Chapter Text
「Chapter 1 — The Fools of Ederania」
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The King of Ederania brought back a child after one of his expeditions. Or so the news suggests. This was a threat to his children. They did not welcome a new child into the family, no more, their rankings.
The lesser children, already inferior, fell deeper into their self-doubting and the indomitable thirst to conquer. The more regarded and beloved children have found this kind of news to be a bit...distasteful. It simply didn't sit well with their golden appetite.
What is the king's goal here? It was what whispered in the minds of curious people. The royal court has gone through private discussions, debating his motive. The queen, too, pondered so. The concubines were already in a blaze of schemes, as well. Yet, the most outraged of them all was said queen's son.
"Iraeyas." The king regarded the crown prince as his steady footsteps echoed heavily in the throne room. He was his first child who came from the queen's womb.
With hair darker than rust, and blue eyes with a dangerous riveting glint, Crown Prince Iraeyas was a force to be reckoned with, even at the young age of only 13. He adopted the tyranny of the king, and though it was blooming to a small bud, his wrath was surely hotter than the scorching sun's.
For now, it was at bay.
The king sat on his throne with his head held high and the crown glowing radiantly over his dark hair. There were tresses of silver strung about from his ageing self, but his eyes remain youthful.
Upon the red carpet was the crown prince, the eldest and his first among the twelve. "You dare to look into my eyes with scorn?" The king gritted, his hand curling up into a fist as he held his staff. The prince didn't waver. It only grew a smile on his face. It wasn't to fool his father, to be truthful. He smiled to bite his tongue–a rising anger was making it difficult for him to speak and show respect to the king.
"...How pathetic." Said the king, loosening his grip. He saw the prince armed with his prized sword and glared.
"Father." He said with a shaky breath. Slowly, he fell to his knees and lowered his head. "I greet the king, the endless sun of Ederania." The prince added and chewed his lips.
"I have come here for a small inquiry. According to the servants, they speak of a boy you returned with after your excursion beyond the Death Hills. They simply can't keep their mouths shut that I just..." Prince Iraeyas spoke with rising and sinking tones of uncertainty, and that obvious hint of inferiority wasn't helping his case.
He then fell quiet as to wait for the king's answer.
When there was none, he silently released a chuckle. "Well, I took the matters into my own hands and sliced their nasty tongues. Now, this blood has stained my fine sleeves... I can not believe them unless you, Father, confirm so. It is utterly ridiculous, I must say. Why in the world would the king show signs of unnecessary sympathy for a possibly defective little orphan? Blasphemy, I will add."
The king's eyebrows further frowned into a furious expression. "Prince Iraeyas, dare I say it is indeed true, what will your next act be?" He challenged. The old man rose from his throne and marched downstairs to face his son. Prince Iraeyas, who still hadn't seen his face, saw the shadow approach and veil his figure.
"Raise your head." He demanded.
The prince did as he was told.
The king was met with his son's already unstable character. Iraeyas' pupils were as small as the pricks of a needle.
"I would kill him." Without another beat, he declared.
"I will find him. The servants are far too slippery with their mouths, you see. Father, you're hiding him in the West Palace, I heard." Prince Iraeyas blinked.
"I will hunt him down with my sword. I will trek to that mountain, and if any measly staff member approach me with my intentions in the West Palace, I will have their heads collected to be fed to our horses. Until I find that damned boy, I—"
A slap was able to silence him.
The king striked him in the face in a swift motion. "My, you truly have gone the same path as I was in my youth. Despicable language of a prince, I must say. Is this what a child of Ederania's future represents?" He spat and retrieved his hand.
Prince Iraeyas clutched his cheek. The blood rushed to that spot until it reddened. A stinging sensation clotted his senses, and his crazed eyes fell into a dark frown. "..." He glared at his father. An unknown light came into his blue pupils.
"You speak of that boy again like this, I will not hesitate to throw you and the queen out." The king threatened. He then climbed up the stairs and perched beneath the flag of Ederania with a disappointed sneer at his son.
"Iraeyas, you may leave."
With a pained scoff, he rose to his feet and shot a glare at any eyes that looked at him. The guards let him through, and subtly stealing glances the prince. Their breaths were surely held until the crown prince left their sights.
Prince Iraeyas let go of his cheek. His palm stretched out in his view, watching his hand tremble out of control. In a fit, it became a fist and slammed it against a wall. He left a dent on the wooden board, but he couldn't care.
His reflection stared back at him from the dull reflection of the windows Ederania's Central Palace.
Rage.
Maybe it was unbefitting of a prince to be reigned around by meaningless anger.
"Tch." Iraeyas clicked his tongue and continued to walk. He had no particular direction in mind, but he wanted to go somewhere that could clear his mind. Somewhere that he can pour out that urge of hurting someone.
Yes, perhaps he should head to the training grounds for a spar with his brother. It will cool off his head, at least for a while. He needed a distraction to suppress a storm.
But who?
The only one who was on par with him was—
"Leonatius." He uttered quietly.
He stared off into the distance beyond the halls, and saw one of the children, Leonatius, outside slicing the air repeatedly with a practice sword made of dark, sturdy wood. The poor dummy was left as a bushy mess of straws on the dirt. The straw dummy was almost begging for its suffering to be over.
The crown prince disappeared off into the halls and had one thing in mind: whoever that boy the king was hiding shall be slain by his hands. It simply felt right. He was the crown prince, after all.
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Princess Lisivangel would be in a similar dilemma.
She was awoken by her young servants who were close to her age. They tattled to her about the word spreading, already in a frenzy as the young princess only nodded—she was half-awake but still wanted to drift back to sleep.
She was lifted gently by the arms and was forced to sit up.
"Your Highness, Your Highness! Please awaken, we have something crucial to inform you with!" Said one girl, holding the princess' hand. "Yes, Your Highness. The head maid pleaded us not to spill this to the others, but surely, you are an exception. If you would please listen for a moment, Letta here told us that the king returned last night with a child." Another explained.
A girl nodded, aiding to the princess and led her to her vanity mirror, and immediately began to brush her hair. "And how did this become much more important than my sleep? The dream I was having was interesting, too. What a waste for it to be interrupted..." The princess finally spoke with a gentle yawn. The young servants eyed one another nervously.
Princess Lisivangel was the second eldest child of the king. She was birthed by the first concubine and one of the two only neutral concubines of Ederenia's current monarch. Lisivangel was, to say the least, a young girl who finds beauty of utter importance. She saw it as a beam of light—a key to winning second place against the crown prince.
Second place. What a frustrating number.
Princess Lisivangel was a young girl, yes. But her beauty was known throughout the nations as a blessing of the heavens. Her skin was smooth and white as day, and she had a rosy complexion that left an impression of lingering youth. Her hair, too, had a resemblance of snow. Like a dancing wave of winter, it cascaded down to her waist and was wispy like a cloud. Her eyes were, of course, blue like her father's.
Though she is young, she built herself into a threat. Like a beautiful, enticing flower in the sea of ugly, putrid flowers.
"... I have nothing to say about the dream, I've... forgotten what happened." She said with obvious boredom. Her tone was airy and light, but this one in particular, she spoke in a dead manner.
"I am assured the boy will be a new addition to the staff. Father has strange choices in his way of hiring more men into the palace."
The servant shook her head. "Kaslaer, that little butler fool drew this while he was supposed to be attending to Prince Kael, but he had the nerve to join the gawking."
...? The princess nodded along, letting the others pamper her with cosmetics.
"Well, Kaslaer was caught slacking off earlier. The head maid scolded him, and we saw that he was sketching a portrait. Again." Sighed the young servant. "Honestly, why did he apply for the butler position if he's only to going busy himself with art? If he likes art, then why didn't he follow his brother's footstep!? That idiot..."
Lisivangel chuckled softly. "Castier, must you speak this much so early in this fine morning? Can't you just admit you admire the butler?" She teased, earning a gasp from Castier. The others giggled and watched as Castier pouted.
"You see? Even her Highness is aware. Can't you be a dear and tell him already?" Urged Fergoscia, jumping up and down with her hand still intertwined with the princess. "..." Lisivangel blinked nervously as her arm swung up and down.
"Enough, you girls. Apologies, Castier. Will you continue?" She asked, glancing at the red-haired servant with a smile.
"O-of course! Shut up, you four! A-anyway... I-I snuck into his cupboards and fou—Don't give me that look!—I found this." Castier took a piece of paper from her pockets and unfolded it. "As I was saying, it's only a sketch. But Kaslaer here drew that boy when he saw him." She showed the princess and waited for her response.
"He's rather dirty..." said Theris with a pitiful look. "That's because His Majesty came from the Death Hills' slums..." Deadpanned Castier. "Ah." Nodded Theris.
They all eyed the paper as charcoal pen outlined the body with the scrawny appearance of a timid and messy haired boy. He must have had a few bruises from the gray smudges. Though it was unfinished, Kaslaer was a fast artist.
"But, my. This is what the boy looks like? He may look dirty, but, oh! He is quite—"
"He's beautiful." The princess spoke.
The servants wanted to be their usual cheery selves, but the look on Lisivangel's face was anything but kind.
Her eyes were wide as teacups, and her brows were jutting frustratedly. Her lips were stretched as she bit hardly on to it. The piece of paper slowly crumpled on in her grasp, and it scared mostly Castier.
She reached for the princess before she could lash out. "Your Highness? May I have it back?" She asked quietly. The others quivered beside her, wondering if they should have been more careful with their words.
"..." Lisivangel was silent, staring at the drawing with full bloomed hatred. Soon enough, she returned the sketch to Castier.
The awkward moment of nothing but silence was unnerving. The beat of Lisivangel's clock in the corner, Fergoscia, who brushed her hair, and the faint music that was playing downstairs in the banquet room. It wasn't comforting for the fact that, for the first time—
"Girls. I will stay here for now. Would all of you leave my chambers?" The next second, Princess Lisivangel spoke with a now sweet voice again. The others perked up and nodded.
Quickly, they placed the princess' belongings where it was right and patted Castier's shoulder to follow them. They walked right out with a deep bow. "Are you truly calm, Your Highness? If it is about the sketch, I will—"
"Castier."
Lisivangel's tone dropped into a dark, hushed tone. The young servant jolted from her feet and clutched her apron. "..." Her eyes fell to the floor.
"Please, I am as bright as every day! Now, go ahead. I can dress myself, yes?" Lisivangel pleaded, but her smile was strained as she faced Castier. "Now, will you?" She asked again. "I-I... I'm sorry, Your Highness... I shall leave as you said." She apologized, holding her breath.
Once the door clicked close, Lisivangel's face that was once pristine and lively was contorted into an expression of deep scorn. She felt blood pop onto her taste buds and savoured it as she glared into her reflection.
"That must be why my dream felt suffocating... What shall I do with that boy?"
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The Crown Prince and the 1st Princess were born from different mothers. Yet, they were alike in many aspects.
Iraeyas valued the throne, and bloodshed was his solution.
Lisivangel, too coveted the throne, and beauty was her sword.
Then, what of Princess Amerulia?
The 2nd Princess was the king's third child and was the 2nd concubine's daughter. The 2nd concubine had great taste in extravagance, but she was a sickly woman. Nowadays, she spends her days in her chambers with servants who do nothing all day but serve her bottles upon bottles of expensive wine.
Princess Amerulia thought of her own mother to be pathetic. So much so that the princess kept herself locked up in her room. She wasn't interested in the throne because she saw it as an inconvenience. Rather, her interests do lie on something much more tedious, albeit a powerful study took up her attention.
She had often rejected the royal lessons such as the teachers of what she accused was useless. Though, she welcomed a selected few teachers.
"Your Highness? Are you in there?" Called Laison.
He quickly regretted even coming near the princess' chambers, because the heavy aroma of something bitter entered his lungs. In a matter of seconds, he fell to his knees and began to cough out blood.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter…
He heaved and desperately tried to catch his breath, but the more he did, the worse the stretching pain in his throat spread. It pooled down to the stone floor, and stained the walls as he grew weaker and weaker.
Pitter-patter… pitter-patter…
He tried to reach for the door and confront the princess. However, the doors slammed open and flung his hand away. He gasped, eyes squinting at the figure in front of him.
His eyes were getting watery, yet at the same time, incredibly dry.
"Laison." Said a girl. She crouched forward and stared at the boy. "..." It was Princess Amerulia. Her experiment had failed and she was disappointed in herself for letting her only friend in the palace inhale something dangerous.
Her hair was as dark as the king's, though, it was perfectly curly and slept on her shoulders like smoke. Her eyes were as bright as emeralds, but it was as calm, or rather, deadly-looking. Her skin was ebony, and had freckles scattered all over her. For a princess, she was unlike her siblings in terms of claiming the throne and being crowned.
She was more interested in poisons. Or antidotes, like the one she suddenly shoved in Laison's mouth.
"Mmph—" Startled, the almond-haired boy quickly swallowed the liquid with a frightened, bloody expression.
"I'm sorry, Laison." Apologized the princess, inspecting the boy's state. He was pallid—sickly, possibly. It took him several moments to breathe normally, so Amerulia swung his arm on her shoulder and carefully walked further from her room to relieve him from the effects of the failed experiment.
I'll just clean up the blood later. She noted to herself. They sat outside the stairs where the wind surely had cooled Laison down. Color returned to his face and his coughing slowly lessened.
The Central Palace's south courtyard was a place where the main entrance was located, and there came carriages every other day to meet and talk business with the king. But only on the staircase, they already had access to an amazing view of the forest below.
Princess Amerulia wiped blood off his mouth with her sleeve and checked his temperature.
"Are you alright—" | "That was amazing!" Laison cheered and jumped to his feet. "Your Highness, what was that? The moment I got near to your chambers, the effects were instantaneous!" He asked.
It didn't seem to matter that he was losing color, he looked overjoyed that the princess simply didn't acknowledge it and carried on.
"I see you also have equipped a protective mask. Does nothing enter through the gaps?" He looked at Amerulia's cloth, sewn with protective leather and a buckle that kept it in place. The princess then unclasped the mask and showed the inside.
"I have added a pouch for crushed herbs that can neutralize some poisonous gas, but there are many different poisons that can be inhaled if I were to use the wrong one. So, not entirely." She explained. "This antidote is called Regis. I'm sure you've been keeping up with our lessons together with the professor, right?" Amerulia taunted the bubbly boy, who, of course, enthusiastically nodded at everything she said.
Laison hummed, "Well, it may be a failure, Your Highness, but I believe what you have just concocted will be one heck of a useful advantage." He reassured.
Amerulia nodded in satisfaction, but not fully convinced. "...You wanted to speak with me, right? Rather than this discussion of our research, I am certain you intended to discuss something else." She said, clasping back her mask and rolled up her sleeves to freshen herself up.
Laison gasped as he remembered. "Ah! That's right. Pardon me, Your Highness... I was wondering if you've heard of the king's return last night?" He asked, darting his honey colored eyes at the princess. "We've known each other for quite some time, and I know you've shown great disinterest with the throne. But, apparently, the servants who greeted His Majesty for a successful excursion said that he had a child with him on his steed." He explained, tracing his fingers on the rough bumps of the stairs.
Amerulia clearly hasn't heard of it until now. She was mildly surprised with what she had heard from Laison. "Ah... Father is a bizarre man, truly. He hires people in ridiculous scenarios. An example of mine is when he met your father during a storm. I heard from his secretary that he convinced your father to tutor me through a heartful speech while he was drunk. This one might be another one of his new additions to the palace's workforce. Though..." She fell deep in thought, now growing curious at this strange development.
Laison raised his head. "Your Highness... I know this might sound farfetched, but, uh... Would it be that this boy he carried back to the palace is one of his illegitimate sons? He was a rather... adventurous king even back then when he hadn't been coronated by the previous late king. Forgive me for speaking of him with doubt!" Laison cowered almost immediately, pouting childlishly at the princess with a pleading look.
"I don't care." Princess Amerulia said casually.
"Oh...I see!" Instantly, the potions' professor's son brightened up.
"...Now that you said it. I do find it unusual. His steed is his prized possession and companion since his youth, I'm aware. But, to let a child of the slums sit? There must be something to this than what meets the eye." She met Laison's gaze, and without a beat, they both agreed with something.
That boy is an illegitimate son of the king.