Finale: The Reincarnated Prince and the Haloed Sage

A spring breeze blew in through the open window, bringing the scent of flowers with it. The pure white, flowing hair of the figure sitting on the sofa near the window was gently brushed by the wind.

The man on the sofa, beautiful enough for anyone to mistake for a woman, smiled at the feeling of the breeze. If anyone had witnessed the smile, as beautiful as a goddess’, they might have immediately knelt in prayer.

Spring... Shiro silently remarked, brushing his hair aside. When he moved his porcelain-like hands, the chains of his cuffs rattled.

After the incident at the Cathedral, Shiro was bedridden for three days much like Herscherik, but he had been confined in the castle instead of being sent to the Church. That being said, he was given three meals and all the books he wanted. A messenger of the Church had first demanded to prosecute Shiro alongside Hoenir, but Herscherik had put a stop to that.

“He’s the victim. Why should he be punished?” he had asked. When the messenger tried to argue with him further, Herscherik gave a dauntless grin.

The wound on his cheek, it may be worth noting, was healed cleanly by the Healing magic of a Church bishop. If it had scarred over, Kuro might have gone to kill Hoenir for real.

Herscherik had presented the messenger with a piece of paper. It was a document appointing his Spellcaster of service, signed by the king. The name of the appointee was marked down as Weiss, dated for the beginning of the year.

“He’s my Spellcaster of service,” Herscherik had said. “He discovered Hoenir’s evil plans and notified me of them.” The document was forged, of course, but Herscherik powered through with confidence. “But the government can’t step in without definitive proof. He had volunteered as a spy, despite the danger.”

As the messenger still tried to fight him on it, Herscherik let out an exasperated sigh. “Is the Church, who only stepped in after receiving word from Prince Eutel, really in a position to issue demands to our nation, or to me, who suffered the most from the actions of your members?” This shut the messenger up for a moment. When he opened his mouth again, Herscherik cut him off. “While he was adopted by Hoenir, he had not yet come of age and thus cannot have been an official member of the Church... If this is still an issue, we have half a mind to demand that the Church hand over Hoenir as well. What say you?”

Herscherik’s quiet, subtle coercion to relent was more effective than any argument from a seven-year-old had any right to be. The messenger was completely silenced.

Hoenir’s coup attempt had set a dangerous precedent for the Church—it could threaten its very existence and its relationship with the nations of the continent. The Church undoubtedly wanted to sweep all of this under the rug as quickly and quietly as possible. In fact, the apology issued by the Church was, in essence, claiming that Hoenir acted on his own and had nothing to do with the larger organization.

Gracis had initially expected to judge Hoenir by their laws and make an example out of him both domestically and internationally, especially after he had been intentionally circulating dangerous drugs in the capital. On the other hand, the Holy Church was the largest religious organization in the world. Naturally, a great many people within Gracis were members of this Church, which made the government want to avoid any conflict with the organization as a whole.

While that was the official stance of the kingdom, Herscherik, who didn’t have shred of faith in religion, was ready to take on any opportunity to fight the Church if they insisted on fighting—although he ultimately wanted to find the best outcome for his country. In fact, Herscherik’s father and brothers had entrusted negotiations with the Church to Herscherik himself.

At the end of the day, Shiro would remain in the castle as Herscherik’s Spellcaster of service.

After the Church’s messenger left, Herscherik explained to Shiro what had happened, and apologized for appointing him Spellcaster of service without his consent—but that wasn’t of much importance to Shiro.

In fact, his only question for Herscherik was, “What does ‘Weiss’ mean?”

“It means ‘white,’” Herscherik answered, leaving Shiro to be astounded at how uncreative Herscherik was.

Shiro looked down at his shackles. They were treated with a magic-canceling spell. If he were to try and use a spell, it would absorb his Magic, preventing it from activating. That being said, Shiro imagined that the shackles would easily break if he really wanted to break them. While the Ritual of Transcendence had failed, the sheer amount of Magic Within he now possessed was testament to how he had become something not-quite-human.

That was not the only change he had undergone, either. More was brought to light by Sigel’s report.

According to the document, while the Church’s drugs strengthened the user physically, the user would die without continued use. Once someone stopped taking the drug, their muscles and immunity would drastically weaken, which led to them contracting fatal illnesses.

None of the withdrawal symptoms Eutel had discovered from his sample or documents seized from the cathedral were seen in Shiro, so Sigel had tested him. When he returned, Herscherik was treated to the rare sight of a confused Sigel.

“There is a chance that he has become a kind of immortal,” Sigel said. A slew of technical terms followed, but Herscherik understood the gist to be that Shiro’s body might have become un-aging.

I really am a monster, now... Shiro thought with a touch of self-deprecation, when Herscherik came to visit him, unaccompanied.

“How are you feeling, Shiro?” he asked. He had stopped addressing him as ‘Mister Shiro’ ever since Shiro told him, his ears slightly reddened, to “Drop the ‘Mister.’” Herscherik spotted Shiro’s cuffs and frowned. “Can’t we take those off already?”

Shiro shook his head. “I prefer it this way. I am a monster, after all.” Shiro had kept the shackles by choice. While he had them on, he felt like he would be allowed to remain with humans... to remain by Herscherik’s side.

“Hey. You’ll always be Shiro to me,” Herscherik said, as if he had read Shiro’s mind. “You’ll always be the one who taught me magic, who defended me in the field lab, who saved me from being attacked in the streets, and who protected me from being killed by Hoenir.” Herscherik approached Shiro, holding his cuffed hands. “You’re not a monster, Shiro.” Herscherik smiled for a moment before returning to a serious expression. “But I will find a way to turn you back. Promise.”

Shiro knew that Herscherik would not be able to keep his promise. The Magic Circle in the cathedral had vanished when the spell failed. He didn’t even know what formulas had been used. There was simply not enough information to figure out how to revert the unprecedented evolution his body had gone through. Shiro wondered how long he would live... Maybe forever, like a Djinn. Logically, he knew Herscherik’s words would never come to pass. Even so, the words felt warm in his heart.

“Herscherik...” Shiro said, only to be corrected by him to call the prince by his nickname. “Then, Hersch... Let me be with you until we figure out how to do that.”

“Does that mean you’ll really be my mage of service?” Herscherik had only appointed him in order to protect Shiro from the Church anywhere he may go in the country. That’s why he had planned to find Shiro a safe place to live—even if it was in the countryside or Shiro’s hometown. “It’s a dangerous place to stay,” Herscherik warned. He was wary of what Barbosse would do next. Even after scouring the Cathedral, they were unable to prove Barbosse’s ties to Hoenir, but it was evident that he wanted to get rid of Herscherik. He would undoubtedly begin to undertake his next scheme in order to finish the job once and for all.

“Danger is nothing new to me,” Shiro said. He understood that, once word got out of his possible immortality, the prospect would interest many people. There were stories of nations falling in the pursuit of that very thing.

But, even now that he had more Magic than others and had become immortal, Shiro was still unable to cast high-level magic without formulas like a legendary Djinn. When it came to combat, the strength of a Spellcaster was their firepower, balanced only by the amount of time it took them to prepare a spell. If they were attacked before Shiro could cast anything, he couldn’t even protect himself.

“I don’t know who I am, Hersch,” Shiro confessed. This had been an effect of the curse and Manipulation spells that Hoenir had inflicted upon him over the years. A spell had been cast to manipulate his memories, making bad memories worse and happy memories as distant as possible. Shiro understood now why he could barely recall his parents’ faces. For the same reason, he was still unable to remember his true name. “But with you, I can still feel like myself, even if I can’t recall my proper name.”

”Okay...” Herscherik relented. He couldn’t turn Shiro away after that. “But don’t do anything dangerous. Got it?” he added. If his other men of service had been there, they would have pointed out that Herscherik was always the one jumping into danger himself.

In response, Shiro rose from the sofa and knelt before him.

“Shiro?” Herscherik tilted his head.

The young man ignored him, and instead bowed with a hand on his chest. “My Liege... My body is a sword that cuts through your enemies, a shield that protects you from harm, and a staff that guides your way.”

Herscherik was surprised that Shiro knew the words to the pledge of loyalty, especially as he recalled how Shiro had shown such disdain for the royal family when they’d first met.

Shiro looked up and stared at Herscherik. “I don’t care about the royal family,” he said. “I don’t even care about this country. Not in the slightest,” he brazenly declared. Herscherik didn’t know how to react, which made Shiro smile that enchanting smile that could make anyone, male or female, fall for him in a heartbeat. “But for you, My Liege, I’ll destroy a nation. Or even save it, maybe.”

Knowing that with his newfound immortality and power to absorb Floating Magic, Shiro could literally do just that, Herscherik stammered out an answer to his dangerous proposition. But then, he saw the amused look on Shiro’s face and realized that he was being teased.

“Then I have a condition for you,” Herscherik grinned. He reached for Shiro’s wrists and unlocked the shackles. “Never wear these again.” He held them up, as if to prohibit Shiro ever referring to himself as a monster from here on out.

“All right...” Shiro agreed.

Just as Herscherik happily nodded, a warm spring breeze blew into the room, announcing the arrival of a gentle spring.

Herscherik Gracis turned seven that year. Historians later claimed that this was the year when Herscherik, the Seventh Prince of Gracis Kingdom, had really come into his own.

The wordless song that he began to hum during this time eventually spread to the entire world through the efforts of traveling bards. The tune was given lyrics by any who pleased to do so. It was a song for farmers in the field, for a mother with her nursing child, for one lover to sing to another... But not a single rendition of it was a sorrowful one.

The tune would come to be known as the Hymn of Hope, and it would be sung throughout history.

This was also the year when Herscherik’s three men of service, whom he had trusted over anyone else, had all finally come together. The Twilight Knight Oránge, the unrelenting sword that struck down all of his master’s enemies; the Shadow Fang Butler, the all-encompassing shield who defended his master and his schemes from all enemies; and Weiss the Haloed Mage, the supreme staff that guided his Magic-less liege. They were each irreplaceable characters in any of Herscherik’s heroic tales recorded in history.

Weiss’ moniker, the Haloed Mage, was given to him because his white hair shone like a full rainbow whenever he cast a spell using his abundant Magic. As to who gave him that name, most believed that it was Herscherik himself. Historians theorized that Herscherik had given him this name so that people would not fear Weiss and his uncanny powers.

Whatever the case, Weiss was eventually accepted by the people as the Haloed Mage. He ended up creating various new spells and magical items, greatly contributing to the development of magic in the era and helping many in the process. As his master had planned, people eventually began to welcome the Haloed Mage; he was later dubbed the Haloed Sage for his accomplishments. Numerous documents note that the Haloed Sage always appeared young and vibrant, no matter his age.

After Herscherik’s death, the Haloed Sage disappeared from history as if he had never existed. Since then, legends of a Djinn with rainbow hair began appearing in historical documents around the world. No one ever discovered proof that this strange Djinn was the Haloed Sage himself.

The Reincarnated Prince and the Haloed Sage — Fin