Soon after the banquet that night, Leofwine Manor returned once more to its quiet stillness.

  As the first light of day filtered through the gently stirring leaves, a little yellow bird fluttered down to drink from the stone basin at the heart of the garden, then lifted its voice in a soft, gentle song.

  A thin wisp of smoke drifted from the woodshed, and close by, a few thalons slept at ease in their pen, amid the gentle murmur of the waterwheel.

  Across the grey stone courtyard of the manor, the shadow of something dragon-like began to stir.

  The wet rip of torn flesh!

  A blood-red monster crouched over a sheep’s remains, feasting with savage greed.

  “Is this your Clawvern, Your Highness?” Kvicha asked.

  As soon as they drew closer, it lifted its head to look at them. Its orange eyes gleamed, and its sharp fangs were slick with blood and scraps of flesh.

  “Yes. It eats more with each passing day,” Sigmund said with a smile, reaching out to scratch the blood-red winged shadow beneath its chin.

  “Was Your Highness’s journey a tiring one?” Kvicha asked, walking off to drag over another sheep carcass.

  “Not too much,” Sigmund said, giving a small nod. “Thank you for welcoming us so warmly. I’ve never been to Whitesand Valley before. It’s far more beautiful than I imagined.”

  Kvicha paused for a moment, then glanced toward the manor gates, left slightly ajar…

  White clouds, a clear blue sky, and lush green fields beyond.

  “If you wish,” he said at last, “I can have someone guide you on a tour.”

  “You really mean it?!” Sigmund’s eyes widened like a child’s.

  “Though I fear…” Kvicha shrugged.

  “You needn’t worry about that,” the prince said with a faint smile.

  Crunch. Crunch! The sound of bone being crushed echoed throughout the area.

  After the Clawvern had devoured the sheep until nothing but bones remained, it lowered its massive body to the ground and slowly closed its eyes.

  Olivia’s blond hair drifted softly in the passing breeze. She hugged herself tighter as the air grew steadily colder. As she gazed up at the sky, slowly melting into an emerald blue, a young man slipped off his cloak and held it out to her.

  Olivia looked up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. He was tall, with tousled hair and pale, gentle skin.

  “Aren’t you afraid someone might recognize you?” she said sharply as she took the cloak and slipped it on.

  “No one will recognize me,” he replied with a faint smile. “I hardly ever go out. And besides, if I’m not dressed like a prince, then I’ll never be a prince. If you don’t believe me, try shouting my name. People around here would surely think you mad.”

  Olivia could only shake her head, but he was telling the truth. In a dust-colored tunic, beige trousers, and a plain belt, he looked no different from any ordinary young man. He was nothing like the graceful prince he had been at the banquet.

  What kind of prince is this, anyway?

  Olivia thought.

  Sigmund walked down nearly every alley, his excitement like that of a nine-year-old boy being taken out by his mother.

  “Slow down a little, will you? I can’t keep up,” Olivia complained.

  They came to a halt before an ancient castle, built of dark stone and ringed by towers that rose high into the sky. The gardens and the fountain courtyard at its front remained beautiful, yet showed no sign of life.

  Sigmund studied the castle for a moment, then turned to look at Olivia, as though he were about to ask a question.

  “Blackridge,” Olivia said evenly. “The castle of King Lothar of House Reinhard, who ruled these lands before your dynasty’s conquest.”

  “Then why—” Sigmund began, but did not finish.

  “People say that the king and his family were assassinated within the castle, one by one.”

  Sigmund swallowed.

  “Parents tell their children that the highest windows glow red on moonless nights, and that if you listen closely, you can hear a sound, as though something were being dragged across the stone floor.”

  Sigmund forced a smile, pretending not to be afraid.

  “Perhaps I should tell my sister that story.”

  “It’s only a tale,” Olivia said. “They simply lost the war. Without being a king, a duke, or even a count, how could they have held a castle like this? Assassinations can happen anywhere.”

  Sigmund fell silent for a moment. Olivia gave him a faint smile, then stepped ahead, leading the way.

  Olivia led Sigmund through streets crowded with people. Lines of carriages stood motionless, packed tightly together, and many passengers climbed down in ill temper, as though they had not moved for a long while. Amid the growing murmur of voices, the scents of pleasant woodsmoke, iron, and leather drifted together, nearly impossible to tell apart.

  They entered Hillcastle, which lay before Blackridge Castle. It had once been nothing more than a small market, but after the discovery of a gold mine, shops began to take root, growing into a commercial district. What had once been open grassland had become grey-stone roads, winding onward as far as the eye could see.

  Sigmund’s eyes lit up at the roadside stalls lining the street. The goods on display ranged from old swords, to winged lizards kept in silver cages, to hot, freshly grilled chicken legs skewered on sticks.

  Crowds flowed through the narrow lanes until they nearly overflowed them. A young man stood haggling over a worn bow, couples sampled wine together, and a little girl walked hand in hand with her mother, mouth open as she happily ate pink spun sugar.

  The pleasant scent of smoke drifted to Sigmund’s nose, and he could not resist. He led Olivia toward an old brick building, its sign weathered and faded, yet still readable. It bore the name “Lamb’s Brick.”

  It was a cramped little eatery, serving customers at a single counter. Nearly every seat was taken, though there remained a small space at the far end, into which they squeezed themselves.

  “The lamb’s fry here is excellent,” Olivia said, frowning. “But can you really eat offal?”

  “I’ve heard of it for a long time,” Sigmund replied with a smile. “I can eat just about anything.”

  They sat facing the stove, watching a dark-haired man fry lamb’s liver and offal until the air filled with a rich aroma, then pour over a sauce of his own special making.

  Before long, the lamb’s fry was served, accompanied by mashed potatoes, gravy, crisp bacon, and baked peas.

  “Enjoy your meal,” the man said with a smile.

  As the plate was set down on the counter, the prince offered his thanks and began to eat with obvious delight, washing it down with cheap wine. Olivia could only stare. She began to wonder whether the prince was truly disguising himself as a commoner, or if he was, in fact, a commoner who had once disguised himself as a prince.

  “You really don’t go out much, do you?” Olivia asked.

  “Mm… I mean to other towns,” the prince said in a low voice, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “In truth, I leave the castle quite often, usually with my friends. I know nearly every alley.”

  He finished his meal so quickly that Olivia was left speechless.

  “I still can’t believe the baron is raising taxes again,” a man muttered.

  “There are fewer workers, and my tools hardly sell anymore,” an old woman said in a hoarse voice.

  “When things are already this hard, what is the baron even thinking?”

  The murmurs of complaint gradually grew louder.

  Sigmund said nothing more. He paid the bill, looked at Olivia, then gave her a small nod.

  They stepped out of the eatery and passed an old man in patched, worn clothes, sitting on the ground with an old iron cup set before him.

  The prince dropped a few coins into it, the metal ringing softly. The old man bowed his head in thanks, but Sigmund did not look back.

  “How well do you know this baron, Olivia?” he asked evenly.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “I haven’t been here long,” Olivia said. “But I’ve heard he used to live modestly. After finding gold, he became greedy.”

  “I think he’s simply afraid,” Sigmund said.

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked, looking puzzled.

  “Well… suppose this is a diamond, and you’re the one who found it,” Sigmund said, holding out a silver hairpin.

  “Then one day, I, as your prince, ask for a share of it. What would you think?”

  “Why should I give it to you,” Olivia frowned, “when I’m the one who found it?”

  “But I’m the ruler of the land,” Sigmund said with a smile. “You simply don’t want to lose it to anyone else, do you?”

  Olivia fell silent for a moment, then nodded quietly.

  When she realized it, she hurriedly held the hairpin out to the prince.

  “Keep it,” Sigmund said. “I had someone find it when I learned you would be showing me around the city.”

  For a brief instant, Olivia’s cheeks flushed red. Her heart began to race in a way she could not explain. By the time she came to her senses, Sigmund had already walked away.

  “Wait for me!” Olivia called out.

  Sigmund came to a halt before a glass-fronted shop, where a cluster of boys and girls stood gathered. A wooden sign above the door read, Redding’s Enchanted Works.

  “Is that a real dragon?”

  “Are you mad? Can’t you see it’s made of iron?”

  “But it moves!”

  They stared at the dragon fashioned from metal, its wings beating as though it were alive. It was about the size of a young dragon. Sigmund studied it closely for a moment and noticed countless fine translucent filaments woven through its body.

  The prince smiled faintly and pushed the door open.

  A small bell chimed.

  “Welcome, sir,” said a man with a long beard. Though bearded, Sigmund could tell he was not yet old.

  “I’m impressed by that dragon,” Sigmund remarked.

  “Isn’t it splendid?” the man replied, stepping over to turn the mechanism. “Just wind it up a little… and scrap metal becomes a dragon.”

  The shafts and gears began to turn, moving slowly in sync, transmitting power to the pulleys and filaments.

  Then the dragon opened its mouth, flapped its wings, and moved its limbs with a natural, lifelike grace.

  “I am Sigmund,” the prince said, holding out his hand.

  “Timothy, please, make yourself comfortable,” he added. They shook hands as Olivia stepped through the doorway.

  The wooden floor creaked underfoot. Dark wooden shelves stood in neat rows, while the chandelier’s light shimmered through drifting motes of dust, sparkling like gold. The scent of aged metal wafted gently to her nose.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she whispered, her blue eyes catching the light, shining like tiny sapphires.

  Olivia looked around with wide-eyed excitement. Everything here was more extraordinary than she had ever imagined. There was a teddy bear that moved on its own, a painting of a moving castle that seemed to come alive, a brass scale that tilted gently back and forth, and a book on a stand that slowly turned its own pages, all accompanied by the soft, tinkling melody of a music box.

  They walked slowly, taking in the objects around them as if they had stepped into a world of magic.

  Sigmund’s attention was drawn to a chessboard made of aged wood. When he moved a piece, the opposing side moved in response, as if it were always one step ahead of him.

  “I got that chessboard from Carista a few years ago. I could send it to you by Bird Post if you like,” Timothy said.

  Sigmund didn’t reply. He was determined to defeat the chessboard. Olivia watched as the prince played against someone invisible to her. He moved his pieces quickly, but the other side was even faster, and in the end, when he was checkmated, it captured his king slowly, with a mocking air.

  “I’ll buy it,” Sigmund said, hastily jotting down his friend’s address in Aidengaard on the paper Timothy handed him.

  The prince walked a few more steps before he discovered the source of the music.

  A miniature carousel made of pure white wood moved with grace, elegance, and natural fluidity. The melody played by its mechanism held both him and Olivia spellbound, as if enchanted. Its size was no larger than a storybook that a small girl could hold with both hands.

  Timothy stepped quietly to stand beside them before speaking in a soft voice.

  “This is a music box designed by Fedor Michelli.”

  “I’ll take this one too,” Sigmund said, though his eyes remained fixed, captivated.

  A gray thalon let out a soft whinny as it pulled the coach along the rolling green hills. Gentle sunlight filtered through the scattered clouds above, carrying the fragrant scent of grass.

  Below stretched a vast expanse of fine white sand, where the small coaches moved back and forth like toys, raising tiny clouds of dust with each step. People believed that at the far edge where sky meets desert, an emerald lake and lands yet undiscovered still awaited, though no one had ever reached them.

  The prince’s gray-blue eyes gazed out until the sand blurred into pale blue. Fine grains clung to his face and hair, prickling against his skin. Sigmund raised his tunic to cover his mouth before speaking.

  “Do you think Bluesand Shire really exists?”

  “It’s just a story,” Olivia replied, “but if it really exists, would you go conquer it?”

  “I don’t wish to possess everything,” Sigmund shook his head. “If it does exist, I would simply like to see it once.”

  The coach slowly came to a halt above Whitesand Valley, a range blanketed with soft, blue-tinged green grass and delicate white hawthorn trees, all swaying gently in the mild breeze.

  Sigmund thanked the coachman, stepped onto the soft grass, and held out his hand to help Olivia down from the carriage.

  Olivia hesitated for a moment. When her fingers brushed his, they were rougher than she had imagined. They were not the gentle touch of a storybook prince.

  After a few steps, she found herself gripping his hand a little tighter without realizing it. She quickly let go. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she hurriedly turned her face away, though the prince seemed not to notice.

  Sigmund drew a deep breath, taking in the scent of spring dew beneath the slowly fading sunlight. The sun was steadily sinking toward the horizon.

  A brown bird wandered across the grass before fluttering up and passing in front of them.

  Sigmund and Olivia walked over to a wooden bench at the edge of the hills and sat down. They watched the clouds slowly dissolve in the sky above the endless desert. Beyond the sand, faint waves of blue stretched across the horizon, as if someone had gently painted them with watercolors.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Olivia said, smiling unconsciously.

  “You’ve lived in this town all this time? What a shame you’ve never come,” Sigmund replied, turning to meet her eyes.

  “Well, I work every day. I never get a day off. Being an ordinary person isn’t easy,” she said, frowning.

  “Being a prince isn’t exactly easy either,” Sigmund said, raising his arms to the sky and twisting his body playfully.

  Olivia paused for a moment, then lifted her gaze to the pale horizon in the distance.

  “I meant to start a new life here after my mother passed,” she said.

  “I think you’re doing well,” Sigmund said, smiling gently.

  The sun slowly sank out of sight, and the sky above the emerald-hued horizon began to melt into soft shades of orange.

  Sigmund closed his eyes for a moment. He felt his heartbeat slow in a way he had never known before. Even the world around him seemed a little lighter.

  “Olivia.”

  “Hmm?”

  “If one day I marry Ana… would you come live at Aidengaard to keep her company?”

  Olivia did not speak. Only the gentle breeze passed quietly over them.

  At a castle perched atop the mountains, its pale stone glowed softly white under the natural light, and towering spires lined its walls. From there, one could see the entire town of Aethelwyn, from the church, houses, and shops to the thalon stables and the smithy, and all the way to the vast green meadows that disappeared into the horizon.

  A young woman stood at the tower window. Her hazel eyes and dark brown hair complemented a simple yet elegant velvet dress.

  The soft sunlight slowly touched her fair, delicate skin. She closed her eyes, listening intently to the song of a bird somewhere nearby.

  “So this is where you are, Mikaela,” a man’s voice called out.

  It was Elric, her twin brother. Their faces were alike, except that his eyes were darker.

  “I knew you would come,” the young woman replied. “About Greensward, right?”

  “You hear everything, even without sitting in,” Elric said with a smile, gazing out over the green fields swaying beneath the sun.

  “It’s not hard to guess. Lately… Father has only been worried about one thing,” Mikaela said, resting her chin on the windowsill.

  “What do you think of Leon?” Elric raised an eyebrow.

  “He’s clever and kind… but—”

  “But what?”

  “I haven’t seen him in a long time. Since we were children, I don’t know how much he’s changed.”

  “We all change eventually,” he said.

  “From now on… nothing will be the same, will it?” Mikaela said, her expression thoughtful.

  “We can’t control everything, my lady,” Elric said with a gentle smile.

  “If he says yes… well,” Mikaela murmured.

  The air outside was light and refreshing. Today was a special day, perfect for a relaxed conversation about simple things and nothing more. As the birds fell silent and the breeze ceased, Mikaela turned to meet her brother’s gaze and felt the weight of a fate she could not change, for herself and for Grasheim.

  One night at the Leofwine Manor, pale moonlight streamed through a window into the hall, bathed in the flickering glow of candlelight. The walls were adorned with numerous paintings, each telling a story. They began with the grassy highlands above the uninhabited desert, followed by the first settlers who arrived, and then the inaugural caravans that carried goods to distant towns. Before long, all of it became history.

  Leon Kvicha and Ernest sat around the long oak table. A single letter lay in the center, motionless, as if it had been there for days.

  “I don’t think we should agree,” Leon said.

  “But Baron… the duke’s proposal for you to marry Lady Mikaela is meant to prevent the situation from escalating. You should—” Ernest spoke hurriedly, but before he could finish,

  “Aethelwyn pressured us from every direction before. Now that Ana is about to marry Prince Sigmund, the duke rushed to put forward his proposal,” Kvicha said evenly.

  “How much can we trust the duke?” Leon asked, sighing.

  “If your families unite again, everything should settle,” Ernest suggested.

  “We’re already part of the same family, Ernest,” Kvicha said, stirring his coffee with a spoon.

  At the far end of the table, empty coffee cups were stacked in a haphazard row, almost piled on top of one another. They hadn’t been touched at all over the past few days.

  Silence settled over the room. Everyone was trying to find a way out of the awkward situation. Leon leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Kvicha began to stare off into space, gazing out the window, while Ernest sat with his chin in his hand, the other hand pressed against his head.

  Gradually, as the sky lightened and the moon slowly faded, Leon finally stretched and yawned before sitting upright once more.

  “I think we should remain neutral,” Leon said, his eyes steady. “We should thank Uncle Edward and then politely decline his proposal. Tell him that even though Ana will marry Prince Sigmund, we never intended to separate ourselves from him.”

  “I agree,” Kvicha nodded.

  “Very well. I will handle it,” Ernest said, rising to his feet. He bowed to both of them before leaving the room.

  The moment the door closed, Kvicha stood and walked over to the window. The black sky was slowly turning blue, and the faint sound of birds calling to each other drifted through the morning air.

  “I’m worried about Ana,” Kvicha said.

  “So am I. She’s never been away from here,” Leon replied. “Aidengaard… it’s far.”

  “She’ll be fine. Prince Sigmund will take care of her,” Kvicha said, then met his brother’s gaze. “If Ana isn’t here, who will keep Mother company?”

  Leon paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes before speaking.

  “We should make more time to be with her ourselves,” he said.

  Kvicha said nothing, only offering a small smile. He couldn’t help but think back to his childhood at Aethelwyn Castle. Back then, he hadn’t even realized he had been sent there as a ward of Uncle Edward. He had grown close to Elric and Mikaela, just as much as to Leon and Ana. Even Uncle Edward had cared for him deeply. The Duke had been the one to teach him how to handle a sword and ride thalon for the first time. That white castle still shone brightly in his memory. Only those moments had ended, and they could never be reclaimed.