He was assaulted with the forced sensing of the aromatic food. A faint meaty smell drifted out from the kitchen. They sat opposite each other, surrounded by servants on all sides. Behind him, the four ladies and gentlemen stood, with Katalina in centre stage. It seemed that when Francis stepped out of her highness, the crown princess’ chambers, he made the decision to not dismiss them.

“Mm. It's good, isn't it?” she asked.

“Yeah. There’s a nice combination of flavours.”

“That aside, are you prepared for the royal ball?”

“What?”

“The royal ball? It's the official announcement of the emperor candidates, or the Arcleuses, or...”

“Right. Lord Edmond Ren, me, and lord Benjamin Wynt, yes?”

“Exactly right. Do you have a dance partner in mind?”

“Huh? Did I miss a meeting or something?”

“If I may, milord...” the middle-aged man standing behind him said, “Regarding the royal ball, you need a partner to dance with.”

“Well yes I inferred that, but thank you anyway. But a dance partner, huh? Is it necessary? Can’t I just do it alone?”

“Of course. It's called a royal ball for a reason. Even in a game of chess, you’d need two players. Same for a dance. It's no fun if you’re alone, is there?”

For a moment, his eyebrows rose. There was a familiar word thrown in that he did not expect. To have that small fragment of something he knew, not Francis Rayleigh, but the imposter, it was comforting. In the new world of strange new things, perhaps hearing something that he knew was a warm solace. Rare, but present. But if that game was there, what else transferred over too? Or, and he didn’t know how he should feel about it, there were other world travellers beside him.

Looking at his situation, it was strange. Tossed into a world with next to no prior knowledge of it. Possessing the body of a dead man. Being thrust into a predetermined fate. But he had never once had a breakdown. Not once. Was he numb? Or did the dragon do some tampering? Whether it was his blood, or Bahamut, or something else, or a combination of every circumstance that he knew of, he had no way of attaining confirmation.

She stared at him with curious eyes. Had she foreseen this? It was more than likely. The gentlemen, and ladies for that matter, had only arrived a few hours prior. Just after dawn, in fact.

When he woke up, Katalina alerted him to the presence of guests. It wasn’t pleasant news, of course. Who would be waiting outside? He hadn’t taken any loans, so it couldn’t have been the debt collectors. Who else then? The crown princess? No, she would have barged her way in there without even a bit of warning.

Grumbling, he got dressed. Changing out from the thin cotton gown into something slightly more presentable, but not a full on suit, he opened the door. There, 4 faces greeted him. They all looked like they got prepared several minutes prior, and came in full dress. As if his chambers were a royal ballroom, they stood outside. They seemed to have arranged themselves by order of age, and the eldest, the man with a scar stood on the right. He had the looks to be a pirate. Substitute his noble born face with one that had a tad bit more insanity, and he could have struck terror into the hearts of unlucky sailors. But Francis Rayleigh was not a sailor. And yet, blackbeard stood outside his chambers. With the class of a noble, and the look of pirate captain, he was a confusing individual.

“Greetings, lord Francis,” they spoke in unison.

How long did they practice to get that timing? They didn’t look like a bunch that would get together and mingle. Rather, they looked to be the main party of a fantasy novel, actually. Unlikely individuals with no relation to each other, yet together somehow. The sight reminded him of a movie series he watched a long time ago.

“Well,” Francis said, “What’s the occasion?”

“Milord,” the scarred man said.

Without a doubt, that pirate looked to be the leader of that ragtag band of adventurers. And for what reason would the protagonists arrive at his doorstep? Surely, he was not known to the world as a villain yet.

“We are the gentlemen that will help you. And, uh, the ladies too, are here. Milord, this is entirely unprecedented. For a person such as yourself, to have both the gentlemen of the chamber and the ladies in waiting under you.”

“I could tell,” Francis said with his face in his hand, “And, let me guess, her highness the crown princess invited you? All of you.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Right. And what is the meaning of this, then?”

That was more or less how his morning went. Setting precedents, that seemed like what Haein wanted to do. Her eyes met his, and there was a subtle smirk on her face. Sitting across the table, she was out of reach.

A group of unknown servants stood behind her, guarding her. Their suspicions about the mixed blood weren’t hidden. A knight clad in metal armour had his hand on his sword. A small manastone was embedded within it, much in the same way as Katalina’s.

They weren’t there initially. No, they only tagged along after the princess and Francis left her chambers. The moment that they stepped out, it was as if a director said “action”. Walking up and greeting them, they asked if they could accompany her highness to where she was going.

Picking up a spare knight on their way, they trailed behind the princess. Their intent was obvious. No need to even ask about that. If their glares weren’t enough, then the barely hidden malice was a good indicator of it. Of course, the crown princess didn’t look like she appreciated their presence. If anything, when they first approached her, she looked tempted to tell them off, but considered the better of it.

“Well,” the crown princess said from across the table, “If you don’t have one in mind...”

She fluttered her eyelashes suggestively. It was obvious what she was getting at. The entire thing was just a show after all. Her fingers guided a spoonful of buttery vegetables into her mouth.

“Are you asking me out?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best move. The people behind her, taking advantage of that fact, looked disgusted with his words. And though he didn’t know his equivalent reacted, Haein did.

“Maybe I am. Would you reject me if I did, Arcleus?”

“Who am I to reject an offer from you, your highness. But, shouldn’t you wait for the other Arcleuses to ask for your hand in a dance, before approaching me, your highness?”

“Your grace, you misunderstand. I am asking you before the dance. Now, when the royal ball happens, that’s when you ask for a dance. Not several days before.”

“Setting a precedent, then.”

The servants looked appalled. Their eyes and restrained faces sent out a message that they so desperately tried to hide. ‘What kind of stupid decision are you making, your highness?’ they nearly wanted to ask. But the difference in authority and power within the room was too much. One, the subject matter was touchy, and that ‘stupid decision’ of hers involved the man in front of her. It was best to settle that privately. And two, calling one of the crown princess’ own decisions stupid was a death wish in and of itself. Three, voicing that out loud just gave Francis Rayleigh more ammunition to work with. Evidence of such conspiracy, and half the servant team could be purged within a blink of an eye.

Francis wanted to turn around, to see their reactions were. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the crown princess, though his doubts weren’t entirely wrong. Just that, perhaps she didn’t have his best interests in mind. To be assassinated by a spy working for another Arcleus, or to be blackmailed in much the same way. The possibilities were endless. Then, why would she bring such a thing up now? But, perhaps most of all, he wanted, for some reason completely unknown to him, to see Katalina’s face. Something, he didn’t know what, but his heart yearned for it and simultaneously detested it, was urging him to turn around.

“You know, when you’re deep in thought, it’s surprisingly cute,” her highness said out of the blue.

Was he? Was he so into his sea of unconsciousness that he failed to notice her ever present stare? Whatever it was, he couldn’t help it. Like being denied sweets an hour before bedtime, his heart threw a tantrum. If she really did ask him out, could he- No, did he have the ability to decline? Was she the kind to let rejection go by, and accept it? If she was one to set precedents, who was to say that he couldn't?

He looked at her face. There was absolutely no indication that she was joking. Her face was neutral, not trying to suppress laughter or anything. Nor did it have the usual mischievous curious glint within her eyes. She looked completely serious about her question. But he had to respond, somehow. It seemed like a genuine compliment.

“Thank you, your highness. And yourself too. In that red dress, you look as beautiful as a fresh rose.”

A soft redness spread across her face and cheeks like a wildfire. It resembled a fever, actually.

“You must be kidding me, lord Francis.”

“But I’m not, your highness. Your beauty is really something to smile at.”

“Ahaha. That’s good to keep in mind then, Arcleus. But, pointless flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It wasn’t. That was not just simple flattery for flattery’s sake.”

“Genuine, then.”

“Indeed so. I’m honoured to have had the pleasure of visiting you in our private times.”

He smiled at the blushing princess. Of course, such lines came from a romance novel read so long ago. There was no way for those to come naturally. The female lead was a rich noble, who had nothing better to do. And the other female lead was a slave girl from the countryside. He couldn’t remember much about the story, but he did tear up at the bittersweet ending.

The princess sitting opposite him broke out into a smile. None of that was prepared. Everything flowed as it should have, without any rehearsals or communications. In fact, she hadn’t talked to him over ‘Messenger of the Mystics’ the entire morning. So it seemed like, without the proper procedures, she didn’t handle the assertiveness when it was turned towards her. It did make sense. All this time, she was the one making the moves on him.

***

Her jaw tightened at his words. As her master and her highness chatted, Katalina glared. Her teeth grinded, and her grip on her blade tightened. More often than not, that princess even looked at her, with a hint of a cocky smirk on her lips. As if mocking her. Rubbing it in her face.

Slow, boiling anger rose up from within her body. Her eyes were focused on her face. Cold, detached, though there was a flame behind it.

With compliment after compliment, their flirting continued. Despite the stares from both ends of the room, they didn’t stop at all. Though Francis couldn’t see her, he definitely felt something, at least. But, either he didn’t feel it, or he didn’t care.

“What’s wrong?”

One of the ladies next to her whispered. It was the younger of the pair of women assigned to her lord. Viscountess Eve, if she recalled correctly.

Whether they were nobles, or just a knight, as long as they served Francis Rayleigh within the imperial palace, they were pretty much equal. As such, there really wasn’t a point for honourifics. They were just attendants of the Arcleus. Meaning, the dutiful knight could talk to the Viscountess as if they were on equal standings. Of course, there were a few subtle differences in rankings, but those were often negligible. And besides, there was already a precedent for that idea. The Reginas, the female equivalent of the Arcleus program, often had knights that served them.

The head, or back of it at least, of Francis Rayleigh shook and moved as he talked. His smooth hands moved along to the rhythm of the conversation, occasionally stopping to cut up some food on his plate. And the princess giggled every so often, and she herself cracked jokes to make him laugh.

“Nothing,” she lied through her teeth.

In truth, there were many things wrong with it. That princess was openly flirting with her master. She should’ve been happy. Should’ve. She really, really, should’ve. But, her emotions told a different story. The beating heart within her chest burned. It was a confusing action, but her heart spoke its mind.