“Are you sure?”

Francis Rayleigh raised his eyebrows at his words. His lips left the porcelain cup to answer. Benjamin watched with an expectant look.

“Yes. I’m sure,” he replied, placing the cup down.

“Absolutely?”

“How can I be unsure of my own feelings?”

“... Hm.”

There was a third party in the room. Edmond Ren didn’t seem to appreciate his own presence being there. His fingers moved like they yearned to be somewhere else. Probably on his sword.

In all honesty, Edmond looked like a man who lived by fighting. Even from his table, Francis could see how much that man wanted to be doing something. Training, sparring, fighting, even polishing his sword. Anything but this.

“Mixed blood. You are, completely sure?”

“As sure as you are about your own. I have absolutely no intention.”

His voice was steady as he spoke. The three candidates for emperor were gathered there. Though, perhaps not voluntarily.

Benjamin had dragged Edmond Ren along, for some reason. And though his body was there, his soul was not. His face neutral, tinted with boredom. Of course, such a scene like this was not suited for him. No, he belonged in the field, swinging his blade around. Not in a meeting room, and certainly not over tea.

“You’re interesting, to say the least,” Benjamin said as he sipped his tea.

“Thank you for that. And, uhh, lord Edmond?”

“Yes, lord Francis?”

“Are you going to do something? Or do you want to just remain standing there menacingly? I’d rather you have a seat and talk.”

Having Edmond next to him to ease the tense atmosphere was his thought process. Of course, taht result was rather unlikely. Edmond was invited by Benjamin after all. It was bad etiquette to barge into someone else’s meeting, and Francis didn’t invite him. That left him with the last plausible option.

He motioned to the area around him. Sat opposite him, on a red sofa covered by velvet, was Benjamin Wynt dressed way too well for the occasion. Did he just live in impractical, out of season outfits?

Edmond was no different. The two wore their outfits like uniforms. Actually, and more accurately, those were uniforms. Not the type that those studying at the academy would wear. He had seen his sisters’ uniforms, and caught glimpses of his brother’s. Military, perhaps?

“Fine,” he uttered.

With stiff trained arms, he walked over and sat down. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and cast a downward gaze.

“Are you bored?” Francis asked.

“Mmmm,” that man made a sound as if he was thinking.

“Anything you want to talk about? Stories from your adventures?”

Like a pet, his head instantly shot up. His eyes, which were previously so empty, had new life breathed into them. A small, immature smile creeped in on his face.

“Ahh. What do you wanna hear about?” Edmond asked.

“Well, where have you been? Let’s start with that.”

“Where can I even start? Any suggestions, Ben?”

“How about the beast wastelands?”

The former sighed. The beast wastelands? Something about that sounded familiar. Had he heard it from somewhere?

Francis closed his eyes and tilted his head back a bit. As the other two shot suggestions and rejections back and forth, he searched his mind. To him, Edmond gave off the impression of a simple man. Not one to hold himself back, perhaps. But definitely one who wouldn’t mince his words, nor sugarcoat it. He was probably the best and worst type of ally to have. Which was why he wanted to remove Edmond from Benjamin Wynt. No doubt, out of the two, the latter stood in his way as a much larger obstacle. The unhidden hostility was one thing, but it seemed like there was more than one reason for doing so.

Why? From what he saw, there was a one sided love at play. It was far too obvious to be missed. His anger when he burst into Francis’ chambers with the princess. All the signs were there. But, what about Edmond? He seemed to want to do his own thing. Like swinging his sword around instead of the palace politics.

“No, I don’t wanna talk about the beast wastelands again. You always want to talk about it. Isn’t it boring?” Edmond’s raised voice interrupted his thinking.

They were still arguing in front of him. He sighed, and looked at them. Was this what the other Arcleuses were like?

“It’s the most interesting bit!”

“No! You keep repeating the same thing over and over again!”

“Because it’s interesting! Do you want to bore him?”

“You only think like that because you were there!”

“Oh, wow! Maybe that’s why? And besides, you aren’t even a good storyteller in the first place.”

Their argument continued for a while. Francis, watching it unfold in front him, sipped his tea in mild interest. There was something peculiar about their spat, however. As someone watching from the outside, he knew none of the context. They seemed to not have that same, angry domestic type of arguments that he was used to. It was somewhat refreshing, actually.

“Sorry. Lost my temper there,” Benjamin Wynt said after running out of breath.

“No, it was my fault too.”

If he had to be honest, he wanted something like that. To be close enough to someone to argue, and to make up immediately, as if nothing ever happened. A small fragment of desire burned within a corner of his heart.

“Got everything out of your systems?” asked Francis.

“Sorry you had to see that, lord Francis,” Benjamin said after taking a seat.

“No, it's fine.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Okay. Putting that aside, let me ask you this, lord Francis.”

“Ask away.”

“What are your plans with her highness, mixed blood.”

The hostility dripped from his voice. All that energy left over from his argument was directed back at the remaining Arcleus.

“This again? I told you already, I have no love for her. And I don’t think she has any for you.”

“Yeah right. How can you feel nothing when looking at her?”

“Sad to say, but I really don’t.”

“Neither do I~”

Edmond chimed in, to be shot down by Benjamin. But Francis did take note of that. He didn’t deny his one sided love for the princess, and the knight seemed too uncaring about it to lie.

How could he use that to his advantage? There wasn’t any reason to not make use of the information given to him on a silver platter, and no doubt they, or more specifically Benjamin, was doing the same. Francis sipped on his tea.

“Regardless, you shouldn’t go near her. You’ll probably hurt her. The power of dragons is dangerous.”

“The last part, I agree with. Everything else, not really,” Edmond added.

Was he really that dangerous? Francis looked at his own hand, and turned it around. It seemed perfectly human. He grabbed his hair that hung down towards his neck. Grey. And he didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know the colour of his eyes. How often would one find such a specimen? The mixed blood, rare, and coveted. He was unique, to say the least. But, being unique like that came with several costs. As with most things, he just accepted it.

“But I’m not. 10 times. If I fought with any of you for 10 times, I’d lose them all. Do you really think I’m dangerous?” Francis asked.

He tried his best to appeal with his weakness. What else did he have? If he presented himself as a defenseless animal, cute to look at, and fun to touch, perhaps they might think of him differently.

“If anything, wouldn’t you two be more dangerous?” he continued, “I mean, look at it. She likes me so much more than you two. To be honest, she favours me over you two. Have you two even been in her private chambers?”

Something about Benjamin changed. His face stiffened. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say.

“So you’ve been in her chambers, then?” Edmond asked.

“Yes, have you?” added Benjamin, in a low, hushed voice.

“I have.”

The latter slammed his fist on the table. Their elegant porcelain cups and coasters shook. But Francis simply took another sip and ignored the death glare and chuckling. He didn’t even need to look to know who was staring holes through his head.

“You’re not that bad huh, Francis?”

“Ha?!”

“Mmm. You don’t seem to be that bad yourself, Edmond.”

“That’s lord Edmond to you, mixed blood! Lord. Not just, ‘Edmond’ as you so disrespectfully said,” uttered Benjamin Wynt.

Even though they were dressed the same, they still had large differences. Their hair, for one. With those hints of red, it was unlikely that Edmond Ren could be camouflaged. And his eyes had a similar colour to Francis’ hair.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I agree with Edmond.”

“Huh? You’re just a filthy mixed blood. Do you think you’re here because of yourself? That her highness ‘likes’ you? Get that damn idea out of your mind.”

Edmond glanced at the angry man. Something about him felt much more different. As if there was a stuffy aura around him. No, rather, it was ominous. Like the skies before a large downpour. On his now calm face, dark clouds formed. A lull, and a storm. It was a sight to see. That whimsical Edmond Ren, donning such a scarily calm face. Had it been anyone else, Francis might just have thought that they were putting up a stoic front. But that was simply not the case with Edmond. He could turn everything into a weapon, from what he had seen.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his lips barely moving.

“No, of course not...”

All of a sudden, the unknown weight was lifted from his shoulders. Francis breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he was holding his own breath for, but he held it in nonetheless.

“Did you really expect me to say that? I’ve been meaning to test your own strength, lord Edmond,” Benjamin said.

“Fine.”

He grabbed the hilt of the sword by his hip. Was this all just a performance? Or were they really just like that? Were they close? Or were they enemies? Undoubtedly, they fought on the same side once, probably in the wastelands.

“Then I’ll watch. Want to invite her highness?”

“That’s up to you. I don’t care. I was going to fight him either way,” Edmond said.

Francis chuckled at this turn of events. It certainly didn’t go how he expected it to go. He had thought that he was the one being fought, but thankfully it turned out differently.

“No need. She’s a busy person, she doesn’t need to watch. She’s probably doing other things,” said Benjamin.

If only he knew. Francis cast his mind back, to when he was forcibly separated from Katalina. And that disgusting smell. His nose wrinkled as he recalled it.

He followed them towards the training ground. The hot summer sun beat down on them, even though the peak of noon had not arrived. He hid in the shadow of a large stone building. Was it a fort? Or something similar? Either way, it made sense. Slightly far away, just a few metres, there was something that caught his eye.

“Hmmm. What’re you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?” Francis asked as he bent down.

It was obvious what she was doing. And who she was could be answered easily just by looking. Without the fanciful clothes of nobles, nor the weapons or armour of knights. Servant then. On the younger side as well. Her cheeks were full, and her skin tanned. The black furry animal was curled up in a ball beside her, and she poked it occasionally as he observed from a distance.

“Oh!” she stood up in surprise.

The furry animal scurried off. It jumped away, all four legs giving it great strength. The black fur had a slightly rough look, as though it had no owner and lived on the streets. Unlike several stray cats that he knew of in his previous life, it acted as he expected.

“Aww. It ran away,” the girl said.

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“No problem! By the way, who are you mister? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Ah, I’m not that important.”

“Really?”

She moved closer towards him. The young girl studied his face. How could a girl at such a young age already be working in the palace? Politics aside, this had to be breaking several laws. In his old world, child labour was outlawed, but he wasn’t familiar about the laws here.

“Eek!” she backed away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to eat me, right?”

The small girl hid herself behind her arms. Her face peeked through a gap within her shield.

“Why would I?”

“Because you have pink eyes, mister. My parents always told me that you’ll eat me, and that you’re a dragon.”

“Ah. Well, don’t worry too much. I won’t eat you. Oh, but you should stay away from this place, alright? It’ll be dangerous for a child.”

He stood up. Several metres away, the two were already prepared to fight. A small crowd gathered, curious at the sight. They held wooden practice swords, and took up a stance. Edmond looked like he was prepared for an offensive move, his gloved hands clutching the sword tight. Meanwhile, his opponent looked more agile, with a lighter stance and relaxed posture.

“Are they gonna fight, mister?” the girl asked.

“Yeap. So go back now, it’ll be dangerous.”

The girl nodded her head and scurried away. Francis, his grey hair swaying in the warm summer wind, turned and walked towards the fighters. Certainly, it was something he was looking forward to. But unfortunately, they were using wooden swords, no real ones. That more or less destroyed the chance of one of them being eliminated. If they fought each other, it was better for him after all.

“Begin!”

An impromptu referee shouted. His arm turned upwards, straight towards the sun, with a mechanical-like movement. They were standing perpendicularly from the sun; if the light got into their eyes, he would have a large disadvantage. Meanwhile, Francis was taking shelter beneath the stone building’s shadow.

Their match began with a bang. The two swords collided with much more strength than Francis could ever muster. Who was in the lead? To him, with no experience for swordplay, they looked evenly matched. He wished that Katalina was beside him, to at least give some commentary.

With each and every step, they kicked up a storm of sand. It was a noisy fight, with the loud cracks as wood collided against wood. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to see past the dust barrier. A small ball started its approach, just out from the dust storm. Why did it do that? Francis didn’t know. But, he was paying much more attention to it than the fight happening in front of him.

“Wait,” he said before standing up, “Wait, wait.”

Did they not notice? The black, furry ball approached closer. Why? Why did it want to go close? Did it not have a sense of danger? And Francis too, he didn’t know why his body moved.

A metre, at most. He could count his heartbeats as he rushed towards it. He would most certainly get hurt. But his body willed itself to move, regardless.

“Stop!” Edmond shouted.

Everything just happened. Gods, Francis was so grateful for their spatial awareness. His arm wrapped around the beast, and its fangs dug into his flesh. A wave of dust ended up in his face, as Edmond stamped down into the ground to stop his momentum. But perhaps most interesting, was Benjamin. He stood in front of the crouched down Francis, and was ready to block the next attack, while guarding him as well.

“What are you doing?” Benjamin asked, panting.

“Ow, ow, ouch. I couldn’t just let you hurt it. Sorry.”

“Just to save a Seran? You’re a strange one, lord Francis.”

“You wouldn’t?” asked Francis.

“I definitely would. But at least I would be able to protect myself.”

Edmond extended his arm. Francis, still being bitten, grabbed on and was helped up. With his assistance, Francis ended up back on his feet.

“You should get that checked out, mixed blood.”

“I will. Thanks. Got any recommendations for doctors?”