wise and understanding young woman.

I thought it might have been an act, Herscherik recalled, but I don’t believe that now... Still, something’s off about Miss Jeanne. Violetta seemed too young and impulsive to pull off deceiving anybody. However, Herscherik had a gut feeling that something was not right with Jeanne. For one, it was extremely strange that her younger sister was getting betrothed before her.

Miss Jeanne’s old enough to marry Mark. He doesn’t have a fiancée yet. If it’s power Barbosse is after, wouldn’t it make more sense to go after him? Jeanne might not qualify for royal queen, but as a prince’s wife she would at least expect to be a queen someday. Marx wouldn’t have much chance for refusal if the entirety of Barbosse’s faction pushed for the marriage. It didn’t make sense that he would instead set up his younger daughter with the youngest prince.

“Kuro, can you look into them, just in case?” Herscherik asked. “And will you let me off the hook, now...?” Seeing that Kuro nodded, Herscherik slumped back on the sofa and let out a sigh. He understood why his actions were poorly received by his men of service, as they completely contradicted their plan.

Herscherik had another reason for acting the way he did, however, other than just a simple lack of malice from the sisters. I couldn’t be mean because they reminded me of my niece. Ryoko had had a niece who’d been in the middle of an early rebellious phase, although she knew that her niece actually loved her parents more than anything. She was always embarrassed to show it, so she acted tough—only to cry to her aunt later on.

She had still been in elementary school when Ryoko died. Herscherik remembered how that niece had been when she was Violetta’s age; she would have been Jeanne’s age by this point. I wonder how she’s doing...? Herscherik reminisced about the last time Ryoko had seen her niece, staring out of the window at the sky burning from the sunset, where stars began to appear.

As their master was lost in thought, his two men of service shared a look. They had a feeling that this was going to happen. Herscherik was kind to everyone. Not that he was a philanthropist, but simply because he always put others before himself. Both of them were drawn to Herscherik for that exact quality of his, and had sworn their loyalty to him, in part, because of that.

Despite his kind heart, though, Herscherik often acted like a mirror, although he seemed not to realize it. The men of service saw it on full display when he interacted with the minister. Herscherik met benevolence with benevolence, and malice with malice. He seemed to instinctively reflect whatever emotion was shown to him. If the sisters had come to him with animosity, Herscherik would have held them at arm’s length. But, as it happened, the daughters of the Minister Barbosse turned out to be intelligent and sincere.

Perhaps that was precisely why the minister had sent in his daughters in the first place. The men knew that, but even if Herscherik understood that possibility, he would never have considered treating them with anything less than kindness. In a way, things were going exactly how the minister had planned.

“There’s no use crying over spilt milk,” Oran resigned. “All I can do is protect Hersch.”

Kuro shared the sentiment. “I’ll go gather some info.”

The men of service each sprung to action. There was only so much they could do at the moment.

After putting her sister to sleep, Jeanne arrived outside the door to the office of Volf Barbosse. She always felt a weight settle on her shoulders whenever she stood before this imposing door. I never get used to this place.

Jeanne had come to this house on a winter day like this one, five years prior. She was an illegitimate child, the result of her father’s dalliance with a lady-in-waiting of his late wife. Jeanne’s mother had had the same polished-copper hair and deep-blue eyes. Barbosse had taken a liking to her for her spectacular looks, but her mother was banished from the house when his first wife at the time discovered the pregnancy. It was all just another day in the drama of aristocratic life.

Her mother had died from an illness five years ago. Jeanne was too young at the time to make her own way in the world, so she came to the Barbosse house looking for her father’s support. His first wife, the one who had booted Jeanne’s mother out of the house, had passed away years ago. His second wife had died of sickness, as well. When Jeanne knocked on his door, Barbosse had his hands full trying to raise his young daughter Violetta. So, he acknowledged Jeanne’s paternity in exchange for her help raising her sister. Looking back on it now, Jeanne knew that Barbosse’s concern for his reputation was a contributing factor.

Jeanne let out a long sigh, solidified her resolve, and knocked on the door. “Excuse me, Father.” After listening for a muffled response from within, Jeanne entered the room.

Her father was leaning on the sofa in the center of the ink-scented office, reading a document with a drink in one hand. He never gave his daughter so much as a glance. “How were things with the prince?”

“We set up another appointment.” As neither of them considered the other a parent or child, their conversations were always robotic, as if they were merely employee and employer.

“And Violetta?”

“She... didn’t put up a fight.” Jeanne recalled how Violetta, who never showed affection to anyone but her sister, had actually looked slightly disappointed by the time they were leaving. By her bedtime, she was excitedly asking “When can I see him again?” and “If I make some sweets, will His Highness eat them?” Although, she insisted that “I only want to apologize for how rude I was today!” before tucking herself under the covers.

“Hm.” Barbosse contemplated as he knocked back his glass. Then, he spoke with gravitas, “Keep going if it looks like you can take him in as planned. If not, then, as usual...”

Jeanne anticipated the words to come, and tightened her fists.

“Take care of him.”

Jeanne closed her eyes and nodded at the definitive command. She only had one choice of answer. “Understood...” She was no daughter to her father. Jeanne earned her keep by keeping the reins on her sister and serving as a pawn.