“The distance to the homeland.”
The sun beat down on his golden hair.
The man with the radiant golden locks turned around and asked a handsome man with jet-black hair about their location.
“Just two more days of travel,” came the reply.
“And the carrier pigeon?”
“It just arrived.”
The eye of the storm, a new wind approaching.
Euphil Raize tilted his captain’s hat askew and lounged casually on the deck. His eyes flickered as a faint smirk crossed his lips.
“My dear little sister must have no idea I’m coming.”
“They say she’s been completely cut off from all news.”
“A perfect bird in a gilded cage.”
The man, clad in a loosely worn captain’s coat, was a striking figure.
His crimson eyes, even above the sea, glimmered like rubies against sapphire waters, their fiery hue undimmed by their surroundings.
His pale yet chiselled physique, visible beneath the dishevelled coat, revealed the body of someone who had trained in swordsmanship for years. His presence radiated the air of a strong monarch.
Upon the open sea, he stood out in stark contrast, his presence undeniable.
An elegance, alien to any backdrop, seemed to permeate his entire being.
He looked less like a mortal man and more like a figure from myth, entirely unhesitant to embrace that aura. His golden hair gleamed brilliantly, like pure gold.
“And what is my father preparing for?”
“There’s little he can do.”
“And if there’s anything at all?”
“Perhaps arranging the succession to the throne.”
Euphil nodded.
Onboard his ship were several followers from the academy who had pledged their loyalty to him.
Some called them an army; others speculated that he was plotting a coup.
But in truth, he was simply returning home, bringing with him all that he had gained.
Home—to the side of the one whose image his hands had sketched countless times, the one with violet eyes.
A smile tugged at Euphil’s lips as he thought of Myrthi.
For an instant, the air around him seemed to carry a fragrance, even without scent, emanating from him alone.
“As always, Your Highness, you’re thinking of the princess, aren’t you?”
“Yes, this time…”
“Yes?”
“I heard she received a knight’s vow. That child from back then.”
By thinking of her daily, he could keep her face vivid in his mind.
By imagining each moment, he could guess how she had grown.
Believing this was the only way he could endure her absence.
His crimson eyes slowly closed and reopened, glimmering like rubies.
Silver hair and violet eyes.
Euphil had gazed countless times at a statue of an angel that resembled her. Surely, she had grown to look just like that statue.
The mere thought of it made his chest stir.
A gentle smile graced his lips.
And then, he clenched his fist, his smile unwavering.
“I’ll have to see that knight’s face.”
The waves crashed fiercely, and the wind rippled through the sails.
It was a powerful wind, but no one aboard the ship failed to master it.
Standing at the very front of the vessel, Euphil faced the wind head-on.
The gusts whipped at his coat, but his legs, as if anchored, stood firm.
He smiled, serene as the wind itself.
In the distance, the shoreline came into view.
The prince was returning.
***
A large portrait hung in the king’s chambers.
It was a portrait of the current king, Ekild Raize.
His silver hair and green eyes gave his somber face an even paler look.
In the painting, Ekild held the royal sceptre, one hand raised like a victor.
Reclined on the royal bed, surrounded by crimson curtains as red as blood, the king exuded the fiery splendour of the sun.
Clang!
His hand struck out, sending a golden goblet tumbling to the floor.
The wine spilled into the rug below.
Silver hair and violet eyes.
Whenever he thought of the woman who was once his wife, King Ekild of Crothasone felt his blood boil.
The same went for her daughter, the second princess.
‘Not that she even deserves to be called the second princess.’
A lowborn girl of unknown blood.
That’s what Ekild thought every time he saw Myrthi.
Her coming-of-age ceremony had only been permitted because Gelbart insisted on its necessity.
Yet at that ceremony, Ekild was forced to face another unpleasant reality.
The Third Prince, Euphil Raize, had sent her a diamond dress.
Thanks to that, what should have been a humble ceremony for the princess turned into a grand and splendid celebration. And to compensate, a jousting tournament was held, only for some unknown knight to win without spilling a single drop of blood.
Once again, victory had gone to Myrthi Raize.
Grit.
Ekild ground his teeth.
Her daughter—no, the daughter of the mere baroness she had loved—was growing up to be the most beautiful and blessed figure in the palace.
What Ekild could not tolerate was that Myrthi’s status had risen even higher after the jousting tournament.
The bards sang of the beautiful second princess of Crothasone.
“Let them do as they please…”
Ekild muttered drunkenly, his face flushed.
But he had a plan.
A final plan, one that would not fail because he wasn’t acting alone.
The news that Euphil was returning to Crothasone with an army—some even whispering of a coup—was what had driven him to this state of intoxication.
“Lowly creatures… fitting companions for one another.”
Ekild had no intention of relinquishing the throne, no matter how much power Euphil amassed upon his return.
He knew the boy who had never dared defy him as a child wouldn’t suddenly rise against him now.
Euphil Raize had no interest in the throne.
There was only one thing he had ever shown interest in:
Princess Myrthi.
“Ha… ha… hahahaha!”
Ekild let out a burst of maniacal laughter.
The sinister sound carried through the halls of the palace.
***
Leave a Reply