Chapter Seven: The Harvest Festival, the Exhibition Match, and the Fall Banquet

This year, the Gracis harvest festival would span an entire week across the whole country, with important guests visiting from neighboring nations. The capital in particular was very lively even on the event’s very first day. The main thoroughfare was decorated with stalls on both sides, with opportunistic merchants hoping to make some easy money off festivalgoers with loosened purse strings.

The merchants were especially pushing wares imported from the Principality of Parche. As tariffs were lowered for the duration of the festival, rare specialities from Parche were being sold at a lower price than usual, attracting customers who were already in high spirits from the celebration.

Herscherik, too, was currently entranced by a handcrafted item hanging from the roof of a stall. Colorful strings were woven into a net inside a ring, and the object was decorated with feathers, detailed lace, bells, and glass. There were also more expensive versions featuring gems and crystals. They were each carefully made by hand, and Herscherik had never seen anything like this in Gracis before. The seller called it a “windcatcher of fortune,” and claimed that hanging it by a window would bring the owner luck

Herscherik was particularly taken by one windcatcher featuring crimson and blue feathers, which he bought on the spot and decided to hang in his own room. Ao would later explain with an awkward look on his face that windcatchers were traditionally made by birdmen. Herscherik was excited by the realization that, while Gracis had nominally cut off all contact with non-humans, they could still share their crafts by importing goods through Parche.

Elsewhere on the main thoroughfare and the square, street performers were attracting happy laughs from people of all ages. Foreign dancers twirled to a cheerful rhythm, while traveling troupes presented popular plays on a stone stage in the square. The festivalgoers were all enjoying the celebration in their own ways.

The most highly anticipated event of the first day was the Games of Contest that were held in the castle training grounds. Everyone from locals to foreigners, commoners to royals had gathered in the arena as they waited for the Games to commence. As the clock struck noon, the band’s lively fanfare reverberated through the arena, and the king of Gracis, Solye, announced the start of the games.

Herscherik glanced around the arena as he listened to his father’s speech, which was being amplified with wind magic. The Games of Contest were held twice a year, and it was an occasion for soldiers and knights to show off the result of all their hard practice. As the public was not normally allowed inside the castle, this opportunity to see behind the palace walls had the visitors immensely excited.

In addition, this year’s Games of Contest were to be held on the first day of the harvest festival, and they had invited key figures from other countries. As word on the street was that the exhibition match would feature the renowned Twilight Knight, this year’s Games had attracted an even larger audience than usual.

The members of the royal family, including Herscherik, had been given seats with a good view of the center of the arena, and next to them were seats reserved for guests from other countries. The rest of the arena was open seating, and it was currently packed to the brim with people.

Meanwhile, the customary underground gambling that normally went on during the Games of Contest was strictly policed this year on an order from above, out of concern for the foreign visitors.

It’s so hot... I hope no one comes down with a heat stroke...

Herscherik maintained his business smile as he suffered in the heat. Just as Kurenai had said before, it was a cloud free day, and with it came a high temperature. With how densely the arena was packed, it would have been no surprise if someone fell sick from the heat.

The opening performance, however, would put Herscherik’s fears to rest. As the king’s speech concluded, the master of ceremonies called four people up to the stage. Three of them possessed faces so alike that they could only be distinguished by their different hairstyles; they were the triplets of the Gracis royal family. The fourth person to take the stage was a Spellcaster so beautiful that his master would say his beauty transcended gender—Weiss.

Wow, Shiro looks really annoyed... Herscherik thought as he observed the Spellcaster’s blatantly irritated expression.

Shiro had a bad case of misanthropy—though according to Herscherik it was not distaste but fear that caused him to act so menacingly toward other people. Even his sour expression, though, couldn’t disguise his goddess-like beauty, and mesmerized gasps could be heard from the audience as he came into view. Of course, this only served to worsen his mood further.

As he knew that Shiro did not appreciate being at the center of attention, Herscherik had originally planned to turn his brothers’ proposal down, but Shiro himself had accepted after giving the matter a bit of thought—greatly surprising Herscherik. Still, even a forced smile was still too much to expect of the Spellcaster in a circumstance like this.

The triplets each walked out to one edge of the stage, forming an equilateral triangle. Each of them stood roughly twenty paces apart. In the center of this triangle, Shiro began to recite an incantation. His white hair started fluttering and glowing a pale blue as bands of light containing magical formulas danced around him. The audience fell speechless at the wonder unfolding before their eyes. Someone in attendance even began to whisper his moniker—the Haloed Spellcaster. Though it had been spoken quietly, the name still traveled far in the otherwise silent arena.

As the audience continued to watch, Shiro cast the spell he had been preparing, creating a barrier large enough to envelop the whole arena. At the same time, an enormous orb of water appeared in the air above the stage. The audience cheered at the impressive feat of casting two large-scale spells at once, but that was not the end of the opening performance.

Next, Cecily, Arya, and Reinette began to recite an incantation in unison. The matching bracelets—magical devices—they wore on their arms reacted to their spell, and light green bands of formulas enveloped them. When the triplets finished reciting the incantation, it conjured a strong wind that blew around them. The wind rose up toward the orb of water, making it dance and scattering droplets through the air. The audience was greeted by the fantastical sight of a rainbow forming above their heads. The onlookers let out gasps of amazement—but that was still not the end of the show.

Shiro once again started to recite an incantation before swinging his arm as if cutting through the air horizontally, causing the droplets to transform into ice butterflies that fluttered through the air around the audience before dissipating—lowering the temperature in the area a few degrees in the process, making it much more comfortable. Since a barrier had been erected around the arena, it would maintain this cooler temperature for some time.

After the sight of water, light, and butterflies of ice dancing through the air inspired a stunned silence, an applause so thunderous that it threatened to rupture the earth broke out. The four performers took a bow before walking off the stage, but the applause continued.

There were three kinds of people who were watching them leave the stage: those who cheered out of genuine amazement; those who knew about the performance in advance and breathed a sigh of relief after it concluded without a hitch; and finally, those who were unable to hide their astonishment at the magical feat that they had just witnessed.

Anyone with any amount of magical knowledge was both astonished and full of dread after witnessing the opening performance. One single Spellcaster had erected a barrier large enough to envelop the entire arena before transforming another person’s spell from water droplets to butterflies of ice—and apparently without breaking a sweat. And on top of that, there was the triplets’ combination magic, which had been many times more powerful than a normal spell.

Combination magic was being researched in most countries on the continent, but it had a very low chance of success. Even the triplets, who possessed telepathy between themselves and whose Magic had very similar properties, had initially only succeeded about once in every ten attempts. After Shiro had joined their research, they had managed to nearly triple that rate.

Their performance today was made possible by the fact that they’d focused on their speciality, wind magic, and that they’d had Shiro’s support. In addition, even if they had failed, they’d planned for Shiro to make it at least look as though they’d succeeded.

Will sure has some pretty dirty tricks up his sleeve...

Herscherik shot a glance at his siblings nearby and found his normally expressionless second oldest brother—seemingly a little more relaxed now that he was surrounded by family on all sides—looking down at the stage with feigned ignorance.

To ignorant onlookers, it must have simply looked like a marvelous stage show. But to those who had come from abroad to assess the current state of Gracis, it must have felt like a preemptive show of force, Herscherik thought.

This performance was only possible thanks to Shiro and the triplets, but the guests had no way of knowing that. While they may not believe that Gracis was in the possession of many Spellcasters on par with Shiro, the magical devices that assisted the triplets’ combination magic were a different story. Magical research was generally treated as classified information, and the more valuable the research, the harder a nation would work to ensure that it wasn’t leaked. As no one would suspect that top secret research would be unveiled in a stage show like this, with so many important foreign dignitaries present, the obvious assumption would be that such devices were just that unremarkable to the people of Gracis. The minds of the guests inevitably drifted toward thoughts of what could happen if these items were to be used as weapons of war.

Of course, the audience was sitting a good distance from the stage, and it would have been impossible to recreate the devices just by observing them from afar—and knowing Shiro, the barrier magic he used at the very start must have also contained formulas that would interfere with other magic, including anything that could be used to gather information about the items.

Gracis had placed their bets on these foreign dignitaries imagining the worst, their own assumptions becoming a greater deterrent than anything Gracis could do. Besides, their magical research was progressing daily, and had only accelerated further after the magic nerd Shiro joined the effort. Perhaps the day when all Spellcasters in Gracis were equipped with magical devices for combination magic would come sooner than expected.

Herscherik applauded his brother in his head for his incredible predictions and planning.

After the show, Shiro went to stand next to Herscherik. The prince gave him a sympathetic thanks for all of his hard work, but Shiro only gave him a grouchy glance in return and mumbled that it hadn’t been particularly hard at all—though Herscherik knew that he was only trying to hide his embarrassment.

The opening performance of the Games of Contest had concluded, and it was now time for the exhibition match.

“Herscherik, they’re up on the stage now.”

“Tessily...” Herscherik responded to his brother.

Just as Tessily had said, two knights had taken their place on the stage alongside the announcer. Herscherik and Tessily stood up.

Oran was wearing his white knights’ uniform. The white outfit paired well with his twilight-colored hair, and shrill cheers could be heard from the audience the moment he had appeared on stage.

Next to Oran was his opponent for the match—Tessily’s knight of service. He was a tall man in his thirties with his long black hair tied back and a fierce look on his face. He was also wearing a knights’ uniform, though instead of white, his clothing was an indigo blue so dark it almost looked black.

Oran almost looks kind of puny next to him...

It was perhaps inevitable for Herscherik to think so. As someone who made sure to work out every day, Oran had what Herscherik would have called an “athletic” build in his previous life. Tessily’s knight of service, on the other hand, was all muscle, so Oran couldn’t help but look weak in comparison. Additionally, Tessily’s knight had a different air about him than people from Gracis. Herscherik recalled his brother mentioning that he had come from an island nation across the sea, far to the east of Gracis.

Herscherik saw his knight of service bow toward him, waved back, and then turned to his brother.

“Tessily, where did you come across that knight of yours?” Herscherik asked.

“Huh? You mean Tatsu?”

“Tatsu?”

“Yeah, I think his full name was, uh... Tatsunojo? So I call him Tatsu.”

Tatsunojo? That name sounds like something straight out of a Japanese historical drama. Maybe the Land of the Sun is similar to Japan during the Edo period, Herscherik thought. He certainly does seem like he’d look good in traditional Japanese clothing.

Herscherik then pictured Tatsu wearing exactly that and nodded satisfactorily. When playing dating sims in his previous life, he’d often found himself going after hot mature side characters over the primary love interest.

“I adopted Tatsu, you see,” Tessily explained, dragging Herscherik back from his fantasies.

“Huh?” Herscherik was so surprised he froze halfway through the process of sitting down. The way his brother described it, it was as if he’d adopted a stray dog. Tessily just shrugged in response.

“Yeah, in a port town I visited. I was watching him, thinking how beefy he looked and how he kind of had this air about him, when he suddenly collapsed right before my eyes. I couldn’t just leave him, and he said he was starving so I got him something to eat. Then we spoke a bit, and he told me that he didn’t have a job. I needed a temporary bodyguard, so things just came together from there... A good find, if I do say so myself,” Tessily explained cheerfully.

Herscherik collapsed onto his seat with a sigh. He’d been a bit worried about his brother, but then he realized that he’d first come across Kuro as the former spy was in the process of infiltrating the castle, so Herscherik didn’t have much room to talk.

“Oh, it looks like it’s about to start!” Tessily exclaimed.

Herscherik turned his gaze back to the arena. The announcer left the stage, and Oran and Tatsu faced each other.

“I look forward to sparring with you, Tatsu,” Oran said as he gave Tatsu a light bow, drawing his sword from his sheath. The sword was blunted to ensure that it wouldn’t inflict any fatal wounds, although it was still very much capable of breaking bones with a properly landed hit.

“Aye. Let us fight with valor, my good Sir Octa.”

Tatsu’s slightly odd way of speaking was proof that he did not come from this continent.

When the hero St. Ferris united the world in the distant past, so were the languages of the world unified. However, a few generations after the death of Ferris, the Land of the Sun turned isolationist by decree from the Divine Princess, and as a result, their language started drifting apart from the rest of the world. Though the two languages had much in common, there were many differences in pronunciation and the meaning of certain words. Oran had been told that this had caused Tatsu a great deal of difficulty when he’d first arrived on the continent. He particularly struggled with pronouncing names, and after a few attempts at saying Oran’s, he gave up on account of being unable to pronounce the “v” in “Octavian.” Tatsu had even apologized profusely, ultimately frustrated by his failure.

His earnestness had left a good impression on Oran, though, who was also greatly interested in Tatsu’s technique and skill. They had crossed swords a number of times in preparation for the Games of Contest, and though they had never gone all-out, it was clear that Tatsu was an accomplished warrior. Whenever he took up his sword, he would fall utterly silent, never letting his guard down—only to release a flurry of attacks that flashed like a rain of fire the moment either of them started moving. They were both fully aware that neither of them had displayed their full strength during their preparation matches.

Tatsu bowed and assumed his stance. He did not unsheathe his sword, as the style he practiced emphasized drawing your sword and attacking in one smooth motion. Neither of them moved—or rather, neither of them could move—even as the signal to start the fight rang out across the arena. The tense atmosphere could be felt all the way from the audience, who fell silent.

A chill ran down Oran’s spine as he felt exhilaration welling up inside him. His opponent was skilled, and facing a strong fighter was the greatest joy any warrior could experience.

Oran had escaped the jaws of death on a number of occasions—his battle with the drugged templars, the charge toward the supreme commander during the confrontation with the Empire. He still vividly remembered the exhilaration and tension he had felt then. Now, his expectations exceeded even what he’d felt on those occasions, and they were all focused on the warrior in front of him.

Oran was the first one to make his move, raising his sword and charging right at Tatsu. The moment Oran drew close, Tatsu unsheathed his sword; it did not cross paths with Oran’s, though, as he’d stopped the moment he saw Tatsu draw his blade. Oran swiftly evaded Tatsu’s strike, which missed him by a hair’s breadth, and once again closed in on Tatsu.

Tatsu, meanwhile, raised his sword and set his sights on Oran’s head before bringing the weapon down again. Oran fended off the blow with his sword and lunged for Tatsu’s now unguarded torso. Tatsu calmly jumped back to dodge the attack, putting some distance between himself and his opponent.

It was a rapid series of attacks and counter-attacks that left no time for anyone to catch their breath. When the flurry of blows died down for a short moment, the audience took the opportunity to loudly cheer. Nevertheless, the two combatants were deaf to the sound, and Tatsu quickly launched his next attack at Oran, which Oran parried. The two swords clashed together with a loud clang, sending sparks flying. The pair traded blows, shifting from offense to defense as they nimbly leapt across the stage.

But just when the fight seemed as though it would go on forever, it came to an abrupt end. Oran feigned an opening in order to tempt Tatsu to attack—and Tatsu, fully aware of the ruse, thrust his sword toward Oran.

The two of them froze. Oran’s sword was frozen in the air just above Tatsu’s head, while Tatsu’s had stopped a split second away from piercing Oran’s torso. According to the rules, the match would stop if one opponent was unable to continue—for example, if either of them were disarmed—or if the referee deemed that one of the participants would have been unable to avoid a fatal blow. Of course, intentionally inflicting injury on one’s opponent was also an instant disqualification.

In this case, both combatants had stopped before landing blows that would have certainly been fatal, and neither would have been able to evade the other’s attack.

“This match is a draw!” the referee proclaimed as the two combatants sheathed their swords and bowed. They were then showered with cheers from the audience, who gave them a standing ovation for their performance. It had been a magnificent exhibition match.

The two of them then gave their respective masters a bow before finally exiting the stage. Some time later, they appeared by the royal family’s seats.

“Well done, Oran. You were great out there,” Herscherik said.

Oran nodded in response to Herscherik’s praise before turning his gaze toward Tatsu, who was talking with his master Tessily.

“Oran, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Herscherik asked, seeing his knight’s near lack of reaction. Oran quickly shook his head.

“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Oran gave his master a smile so as not to worry him, while he himself replayed the battle that had just unfolded in his head. They had been evenly matched, but in terms of actual fighting experience, his opponent had the upper hand; Oran had found it difficult to even come close to striking Tatsu in the second half of the fight. That was why, at the end of the match, Oran had intentionally pretended to let his guard down to invite his opponent to attack. Ultimately, though, the result had been a draw.

That, however, was only because it had been an exhibition match.

In an actual fight, I would have lost.

They had both been provided with swords for the fight, but the size and the weight of the weapons had not been much different from his own Divine Arms blessed by the Goddess of War. The so-called tachi that Tatsu wielded was narrower and longer than the swords they had used during the match. With real blades, Tatsu would have pierced his chest before Oran’s own sword would have reached Tatsu’s head. If the result had been a draw when Tatsu was using an unfamiliar weapon, then he would undoubtedly have won in a real fight.

“I guess I still have a lot to work on...”

He had not grown conceited, but having gained the nickname of the Twilight Knight, he may have gotten ahead of himself without realizing. In the grand scheme of things, he was inexperienced and still had much room for improvement. Were he to lose in a real battle, he would be exposing his master to danger. In the worst case scenario, Herscherik might even die.

I can’t let myself lose.

Oran clenched his fist tightly, ignoring the feeling of his nails digging into his palm. The pain would serve as a warning to himself.

The first day of the harvest festival concluded without a hitch, and the rest of the event went on in a similar fashion. During the celebration, the royals had managed to entertain their foreign guests while casually showing off the kingdom’s strength by steadily proceeding as planned. The Sixth Prince Tessily in particular had spent much of his time on his prodigal journeys—perhaps one might charitably call it studying abroad—in various countries; as a result, he was acquainted with many of the guests already. He would invite them for tea at noon, then join noble parties in the evening. Herscherik was amazed at how Tessily continued to entertain everyone with a smile, without letting a hint of his fatigue show.

Unlike his siblings, though, Herscherik was focused on enjoying the harvest festival to the fullest. During the day he would take Kurenai and Ao, as well as Kuro for protection on his brothers’ orders, to the castle town to visit the different stalls and enjoy all the various performances. The large crowd made it possible for Ao to come along without drawing attention to himself. Even Ao, as stoic as he usually was, widened his eyes slightly in astonishment at what must have been his first time seeing such a festival. They stopped by the usual fruit shop along the way, where Herscherik happily enjoyed the candied apples he had suggested before offering to help out at the shop.

Since he was physically only a child, he did not have to participate in the evening parties, though he was not allowed to help out at the fruit shop in the evenings either. Instead, he spent his evenings quietly in his own quarters. Though some of the guests from abroad had asked to meet with Herscherik, his older brothers had turned them down every time. Upon asking why, Herscherik had simply been ordered to rest, as he “always worked too hard.” He felt a bit guilty for taking it easy while his father and brothers were busy establishing diplomatic relations, but he took them at their offer and tried to enjoy the harvest festival the best he could.

Then came the final day of the festival, when a massive banquet for nobles, high-ranking officials, and important foreign visitors would be held. Even Herscherik, who otherwise would reject invitations with the excuse of being too young, was unable to escape this one.

Royal banquets were always held in the castle’s main hall, which was brimming with people clad in dazzling outfits. As it was a casual standing buffet, the tables were covered with all kinds of food, with waiters carrying drinks to the guests and an orchestra playing soothing music.

Then the orchestra stopped playing, and a man’s voice echoed through the hall.

“The 23rd King of Gracis, His Majesty Solye Gracis, will now make his appearance!”

Immediately after, the doors above the spiral staircase in the hall were thrown open. Someone in the hall sighed in wonder at the figure who appeared. Beneath the royal crown that had been passed down through generations was a long mane of flowing platinum hair and a face that still maintained its youthful beauty and allure, despite being past the age of forty, with kind emerald eyes. Dressed all in white with a royal red mantle on his shoulders, Solye greeted the guests with a smile.

“And next...”

After Solye came the crown prince Marx along with his mother, the First Queen Perla. Marx, who was often quietly referred to as the “Rose Prince,” escorted his mother forward. They both sported eyes and glossy hair reminiscent of the finest rubies.

The rest of the royal family then appeared one after another, descending the spiral staircase. First came William, who wore a smile so radiant he looked like a completely different person, and Eutel, who had also expertly concealed his true nature, along with their mother, the Second Queen. Then came the triplets and the Third Queen, followed by Tessily accompanied by his mother—a duke’s daughter, the Fourth Queen. Tessily’s mother was the granddaughter of the previous king’s sister. The Fifth Queen and her daughter, Meno were not present, as they were currently away from the capital while Meno underwent her treatment.

Finally, it was time for the person that all the foreign guests had been waiting for.

“The Seventh Prince, His Highness Prince Herscherik, will now make his appearance!”

Shortly after, four figures appeared. The first one to draw the crowd’s attention was a beautiful Spellcaster with long white hair, standing to the right of the figure in the center. He was wearing a white and blue robe indicating that he was quite skilled in magic. With a single smile he could have captured the hearts of everyone who saw him—young and old, men and women alike. Currently, though, he was furrowing his brow and looking rather displeased. But although his expression would be considered ill-mannered coming from most people, it was easy to overlook it from someone like him. Such was the extent of his beauty, that no one would dare comment on it.

To the left was a man with twilight-colored hair tied back at the nape of his neck, clad in a white knights’ uniform. With slightly downturned blue eyes, he had a gentle and sociable air. Despite his appearance, however, he had just the other day put his full strength on display during the Games of Contest. A sword hung from his hip, showing that he was the only person present other than the guards who was permitted to be armed. Someone who had a good eye for weapons might have noticed that the sword he carried was one of only ten such items that existed in the entire world.

Standing quietly behind them was a butler with carefully combed black hair, wearing a butler’s suit in the same sable color. Fading into the background like a shadow, his dark crimson eyes observed his surroundings vigilantly.

The onlookers could tell that the three men were, each in their own way, no ordinary people. Walking alongside these men was the person who had won the recent battle against the Atrad Empire with only twenty thousand soldiers against the one hundred thousand strong imperial army, and who had additionally expunged the minister who had long controlled the kingdom from the shadows—the person referred to as the Prince—or even the Hero—of Light. With golden hair that seemed to have been spun from pure sunlight and his father’s emerald eyes, he wore a fine blue outfit especially made for parties, and his mantle fluttered as he entered the hall.

“Is that the one they say defeated the empire?”

“That’s the Hero of Light? He really is just a child... and a young one at that!”

“They say the royal family are all breathtakingly beautiful, but...”

The moment Herscherik entered the hall, the foreign visitors all started whispering what was on their minds one after another, flooding the room with a rising murmur. Even these quiet whispers traveled far in the otherwise silent hall, and the more insulting comments especially stood out.

Herscherik couldn’t help but laugh internally. This was the first time the foreign guests had gotten a good look at him, and it was clear that they had built up an image of him in their heads after all this time that was far more impressive than reality.

He had defeated the Empire and saved the kingdom at the tender age of seven. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, but it was all true, and this fact had led people to gossip about his tremendous intellect and how he was the king’s favorite child out of all the beautiful members of the royal family. Anyone who had gotten a glimpse of the beauty of his father and siblings at the evening parties must have had their expectations set particularly high when it came to Herscherik. At the moment, though, the guests likely found themselves disappointed at how ordinary he looked in comparison.

Well, I guess that reaction makes sense...

Herscherik wasn’t particularly bothered about the guests getting their hopes up and subsequently crushed all on their own. He had already spent years fully aware of the fact that he was not on par with the other family members in terms of looks, nor did he avert his eyes from the fact that he had no particular talent of his own. He had never cared much about what others thought of him anyway. The only thing Herscherik was proud of was his men of service, who were far more talented than he deserved.

At the same time, the outfit he was wearing today had been carefully arranged by Kuro and his siblings, and even the queens had helped put it together. It was even more dazzling than usual but managed to avoid being gaudy. At a first glance, the outfit seemed quite subdued because of its muted color, but his mantle, coat, blouse, trousers, and even shoes were all made from the finest fabric by the most skilled artisan in the country. Gold and silver embroidery glittered in the light, indicating the tailor’s attention to detail. Anyone with an eye for fashion would know that the outfit was expensive enough to make your head spin.

They say the clothes make the man, and as Herscherik had put a good amount of effort into his appearance today, he had gotten his hopes up, if only a little. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at all that effort going to waste.

He glanced sideways to get a look at his men, only to immediately freeze up. Shiro was looking particularly irritated even for him; the normally gentle Oran was frowning; and Kuro’s forced smile seemed unusually frightening. Herscherik found himself more worried about them than usual. They must have heard the guests’ thinly veiled insults directed at their master.

This is why I said I wanted to make my entrance alone... Herscherik sighed at everything having gone as expected.

There were two reasons why these three, who were not members of the royal family, had appeared alongside Herscherik. The first was that there was no one else available. The king could appear alone without any issue, and Herscherik’s siblings all escorted their mothers, but Herscherik’s own mother had perished in childbirth. And though they couldn’t very well let a seven-year-old enter the hall all by himself, having Herscherik rather than the crown prince accompany the king could lead to bothersome speculation. And so, his gorgeous men of service were chosen to make his entrance a little more dramatic.

The second reason was to act as deterrence.

“If you bring your men of service, who’ve all accomplished impressive feats both during the battle with the empire and at the Games of Contest, you won’t have to worry about anyone even approaching you,” Marx had explained when Herscherik had stubbornly refused to take his men with him.

Everyone knew how Herscherik would come across to their foreign visitors. As a young child with no patrons, he would look like an easy target to exploit, and as the king’s favorite child who was wildly popular with the masses, he was, as they would say in Herscherik’s old world, “easy pickings.”

Of course, this was just the opportunistic thinking of people unaware of Herscherik’s true nature. Had anyone approached him with such nefarious intentions, the prince would have been more than ready to exploit them for all they were worth in return. However, that would still have posed a danger to Herscherik, which his family wanted to avoid, so his brothers intentionally distanced Herscherik from any diplomatic endeavors during the harvest festival. They also made sure to have his knight and Spellcaster show off their skill publicly to deter other countries from making a move.

Please, guys, just don’t blow a fuse... Herscherik pleaded with his gaze as he led his men down the spiral case and joined the row of royals, with his father in the middle.

“Thank you all for joining us this evening. I am pleased to see so many visitors from so far away.”

Solye began his speech. It was not intimidating in the least, instead simply expressing gratitude and sympathy for the guests, and he also conveyed his wishes for the future of his kingdom.

“Tonight is the final evening party of the harvest festival. I hope you all enjoy your time here,” Solye concluded.

After Solye finished his address, the orchestra started playing again. Solye took his place on the throne placed in the hall, where he exchanged greetings with nobles and foreign visitors. Marx and William attended to their father, and the other royals busied themselves with entertaining the guests—with the exception of Herscherik.

I’m just a child. I’ll just finish up what I need to and then leave. As someone not very fond of formal events, he was hoping to make his stay as short as he could get away with before excusing himself. He had no plans to establish friendships in a place like this, and leaving it all to his siblings seemed more advisable anyway. Not to mention he just found all of this a little bit tiresome.

But as much as he wished to leave, there was no lack of people who were hoping to get on his good side for their own gain. He could feel the burning gazes of the people around him as they looked for the right chance to strike up a conversation.

“Hersch, why don’t you eat something?” Oran suggested. He casually walked up to Herscherik as if to shield him from the surrounding gazes and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Herscherik took note of this, but chose not to mention it, simply nodding instead.

“Good idea. I’m in the mood for something hearty.”

“I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks, Kuro. Oh, and could you get some cake too?”

Kuro silently nodded as he went to fetch the food. Meanwhile, Herscherik, Oran and Shiro headed for a table in the corner of the hall. A few tried to seize this opportunity to approach Herscherik, but Oran’s glare and Shiro’s below-freezing glance forced them to withdraw before even attempting to speak to him.

After returning with plates of perfectly arranged food, Kuro briskly attended to his master who was enjoying the evening’s feast. As Herscherik’s men fended off anyone trying to get their hands on this golden goose, he could enjoy the meal in peace and quiet.

There was one man, however, who walked past that barricade as though it was nothing, and started speaking to Herscherik as he happily stuffed his face with the meat dishes, salad, bread, and cakes that Kuro had brought him.

“I hope you are well, Your Highness.”

It was the head of the Aldis family—Oran’s father, Roland. Oran himself, seemingly having given up trying to understand what his father was thinking, only sighed.

Roland Aldis possessed blazing red hair and an impressive build that, though he had long since retired as a general, was apparent even through his formal dress. He placed his right hand on his chest and greeted Herscherik with a brief respectful bow. Next to him stood his wife Anne, who greeted Herscherik with a curtsey; next to her, Oran’s younger sister Lillianne followed her mother’s example.

Anne possessed blonde hair reminiscent of ripe wheat which she had tied back for the evening, and she was wearing a gown that, although not ostentatious, was made from fine fabric. Her elegant smile completed the image of a model noblewoman.

Oran’s sister, Lillianne, had straight hair the same color as her father’s, long enough to reach the middle of her back. Her dress was on the plain side for a girl her age, but it too must have been made from fine material. Coupled with her discreet accessories, it gave her the impression of maturity beyond her years.

Meanwhile, since Oran’s two brothers were knights, they were both busy with work and unable to attend the banquet.

Herscherik stood up from his chair and greeted Roland with a bow.

“Marquis Aldis, thank you for coming all the way here. Madame Aldis and Lillianne too. Oran—I mean, Octavian—is always a tremendous help.”

“I’m just glad you’re finding some use for my idiot son. It’s not like he’s useful for anything other than fighting. Feel free to work him to the bone.”

“Father...”

Roland ignored his son’s glare. Herscherik couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter, causing Oran to shift his glare to his master instead. Herscherik quickly changed the subject to escape Oran’s criticizing glance.

“Marquis Aldis, how is the orphanage coming along?”

“Everything is proceeding smoothly. We should be ready next year as planned.”

Herscherik breathed a sigh of relief in response.

The Aldis house ran the Armin orphanage in the castle town. It had originally belonged to the late Baron Armin, but on Herscherik’s request, the Aldis house had taken over after the baron had gotten himself involved in one of the Church’s plots and was tragically killed as a result. Most of the children who lived there had no relatives, or were unable to live with their family for other reasons.

All orphans had to leave the orphanage once they reached a certain age, but if they were simply released into society with no relatives or education, all that awaited them was a life of hardship, full of people ready to exploit their miserable circumstances. Those unable to bear such a life would inevitably turn to crime.

Thus, Herscherik had asked Roland to provide the children at the orphanage with an education—including reading, writing, mathematics, and general knowledge. If the children so wished, they could also learn about etiquette, sword fighting, and other more advanced topics.

The orphans were already keenly aware of their situation, and as such, they gave much thought to what was needed to survive and worked hard to achieve it together. They took great interest in their studies and were quick to absorb new knowledge, and Roland and Anne readily provided the children with everything they wanted, even going so far as hiring private tutors and investing in books and supplies.

This had continued for a number of seasons until Roland approached Herscherik to discuss something. The marquis had explained how the children wanted the opportunity to further their studies even more. Herscherik’s idea was to give the orphans a chance to take the entrance exam for the royal academy. The academy already had a scholarship system and would waive the tuition for promising students on the condition that they worked for the government after graduating. Even those who did not become officials would have no problem finding a job and paying back their tuition as graduates from the academy.

For commoners to apply to the academy, though, not only did they need the academic skills to pass the entrance exam, they also needed the recommendation of someone with a noble rank. In addition, while the academy ostensibly had regulations demanding equal treatment for everyone regardless of background, in practice discrimination based on social status was common. Even if someone were to earn the sponsorship of a noble, pass the test, and enroll in the academy, they would have a difficult time ahead of them as a commoner—especially if they were an orphan as well.

Herscherik had no intention of rejecting the class system outright, but he thought that an obsession with social status could result in overlooking precious talent, which would be a net negative to the state.

Next year, Herscherik—whose mother was a commoner—would enroll in the academy, and he thought that this could be just the chance they needed. By making use of his own special status, he would attempt to change the minds of the people, starting with his own generation. To that end, he needed a volunteer from the orphanage to enroll along with him. As part of that, the Aldis family became the legal guardians of the orphans there and began teaching those who wished to apply what they needed to know for the entrance exam.

Roland was explaining that it looked as though they would make it in time for the next academic year.

“Any volunteers?”

Roland responded with a number of names—among which, to Herscherik’s surprise, was one he recognized.

“Vivi... She volunteered?”

“I’ll protect you, Prince Herscherik, when I see you again!” So Vivi had said when she abandoned her status as young noble lady. She was trying to keep her promise.

But though she may have cut her ties to her family, she was still the daughter of the nefarious Volf Barbosse. It wasn’t hard to see that she might be treated even worse than the other orphans as a result. Of course, she was smart enough to realize herself what a thorny path she had ahead of her, but even so, she was sticking to her words and relentlessly forging ahead.

Seeing Herscherik fall quiet, Roland narrowed his eyes, but he opted not to say anything more. Instead, he excused himself and left with his family in tow.

Herscherik gazed out at the hall as he finished his meal and sipped on the tea Kuro had prepared. As he did, another man approached Herscherik, ignoring the glares of the prince’s men just as Roland had. Seeing the man, Herscherik quickly glanced behind him at Kuro, who nodded as the prince stood up from his seat.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming all the way here,” Herscherik greeted the man, who respectfully bowed in response.

“It’s an honor to be given an opportunity to not only behold the Hero of Light, but to even talk to him.” The sun-weathered man, who looked like the very definition of a man of the sea, responded with a grin.

The sun had set, and stars were glittering in the sky. A man had exited the hall to a garden outside in order to rest off his drunken dizziness. He staggered through the garden alone, with no attendant to assist him. His name was Thomas Rosseholm, the second son of the Rosseholm family, one of the ten most influential houses of Felvolk. He belonged to a prestigious family, and after graduating from the military academy of Felvolk second in his class, he’d enlisted in the army. As an up-and-coming officer, he had been given the mission to visit Gracis as a representative of Felvolk in order to investigate the kingdom’s internal affairs.

I’m drunk... I drank way too much...

He held his head, which throbbed with a dull pain, and massaged his temple as he continued through the garden. He already knew full well that he was a lightweight, but he had been unable to decline the offers of delicious fruit wine from the Sixth Prince who had invited him here. The combination of the prince’s skillful encouragement and the high alcohol content of the wonderful wine had made him drunk in no time. He’d eventually stepped out into the garden to cool his head.

He walked down the garden path, paved with white slabs illuminated by the faint light of the streetlights, and sat down on a nearby bench with a sigh—though not because of the headache that was tormenting him.

Well, they don’t call it the most powerful country on the continent for nothing. I thought things would be more unstable, but if they are, it certainly doesn’t show. I guess a bit of rot isn’t enough to shake the foundations of a kingdom of this size.

What had once been called the Kingdom in Woe by neighboring countries seemed to have turned over a new leaf. The minister who had controlled the country in secret was dead, and the country was back in the hands of the royal family—and the royal family was far from inept.

The magic they showed off during the opening performance of the Games of Contest, the skill of the knights and soldiers who participated in the Games, the financial power to keep such a large festival going for a week, and the close bond between the members of the royal family and their loyal subjects. Even if it was only a temporary thing for appearance’s sake, the fact that they were able to pull all this off to begin with spoke volumes about the power of this great nation.

If we make a move without being careful, it’ll probably come back to bite us.

Thomas’ aim had been to investigate the internal affairs of the kingdom and, if possible, sow seeds of unrest in order to sabotage the kingdom from within. But it was now the final day of the festival, and he had still not been able to execute his plan.

At this rate, I’ll...

Thomas audibly ground his teeth. He had to avoid returning home to Felvolk with nothing to show for himself. This visit had been an opportunity for a promotion.

Suddenly, the rustling of leaves interrupted his train of thought. As it was a windless night, he looked in the direction and noticed a figure in the shadow of a nearby tree.

“Who goes there?”

He instinctively clutched the knife he had hidden in his clothes. Though weapons were forbidden at the party, the invited guests did not have their belongings inspected, so while anything as obvious as a sword was out of the question, it was still possible to smuggle in something small enough to hide in a pocket.

The figure slowly approached him, and when the dark shape was close enough to be illuminated by a streetlight, Thomas widened his eyes in surprise.

“You’re...!”

The figure laid one finger across lips that curled into a pleasant smile, signaling Thomas to keep quiet.

Tatsu had snuck out of the banquet and was walking down a dark, empty corridor. His master, Tessily, had dismissed him for the day. At first he had insisted that he couldn’t simply leave his master and go rest by himself, but with time the hall had filled up with the smell of liquor, and as he abstained from alcohol himself, Tatsu had felt more and more sick by the minute. Seeing this, Tessily had all but ordered him to leave.

He’d returned to his room and changed out of his knights’ uniform into his usual kimono before leaving the room again. He planned to work off his sick feeling with some sword practice.

Tatsu was not particularly worried about having left his master alone in the hall. This was Tessily’s own homeland, and they were inside the castle at that. No one who possessed any sense at all would even think to try and harm him here. Besides, Tessily was an expert at dealing with people. Faced with even the most antagonistic individuals, he would easily lead them by the nose with his bright smile and conversational skills, fooling them into happily divulging state secrets. By the time they realized what had happened, the festival would already be over.

But truly, the world is vast. Tatsu sighed as he compared Gracis to his own country. It was unheard of for so many people to gather in one place and directly speak to the monarch where he was from. Even the heads of the twelve noble lineages only very rarely received word directly from the Divine Princess. The world is vast, and many a mighty warrior calleth it home. That lad is among their number.

He thought back to the man with twilight-colored hair that he had fought during the exhibition match. He was young and supposedly inexperienced, yet he was skilled enough to force Tatsu, who had emerged victorious from many a battlefield, to bring his full strength to bear.

“Please spar with me again—or rather, teach me your ways,” the red-haired man had asked, lowering his head without hesitation. Tatsu had been impressed not only by his skill, but also his drive to improve no matter what stood in his way. After that, they had met up on occasion to practice together, and the man had improved at an astounding rate.

How eager I am to see this to its conclusion.

Battles against a powerful opponent were the highlights of his warrior life, but it was also important for him to pass down his own techniques. Tatsu was very interested to see just how strong this new pupil of his would become as he devoted himself to training and gained more and more practical experience.

Without meaning to, Tatsu found himself smiling. He then glanced behind him and noticed a black-haired man standing there. The man was carrying a tray, likely intended for his own master, on which a jug of water and drinking glasses were placed.

Is that not my master’s younger brother’s...

Despite young Prince Herscherik’s adorable appearance, Tatsu had sensed something unfathomable in him, and the men in his service—including the man he had fought—all stood out from the crowd. The man currently in front of him had particularly caught his attention, as pure black hair was a rare sight on this continent.

“Thou art...”

The man—Kuro—turned his gaze toward Tatsu upon hearing him speak. Tatsu recognized his face from somewhere, and upon seeing his dark ruby eyes, he became convinced of his identity.

“Thou art a child of the moon and shadows, art thou not?”

Kuro froze. As expressionless as a doll, he suddenly held a number of knives in his hands as he dashed soundlessly toward Tatsu. Paying no heed to the crash of glass shattering and a tray hitting the ground behind him, Kuro thrust a knife straight toward Tatsu’s face. Tatsu just barely dodged, grabbed Kuro’s arm, and attempted to calm him.

“I, too, have been exiled from his lands. I will do thee no harm, nor shall I reveal thy secret. I swear thus upon my blade and my soul.”

After a moment of contemplating Tatsu’s words in silence, Kuro relaxed and lowered his knife. Tatsu in turn released Kuro.

“Nevertheless, thou must be cautious. Thy master is that very fledgling, is he not?”

Kuro’s shoulders jerked in response, but Tatsu simply continued.

“Thine eyes are precious indeed. They shall not let the bearer of such a treasure slip through their fingers so easily. And they care not what means they must employ to reach their ends.”

If they had to, they would take the life of a child—even a prince—without hesitation.

“Furthermore...”

Tatsu brought his mouth close to Kuro’s ear and whispered, at which Kuro’s eyes went wide.

“Now, I shall take my leave.”

With Kuro paralyzed in shock behind him, Tatsu faded into the night.