Chapter Six: The Prince, the Date, and Life’s Purpose

This particular day, after the snow had melted for the year and the sun shone down to bid winter farewell, was a delightful one for Violetta. Two months had passed since her first meeting with Herscherik. Each meeting with the prince had been wonderful: tea parties, dance practice, listening to her sister’s compositions... and every time Herscherik’s gentle green eyes met hers, Violetta’s heart raced.

At each meeting, she had found something new to like about Herscherik: his kindness, his work ethic, his knowledge, his friendly demeanor, his maturity, his surprising stubbornness... When she asked if she could address him by first name, his embarrassed ‘yes’ had made her feel positively delighted. When he had agreed to speak more candidly with her, she nearly danced with joy on the spot. She always dreaded their goodbyes and counted the days until their next meeting. Violetta didn’t yet understand what to call this feeling. All she knew was her heart warmed and a smile appeared on her face whenever she thought of him.

“Prince Herscherik!” She curtseyed like a proper lady to Herscherik as soon as he appeared through the door, fluttering her skirt. She’d spent all morning picking out her dress. Of course, she had asked her sister to do her makeup and hair. Her sister curtseyed beside her, and Violetta couldn’t help but feel proud of her older sister’s refined gesture.

“Hello, Violetta. Miss Jeanne. I’m sorry I was late,” Herscherik stated in a genuine apology.

“We were told that Your Highness would be delayed by his studies. Please do not apologize for our sake. We were simply enjoying our tea.”

Herscherik shook his head. “A promise is a promise. Studying is no reason for me to break my word.” With another apology, Herscherik urged the sisters to take their seats and joined them.

Kuro immediately prepared a cup of tea for his master, which Herscherik took. Violetta couldn’t help but stare at his elegant gestures.

Herscherik set his cup down and gave Violetta a bright smile. “You’re very pretty as always, Violetta.”

“Thank... you...” she answered with a blush. Violetta had been told that men tended not to notice when a woman changed something about themselves, but Herscherik seemed to be an exception.

In addition to her outfit, he often complimented more specific aspects of her appearance—like how she did her hair, her lipstick color, or her jewelry. Violetta’s heart skipped a beat each time, thinking about how Herscherik had observed her with such detail. The truth was that Herscherik, as a former woman, noticed those little changes and simply gave his honest opinion.

As if to conceal her reddened cheeks, Violetta produced a pouch from the basket she had brought and handed it to Herscherik. “Prince Herscherik, I baked some cookies today.”

“You made me sweets again? Thank you, Violetta. Do you mind if I eat them now? I actually didn’t have lunch...”

“Of course not!”

She had brought the best-looking cookies out of the slightly burnt batch that she had baked all on her own... with her sister’s help, here and there.

Herscherik untied the ribbon holding the pouch closed and took out a cookie. It seemed a little crunchy for a cookie when he took his first bite, but Herscherik seemed to enjoy it, chewing it a bit before swallowing. “The nuts and chocolate... I like those kinds of flavors.”

“I’m glad!” Violetta cheered.

“Your baking gets better every time, Violetta.”

Violetta’s cheeks flushed again. Still, she was unhappy about one little thing. Herscherik, after all this time, still called her Violetta. He was certainly of a high enough status to call her whatever he pleased—in fact, he only addressed his men of service by nicknames, and no one else. Violetta couldn’t help but feel a divide between her and Herscherik because of that, though. She desperately wanted him to call her ‘Vivi.’

“Prince Herscherik, if you would...”

“Yes?” Herscherik stared at her, cookie in hand.

“Nothing...” Violetta relented, too nervous to ask Herscherik for the favor now that he was looking straight at her.

Curious about why Violetta seemed to be acting a little odd, Herscherik finished the cookie. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

“It’s nothing...” Violetta muttered. “What shall we do today?”

“Why don’t we go out into town? We’ll be safe with Oran. But there is someone else I want to take with us. I’ll introduce you two later.” Herscherik apologetically furrowed his brow. “I hate to ask, but... Do you mind changing your clothes, Violetta? I’ve had an outfit prepared for you. For Miss Jeanne, too.”

After Herscherik explained how they would stand out too much as they were, the sisters followed Kuro into another room to change.

After about twenty minutes or so, the sisters returned in their new outfits.

“What do you think, Prince Herscherik?” Violetta twirled in her one-piece dress. It was more reserved than her original outfit, but still gave off of the impression of a classy, aristocratic girl. Her hair had been wrapped into a bun above her head to make her more mobile.

Jeanne had also changed into the kind of outfit city girls her age might wear. With her copper hair put in a braid, she came across as a well-mannered young woman.

“You both look very cute,” Herscherik said, happily. He too, had put on his “young-noble-heir” outfit, his usual getaway disguise.

A knock was heard at the door, followed by Oran entering. “Are you ready, Prince Hersch?” His knight’s uniform had been set aside for his more ordinary casual wear.

“We’re all ready. You?”

“Us too.”

Then another figure entered the room at Oran’s call. The sisters were both struck speechless. They were convinced that they had encountered a goddess of beauty, with perfectly straight white hair and amber eyes. Even the best artist in the world would struggle to recreate such beauty. The goddess in question, meanwhile, wore a frown as he picked at his masculine outfit.

“This is Shiro, my magic tutor.”

The man who received the introduction only glanced at the sisters once without greeting them. Herscherik couldn’t help but be impressed at how even Shiro’s lack of etiquette came across as elegant.

She’s absolutely stunning... Violetta thought. She couldn’t believe such beauty existed in this world. If anyone had told her that Shiro was a goddess, she would have believed them. That being said, there was one nagging question on her mind. “Prince Herscherik... Do you prefer older women...?” she mumbled.

“Huh?” Herscherik blurted out, then realized that the sisters’ eyes were glued to Shiro. “My preferences aside, Mister Shiro’s a man.”

“What?!” Violetta shouted in surprise, and Shiro huffed at the reaction.

“Prince Hersch...”

“Yes, let us go.”

Led by Oran, Herscherik and Violetta followed side by side. This left Jeanne and Shiro to fall back behind them.

“Didn’t expect to see you here...” Shiro spoke, softly enough that no one but Jeanne heard him, but without actually looking at her. His tone was considerably lower than when he spoke to Herscherik. Jeanne answered with silence. “What are you up to?”

Jeanne bit her lip. From how Shiro asked that question alone, Jeanne felt like he was looking right through her. “I’m just chaperoning my sister,” she spat out.

Shiro lifted one corner of his lips, but said nothing else.

Yes. I’m Violetta’s dear sister, now. Nothing else... She played the role of the protective sister, but she was also her father’s pawn who executed his orders. Even killed, when necessary. Jeanne knew full well what her role was in her father’s eyes. Then, Jeanne watched the prince walking in front of her. He had a smile on his face, as if he was indulging Violetta’s whims. He didn’t seem uncomfortable—more like he was an adult listening to a child’s demands. Somehow, this seven-year-old boy was much more mature than he looked.

“Won’t you play us that song again, Miss Jeanne?” Herscherik had requested after one of his dance practices with Violetta. He meant the wordless song that she had been singing when they first met. When she asked him why he was so keen on that particular song, he said “It’s nostalgic to me somehow,” with an embarrassed look. Then, he had pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes that children were so good at. Of course, Jeanne had relented and played the tune. The prince, while listening to the song, seemed even more mature than he usually did—as if he was some traveler doomed to never return to his distant home. His expression was so painfully sad that she couldn’t help but offer to play the song again when she was done. Jeanne was delighted to see that Herscherik’s sorrowful expression turned into a bright smile when she did.

Jeanne caught herself smiling as she thought back on that event. What was wrong with me...? She never found an answer to the question, and it simply sank back down into her heart.

Jeanne and Shiro continued to follow, the tail end of the now silent party. Neither of them realized that someone was listening in on the conversation between them.

Herscherik didn’t go to the castle’s front gate, but instead to one of the back entrances used by merchants as well as soldiers, knights, and officers who worked at the castle. The front gate was reserved for nobles and guests, after all. However, as this particular back gate opened to a less populated area in town, it would serve Herscherik better.

The guard, whom Herscherik was well acquainted with by now, gave him a knowing smile. “Thank you, Your Highness, for properly submitting a request before your departure this time.”

Herscherik answered the wisecrack by coyly sticking his tongue out. They were well acquainted enough to joke with each other. On paper, royalty was always required to submit a request before leaving the castle outside of their schedule. Herscherik had learned to simply ditch all of those ‘stupidly bureaucratic’ rules. He used to just sneak out of the castle whenever he wanted to go into town, but the best he could manage with that method was a day trip. During his Fortune Favors the Bold operations, day trips were less useful. So, he had started leaving by the castle’s official gates recently.

At first, he would casually try to walk out of the gate with a friendly “Good work, men!” to the guard on duty, like a soldier or officer on their way off of work, which almost let him slip by. When he was caught just in time, Oran made a solid effort to pretend he didn’t hear his master click his tongue in disappointment. The guard had desperately tried to stop the little prince, impressing upon Herscherik the fact that he really needed to submit the proper paperwork and that it was dangerous beyond the walls. Herscherik stubbornly refused, which led to the manager of castle security actually coming to the scene.

“You say it’s dangerous outside. Is crime that rampant in our country?” Herscherik sorrowfully asked the manager. He was just changing the subject, but seeing that the manager fell silent, he continued. “Besides, when even a whole gang of them couldn’t lay a finger on my knight...” He gave Oran an apologetic look.

Oran had swept the Games of Contest without a scratch, which had meant his prowess was well-known. In fact, a battle royale-style combat training had been planned at a later date—secretly, the purpose of it was to knock Oran down a peg by ganging up on him. Oran had met the challenge head-on and defeated every other fighter out there, instilling fear in the rest of the soldiers. Even Oran’s brothers had been excited to join the fray. “Are they really my family? I don’t know anymore,” he muttered as he gazed into the distance.

Herscherik had only been told about this incident after the fact. “You requested Oran to be there, and you ambushed him?” he had snarled, not even trying to conceal his anger for once. Naturally, since the leaders of both departments had been involved in orchestrating this, the head of security had clammed up from guilt.

After striking the guards speechless on his first attempt to simply walk out of the castle, Herscherik added, “I don’t want you to get in trouble for my actions.” With that, Herscherik retreated for the day, much to the relief of the security team.

The next day, Herscherik had returned with a permit to leave the castle signed by the king himself, as well as by Oran who swore to take full responsibility if something should happen to the prince. According to another guard’s testimony at a later date, he spent a lot of time staring into space that day, too.

The overprotective king Solye, before signing the permit, had sat Herscherik on his lap and nagged him for nearly an hour about everything under the sun: don’t follow strangers or accept food from them, scream if someone tries to start a fight, don’t try to get away from Octavian, don’t go near any dangerous areas, etc., etc. Herscherik couldn’t very well confess that he had wandered the castle town alone so often that the townsfolk had grown accustomed to feeding Herscherik whenever he was there.

“We have ladies in our company, this time,” he told the guard. “I’ll see you soon.” He had gone through the permit request that he usually omitted since the Marquis’ daughters were in their company.

“May you have a wonderful time, Your Highness. Ladies,” the guard cheerfully declared. He was a man, after all, and had a weakness for pretty girls.

I won’t tell him that one of them’s a man, Herscherik thought, and pretended not to see how grumpy Shiro looked. “Oh, everyone in town will call me by a different name, but don’t worry about that. And don’t tell anyone I’m royalty, please,” Herscherik instructed the other three as they approached the edge of the city, pulling his hood further down over his face. Unlike back in the day when not even people in the castle would recognize him, he had more than a few acquaintances now. If he were to pass any of them on the street and they heard him being called a prince, it would just cause confusion. Herscherik was still known as Ryoko there.

Once they reached the town, the party simply traveled wherever they pleased. Violetta wandered to and fro, mesmerized by the fact that she was now walking through streets she had only ever seen through the windows of a carriage. This kept Jeanne occupied, unable to ever let go of her sister’s hand.

As Herscherik watched the two sisters, he was approached by all walks of people.

“Look at you, Ryoko, walking around town with a flock of gorgeous ladies!” the owner of the sweets shop called out to him.

His wife heard him talking to Herscherik and brought out a paper bag from behind the counter, handing it over. “These are our new recipes for the year. Don’t forget to share them with the girls, Ryoko.”

As he took the bag, Herscherik gazed up at Oran, waiting for him to pay for it. Before Oran could produce his wallet, the sweet shop couple shook their heads and refused. Well, Herscherik thought, it would be rude to insist on paying now. He simply thanked the couple and left.

“What’s in there, Prince Herscherik?” Violetta whispered.

Herscherik opened the bag to show her the contents. Inside was a serving of crispy, fried dough that reminded Herscherik of the sata andagi he’d enjoyed as Ryoko, in his previous life.

A smile blossomed on Violetta’s face. “They look wonderful!”

Herscherik couldn’t help but smile with her. “Let’s share them later.”

“Share?”

Share...? Just the two of us? It’s like we’re really on a date! Violetta put her hands to her blushing cheeks, which would soon turn redder from a different sense of embarrassment.

“Yes, I think there’s enough for all of us,” Herscherik said without a shred of maliciousness.

As Violetta was looking for a rock to hide under, she overheard the conversation between the owner of a nearby fish store and one of his customers.

The owner let out a long sigh. “Hey, did you hear taxes are going up again?”

The customer clucked his tongue, frowning. “Yeah. Apparently, something’s happening on the southwestern border, so National Defense needs more funding. That’s the story, anyway.”

“Meanwhile, the royal family’s throwing parties day in and day out... They just think they can squeeze more out of us every time they run out of money.”

Herscherik awkwardly let his gaze wander. The royalty throwing a party every day was, of course, an exaggeration, but the increase in taxes was not. After Herscherik had been warned by Count Grim at the New Year’s ball, a report came in that the Atrad Empire to the west was stationing troops near the border, where the kingdom and empire had clashed numerous times before. This had led to a decision to reinforce border security, followed by a temporary tax increase.

Herscherik wasn’t made aware of this until after the decision had already been made. While he had no qualms with reinforcing the border, he felt like there were other places where they could tighten the national purse strings before increasing taxes. However, there was no way for him to object to the move, let alone any way for his powerless father to do anything. Marx, too, had been unable to prevent the motion from passing. That didn’t mean Herscherik had given up on doing something about it.

Herscherik recalled his actions that followed, a grin spreading across his face. Heh heh heh... Now that was a job well done. Based on experience and accomplishments, Herscherik had calculated the salary of the soldiers being deployed, as well as the cost for transporting the troops and maintaining a secure border. Then, he added in the cost of the materials and equipment required to fortify the border line—all with current and accurate market price in mind, of course. From current tax revenue, he estimated the income for the fiscal year, and calculated how much they could afford to spend now. Then, he presented the budget to Solye through Marx.

Solye used Herscherik’s documents to convince the reluctant officers, keeping the emergency tax raise to a minimum. If no one tried to pocket anything, the project would stay within budget. If it went over, they would take the rest from the nobility. They work hard to keep their coffers full, Herscherik concluded. Indeed, it was legal for the royal family to seize any assets from nobles and high-ranking officials in the name of national defense. As Herscherik had expected, the threat had led to all of them working hard to keep their wallets secure.

Still sucks for the people, though... There were people in any world who disliked higher taxes and bigger financial burdens, of course—especially when they didn’t feel like their lives were enriched by their increased taxes.

“Shh... Keep it down! Here comes a constable,” the fish shop owner warned in a hushed tone.

The customer didn’t lower his voice. “I ain’t afraid of no constable! They’ll turn a blind eye for pocket change. I bet we could all share a drink and commiserate over those rotten nobles and royals!”

Herscherik silently groaned. It was true that some members of the constabulary were like that. The majority were honest peacekeepers, of course, but the ones doing wrong garnered the most attention. All it took was one out of ten being corrupt to make all of them look bad.

I don’t think we should stick around. Just as Herscherik turned to make that suggestion, he realized that Violetta had vanished. He looked around to find her marching towards the men whose conversation they had just overheard.

She stopped before them and dramatically pointed a finger at them. “How dare you disrespect the royal family like that?!” Violetta demanded. The others froze.

“What’s a prim and proper girl like you doing, eavesdropping on peasants?” The customer, a portly man five times the size of Violetta, growled down at her.

Any other girl her age might have been intimidated to the point of tears, but not Violetta. “None of your business. But what you’ve said was very disrespectful! Take it back this instant!” How can they mock Prince Herscherik like that when they don’t know anything about him! Violetta couldn’t stand it, precisely because she knew how he smiled so gently and always considered the people of his country, even as walked among them on the streets.

“Disrespectful? It’s all true. Now, if you don’t knock it off...”

Jeanne was the first one to spring to action. “I apologize for my sister!” She grabbed Violetta, covering her mouth. Despite mumbling and movement behind her hand, it resolutely remained over Violetta’s lips.

When the men were about to say something, two figures—large and small—came between them and the sisters. “Now, now. Can’t we let it slide? She’s just a little girl.” Oran cracked a friendly grin.

“Y-You’re...!” The pair recognized Oran, the guardian of a familiar face, who was now protecting the two apologetic-looking sisters.

“I’m sorry...”

“Ryoko...” The shopkeep and the customer shared an awkward look. For anyone in the castle town, Ryoko was no ordinary rich boy, but an eccentric noble’s heir, most likely very important in the country. His down-to-earth and genuine demeanor had made him popular among the people of the castle town.

That was why the men felt awkward that he had apparently overheard their conversation. “Don’t apologize, Ryoko. It’s our mistake. We know some nobles are like you, but...” Once the heat of the moment had passed, they understood that they had gone too far. They couldn’t help but look for someone to blame for their worsening lives.

“It’s all right. If that’s how we seem to the people here, then I appreciate the honest assessment.” Herscherik then apologized again, before taking Violetta, Jeanne, and Shiro (now completely out of the loop) away from the scene.

Now, only Oran was left behind. “I won’t say much after what Ryoko said.” His blue eyes pierced the two men. He was no longer the gentle chaperone they were used to—a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down their spines. “Be careful spreading unverified information. It could end up costing you.” And with that, Oran left.

The two men remained frozen on the spot.

In a small plaza, surrounded by buildings that often served as hangouts for children, housewives, and the elderly, stood a grand old tree with a few benches placed around it. This place of relaxation was now deserted as the sun was just beginning to set.

“This will be a nice place to settle down for a bit. I hope you’re not too tired, Violetta,” Herscherik said with a determinedly cheery tone. However, his efforts went unrewarded.

“I’m sorry, Prince Herscherik...” Violetta muttered, staring at the ground and holding back tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Herscherik reassured with a calm tone. “They’re right. The rest of the royal family and I are the ones forcing them to foot the bill.”

“But...!” Violetta was ashamed of her immaturity. She knew that she would cause a scene by speaking up to those men. Even still, she couldn’t stand how they’d denigrated Herscherik. As a result, she’d ended up forcing the prince to apologize to them.

“I know that you were frustrated on my behalf, Violetta. Thank you.” Herscherik smiled, preventing Violetta from apologizing again. The problems of the nation and the discontent of the people fell squarely on the shoulders of the royal family. Violetta had no business carrying any part of that weight. Whether or not any blame for the situation truly rested on the royal family wasn’t important.

Having been born into nobility and raised in that environment, Violetta was wise for her age in some ways; as such, she understood how Herscherik felt. She refrained from saying anything more.

“It’s getting late in the day. Shall we return to the castle after we rest for a bit? I’m a little tired myself, and I’d love to have a few of those sweets,” Herscherik jested.

“Prince Herscherik!” Violetta stood up. “I’ll go buy some drinks from that stand we passed!”

It wasn’t a task for a noble girl to do, but Herscherik couldn’t stop her as she nearly bolted out of the plaza. Besides, he figured if the little errand distracted Violetta for a bit, there wasn’t any harm in it. “Okay,” Herscherik said. “Oran, can you go with her?”

“Yes.” Oran followed the little girl as she dashed away.

After watching them for a few steps, he sat down on a bench. Shiro had also sat down on a different bench, leaving Jeanne standing alone.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Miss Jeanne?”

“The people of the castle town truly adore Your Highness,” Jeanne said, still standing.

Despite having his invitation ignored, Herscherik chuckled. “More like they look after me. They’re all good people... And they don’t know I’m royalty.” Loneliness seeped into his smile. With a few exceptions, no one in the castle town knew who Herscherik really was—they only knew him as the peculiar aristocratic boy named Ryoko. He wondered what they would think if they discovered that he was royalty. He couldn’t bring himself to hope they’d still accept him with the same openness. “They wouldn’t even come near me if they knew I was a prince.”

“Then why do you bother coming out here at all?” Shiro chimed in. “It’s plain to see that you spend a lot of time in town. Today can’t be the first time you’ve overheard a conversation like that.”

Shiro was right. This was far from the first time that Herscherik had encountered the people of the castle town sharing criticism and discontent with the government, contempt for the upper class, and stories of crooked officials. They all led to denouncing the royal family.

“What’s the point in putting yourself out there, knowing you’ll get hurt?” Shiro spat. “If you don’t want to look, close your eyes. Don’t want to hear something? Cover your ears. There’s no virtue in just standing there taking all that abuse.” If you stop getting involved, it won’t hurt. People always had a choice, Shiro believed. They can choose to shut out anything they don’t need.

To Herscherik, it sounded like Shiro was trying to convince himself more than anything. Truth to tell, Herscherik was also tempted by these thoughts. But he shook his head. “I know. But I’m a prince.” That was Herscherik’s purpose in this life. Herscherik couldn’t afford to take Shiro’s suggestion, no matter how tempting it might seem. He stood, and began walking.

“Prince Herscherik?” Jeanne called.

Herscherik answered, still walking away, “I only have food on my table and clothes on my back because the citizens of this nation work hard every day. That’s my privilege for being born into royalty.” Herscherik stopped and turned around, now far enough away that he could see the entirety of the great tree, as well as Jeanne and Shiro. “I can’t run away just because I’m scared of getting hurt. It’s my royal duty to serve my people.” The voice of the people was the voice of the nation, their woes were its woes, and their joy was the nation’s joy. Herscherik realized that he couldn’t ignore even the smallest grievance. Even if he couldn’t answer them all, he must never stop trying.

“Why does it have to be you...?” Shiro squeezed out, as if he was struggling with something within. “No one asked you to do all this.”

“It’s not about being asked. It’s something I want to do.” It wasn’t that Herscherik was following orders or wanted validation from other people. He simply wanted to do it, because he had things he wanted to protect. “So...” Herscherik continued. “I’ll show no mercy to anyone who stands in my way or tries to hurt my family.” Herscherik’s tone was unimaginably colder than usual. The youngest prince had always reminded them of the spring sun, but now it was almost as though he was standing in a gust of frigid, stinging air from the far north.

The pair caught in Herscherik’s gaze were speechless and frozen.

A cheerful call broke the tension. “Prince Herscherik!”

Herscherik shook off the cold aura that had grown up around him and turned to face Violetta. “Viol—Oran!” After a moment of shock, Herscherik immediately called to his knight. A man was approaching them from behind.

Oran tossed the cup he was holding into the air. He turned as he drew his sword, blocking the attack. A metallic clash echoed through the plaza, and Violetta was immobilized by the terrifying noise. Keeping her behind his back, Oran glared at the attacker. “If you’re just some street thug, beat it. It’s your lucky day... But if you know who you’re dealing with, I won’t hold back.” That was Oran’s final warning.

The attacker ignored him, pulling back his sword before immediately going for another swing. Oran easily parried the fierce attack. The only reason he didn’t immediately counter was because Violetta was right behind him.

Picking up on that, Herscherik shouted, “Over here, Violetta! Hurry!”

The call snapped Violetta out of her terrified daze. She dropped the cup where she stood and began running to escape from the scene of battle. When she had nearly reached Herscherik, another attacker appeared from one of the other four streets that led out of the plaza. He had been hiding around the corner of the building.

“Vi!” Herscherik darted towards her as soon he saw the second attacker, reaching his hand towards her. As soon as she took it, Herscherik pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her as hard as he could.

“Prince Herscherik!” Her cry echoed through the plaza.

Herscherik held her tightly even as she screamed, turning his back towards the attacker. A knife gleamed in the assailant’s hand as he raised it high, ready to strike Herscherik.

As Herscherik braced for the impending agony, a gust of wind blew past him, followed by a loud impact and a muffled groan. Herscherik timidly looked up to find the attacker slumped completely unconscious by the fractured wall of a building. He looked back at Oran to see his opponent collapsed at his feet.

“Punks.”

Herscherik turned towards the voice. Shiro’s white hair was glowing a vivid green. It was clear to see that he had saved Herscherik with a spell. “Thank you, Mister Shiro...” Herscherik said, stroking Violetta’s hair as she clung to him in fear.

As a few stars began to peek out in the sky, Herscherik had come with Oran to the front gate in order to see the sisters off. The attackers seemed to be ordinary street criminals, so they had turned them over to the constabulary before safely returning to the castle. As Shiro had already returned to the Church, Herscherik and Oran were seeing off their final guests for the day.

“I’m so sorry I put you in danger today,” Herscherik apologized to Jeanne. Violetta, worn out with exhaustion and fear, had already nodded off in her carriage.

Before falling asleep, she had asked Herscherik, “Can you always call me ‘Vi’ from now on?”

Herscherik, who still felt guilty about what had happened, agreed. Relieved, Violetta had finally fallen asleep after hearing his promise.

“There’s no need for that, Your Highness...” Jeanne shook her head. She didn’t look too well herself. “How does Your Highness remain so strong?”

Herscherik tilted his neck. Strong? Herscherik looked down at himself. It was the same old, feeble body with no muscle to speak of. No matter how hard he tried, Herscherik couldn’t think of any part of him that was strong.

“Yes, Your Highness is very strong,” Jeanne added, as if she had read his mind.

Herscherik remained confused. “Miss Jeanne, I’m not strong at all. I mean, just look at me.”

“That’s not what I mean. Not physically... but your heart and your determination... Your Highness is very strong on the inside.”

As she silently confirmed how frail he was, Herscherik answered, “That’s especially not true.” Herscherik chuckled. “Sometimes I think about how I could be wrong, and I’m tempted to just give it all up.” Not that he would use it as an excuse, but even he got tired of his work. But the people he remembered at times like that were always the one who had passed on and entrusted him with this task, and the one whose path had been chosen for him, along with his dear family and the two people closest to him who believed in him. He only had one wish: to change this country. Only that would satisfy him. “I don’t want to have any more regrets.” He would believe in himself and his allies, and soldier on in order to make his wish a reality.

Jeanne only gave a deep curtsey, and climbed into the carriage. He doesn’t consider himself strong... But His Highness’ strength lies in how dedicated he is to pursuing his goals. It was a characteristic that contrasted strongly with her own personality—a strength that lay with a powerful sense of self. There’s no way he’ll join us. He’ll choose death over compromise. As the carriage rocked, she buried her face in her palms. Otherwise, she felt like she was going to burst out in tears.

After seeing the sisters off, Herscherik and Oran turned right around. They continued down the castle corridors, giving the knights and officials they passed the same warm smile as usual.

When they reached the passageway in the courtyard of the Royal Quarter, Herscherik dropped his smiling mask, revealing a sharp glare beneath it.

“How’d this get out...?” Herscherik asked, still walking.

A figure lurked in the shadows. Now, Kuro appeared out of the darkness at his master’s call. “It could have been either the minister or the Church, or neither,” he answered, adorned in pitch-black spy gear that blended into the night, walking alongside the prince without even an audible footfall.

Herscherik looked at the ground. He had purposefully submitted a permit for leaving the castle today in order to track how information was being leaked. He wanted to dangle something on a hook and see how the enemy would bite, but that operation had all been for naught. Minister or Church... It’d be great if our assailants gave something away, but I doubt it. Herscherik stopped to think a bit before looking up at Oran. “Which do you think?”

“They were after Lady Violetta. Lady Jeanne seemed shaken by it, so I’d say she didn’t know. If that was an act, I’ll never trust a woman again.” After looking into Jeanne’s background, they had discovered a secret about her. But seeing how she reacted that day, they agreed that Jeanne had no part in the attack, at least. “I thought that made it less likely that the attack came from the minister... But seeing how the Spellcaster protected you, I can’t say one way or the other.”

Shiro, who was practically assigned to Herscherik by the Church itself, had protected him, so he agreed with Oran’s assessment. It’s not the minister or the Church...? Could it be a third faction? Herscherik had made enemies all over through his Fortune Favors the Bold operation. Obviously, they had all brought their downfall upon themselves, but Herscherik was well aware of this risk when he conceived the operation. That being said, those had all been under the minister’s thumbs. He couldn’t imagine that any of them would dare attack the minister’s daughter.

Oran shared a momentary look with Kuro. “Hersch. What were you really up to today?”

Herscherik snapped his head up and let his gaze wander. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oran walked in front of his master, staring straight into his jade eyes. “I get that you wanted to see what they’d do. But there was no need to put yourself in this much danger. You agree, Black Dog?”

With a confirming nod, Kuro shot Herscherik a piercing glare. He had opposed this plan from the start. He had followed them all day, carefully observing their surroundings. He had remained close until the attack—in fact, there had originally been five people stalking Herscherik. Kuro had taken out three by the time they swung into action. He had already turned those three in to the constabulary on the charge of suspicious activity. As Herscherik was holding Violetta, about to be struck down, Kuro held himself back when he realized that Shiro was casting a spell. He considered it quite lucky that Herscherik had gotten away without a scratch. One wrong move and he could have ended up dead.

Herscherik chuckled at the pair of accusatory looks. They saw right through it. Can’t keep anything from these two, can I? He felt bad about keeping a secret from them, but also happy and a little embarrassed. Who wouldn’t have? Time to throw in the towel... Herscherik made up his mind to come clean. “I wanted to warn them.”

“Warn them?”

“Yes. Even though Mister Shiro and Miss Jeanne have their secrets, they don’t seem like bad people.” Over the past two months, Herscherik had observed those observing him. Regardless of whoever loomed behind them, Herscherik couldn’t bring himself to believe that either of them were truly rotten to the core. So, he had shown them his true colors to give them a warning, even if it had put him in a tougher position. “If I can help it, I don’t want to hurt Mister Shiro, or Miss Jeanne, or Violetta.”

“You’re soft-hearted,” Kuro reprimanded with exasperation.

Oran quietly sighed. He seemed to share the sentiment.

“I’m sorry...” A whisper left Herscherik’s lips. He knew that he would be putting Kuro and Oran, as well as himself, in danger. Still... Herscherik tightened his fists.

“It’s who you are,” Kuro said. His tone was very gentle.

“We’ll figure it out.” Oran sounded just the same.

Herscherik closed his eyes. They would always be by his side. The prince quietly promised himself that he would become worthy of their devotion, one day. “Thank you, you two.”

They each nodded, fully accepting their master.

“Oh, one more thing,” Kuro said. “That girl Jeanne and the Spellcaster know each other.”

A noble’s daughter and the adopted son of an archbishop didn’t share any social circles. If anything... “They may have some connection we can’t see.”

They now understood the connection between the minister and the Church, but Herscherik didn’t truly believe that they shared the same ultimate goals, even if they were cooperating.

“And the Church is up to something,” Kuro added, as the other two were stunned by the added information.

After putting her sister to bed, Jeanne came to her father’s office to report the events of the day. When she entered the familiar, oppressively solemn room, her father was reading through documents, like always.

“I am home, Father. May I ask you a question...?”

“No. Just tell me your conclusion,” Barbosse interrupted as Jeanne tried to ask if he was the one who ordered the attack. His eyes, however, remained pointed toward his documents.

Jeanne looked down, silenced. She tightened her fists. The time had come to finally make the report she had been putting off as long as she could. Her conclusion, however, was obvious. Even without the events of this day, she had encountered numerous occasions when she could feel the strength of Herscherik’s resolve.

“It’s impossible to turn the prince to our side,” she declared.

Barbosse, for the first time since Jeanne entered the room, looked away from the documents in his hand and gave her a sharp glare. “Violetta failed?” he demanded in a booming voice.

Jeanne couldn’t read a single shred of her father’s emotions. “Violetta and the prince have a good relationship.” Her sister was smitten with the prince, although she didn’t seem to fully realize her feelings were romantic in nature. It was clear to see for anyone else, though. Herscherik himself treated Violetta with kindness, too. In fact, he had just today protected her with his life. Still, Jeanne knew that he would never break. He had declared that he would show no mercy for anyone who stood in his way. “The prince will never join our side.”

Jeanne’s report was met with silence. Right now, she only wished for one thing. This is outrageous. Please reconsider... Jeanne knew full well that her father had committed numerous crimes to maintain his power and that she was serving an active part in it. This one thing, however, was too much to bear. Out of everyone else in the world, Herscherik was the one person she didn’t want to hurt. Her wish, however, would be denied.

“Take care of him, as planned,” he commanded in a nonchalant yet ruthless fashion, as if he was telling her to get rid of a broken toy.

“Father! The prince is only a child! It is very possible that he’ll be sent off to some foreign country soon enough!” Jeanne cried, knowing that she would only buy the prince a little bit of time, if anything. Herscherik would surely stand in her father’s way in the future, no matter what happened.

Annoyed at Jeanne’s first sign of resistance, Barbosse let out a sigh. Then, he looked at her without any emotion, as if he had just noticed a loose stone on the sidewalk. “What is your purpose in saying this?”

“But...!”

“If you wish to disobey me, leave this house. I don’t mind using Violetta to take care of things instead.”

Jeanne pictured the face of her sister, who was the only person who ever loved her unconditionally. “Yes... Sir...” Even if it meant that Violetta would hate her forever, Jeanne had no choice but to obey.

The Grand Cathedral, dimly lit, was dedicated to the worship of various gods, with the creator god at their center. An altar stood before the enormous stone statue of the creator god, where Hoenir the archbishop gave his sermons by day. Facing him, his followers were seated in row after row of pews, devotedly listening to the archbishop’s sermon.

In the now closed and empty Grand Cathedral, Shiro sat on the front pew, gazing up at the statues of the gods.

“Noel,” Hoenir called from behind him. “What did you think of your past two months with the prince?”

“Nothing...” Shiro turned the other way. At first, he had considered Herscherik a bizarre example of a royal. The little prince did not fear his monstrous nature, and would always approach and talk to him no matter how many times Shiro pushed him away. As a result, the prince had quietly infiltrated his heart. Even though he was incompetent with magic, Herscherik had been incredibly curious about it, soaking up knowledge like he was a sponge.

Then, there was the side of the prince that Shiro had seen that day—someone with an aura completely unlike his usual self. “No mercy for those who stand in my way,” he had said. How much did he know? Shiro wondered. His adoptive father Hoenir was concerned about the country’s current state. The royal family oppressed the people, and while the Church stayed out of politics, they were also the ones to hear their laments and provide support for those in need. That’s why Hoenir had built a relationship with the minister in an attempt to do something about the corrupt royalty of this country.

Even that was something forbidden, and Shiro himself had never been interested in how the country would turn out, one way or the other. But, he had a debt to Hoenir he could never hope to repay. That was why he had dealt with the prince, despite his dislike of human interaction.

Just then, a thought occurred to Shiro. Would the prince’s family, whom he cares so deeply about, really be the sort to knowingly oppress the citizens of this country? If he knew anything about Herscherik, he knew that the prince would not blindly trust someone just because they were family.

“Does that mean... you actually had fun, Noel?”

“Master Hoenir!” Shiro said, as if to reprimand. He widened his eyes to glare at this adoptive parent.

Usually, Hoenir would have worn a caring smile. Today, he was grinning maniacally.

“That means it’s about time...”

“Master Hoenir...?” Shiro took a step back, having never seen him like this before. Alarm bells clamored in his head, amplifying his nervousness. Still, the other part of him that refused to doubt Hoenir shut down his fears.

“The prince has become as important to you as I am, or nearly so. Isn’t that true?” Hoenir said, mockingly, in a lower tone than normal.

Shiro took another step back. “What are you...?”

“My little Noel... My dear little Noel.”

As soon as Shiro saw that formulas had materialized around Hoenir, his body stiffened like electricity was running through it. Without even being able to scream, he fell to the ground. A Manipulation spell...? A Magic that didn’t belong to him invaded his body, robbing him of his control over it. Manipulation magic spells were rarely successful; moreover, although Hoenir had more Magic than most, Shiro’s Magic Within far exceeded his. It didn’t make sense that Shiro would fall victim to his spell so easily. Was there someone else here with more Magic than Shiro? No, Shiro thought. They were the only people in the entire cathedral.

My dear little Noel. The phrase echoed in Shiro’s head. And then, he finally realized something he had never wanted to know.

Curses were one of the least powerful Manipulation spells, but only in terms of immediate results. If cast over time, and repeatedly, their effect would gradually increase. If one was cast over a course of years, it was virtually undiscoverable. The effect would strengthen with the use of a particular object or word as a medium.

That included a person’s name.

When Shiro was first taken from his birth parents, Hoenir had given him a name. When asked what his name was, having forgotten the name his parents had first given him, Shiro had simply answered “Monster.” Hoenir had responded by naming him “Noel.”

A curse could be activated by writing down the medium word, in addition to speaking it out loud. When Shiro was away from Hoenir for a time, staying at the main branch of the Church, he had received a letter from Hoenir at least once a week.

All of them had begun with “My dear, little Noel.”

Ever since their first meeting, the person Shiro credited with saving his life had been cursing him. When used in conjunction with a curse, Manipulation magic became much more successful.

The only person Shiro trusted in the entire world had been lying to him all along. That realization was enough to strip Shiro of his purpose in life, sending him spiraling down into a pit of hopelessness.

“Sleep well, my dear little Noel.” While Hoenir’s voice sounded kind, there was no real emotion behind it.

“Mister Shiro!” Just before his consciousness was forcibly robbed from him, Shiro could almost hear the prince call to him in his mind.

Ordering his men to take his unconscious boy away, Hoenir let out a long sigh. Manipulation spells all required a great deal of Magic, as well as an intricate formula. Cursing his puppet over the course of years had been an ordeal, and controlling him on the spot had been even more exhausting. Soon, however, all of his efforts would bear fruit.

Hoenir knelt and bowed to the statue of Saint Ferris. This saint was the hero who united the world during the New Dawn Era and ascended to godhood. He represented peace among the gods, and Hoenir had worshiped Saint Ferris all his life with hardened devotion.

“All in His holy name,” Hoenir said in his usual calm tone. Still, a veil of madness clouded his eyes—enough to make anyone watching quake in terror.