On the first floor of the Crownspire Tower, the main lobby exuded a warm, hospitable atmosphere, but Daisuke paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on Reneal Theon Octavian Ainsworth, Lumielle's older brother, all while deliberately ignoring the piercing glare of Captain Hynes Primrose. The man's gaze suggested he saw the princess's honored guest as nothing more than a dangerous pest about to bring calamity upon them all.
Daisuke sighed inwardly. Oh great, not this guy again. He stifled his annoyance and refocused on the boy in front of him. Jesus, take the wheel.
Prince Reneal's posture was unremarkable at best—his shoulders slouched in a way that undermined his position as the first born, the one with the most obvious claim to the throne. He could barely meet Daisuke's gaze, his lack of confidence painfully apparent.
"I-It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Everwinter," he greeted softly, his hand instinctively moving to the back of his neck as he lowered his head in a timid bow.
"Reneal, you only bow your head to the king, remember?" Lumielle whispered chidingly.
"R-Right," the boy responded sheepishly.
"And just Sophia is fine, Your Highness," Daisuke added.
"I-In that case, please feel free to call me Reneal," he offered, his smile a little strained. "The city may not be at its finest right now, but I truly hope you'll still find some enjoyment during your stay."
Daisuke gracefully cupped his dress and performed a curtsy. "Thank you."
The princess leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I assume you're aware that honorifics are only to be disregarded in private settings?" she murmured.
"Unless, of course, you fancy a trip to the gallows," Lyndoria added with a chilling tone.
Daisuke cringed.
Stynx leaned against a distant column, hands casually tucked into his pockets, his expression as unreadable as stone. While Reneal's slumped posture and lack of confidence were unbecoming of a prince, he still carried a faint aura of nobility. But his brother, Stynx—well, his presence was different. He exuded the hardened air of someone forged in the streets, a man who had survived the harshest trials and emerged more dangerous for it.
His eyes skimmed over Daisuke and the others, his gaze barely registering them. But when he looked at Lumielle, there was a flicker of something darker, something predatory.
Without a word, he flicked his cape over his shoulder and turned, his stride filled with quiet confidence as he made his way toward the building's main entrance.
"Again, it was a pleasure meeting you, Sophia," Reneal said, his tone dismissive as he turned toward the front doors, a familiar feline slinking quietly into his shadow. "Th-Thank you for being a loyal friend of my sister. I'm sure our paths will cross again."
With a polite bow, his attendant followed suit, their footsteps fading as they exited the room.
Captain Hynes marched forward, his movements sharp and tense, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Princess Lumielle!" he barked, his voice seething with indignation. "I cannot, in good conscience, support this!"
With a low, almost feral snarl, his attention snapped to Sophia Everwinter—a childhood friend who Princess Lumielle supposedly had been keeping in touch with via letters for the past several years. It was bad enough that Lyndoria, favored by fortune, was always by the goddess's side. But now, this illiterate, uncultured country woman had arrived uninvited, eager to claim the small measure of attention he had managed to capture. No, this was an affront he could not allow to go unchallenged.
Hynes shot Daisuke a brief, venomous look before turning back to Lumielle. "If I'm to properly serve as your sword and shield, Your Highness, I need full transparency. Secrets cannot exist, especially when the royal court is so divided."
"You're right, Captain Hynes," Lumielle responded, her voice soft but sincere. "I apologize for not informing you sooner."
The captain's gaze hardened, his finger jabbing toward Daisuke. "I've never even heard of her family name. Can she really be trusted?"
"I can vouch for her loyalty."
Hynes snarled, his misogynistic tendencies rearing its ugly head. "And how long does she intend to stay?"
Lumielle didn't skip a beat. "Until I become queen."
"What?!" the man exclaimed sharply. "That's—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Lyndoria swiftly shoved him into a corner and whispered, "You need to calm down."
"But this aggravating woman—"
"I despise every bone in her body as much as you do," Lyndoria replied. "But the kingdom is falling apart and the princess is going through an incredibly difficult time. She needs a friend—someone to lean on, someone she can trust."
Hynes scowled, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "But what about you? You're her friend, too."
Lyndoria shook her head firmly. "I am her humble attendant, Captain, and you are her bodyguard. There's a difference."
The man growled low in his throat. His eyes, cold and unforgiving, narrowed as they locked onto the silver-haired woman. She met his gaze unwaveringly, her posture unyielding, refusing to flinch or retreat in the way he had hoped. It infuriated him beyond all reason.
"What crawled up his arse and died?" Daisuke muttered under his breath.
The princess couldn't help but giggle at the crude and rude remark. "He means well," she replied with a soft smile. "But sometimes, he can be a bit too… overbearing."
Daisuke raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "Hmph," he said, cocking his head. "That's putting it mildly."
***
Reneal concealed himself beneath a ragged hooded cloak, its coarse fabric itchy against his skin but necessary to hide his identity. Beside him strode his personal attendant and tutor, Neville, a middle-aged man with silver threads streaking his dark hair and a scholarly air that clung to him like a second coat. Despite his usual stern demeanor, Neville's lips twitched with amusement as he watched the prince dart ahead like an untamed colt.
Finally Reneal was free, even if just for a moment. Free from the crushing weight of nobility, from the endless formalities and suffocating expectations. His steps were light, almost buoyant, as awkwardness melted into excitement and meekness transformed into curiosity. The bustling thoroughfares of Lunarel's shopping district were alive with sound and color—a symphony of voices haggling, laughter echoing, and street performers enchanting their small crowds.
Reneal flitted from one stall to the next like a moth drawn to light. He marveled at the vibrant arrangements of fruits, inhaled the tantalizing aroma of spiced meats sizzling over open flames, and stared wide-eyed at the intricate trinkets gleaming under the sunlight. Each discovery seemed to peel away a layer of the shy, uncertain prince, leaving behind a boy who was utterly captivated by the world around him.
Neville followed at a steady pace, his hands clasped behind his back, a soft smile tugging at his lips as Reneal tried—and failed—to haggle for a candied apple. When the vendor handed it over with a hearty chuckle and a dismissive wave, Reneal's face lit up, his cheeks bulging with the first eager bite.
Later, at Neville's modest countryside home, the transformation was even more apparent. Reneal shed the cloak without hesitation, unbothered by the dirt smearing his face as he knelt in the fields alongside Neville, eagerly pulling weeds and planting seedlings. His laughter rang out, unrestrained and genuine, as the older man hoisted him onto his shoulders to reach the ripest apples in the orchard.
"Higher, Neville!" Reneal shouted, his legs kicking playfully against the man's chest. "I see the perfect one!"
"You're already higher than the trees, Your Highness," Neville replied with a chuckle. "But if you fall, it'll be the end of me."
As they took a break under the shade of an old oak tree, Reneal sat cross-legged in the grass, munching on a freshly picked apple. His gaze wandered upward, drawn to a commotion in the branches above. A small bird, feathers puffed in frantic defense, fluttered and darted against the relentless advance of a snake.
Reneal's breath hitched as the snake lunged, its fangs flashing in the dappled sunlight. The bird's cries grew more desperate, its tiny wings beating furiously, but the predator was unyielding. With a final strike, the snake caught its prey, dragging it down into the leaves. The tree grew silent save for the soft rustle of wind.
"…Why didn't it fly away?" Reneal asked, his voice quiet, almost trembling.
Neville, who had been watching the scene with a solemn expression, leaned back against the tree trunk. "It could have," he said, his tone measured. "But it chose not to."
"Why?" Reneal pressed, his brows furrowing as he stared at the abandoned nest, its fragile eggs trembling in the breeze.
Neville sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Perhaps the bird knew that if it fled, it might escape with its life, but it would carry the weight of its failure forever. Guilt, grief… these things can take root, Your Highness, and they're not easily shaken. We don't know how a bird thinks, but people—people often hold on to remorse for far longer than they should. Sometimes, it keeps them from ever finding happiness again."
Reneal stared at the ground, the half-eaten apple in his hand forgotten. "Do you think the bird regretted its choice?"
Neville placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Maybe. Or maybe it found peace in knowing it did everything it could to protect what mattered most. That's something we all have to decide for ourselves—whether we can live with the consequences of the choices we make."
The sound of a melodic voice calling from the house broke the thoughtful silence. Neville's wife, a kind woman named Marian, waved them over with a smile.
"Come inside, you two! Lunch is ready, and I won't have it getting cold while you dawdle."
They heeded the call, making their way to the cozy dining room where the table was already set with simple yet hearty dishes. As they gathered around the table, Marian reached out to take their hands in hers, her touch warm and grounding.
"Let us give thanks," Neville said.
Reneal bowed his head, the faintest smile curving his lips as they said grace together. This place. These people. In the rare instances he was able to escape to this haven, even if just for a fleeting moment, he wasn't a prince or an heir to a throne. He was simply Reneal—a boy sharing a meal with people who made him feel like he belonged.
Laughter filled the room as they ate, stories and jokes flowing freely. Reneal's gaze flickered between Neville and Marian, his chest swelling with a tender warmth that his heart and soul was always yearning. This, he realized, was what true happiness felt like—a fleeting yet profound moment of peace, carved out of the chaos of the world.