“It is good to see you again, Your Highness,” he said warily as he bowed. He was both confused and uneased. This was one of the last people he expected to see.

“I’m sorry to call you out so soon,” the young girl said with an apologetic look on her face. Her chestnut hair was elaborately braided, and as always, she wore a silk dress. Today’s silk dress had floral designs on it, but it was obviously too big on her because the sleeves hung loosely from her arms. “I’m sure everyone wants to meet with you right now.”

“No, it’s not a problem.”

“You’re always so dignified, Sir Roel.” She giggled and beckoned him into the pavilion. “Come, sit.”

“I can’t possibly.” Even in the palace gardens, it’d still be improper for anyone but royalty to take a seat.

The atmosphere was strange. It wasn’t that it was tense – it was quite the opposite. The princess herself seemed a bit fidgety but cheerful, and the servants kept their heads respectfully bowed. There was a cart nearby that was filled with trenchers of deserts and decanters of different fruit juices. This wasn’t what he had expected at all.

Still, he couldn’t be careless. It was possible that someone was using the princess as a proxy. He hadn’t forgotten the instructions on the letter. He removed the sword from his waist and placed it below the yew trees.

The princess gave him a puzzled look. “What are you doing?”

“I am just following your instructions,” he said as he climbed the steps of the pavilion. He ignored the chair and stood across from her.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Her confusion seemed genuine.

“Did you not write this letter, Your Royal Highness?” He had been occasionally scanning it for clues as he made his way through the garden, and he handed it to her. As she read, her hazel eyes grew wider and wider.

“Sir Roel,” she said shakily as she set the letter on the table, “I would never write such a thing. I swear to you and the Lord. I did send you an invitation, but not this one. I wrote to you on the cleanest parchment and with my own hand.”

“If you didn’t write it, then someone else must’ve –”

At that moment, they heard a loud exclamation of delight, and they turned to see the source. The speaker, a boy with leaves in his dark brown hair, was sitting under the trees and holding Durendal up to the sky.

“Wow, it really does shine in the sunlight!” Prince Charlie shouted. “It’s so pretty!”

The princess spoke before Roel could. “Charlie, what are you doing here?”

Charlie ignored her and stood up. He grasped onto the hilt with both hands and assumed a fighting stance. “It’s a lot lighter than I thought.” He swung it once, twice. “Is this what you looked like, Sir Roel? When you fought the monster in the forest on your way back to Brackith. I heard you cleaved its head in two!”

“Charlie, you’re going to hurt yourself again! Give Sir Roel his sword back!” the princess shouted. The servants standing to her side exchanged nervous looks.

“You cannot command me, my fair lady!” Charlie stuck the blade into the ground and kneeled with his head bowed to the hilt. “I am the Zeroth Divine Paladin, King of Calorin, Ruler of Erebusu, Charles the Blood-Wrought.”

“Wait, how did you know we would be here?” The princess stared at the letter on the table, and her pale face flushed red. “Don’t tell me you –”

Her words were interrupted by the sound of something loud and guttural. It was a strange noise, like words being choked out from a slit throat. It was, he realized, the sound of his own laughter.

He felt so silly. He had been worrying all this time over a young boy’s prank. As the tension left his body, he found that he couldn’t muster any anger. When his laughter finally died down and he wiped a tear from his eye, he walked over to the prince. The boy shrank in his presence and guiltily averted his gaze.

“You promised to see me again,” Charles said sulkily. “But I never received word from you when you arrived at the palace. Dagfinn said he saw one of my sister’s maids slip a letter under your door, and I thought we’d play a little prank on you.”

Roel extended his hand, and the boy reluctantly gave him back his sword.

“We didn’t mean any harm, I swear,” the boy continued. “Besides, my sister’s invitation was boring. Dagfinn said it was too plain, that you’d never respond to something like that and that we should write a different letter. It was my idea to make it more threatening,” he added with pride. “Plus, I didn’t think you would let me see your sword if I asked.”

“Charlie, how could you do something like that?” Princess Caroline half-shrieked. “You and Dagfinn had no right to –”

“Prince Charlie,” Roel said.

“Y-yes?” The boy was still looking down at the ground.

“Regardless of what sword technique you’re learning, the point or tip is the most important part of a sword. Swinging it like a club and trying to cut your foe down with the middle of the blade is ineffective. Perhaps you should focus on thrusts first. Like this.” He gripped the sword’s hilt with both hands and aimed at the yew tree with a quick thrust. Durendal might be fake, but he had done enough basic training to know how to wield a sword. “Do you understand?”

“I do!” Charlie said excitedly.

“Also, don’t do this sort of thing again.” He smiled. “Or at least save it for your enemies. You should apologize to your sister, too.”

The prince frowned, but he walked up the steps to the pavilion with Roel behind him.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he said in a monotone.

“I don’t forgive you.” Her eyes met Roel’s. “Or maybe if you apologize sincerely.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Why do you always have to be so nosy?” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you been spying on me? What about Dagfinn?”

“It’s not fair.” Charlie sat in the empty chair and took a slice of pigeon pie from the food cart. “Sir Roel is my paladin. Get your own.”

“I did nothing wrong,” she said slowly and with a forced smile. “I just thought it’d be nice to congratulate Sir Roel on his appointment as commander.”

“That’s not what Dagfinn says.”

She pursed her lips. “Dagfinn says nothing but nonsense.”

It was obvious that the siblings would not be making up. “That reminds me,” he interrupted. “Prince Charlie, I brought a gift for you. I will have a servant send it to you when I get back to my room.”

“A gift?!” Charlie said through a large chunk of pie in his mouth. “What did you get me?”

“What about me?” Caroline said eagerly.

“Ah.” He gave her an awkward smile. “I’ll get you one next time, Your Highness.”

“You’re jealous,” Charlie said to his sister.

“Am not,” she replied stiffly.

“I hope it’s a sword. Or a knife. With a bear head as the pommel.”

“Father wouldn’t let you keep such a thing.”

“Don’t tell him then.”

Roel observed them, trying to hold back a smile. It was hard to believe that these were the royal heirs. They were nothing like Ghislain, who had spoken about his childhood with a dark, brooding expression on his face. That’s when he remembered that there was still something that he needed to say to them.

“Prince Charlie, Princess Caroline. I owe the two of you a great apology.” He bowed to the siblings who both had confused expressions on their faces. “I wasn’t able to save your uncle. If I had just realized sooner about what was to come, I might’ve been able to save him.”

“Please, raise your head,” Caroline said quickly. “We understand it wasn’t your fault.”

“Uncle always looked at me weird, but I didn’t hate him,” Charlie said in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have hit him.”

“I’m sure your uncle was fond of you,” Roel said. “And maybe a little envious.”

“Envious?”

“You like living in the palace, don’t you?” he asked. “You’re happy here?”

“I haven’t really lived anywhere else.” Charlie pondered something for a moment. “I like it enough. Father’s strict though. He won’t let me have a sword instructor. And he makes me take all these boring lessons about maps and commerce and stuff.”

“A king doesn’t need to learn how to wield a sword,” Caroline said. “You’re learning to rule. Unlike me. Sometimes, I spend all day sewing.”

“What if they come for me like they came for Uncle Ghislain?” Charlie said angrily. “I need to learn how to fight, so I can get revenge for him. This whole thing happened because the Graecians have no honor. If they wanted to kill him, they should’ve fought him fairly in combat.”

“Your uncle, may his feast be bountiful, deserved better,” Roel said in a low voice. “But you are a prince. You must learn to rule. That’s why your father gave me command of the troops. I will get your vengeance for you.”

“But it’s meaningless if I’m not the one who does it!” He stabbed at his half-eaten pie with his fork. “The Graecians gave my uncle a disgraceful death, and it is me who must restore his dignity.”

There was a moment of silence. He and Princess Caroline exchanged wary looks, and Charlie had an angry expression on his face as he chewed on a piece of pigeon pie.

“Perhaps you should tell a story, Sir Roel,” Caroline said. “To lighten the mood.”

“Well, what do you want to hear about?” he asked.

“How about your secret?” Caroline said.

“I’m sorry?”

She pointed at the letter on the table. “You were worried about having your secret exposed, right? That’s why you came here. What was it?”

He forced a chuckle. “Divine Paladins have many secrets. I’m afraid I can’t share them with you, Your Highness.”

“Boo, I want to hear a secret!” Charlie stopped sulking and joined in. “You would hide secrets from your future king?”

“When you are crowned, Prince Charlie, you will know them,” he said.

“Okay, what if I ask you for a specific secret then?” Caroline pressed.

“What do you want to know?” he said cautiously. Regardless of how they acted, they were still the royal heirs. He shouldn’t forget that.

“The Battle of Wetshard. How did you defeat a high-ranking paladin like the 13th?”

He hid his frown. The fact that paladins were ranked based on their strength wasn’t something that a young princess of fourteen should know. Even if one closely followed the stories, it’d still be hard to figure out because paladins’ accomplishments were always exaggerated.

Information was an important weapon. Their enemies, like the Graecians, wouldn’t know about the ranking system and would fear him solely because of his identity as a Divine Paladin. That was why the Battle of Wetshard, the battle between mid-ranking paladins and a high-ranking one, was particularly impressive to other paladins and a certain number of nobles.

How had Princess Caroline learned of such crucial information?

He gave his default answer: “Ganelon was very strong, but I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Lady Amandine and Sir Narcisse.”

“Sir Narcisse?” Charlie perked up. “He’s at the palace now.”

“He is?” he said, startled.

“He arrived almost a week ago,” Caroline said. “And two days ago, Sir Ignace arrived as well.”

“Ah, I see.” The council must be calling back the paladins and preparing for war. Perhaps he should leave the palace soon. He had heard some unsavory things about Sir Ignace, but he was warier of running into Narcisse. He didn’t hate the 41st; it just felt uncomfortable to talk to someone who had seen an ugly side of him at the Wetshard Lands.

“So, how did the three of you beat Ganelon?” The princess wasn’t going to let him avoid the question. “I heard it was you that came up with the plan. Is there a secret to defeating a paladin?”

He’d have to concede to the princess. It’s not that he was hiding it in the first place. One could look through the records, like Duke Thierry had, and learn about the battle.

“No, I don’t want to hear about Wetshard,” Charlie said suddenly. He had a large frown on his face.

“Well, I want to hear about it,” Caroline said with her own frown. “You don’t have to listen.”

“No!” Charlie said. “Don’t tell it.”

“Why don’t you want to hear about it, Prince Charlie?” he asked, curious. He and Dagfinn had both been confused before by why the prince was so disinterested in the Battle of Wetshard.

“Because paladins shouldn’t be fighting paladins!” he said as if it were obvious. “It’s wrong. You’re all on the same side. You fight for the kingdom.”

Caroline sighed. “You’re too naïve, little brother. Besides, it was the 13th’s fault for betraying us. We can’t allow a disloyal subject do as he pleases.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it.”

For some reason, the young boy with an obstinate frown on his face reminded him of Lady Cleo. Truth was he still felt guilt over what he had done to the girl. But he hadn’t seen any other way to make her listen. Violence shouldn’t have been the answer, but it was.

But here was an opportunity, a teaching moment. He could slowly work at breaking the prince’s romanticized views. At the very least, he wanted him to understand that the world wasn’t so pretty for the heroes he idolized. He should know, especially if he was going to be king.

“I’ll tell you a secret, but a different one,” he finally said. The two siblings looked at him curiously. “The Battle of Wetshard wasn’t the first time I led. Very few know of this, but there was another time. What do you know of Magerra?"