The morning bells rang. He walked down the hallway, greeting all sorts of servants on the way. This household was wealthy. In total, they could make a small army alone of gardeners, cooks, cleaners, and even the occasional scribe.

“Good morning, milord.” They all said the same words. Some with hesitancy, and others with a dogged loyalty.

“Yes, you too.” Francis paid some attention to them. It seemed like the original had unreliable memories. Every single person in the household was antagonistic, but that wasn’t the case.

Breakfast was the same as always. His mother woke up late, and dragged herself down in her nightgown. Meanwhile, the other three walked in drenched in sweat. Dressed in proper training attire, they probably just finished their run. The sisters were lean, and their limbs held visible muscle. The sweaty shirt stuck to one of them, and boasted an outline of a six pack. Still, they were nothing when compared to the mass of testosterone that was his father. No doubt, he was likely the reason for the mother’s fatigue.

They spoke a short greeting to each other. Once the plates were cleared, the true reason for the meal was uncovered. The butler, Orlando, presented a sealed envelope upon a silver platter. Its red wax seal bore the imperial family’s coat of arms.

“They won’t send it for no reason. Did the emperor die?” a sister asked. Elise, the elder one.

“Nonsense. We would have heard news before then. Every single duchy would know immediately,” Estelle retorted, adjusting a silver hair clip in her raven black hair.

“It's addressed to Fran,” Charles said. His face was expectant. With a push, he slid the envelope all the way across the table. “Open it.”

With a careful hand, Francis picked it up. The brown envelope was made of good material. Thick too. The wax seal was marked with a shield, a sword, a phoenix, and a dragon. He popped the seal off, and placed it onto the table surface.

“What’s it say?” Elise asked.

“Let him read it, dumbass.” Estelle rolled her eyes. Though, it seemed like she was just as interested, if not more.

“Hmm. ‘It is with our utmost pleasure to announce that you have earned our daughter’s favour. With that, you are named as a potential suitor for her. You are to report to the imperial palace at your earliest opportunity. Do not make us regret this,’ it says.”

A silence weighed the air down. Even a passing pigeon could get crushed by the pressure. His mother, Marianne, maintained an unreadable face. As did Estelle. The other two were far less subtle, and their thoughts were plainly obvious. Charles was disgusted by the very thought, while Elise opened her eyes wide and smiled.

“You’re gonna marry Her Highness!” Elise reached for an embrace.

“Not necessarily. He’s just been put into a competition, who knows how many other men she might have fancied.”

“All of you are missing the issue at hand.” Marianne spoke with a slow, careful voice. One that made her sound more authoritative than usual. “Fran, do you even want to get married to Her Highness?”

That was an important question. One that had to be asked. The Rayleigh household held enough power, both in military terms, and the economy, that they could refuse it.

Francis closed his eyes in contemplation. It was a good opportunity, yes. But being engaged, much less married to the crown princess was a risk by itself. Assassinations, manipulation, the list went on and on.

“I’ll think it over.”

The day was strange, to say the least. Gossip spread like wildfire, and soon the entire household was aflame with rumours. Negative and positive words were passed around. Amy, the maid, often spoke highly of the potential marriage.

Francis did not care. Rumours and gossip weren’t strangers to him. Instead, he spent his day in his study, writing. Pros and cons. And he slept.

It was only in a dream did he remember. The water that filled his lungs, gulping and gulping. He vomited out an impossible amount of water, and lay on his back.

“Am I dead?” he spoke out loud.

“You are,” a great voice boomed.

He sat back up. A pair of large, elephant-like feet were reflected within the glassy water surface. And it let down another pair. Black, scaly, some kind of lizard?

The space made no sense. It was more of a kaleidoscope than anything else, and he stopped trying to understand it altogether. It lowered its head, its long snout-like head made it plainly obvious. That, and everything else. That thing looked like it could breathe fire at any moment. It was a dragon, one modelled after western fairytales. Not the serpentine, revered dragons of the east.

“And you are?”

“The True Dragon, Bahamut. █████ ███████, you have died. Do not resist as I send you to another world. You are to fulfil your role as ‘Villain’ to your maximum capability.”

“Bitch, what.”

“It is as I have said. Were my words not clear? I do believe I spoke in English.”

“What. You’re gonna have to slow down there, draggy. I died. And now you’re throwing me into another world, as a ‘villain?’ How does that even make sense?”

“I do not know what else you desire from me.”

“Why didn’t you just grab Adolf Hitler instead? He’s a better fit than me.”

“You are the right mix of insanity, determination, cruelty, and kindness.”

He could not recall the rest of the conversation by the time he woke. The morning sun shone through his eyelids, and he sat up. Drenched in sweat, once again. Still, he made up his mind.

Heading down, the servants greeted him with hesitation. Overnight, the attitude of the servants swung in a completely different direction. One of caution, not loyalty or fear.

“Well, have you thought it over, Fran?” His mother hid her mouth with a napkin. “Everyone wishes to know.”

“I did. And I will meet her, and gain her favour.”

“And so the young rose of the Rayleighs finally blossomed. In that case, since you’re as weak as you are, you need a knight to protect you. Meet me in the barracks later to pick a handful out.”

“Then you are also going to need higher education. Have you a university in mind?” Estelle asked.

“Wait, university? I’m literally only 12.”

Francis furrowed his eyebrows and reached for a napkin. Covering his mouth with the soft white fabric, he whispered in as low of a voice he could muster.

“You’re only 12?”

“Yeah. Also, I realised this, but can’t we just communicate through thoughts instead? So you can speak to me at any point.”

“Good point.” He placed the napkin down. “I will compile a list later. Though, I suspect I will not have time for university given my imperial duties. No doubt, the crown princess has a reason for selecting me.”

“You have a sharp wit to you, Fran.” Marianne sipped from her tea. “I have my own suspicions as to her motives. And all of them involve puppetry in one way or another.”

“As have I. We have reached similar conclusions, it seems,” Estelle said.

Elise and Charles looked lost. Granted, those two seemed more muscle than brain. Though, it wasn’t like they were dumb in any way. Both Estelle and Marianne reminded him so much of the various consiglieres he met. Calm, intelligent, and composed.