Chapter Three: The Youngest Prince, the Prodigal Prince, and the Souvenirs

After returning home from the castle town, Herscherik made straight for a private lounge in the royal quarters. His brother, the Sixth Prince of Gracis, had finally come home from his stay abroad. He had wanted to join the others as soon as possible, but he ended up having to attend to a particular matter for longer than expected.

I guess there’s bureaucratic red tape in this world too...

Herscherik let out an exasperated sigh as he thought back to all the running around he’d done before finally coming here. However, the most exasperated person here wasn’t Herscherik, but the gatekeepers on duty, who had found themselves having to deal with the youngest prince suddenly showing up with a pair of suspicious characters.

Herscherik would proclaim that he’d accept responsibility for the two, while the guards would explain that they couldn’t let two strangers into the castle. Had Herscherik seen this situation as an outside observer, it would have been clear that the gatekeepers were in the right, but even so he couldn’t simply leave the pair behind in the castle town. At the same time, if he’d brought them to the castle using his own secret passageway, it would have been a complicated situation if they’d been found out.

So Herscherik decided to try going into the castle through the gate—and as expected, it didn’t go as easily as he’d hoped. In the end Oran had stepped in between the gatekeepers and Herscherik and reassured them that he and the prince’s butler would take responsibility for the duo and keep a close eye on them, to which the gatekeepers tentatively agreed. Herscherik had then been instructed to formally request permission for their stay, and Herscherik had racked his brain to figure out a way around that before deciding to leave it be for now.

One thing had bothered Herscherik about the whole ordeal though: why were the gatekeepers so reluctant to trust him, a royal, but they so readily accepted Oran’s proposal? Herscherik felt like he ought to spend an hour or so questioning them about that.

“They’re all just worried, Hersch. It wouldn’t be your first offense,” Oran explained to the discontented prince as they walked toward the castle.

Herscherik shrugged his shoulders.

At the same time that the minister’s crimes had come to light, so too had everything that Herscherik had done in the past. When word had gotten out that he’d spent his nights patrolling the castle for his investigative journalism, the soldiers had been dumbstruck that the prince, who was so meek-looking and young, would dive headfirst into danger and perform deeds that would put an adult to shame. Not just his family and men of service, but anyone who was fond of Herscherik had been beside themselves with worry—as had certain people who still had things to hide, though for a different reason.

Herscherik’s young age, dainty appearance, and delicate physique, even compared to other children his age, just seemed to activate the protective instincts of everyone around him. It’s not that they didn’t trust him—they were just worried.

Possessing memories from his past life, Herscherik would sometimes forget how he appeared to others. Even as an adult, Ryoko’s little sister had described her as “a composed wild boar” after spending some time in her clutches. “Once she starts running,” her sister had said, “she’ll stubbornly keep going in the same direction without ever slowing down, and the fact that she pays attention to her surroundings just makes it easier for her to evade obstacles. That means nobody can stop her. She’s vicious too.”

As this composed wild boar returned to his room, his butler came to meet him, greeting him with a smile while simultaneously popping a vein in his temple. But just as Herscherik was preparing himself for an hour-long lecture, he was instead informed that his siblings had asked for him. Herscherik jumped at the opportunity, quickly explaining the situation and leaving the duo he had brought with him in the care of his butler before hurriedly changing clothes and setting off for the lounge.

The prince took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the lounge.

“I’m sorry for—” Herscherik started to say, but before he could finish apologizing for his tardiness he felt someone put their hands under his arms and lift him high up into the air, his legs dangling as they left the ground.

“Herscherik!”

Herscherik saw a cheerful face looking up at him, paying no heed to how he was utterly paralyzed with surprise.

He’d been lifted up by a boy with tied-back hair that was slightly reddish, perhaps light pink, and good looks on par with his siblings—although the pink-haired boy had a gentle face that made him seem more approachable. He was Tessily, the Sixth Prince of Gracis and the youngest out of Herscherik’s siblings—although still a good seven years older than Herscherik himself. His light pink hair and equally light brown eyes reminded Herscherik of the cherry blossoms in his previous life that would bloom beautifully only to quickly scatter, making him feel just a bit sad.

He did not let any of that show on his face, however, as he smiled at his recently returned older brother.

“Tessily, welcome ba—”

“Did you grow any taller? Did you put on any weight?” Tessily asked with a worried expression, still paying no attention to what Herscherik had to say as he held him up into the air. “Hmm, it doesn’t seem like you’re much heavier than before. Are you eating properly?”

Tessily’s words, although containing no hint of malice, pierced Herscherik’s eardrums on a level much deeper than sound. Though part of him had already started to notice it, he did not want to accept it—the fact that even as he grew older, ate the very nutritious meals prepared by his butler every day, and exercised regularly, he still remained weak and spindly. The sad reality was that Herscherik had not one ounce of athleticism in him, nor a shred of magical talent, and on top of that he was by far the least beautiful person in his family.

I think I’ll cry... I am a girl after all—wait, no you’re not! Herscherik retorted to himself as a visibly sad expression appeared on his face.

“Tessily, put him down already,” Marx interrupted the dejected Herscherik and his genuinely concerned brother.

Marx possessed hair and eyes the color of the finest polished rubies, and every year that passed only seemed to add allure and dignity to his already beautiful face. After the battle with the empire and the death of Barbosse, he had been busy with not only matters relating to his royal duties and National Defense, where he was stationed, but also assisting his father in restructuring the government. Still, no hint of his exhaustion showed on his face.

Hearing his oldest brother’s voice spurred Herscherik to take a look around the room, and he noticed that all the siblings presently in the castle had gathered. Herscherik felt guilty for being the last one to arrive.

“Oh, sorry about that, Hersch.”

Tessily put Herscherik down on the floor, and after taking a moment to readjust himself, Herscherik once again greeted his brother.

“Welcome back, Tessily. I’m sorry for being late,” Herscherik apologized as he lowered his head.

“Thanks, Hersch. It’s good to be back. Now, then...”

With a radiant smile on his face, Tessily knocked his fist against the top of Herscherik’s head. The sound of the impact echoed through the room, and each of the siblings looked on with either a worried expression or an unfazed look, as though this was just what he deserved.

“Ow! Tessily?!” Herscherik rubbed his head as he looked up at the person responsible for his aching noggin.

As he did, he found Tessily looking at him with an angry expression wholly unlike his usual smile.

“That’s your punishment for doing something so crazy. I’m just happy it all worked out in the end...”

Tessily then quickly softened his expression again as he laid his hand on top of Herscherik’s, which was still rubbing the top of his head.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Tessily said, sounding immensely relieved.

Herscherik was unable to say anything in return.

As a young child, Herscherik had been closer to Tessily than anyone else aside from his father. Even so, that would mostly amount to Tessily sending people to deliver Herscherik sweets every now and then, and by the time Herscherik had learned about the truth of the country and become preoccupied with his own investigations, Tessily had already left to study abroad. Thus, much like with his other siblings, they had never been all that close.

Tessily would occasionally return from abroad and hand over foreign sweets and souvenirs, only to immediately depart for his next country. While he was away, mountains of love letters from foreign princesses and noble daughters would pile up, and the way he would run around from one country to the next doing whatever he pleased had earned the nickname of the “Prodigal Prince.”

Of course, when it came to doing whatever one pleased, Herscherik could have given Tessily a good run for his money.

“Thank you...” Herscherik said, slightly embarrassed from Tessily’s warm hand resting on his head. Seemingly satisfied, Tessily gripped Herscherik’s hand and pulled it closer to him.

“And that’s the end of my lecture. Look, Herscherik, I bought you souvenirs.”

Spread out on the table in the lounge were sweets and other knick-knacks that couldn’t be found in Gracis. Herscherik’s siblings were sitting by the table, inspecting the unusual items with great interest.

Tessily handed Herscherik a fountain pen, a book, and some chocolate candy. The fountain pen was carved from wood, making it lighter than the one Herscherik usually used. The book was the next volume of a novel series that Tessily had brought him previously. The series was always out of stock and impossible to get a hold of domestically, and Herscherik had already given up on getting to read it. The chocolate came in bite-sized pieces, which were beautifully laid out in an expensive-looking box. Each piece was shaped differently, and based on the differences in color and luster, Herscherik deduced that they must all taste differently too. The little prince broke into a smile at all of these thoughtful gifts. Each one showed a great understanding of his tastes.

On the table were also unusual flowers, a board game set similar to chess, cookies, tea, and more.

“So how did it go, Tessily?” the second son, William, asked as Tessily finished handing out the souvenirs.

William’s loosely braided hair was the same platinum blonde hair as his father’s, and his deep-blue eyes were fixed on Tessily. His facial muscles saw little work outside of diplomatic events, and combined with his blue eyes he could often come off as cold, but that did not pose much of a problem around his family.

“Oh, you’re so impatient, Will. That’s my most important souvenir, so I was planning on giving it out last!” Tessily replied, shrugging his shoulders theatrically. He removed a bundle of letters from his inside pocket and handed them to William.

“Here you go—positive responses from various neighboring countries. Even more should be arriving soon.”

“I appreciate it,” William replied, taking the letters and looking them over one by one. He then handed them to Marx, who similarly flipped through each letter.

“What are those?” Herscherik asked, curious.

Herscherik realized that he had been too preoccupied with digging up the past to pay any attention to current events—not that he ever involved himself with diplomacy to begin with, as that was the job of the Foreign Relations department. The Second Prince, who worked for Foreign Relations, and the First Prince, who belonged to National Defense, were both young but highly skilled—and the same was true of the officials who had not been sentenced and remained at their respective departments as a result. There was no reason for Herscherik to interfere. Of course, Herscherik did still know the general gist of what went on.

“They’re love letters from princesses,” said Tessily, with a salacious wink—thus proving that an attractive person can look good doing something that would normally just be embarrassing.

“What?!” Herscherik replied, shocked—his low tolerance of romance rearing its head yet again.

Seeing his brother’s smirk, Herscherik realized that Tessily had been teasing him. He gave his brother a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tessily apologized, patting his sulky little brother on the head. “I’m just kidding. They’re responses from various countries to invitations to the harvest festival. All of them favorable, of course.”

Oh, so that’s why the budget for the harvest festival was larger than usual this year, Herscherik realized, remembering the budget proposal that he’d happened across—or rather, secretly gotten a look at during one of his by now regular sweeps of the castle.

The harvest festival was one of the major fall events in Gracis. On this occasion, people gave thanks to nature and the goddess of the harvest as well as praying for a bountiful crop next year. The festival itself was not nearly as solemn as it sounded, though, with the people of the country celebrating by eating, drinking, and dancing. The festivities in the capital were even more boisterous than they were elsewhere. In addition, the Games of Contest would be held at the same time this year, as well as an evening party featuring key figures and diplomats from neighboring countries.

It was common for nations on friendly terms with Gracis to be invited to the harvest festival, but this year they had additionally extended invitations to many other nearby countries that had less communication with Gracis. Since William had been in charge of the matter and nothing about the budget had looked wrong at a glance, Herscherik had not spared the event much thought.

“While Atrad would have been too much to hope for, we’ve also received a favorable reply from Felvolk in addition to the usual attendees,” Tessily reported cheerfully as he removed his hand from Herscherik’s head.

Pinning the hair clip she received as a present to her dark green hair, the oldest of the triplets—the First Princess of Gracis, Cecily—spoke up.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from our sociable and clever youngest brother. Just how many noble daughters did you seduce this time?”

The second eldest of the triplets, the Third Prince Arya, looked up from the books on magic he was reading to correct his sister.

“He’s not the youngest anymore, you know. And stop making him sound like a playboy...”

Arya looked nearly identical to Cecily, except that his green hair was long and straight, reaching all the way to his back.

“But Tessily is really popular with the girls, you know. I get noble ladies asking me about him all the time.”

“Well, that happens to me too...” Arya replied with a frown.

Then the third of the triplets, the Fourth Prince Reinette, joined the other two.

“Yeah, Eutel’s got a fake smile that hides how he really is, but Tessily is actually approachable and easy to talk to.” Reinette praised Tessily as he nibbled on a cookie.

Reinette had short yellow-green hair, and he possessed the same face and topaz-like light brown eyes as the other two triplets. Were the triplets to wear matching wigs, it would be difficult for most people to tell them apart.

“Did you say something, brother dearest?” Eutel asked Reinette with a broad smile as he fiddled with the crystal doll that Tessily had given him.

His slightly wavy lavender hair reached to his shoulders, and his deep blue eyes indicated that he shared a mother with William. Unlike his seemingly cold brother, Eutel came off as delicate and gentle. His smile seemed brimming with affection, but it only caused a chill to run down Reinette’s spine.

“A-Are you sure you didn’t simply mishear, my dear Eutel?” Reinette said in a frightened voice, but quickly gave into the pressure. “I’m sorry...”

To anyone else, this would have seemed like a hostile conversation—the siblings, however, were used to Reinette’s banter and Eutel’s smiling threats. The triplets and Eutel were close in age, got along well, and could speak freely around each other. To them, this kind of banter was an everyday occurrence.

“How come you’re inviting all those other countries to the harvest festival?” Herscherik asked.

“You know what kind of situation Gracis is in right now, don’t you?” William curtly replied.

Herscherik pondered for a moment before reaching a conclusion.

“Oh... Yes, I see.”

Three months had passed since Barbosse, who had secretly been controlling the kingdom from the shadows, had passed away. Now the king had regained control of the country and was carrying out extensive reforms of the previously—perhaps even nefariously—tight-knit government. Though they had defeated the ringleader, unlike in fiction, that was still far from the end of their troubles. The country was still in an unstable state. To other nations, this presented a perfect opportunity.

“It’s to deter those other countries.”

“Yes, exactly,” William nodded at his astute young brother. “And thanks to recent events, we have the budget for it too.”

Having confiscated the funds that Barbosse’s faction had embezzled, the treasury was currently more full than usual. Of course, the collected money was mostly intended to fund the projects it had originally been misappropriated from, but even after that they still had enough funds left over to put on a show.

“We’ll invite key figures from various countries, make a point of how steadfast we are, and deter them from making a move on us. That will buy us the time we need to get Gracis back on its feet,” Marx said, taking a sip from his tea as he went over the letters. He seemed to enjoy the fragrance of the tea, which also was a gift from Tessily.

After the minister’s death, all of the corrupt nobles and officials had received appropriate punishment, and now the idea that corruption would never go unpunished was starting to take hold. As a result, no one even wanted to try anything. This was a very good development, but the royal family—including Herscherik—did not believe this would go on forever. After all, “Danger past, God forgotten.” as the saying goes—it’s many times easier to fall for temptation than to keep yourself in line.

For that reason, it was all the more important that they find the time to completely rework the country from the ground up. While they did so, it was vital to keep other countries from trying to take advantage of their weakened state. That said, overt displays of military force risked straining their existing relationships. Instead, they would use the harvest festival and the Games of Contest to give the other countries the impression of a stable nation that could not be taken advantage of.

Fortunately, the biggest threat—the Atrad Empire—had already agreed to a five-year non-aggression pact as a result of the recent battle, and the noble that had served as the imperial forces’ supreme commander seemed to be doing a good job at home establishing diplomatic relations between the two countries. It was at the very least unlikely that they would attempt anything before the end of the agreement.

Incidentally, Herscherik had once spotted his second oldest brother wearing a smile so pleasant he doubted his own eyes during a diplomatic meeting. He even pinched his cheeks to make sure he wasn’t dreaming in the middle of the day with his eyes open.

“Of course, there’s no guarantee that everything will work out as hoped, but it’s better than not trying,” Marx explained.

“But couldn’t this be dangerous?” Herscherik asked in return.

If any country sent a spy or assassin with their emissaries, they could pose a threat to the royal family. The mere thought terrified Herscherik.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t say for sure that it won’t be. But I doubt going to all that trouble to kill us would be worth the investment.”

The current king was blessed with brilliant children. Even if something were to happen to Marx, William would take his place, and he had many competent siblings beside that. Marx was not worried about that part. The kind of fight for the throne you hear about in other countries would not break out in Gracis. Ironically, the presence of the minister may have been the very thing that brought the royal siblings together.

“Although,” Marx continued, “if there’s anyone in danger here, it’s you, Hersch.”

A puzzled expression appeared on Herscherik’s face as he pointed at himself.

“Me?”

“Listen, the people out there are calling you the Prince of Light or the Hero or Light or what have you, and you’ve made yourself known both in Gracis and abroad. If something were to happen to you, the citizens would become anxious, which would most certainly affect the country negatively. So whatever you do, don’t go out walking by yourself during the harvest festival.”

Herscherik averted his gaze just a bit as he nodded. His siblings all threw him suspicious glares.

“Also, Hersch, I’ll be borrowing your knight for the showcase match in the Games of Contest. If possible, I’d like to borrow your Spellcaster too,” William said as he finished reading through Tessily’s letters.

“What do you need them for?”

“They’ve both made quite a name for themselves after the battle with the empire. I hate to parade your men around like this, but we need to do what we can.” William looked as though he was frowning in anger as he spoke, but he was actually being apologetic. He must have sensed that Herscherik didn’t like his men being used like this.

Oran is probably fine with it, but I bet Shiro won’t be very happy... Herscherik thought as he agreed on the condition that they themselves said yes.

“But the real issue is who to pit Octa against,” Marx said as he racked his brain.

Oran had both fame and the skill to live up to it, as he’d proved in the recent battle. On top of that, he was also the victor of last year’s Games of Contest, where he had won by barely breaking a sweat. It was hard to say how many people there were in the capital who wouldn’t be intimidated by him, but were also skilled enough to be worth showcasing.

“Mark, how about General Blaydes? His combat skill goes without saying, and his impressive performance in the battle against the empire has made him well known. Not to mention it would serve as a great lesson for those incompetents who are used to favorable treatment just because of their social status,” Eutel suggested, smiling as he nonchalantly insulted an entire category of people.

General Blaydes—Heath Blaydes—was a commoner and a mercenary-turned-general, which was a rare sight in Gracis. Also known as the “Undefeated General,” he had demonstrated his excellent skill as a commander during the recent battle. Even in a kingdom that valued social rank so highly and where someone like him hardly ever became a knight, let alone a general, there was no lack of nobles who envied him.

He would indeed have been a good pick in order to show those who had until now relied on their bloodline and status that things were about to change—although Heath himself would have despised the suggestion. However, William rejected Eutel’s idea.

“No, General Blaydes is currently working to ensure the safety of the roads outside the capital, as there have been more sightings of monsters as of late. He’s busy enough already, and we can’t exactly hold a match without taking the time to prepare first.”

Monsters tended to become more active during the fall. Any normal year, the state would have sent a request to the mercenary guild and sent knights to take care of the monsters during summer. This summer, though, National Defense had been far too busy with restructuring the government to deal with the problem. As a result, monsters had started to show up even on major roads. Since it would be bad if a key figure from another country fell victim to a monster attack, General Blaydes had been put in charge of dealing with them.

“Okay, what about the knights of the Aldis house? The siblings there are all skilled with the sword, aren’t they?” Reinette suggested next. This proposal, too, was rejected by William.

“I’d prefer to avoid relatives if I can. Besides, we don’t want people to get the idea that we’re giving the Aldis house preferential treatment.”

“I can’t imagine that would bother the Aldis family much...” Cecily said, to which Herscherik agreed.

Herscherik himself had met Oran’s family a number of times, and they were all extraordinarily musclebrained—or rather, a very pleasant family. They cared more about their position as knights who protected their country than their status as nobles, and they took great pride in their service.

“I suppose the ‘Blazing General’ is out too then, even though he’s well known.” Arya mentioned the nickname of the most famous general in the country, at which Marx, William, and Herscherik all nodded in unison—not in agreement with his skill or fame, but out of concern that he, as the biggest musclebrain of the entire family, would single-handedly ruin the competition. There was a nontrivial risk of him going along just because it seemed fun, only to go all out with no care for the audience or political circumstances.

“Oh, Mark!” Tessily raised his hand. “How about having my knight fight Hersch’s, in that case?”

“You have a knight?” Herscherik asked, confused. He only remembered his brother having a butler of service, a man he’d known from childhood.

“My knight’s originally from the Land of the Sun,” Tessily explained. “Apparently he was a ‘samurai’—that’s what we’d call a knight or a warrior. I found him wandering the continent and made him my knight of service.”

The Land of the Sun was an island country located beyond the sea to the far east of Gracis. Their ruler was known as the Divine Princess and the nation was governed by the twelve noble lineages that served her. Herscherik only knew about it from texts, but an island country with its own culture and customs reminded him of historical Japan.

The country was mostly isolationist with the exception of Gracis, with which it had established relations. Solye’s Fifth Queen was a daughter of one of the twelve lineages that ruled the Land of the Sun. She was currently attending her daughter, the Second Princess, who was receiving treatment away from the capital.

As Herscherik went over what he knew about the Land of the Sun, Tessily threw him a smirk.

“He’s pretty good, you know. He might even win against that Twilight Knight of yours.”

“I don’t particularly care who wins, but I’ll have you know that Oran is really strong,” Herscherik replied with a slight pout. A silent staring contest broke out between the two.

As he observed his two youngest brothers, Marx let out a small sigh and clapped his hands to signal the end of the gathering.

“It’s time we started packing up. Will, make a note of the key figures in Tessily’s letters, adjust the schedule as needed and go over the plans to welcome the guests.”

“Understood,” William replied, at which Marx stood up from his seat.

Each of the siblings left for their own chambers, and Herscherik too stood up and started walking toward his room.

“Oh, Hersch—”

“Yes?”

Herscherik turned around to find the youngest of his older brothers, his mocking smirk replaced with a serious expression.

“Be careful with the two people you brought here today.”

“Tessily?”

Herscherik observed his brother’s face, unable to grasp the meaning behind what he’d said. How did he know about them? Why did Herscherik have to be careful with them?

Tessily, however, simply smiled at him and remained silent. It was clear that he had no intention of clarifying further, and Herscherik did not possess the means to force an answer out of him.

On top of a bed in a spacious bedroom, Kurenai was tossing and turning. Hearing the rustling of sheets, Ao, who was sitting with his back turned toward the bed, spoke to her.

“Relax already.”

“It’s been so long since I slept in a bed. I can’t sleep.”

The bed wasn’t the only thing she had gone without—the same went for warm meals and a hot bath. Until just a few hours ago they had spent every day sleeping outside, without enough food to fill their stomachs, and it had been far too cold to bathe. With such a drastic change in their lifestyles, it would have been more surprising if she had been able to sleep easily.

At least, that was how she tried to justify it. But having spent a decade together with her, Ao was not fooled.

“Are you worried?” he asked in his usual curt way, so brief that one might not even understand what or who she would be worried about.

Kurenai, though, had been with him just as long, and she understood what he was referring to.

“He’s a strange boy, isn’t he?”

Kurenai thought back to how she had been shown to where they would be staying. First, Herscherik had actually brought them to his own room. To Kurenai’s surprise, he never even tried to inspect their belongings. They had then been greeted by an enraged butler who was practically all-black with the exception of his red eyes. After hearing that he had been summoned by his siblings, Herscherik had thrown the pair a glance before letting out a sigh without even attempting to hide it.

“So, what trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

“It’s not like that...”

The butler had spoken in an inconceivably blunt manner for a servant, but his master had simply shrugged his shoulders. Herscherik had introduced the butler as Kuro, and the pair as Kurenai and Ao. Kuro had turned his eyes toward the pair before fixing his gaze on Ao, a small frown visible on his face.

“A beastman, huh...”

Even covered with a coat, it was impossible to hide the unnatural hump on his back. The butler’s expression indicated that he was now utterly convinced that this spelled trouble.

The butler then let out a very, very deep sigh.

“Kuro, would you mind just finding them two rooms for now?”

The outer quarters had rooms for the royals’ men of service to live in, and many currently stood empty. Herscherik figured that they could let the duo live there for the time being.

“All right.”

Kuro must have had the same thought. He was about to leave the room when Ao stopped him.

“One is enough. I don’t need my own.”

“Ao, we have more than enough rooms to spare. You don’t have to worry,” Herscherik replied, but Ao shook his head.

“It’s fine.”

“Very well,” Herscherik gave up at Ao’s insistence. “Kuro, you heard him. Oh, and get them some food too. And could you see to anything they need so they’ll have an easy time—”

“Yes, I know. You can leave all that to me. Just hurry to the lounge already.”

Kuro gave his worried master a confident look as he left the room.

“All right, I’ll just be away for a little bit. If you need anything at all, just let Kuro or Oran know, okay?”

“Your Highness, why are you doing so much for us?” Kurenai asked as Herscherik was finally suitably dressed and ready to leave.

“Huh?” Herscherik stopped and turned around.

“We haven’t told you anything about us. And there’s nothing in it for you. If anything, we’re a danger.”

“Kurenai—you’re an honest person, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” Kurenai threw Herscherik a puzzled glance, unable to understand what about her came off as honest.

“I mean, you said that you couldn’t talk about yourself even without me asking, and you haven’t lied to me yet. And you’re feeling guilty right now, aren’t you? A dishonest person wouldn’t think that way,” Herscherik explained. “You and Ao were always forced to make calculated decisions in your past, weren’t you?”

Kurenai did not move, but she quietly gasped in response. The prince in front of her was observing people much more closely than she would ever have thought.

Herscherik did not wait for Kurenai to answer.

“I don’t think it’s bad to be careful. It’s a necessary tool to survive,” he said with a smile. “It’s not as if I’m doing this only for your sake. I’m doing it because I want to. So go ahead and take advantage of me.”

“But...” Kurenai said anxiously.

Where she had once lived, any act of kindness had been a calculated move. Thus, Herscherik’s kindness made her anxious, and her inability to tell what he was thinking only further added to her anxiety.

Suddenly, Herscherik’s men of service interjected to give Kurenai their advice.

“Just give up on arguing.”

“You won’t believe how stubborn Hersch is. Once he sets his mind on something, there’s no changing it.”

Herscherik’s Spellcaster and knight, whom Herscherik had introduced as Shiro and Oran, spoke in a resigned manner before Kurenai had a chance to argue back.

“Our master is far too foolish and softhearted for someone who only thinks in terms of advantages and disadvantages to understand,” Oran said.

“That’s...a compliment, right?” Herscherik replied in a dejected tone.

“Well, considering the three of us always go along with what you want, we must be pretty softhearted ourselves.”

Herscherik looked on as his men of service shrugged and began to laugh, waving as he left the room.

Kurenai had never met someone like Herscherik before. That’s why she had trouble making a decision when it came to him.

“What do you think?”

“He...didn’t seem like a bad person to me,” Ao replied honestly.

To Ao, everyone but Kurenai was his enemy. That’s what he’d always thought. But the people he had met in this country had looked at him in a manner that seemed neither hostile nor disparaging. This had left him rather bewildered.

“I see...”

“It’s late. Go to sleep,” Ao said to Kurenai as she sunk deeper into the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Kurenai seemed hesitant at first, but finally agreed.

“Could you hold my hand?” Kurenai spoke in an unusually weak voice. Initially surprised, Ao stood up and sat down on the bed, taking Kurenai’s hand.

Her hand was rough for a woman’s. It spoke volumes of what kind of life this former noble girl had led. Ao wrapped his hands around hers.

“If you wish for it,” Ao whispered, as Kurenai smiled.

“Thank you...”

Kurenai spoke his real name in a voice so quiet only the two of them could hear.

As she fell into slumber, she did not hear the raging fire that usually haunted her sleep. Instead she felt as though the prince was calling her new name in a gentle voice.