Duke Astor strode into the laboratory. His most esteemed employees worked away on different experiments, so immersed they didn't see their boss enter. The foremost of the group was a veteran engineer of thirty years. He was the only one ready when Astor approached, bowing formally.

"Duke."

Pleased, Daven responded.

"What have you learned? Is it as promising as we hoped?"

His eyes gestured to the two spinners sitting on the table. One yellow. One black.

The old yet refined researcher nodded formally.

"The concept is without a doubt revolutionary. It's a relatively simple construction with only a few pieces, yet they work together flawlessly, even with the engraved magical formations. To jump from the idea stage to a working prototype in nearly a month's time, well... frankly, it is astounding. If I may be so bold, I have a hard time believing this came from that boy."

Astor appreciated the last comment. Praise was well and good, but too much was going towards the inventor and not the object.

"And its purpose?"

"To expand one's mana pool."

Daven's eyes glimmered.

"So it's confirmed. It's not just a spinning toy."

The researcher smiled back.

"No. It is only hidden as such. Incredibly devious, don't you think?"

"When can you begin production?"

More subdued, there was a moment of thought before answering.

"If you wish to mass-produce it, we will need to hire an abundance of crafters. We will also need at least a dozen enchanters who aren't complete novices since some engravings require steady hands and detailed line-work. Lastly, we need someone knowledgeable to assemble the pieces in order. All in all, it is an undertaking."

"You will have all of it. Begin as soon as you can."

Another bow.

"At once, Duke."

=

Anne burst into the King's office, happy as can be, interrupting her father's discussion with her brothers.

"I figured it out! I finally figured out the answer. It's all thanks to Lecil."

Anne didn't register the atmosphere or the mixed emotions written across her brothers. Too excited at solving the problem her father posed all those years ago. She'd been blind, cooped up without having seen anything for herself. Her previous answers had ranged from money to power. To land and speechcraft. The Army. Magics. Trade. To foreign relations and more.

Now was different.

"The answer is the people."

The King gazed at her.

Anne huffed, the charged energy leaving her and being replaced with eager expectance.

King Francis Lionel, the head which held the crown, was an older man. Wise? Yes. Shrew? Double yes. Ruthless? Always.

His motto was that a King never forgives. However, his youngest daughter was his weak spot. The one person he tolerated no matter what. So it didn't surprise anyone when he stood up from his desk and addressed Anne with affection.

"Wrong."

Blinking.

Affection?

That word didn't contain any...

It was blank. Almost disappointed.

"The answer is not the people."

Anne felt she might collapse.

The King walked around his desk, standing in front of a slouching Anne. King Lionel stood taller than Anne but shorter than most men. Black and gray hair contrasting his daughter's pure platinum blond. Lifting a weathered hand, he set it atop her head. She flinched at the contradictory gesture. He always did it, but today it didn't match his words.

"You will not have a chance at the throne."

Her fists clenched.

"One day, you will understand, but not today. Come. Sit. You have a role to play in upcoming matters."

=

The opulence of the Astor estate was filed away under unimportant. Bellavarn marched in, not bothering to stop at the reception desk or waiting to be allowed in. No-one stopped him, and those that tried found a blade threatening their throats. Kerv and Henry escorted Bellavarn through the flashy abode.

Bellavarn did not throw a fit. Nor was he gentle in the way he handled the doors. Authority was his existence, and he'd come to confront the perpetrator.

Daven Astor, all prim and proper, lounged on a lush chair. Sitting to his right was Duke Raiden, drinking a margarita. Jerome and Ash acted as banners, standing firmly behind him. None of the Sallow party cared for the extra company. They came for one person only.

"Come on in, Sallow."

The words were laced. The mahogany doors shut on their own.

Bellavarn was unreadable as he paced around the furniture, sitting across from Astor. A weak coffee table acted as the only barrier between them.

Crossing his legs, Bellavarn waited.

And waited.

"It's nice of you to join us. We were just discussing your family and its recent... proclivities."

Astor waved a pretentious hand, having fun with the situation. Raiden sipped his margarita like it was popcorn.

"Have you heard of my new product already? It hasn't even been announced yet, and you are already here to congratulate me. I am afraid it will be an exclusive item, so there won't be any room for other sellers. You understand, don't you?"

The words were clear despite their dressing.

Bellavarn didn't respond. Not a muscle moved. Not him. Not his guards.

If Astor was unnerved at all, he didn't show it.

Raiden motioned for Jerome to bring him extra margaritas.

After it was clear Astor wouldn't simply give in, Bellavarn spoke solemnly.

"You think me a moron, don't you?"

A sick smile.

"From my perspective, yes. it is you who plays the fool, constantly being strung along without a clue as to what is really going on in the real world. Naive. A penchant for trusting in the fairer sex. Guided by emotion... Stop me if I get any of this wrong."

"The truth eludes you. "

Cocky laughter. Daven's head was in the clouds.

"Truth? Your statement couldn't be more hypocritical. I have all the truth I need. I know of your precious Melody. How you collapsed dramatically, fainting at the sight of your love's wounds. I know of how she tricked you in that dank cabin and left you waiting in the cold for two nights. I even know you keep a ruined portrait of her in your left breast pocket, right next to your heart."

Astor's open grin was malicious. His true face.

"I don't know whether to be impressed by your commitment or to throw up. Honestly, there isn't any way you could act more asinine. And poor April... I heard she rejected you too, right before falling into a coma."

The last words were spoken through his lower lip, feigning sadness.

"What a poor, tragic, and pitiable existence you are."

A moment of silence.

A pause.

Bellavarn spoke calmly.

"Are you done?"

It was Bellavarn's turn, his voice remaining even.

"You know nothing, you pompous, egotistical, little, brat."

Astor's grin disappeared.

"If you were half as good as you believed yourself to be, you would have guessed that Melody's portrait was removed from my jacket days ago."

Putting a hand in his jacket, he pulled out a piece of cloth—April's handkerchief.

"I was not rejected. This is April's. A sign of her affection.

Replacing it.

"The feeling is mutual, by the way."

Moving on.

"You should also realize April is awake and with her parents. Or did Talon not communicate that to you?"

Astor's fingers clenched his armrest.

"The first thief easily gained access to my workspace and took my inventions. Why do you think that is?"

"Because-"

"Because I allowed it."

Astor's eyes twitched for the first time. Bellavarn nodded, as a matter of course.

"I planted the devices in plain sight, behind an easily pickable door with faulty wards, and I even ordered my guards to allow the intruder easy access. Even if your thief were a bumbling buffoon, he shouldn't have had any problems. I arranged everything perfectly for the spinners to fall into your hands."

Astor shook, jaw clenched, he was unable to hold his tongue.

"Why would you."

"I guess it only makes sense that you wouldn't understand. My plan was to allow you to manufacture the devices on your own dime. If I manufactured it myself, you would have blocked the product. So, making you distribute it willingly was the best way to grow the Kingdom's power. And you would never have known had I not told you. The designs would never be yours if I hadn't allowed it."

"You would willingly give up a fortune to a rival?."

Bellavarn actually looked at him with pity.

"I could guess you were self-centered, but I should have realized you were an idiot too."

"How dare you!"

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Bellavarn bellowed. Enraged, he rose. A dark aura pressuring. Suffocating and malevolent. Madness.

Chains wrapped his ego.

He let them. He didn't care. This was what he wanted anyway.

"Because of you. Two people are dead."

He seethed through his teeth. Gazing into Astor, freezing his soul.

"My friends died because of you! All you had to do was send a competent thief. But instead, you sent assassins to kill an innocent girl and her brother. Did you know they died in just out of arm's reach? That they killer let them bleed out long enough to see the other die?"

Insane laughter.

"Jeral and Lannie's blood is all over your filthy paws. And you will answer for it."

The doors exploded inwards—a dozen armed men entering the room. The one in the lead declared.

"By order of the King, Bellavarn Sallow is to be apprehended and brought before the throne to answer for his crimes against the crown."

Astor's smiled sickly. Standing, he dusted himself off, wiping his hands of this affair.

Bellavarn paid them no mind. Instead, he turned to the Klein Raiden, voice chilly.

"Will you be joining the arrest, Duke Raiden?"

Swirling a second martini, he sipped it casually.

"I don't see any need to."

Bellavarn grinned.

"Good. Kerv. Henry. Buy me thirty seconds."

"With pleasure, Master Bellavarn."

"I needed something to hit anyway."

The authorities reached for their weapons, unable to react in time. Clashing with Kerv and Henry.

Raiden waved Ash and Jerome down, all while Duke Astor chuckled haughtily.

"You are only making it worse for yourself. Give up. Your fate is already sealed."

It was Raiden who answered.

"You've forgotten something important, Daven."

Bellavarn moved around the table towards Astor. The prim duke backpedaled, looking between Raiden and the approaching Bellavarn.

Surely... Surely he couldn't be... And Raiden is going to sit there?

Retreating, Astor perceived a blur before the impact.

Thick meaty smacks. Almost rhythmic and musical. A disgusting melody.

Raiden's boisterous laughter resounded.

"You've forgotten he's a Sallow!"

=

Bellavarn knelt before the court. It was a full show with nearly every major and minor noble present—all except his parents. Today, new blood and old blood found something more interesting to focus on than their rivalry.

The accusation against Bellavarn Sallow:

Assault on the royal family.

The King reclined on his throne, peering down at Bellavarn. Prince Kly and Prince Tristan stood on either side as witnesses. The two Dukes were there as well. Raiden was expressionless while Astor's smug face appeared healthy and normal behind an expensive enchantment.

Royal Guards lined the room. Everyone stared at him. He thought he saw April's parents among the crowd.

No allies. No parents. No guards. No friends. A sea of enemies determined to make an example.

Not even the son of a Duke is beyond judgment.

"You are accused of assault on the royal family. How do you plead?"

Bellavarn wanted to grind his teeth, but he forced himself to answer immediately and without hestiating.

"Not guilty."

The king made no move, expecting this outcome. The other nobles chattered and whispered, grateful the theatrics would continue.

"What words do you have to refute the word of your sovereign."

Sovereign? You and the rest of your lackeys can go to hell.

"What evidence is there besides your words?"

Murmurs.

"I see no injuries on your persons—none on your sons. You've dismissed both princesses, so I can only assume one of them is the injured party. But it is strange. I heard they were both happy and healthy last night at the festival. They were even attended by the two dukes standing beside you."

You should have dealt with me quietly instead of having this farce in front of the nobles.

"If one of the princesses was harmed, would it not have been one of the two standing beside you? If not, their negligence is surely a crime of similar worth."

A susurration swept the audience. Raiden looked impressed while Astor continued to glare.

"You have presented no evidence of foul play. No blood. No weapon. No eye-witness testimony. You have no proof other than your word that I have acted against the crown in any way."

Bellavarn's words elicited smiles from his judges. Prince Tristan spoke sinisterly.

"We have all of it."

Thus they brought out the rope. Lengthy explanations about its use and confirmation of the princess' blood on the rope. Bellavarn's objections of the blood being planted went unanswered. The entire evidence was been fabricated; there was absolutely no blood that day—only bruises and old scars.

His word didn't matter. They didn't care for the holes he poked. They enjoyed a juicy story more than the truth.

The maid they brought out as witness only saw him leaving the princess's room with his guard. They never saw inside or what happened. They didn't hear anything. No cross-examination was held, and no public defender was fighting for Bellavarn. The King could have coerced the entire testimony, and no one would be the wiser. Nor would anyone care. The monarchy was absolute.

The crown was unquestionable.

When they brought out Kerv, Bellavarn saw red.

He'd been beaten horrendously, unable to walk on his own two feet. They used his continued silence as proof of criminals hiding their deeds.

Fury boiled within him. Red hot and scorching.

A kangaroo court. A sham. It was all a lie to cover up their own faults.

First Melody. Now Princess Lecil.

None of it was his fault. None of the damage was his doing. None of what they said was true.

They were determined to kill him.

They should be the ones kneeling!

Fight back.

Of course, he should fight back!

Attack.

He would plan his revenge.

Kill them all!

He would slaughter them for their insolence.

It's all their fault.

Their fault.

Them.

The King

Royals.

Dukes.

Nobles.

People.

Melody.

The Princess.

They will all pay.

They will all perish.

Starting with her.

=

Lecil was drinking tea with her sister. The oddity was that Anne never invited her before. The second was that her normally chatty sister was painfully silent.

Noble topics, gossip, or the latest fashion trends… topics that would normally Anne to go off on tangents all fell short. There didn’t seem to be anything that would rouse the younger princess.

"Anne. Why did you want to have tea if you didn't want to talk?"

Anne flinched and then tried brush the action away.

"Erm. I wanted to spend quality time together. You know, since last night, we sort of bonded a bit."

Glancing at the affection rate above her head, it remained at 30%.

"I know you can tell a better lie than that. And if you can't, you might as well tell the truth."

Biting her lip, Anne debated telling Lecil. There was a chance she could get jealous, or angry, or throw a fit. All of which would be bad right now. But Anne decided that her sister, the First Princess, would understand her dillema better than anyone.

"It's about the answer to father's riddle. It turns out I was wrong."

"Wrong, how?"

"The answer isn't the people. It is something else."

"Is it that big of an issue if you are wrong? Why does it matter?"

"Because! Father said if I figured it out, I could... I could be considered eligible for the crown."

Bafflement.

"Why would he do that?"

Bitter anger.

"He said if I solved it, I would know what it was like to be king."

"No. I mean, why would he suddenly let you, a woman, run for the position of king, which has always been seeded with masculinity? There's no way that solving a riddle would make it okay. Even if you are father's favorite, the backlash would be enormous."

Anne clutched at her dress. Holding onto straws.

"But there is a chance! He gave me a chance. If I can figure out what he wants me to say, I can become the first Queen in the kingdom's history. I can change the way things are run!"

Lecil set down her cup and shook her head.

"That is why men will never accept a woman as ruler. They are afraid of the change a woman will bring."

"But the riddle!"

"Screw the riddle! What is wrong with your answer? What is this absurd riddle that tells you that you're wrong?"

Anne relayed the riddle in a voice that said she repeated it to herself thousands of times.

"What is the most important thing for a ruler to have?"

"That's it?"

Anne nodded hesitantly.

Lecil scoffed.

"That is not a riddle. That is an objective question. Whatever your answer, he can claim it is false. Why can't there be more than one right answer? If you want to be queen, won't your style of rule be different than Father's? If your answer is the same as his, nothing will change."

The mixture of emotions running through Anne was drastic until they landed on clarity and recognition.

Anne - 35%

Lecil added another note.

"Besides, I like your answer a lot better than if it was something like ‘the crown, or, an ‘iron fist’.”

A little laughter.

Then a thought.

"By the way. Is something happening? I haven't seen anyone else all morning. Not even Irene."

"Ah. About that. You don't have to worry. Our brother and Father are taking care of it. You won't have to be afraid of him any longer."

Seeing the way Anne reached over and grabbed her hands in a comforting gesture was a clear warning sign that something was off.

"Him? Afraid? What are you-"

The shattering pottery followed her stumble to the parlor door.

"Celia!"

Anne's voice was indistinct.

The migraine. It was back and pounding her head with alarms.

Her vision was blurred, and her breathing became ragged. Clawing at her mind.

Instability.

Breathing.

Hyperventilating.

Breathing.

Slowing.

Back to normal.

Her eyes focused in front of her, on the screen phasing in and out.

-

(Hidden) Main Event: Hour of Judgement

Rewards: Life

Consequence: Death

-

=

The pain was still there, throbbing and ever-present. It remained persistent in its attempts to block her. Warning Lecil to turn back.

An event screen kept trying to reappear in front of her as she walked, but it fizzled out every time. It seemed to want to tell her more but was being blocked by something.

The hallways were barren of life. Ancestors' eyes glared daggers through yellowed paintings. Stained glass windows attacked her senses with a multitude of hues. The click-clack of shoes dancing to the beat of her agonizing head. Clutching it, she tried to slow the blood flow—a fever well-past boiling temperature.

Stumbling, Anne caught her arm.

"Celia. You're burning up. You have to stop."

"No! No... I need... I need to see. Then it will stop."

Anne held her tongue, helping her sister. This was defying her father's wishes, but she didn't see another way to stop her deranged sister.

More hallways.

More paintings.

More stupid glass windows.

More clicking clocks.

More.

And more.

And more.

Until...

Through the crack in a doorway, between the shoulders of two guards, Lecil could see for the first time.

Clear as day.

Bellavarn Sallow.

Sallow: 62%

Why is it so high?

Sallow: 61%

It's dropping? Why is it dropping?

Sallow: 58%

No! No, no, no! This can't be happening. Why is that bastard's score so high?

Sallow: 53%

I'm going to lose it all! Stop! I need to stop it!

The clocks chimed Twelve.

Eleven.

Ten.

Nine...

=

The scene changed.

Lecil was floating, attached to the ceiling, looking down, past the grand chandelier. It was dark. Almost too dark. Lights were extinguished, save for the moonlight shining through the balcony. It cast familiar furniture in gloomy hues.

Her viewpoint rotated, following a line of rope.

Is that me?

Her body hung suspended. Dead.

Had it all been a dream? Have I been dead this whole time?

The door opened. A figure bursting in.

"Kerv! Get in here."

A second figure.

"Hurry. Cut the rope!"

Lecil jumped from seeing her own body hit the floor. Even if the man cushioned the fall, that must have left a nasty bruise.

"Two minutes. Give me two minutes. Please."

The man was pumping her chest in a familiar fashion.

Are those chest compressions? Is he doing what I think he is doing?

"Bell, what are you doing?"

"Cut her corset. Quickly! She can't breathe this way."

Lecil yelped when her clothes were cut. No one could hear. The background of chiming clocks too raucous. Her favorite dress, ruined.

Was that what happened? But I thought...

Bellavarn Sallow. This was him. He was trying to save her! Those chest compressions. Even the rescue breaths? How did he know how to do that? Why was he saving her? He is supposed to be the villain!

Chimes.

Fading.

Lecil felt herself floating away.

=

A deep inhale.

The last chime.

Sallow: -23%

It went negative!

The numbers jumped.

Sallow: -44%

STOP! Please! Stop.

Lecil tried to burst through the doorway, but hands caught her. Strong hands.

She struggled, flailing uselessly. Unable to break free. Unable to stop it.

Then she met Bellavarn's eyes.

She sent a prayer into those dark abyssal blue eyes.

The coldness froze her. Stopping her struggle.

Then the color softened.

The falling number scrolled like an index.

It stopped.

Broken.

Sallow: N/a

=

He didn't care if the world burned.

He didn't care if they all died.

Let them writhe and scream and beg for mercy. It was all her fault.

If he hadn't saved her, they had nothing to pin on him.

He would kill her first.

Rip her to shreds as a message.

He would save no one ever again.

No kindness.

No mercy.

No-

Purple eyes.

A figure hiding.

No...

A princess still fighting to break free.

The chains he let bind him shattered.

Free to think. Bellavarn saw the girl he saved, desperately trying to help. A figure held her back. One he vaguely recognized.

Ash.

Their eyes met and the threat was clear.

Bellavarn sighed.

He was tired of it all.

Telling the truth and saying the princess tried to harm herself wouldn't lead anywhere. Killing everyone here was implausible. Being declared innocent was impossible when immutable powers acted as his judge. They framed him for a made-up crime, and nothing he did could change their minds.

Defeated, he asked.

"What is the punishment?"

A single word.

"Death."

=

Braster kicked in the doors, one of them crushing an unfortunate soul. Squeaks signaled the person was alive.

"Enough of this farce."

His voice boomed throughout the room. A retinue followed him. Trisha wore her sword. The rest of the guards all came. Each member of the staff marched in with Duke Sallow taking the lead.

Prince Tristan addressed the intruder.

"This trial is over. Your deranged son admitted defeat. He will be executed for acting against the crown."

"Then there will have to be a slaughter after all."

Swords escaped from their sheaths. All weapons were drawn as the nobles attempted to get out of the line of fire.

Raiden laughed, excited.

"Come on then! Let's get this party started!"

Trisha drew her sword, ice coalescing around her.

"Not another step, pipsqueak."

"I won't go easy just because you are pregnant, Duchess."

The din was overwhelming.

Shouting words that no one listened to.

Orders dismissed.

Clamor. Ready for a charge.

"Silence."

The king's word halted all present. An air of authority only a King could muster.

All attention was on the aged man rising from his throne.

"There will be no spilled blood today. The kingdom needs its dukes; thus, I will allow for a concession to be made."

He didn't elaborate any further, and it was up to Braster to fill in the blanks. Sheathing his sword, Duke Sallow marched forward.

"I, Duke Braster Sallow, will accept responsibility for the accusations against my son and any wrongdoing this day. Will you accept my sword, your grace?"

Braster offered his holstered weapon.

The king smiled wide for the first time.

"No! This is what they want!"

Too late.

"I, King Francis Lionel II, accept your sword. As punishment for your crimes, you will be garrisoned in Duke Raiden's most southern lands. Your task is to conquer the Badlands as the acting General."

That was a death sentence! There was no point in conquering sterile land, the kingdom had no use for it, and the natives protected every grain of sand until their dying breath. Sending a Duke native to the cold north to the arid south was completely illogical and suicidal.

Bellavarn couldn't stand for it.

This couldn't happen.

Luckily. He saw a potential way out.

Rocketing to his feet. He spoke into the absence.

"Duke Raiden!"

All eyes turned.

Raiden was curious.

"What do you have left to say, disgraced son?"

Mustering up his courage, Bellavarn declared.

"I will show all present that I am irreplaceable and stronger than the proclaimed war hero of Lionel."

Steely eyes.

"I challenge you to a duel. Your title, your land, your people will become mine, and I will conquer the southern Badlands as its rightful Duke."