Two years had passed since Violant’s debut ball. It was the second time since then that she stood in Crystal Hall again, only that this time she was not among the debutantes. Her fame as the Valkyrie of the other march ensured that nonetheless much attention was coming her way even if she wasn’t one of the stars of this evening. Of course, in her last lifetime she had been present in Crystal Hall more often, standing at the true focus of attention. As Gervase’s consort and queen she had been present at every debut ball starting from their marriage until her downfall and later incarceration.

Speaking about her and Gervase’s wedding, it was quite obvious that the timeline had irrevocably changed. In her last lifetime this was the first debut ball Violant had participated in as Gervase’s wife. Her eighteenth birthday which had been the month prior had originally been the point of time where she had broken all her ties with her family to be able to marry Gervase, albeit without any dowry. This time around it had been the complete opposite though, for her ties with the house of Avallach were as strong as ever while there was nothing connecting her and the third prince, save for a mutual dislike perhaps. And regarding the matter of her marriage in this lifetime, the redhead still wasn’t ready for any of it. It would need time for her to heal the scars Gervase’s betrayal had left in her heart. This hadn’t changed even three years after her return to the past.

Contrarily to how the procedure had been on Violant’s debut ball, the royal family entered the venue even before the debutantes. This was because of the fact that a member of the royal family had his debut today. The venue itself was also less crowded that two years ago, but no wonder given the continuing war. The atmosphere was at the same time both somewhat gloomy and very exuberant, according to whether the guests couldn’t free themselves of thoughts about the national crisis or tried to forcibly forget it by concentrating on merriment instead.

The sound of fanfares announced the imminent entrance of the debutantes.

“His Royal Highness Prince Wynkin of Yteland.” the herald notified the first and highest ranking debutant to enter the venue.

The golden blond haired prince with the witty hazel eyes looked truly bizarre wearing silken festive attire. His mountain of muscles bloated the normally elegant garment in such a way that it was a pain to behold, but the very same attire was tradition to wear for royal princes at their debut and Wynkin wasn’t one to change this just because it didn’t suit him. Most clothes didn’t suit his brawny, gigantic stature anyway and looked somewhat silly to be honest, but coming in the armor best suited for his honed warrior body wasn’t an option and the berserk prince knew this too. This was one of the pains of being a berserk.

Violant was surprised to find that Prince Wynkin had hit yet another growth spurt since she had last seen him in August, now towering one and three-quarters heads above any normal adult male. This was a clear sign for the fact that his berserk transformation still hadn’t reached its end, but the steady supply of the violet remedy the prince took daily still ensured his sanity. The hoary schrat healer Alarun was unceasingly producing more of this medicine back in Avallach for the sake of her royal pen friend.

The young lady of Avallach saw how some noble ladies disgustedly turned away their heads from the berserk prince, albeit not too obviously. Wynkin admittedly was far from the ideal picture of a gorgeous young man, instead appearing quite monstrous in the eyes of most who saw him. Violant had no problem though. She had gotten used to the eighth prince’s oversized appearance, although she too wouldn’t ever consider Wynkin romantically. Her type was someone less gigantic and brawny; tall, strong and athletic indeed, but not as excessive. When a good looking face was added, that was Violant’s ideal man. Constructing the picture of her ideal man in her head, the girl noticed that this picture was frighteningly similar to Gervase who apparently still occupied her mind and heart for years to come. Realizing this, she couldn’t help but shudder. What use was a gorgeous exterior when the soul inside was ugly like a demon from hell?

While Violant had been lost in thought, even the last of the debutantes who hailed from a baronetcy had made her way down the stairs and entered the venue. The young lady of Avallach only returned to her senses when a loud sound echoed through Crystal Hall. In the meantime Prince Wynkin had positioned himself on the elevated platform the royal family had taken place on. Both King Baldwin and Queen Berengaria looked at their son with pride in their eyes, as did Princess Mabel too who had specifically come to witness her once sickly baby brother’s one and only debut. She huddled against her husband, Chief Minister Jocelyn, who appeared to have a terribly tired face with dark rings under his eyes. This was no wonder though when considering his responsibilities which were heavier than ever during wartime.

Wynkin again clapped in his hand to gather all attention on himself. As soon as the giant felt all gazes gathered on him, he spoke:

“Nobles of Yteland, I wish to express my gratitude to you for sowing up tonight in such large numbers despite the hard times that have come upon our beloved country. I know well that not few of you see me as the main reason for this war and I can understand it if you do not look kindly upon me because of this. There is not much I can change about this fact, and war would have come earlier or later anyway. Not that I wish to justify myself here. It is neither the time nor the place for me to do so. No, I wish to announce a decision of great moment I have carefully made. I, Wynkin of Yteland, prince of royal blood and scion of both His Majesty the king and Her Majesty the queen, henceforth declare that I will renounce any claim I might have on the throne because of my birth and that I will unreservedly support His Highness Prince Edric with his claim for the throne instead. Additionally I renounce my royal privileges so that they might not rekindle new strife.”

Although it was rather well known that Wynkin was an avid supporter of the second prince, his sudden renouncement came as a surprise for most of the assembled guests. Violant, too, hadn’t seen this coming although she could have been aware. But this still wasn’t the end of the surprise.

Next, King Baldwin rose from his seat and commanded with a majestic voice: “Kneel down, my son.”

Wynkin obliged and kneeled down in front of his royal father, assuming a devoted stance. Nonetheless both men were almost at eye level if it was not for the eighth prince’s deeply bent back.

The king then cleared his throat and continued: “Herewith We declare that Wynkin of Yteland with the renouncement of his privileges is no longer a prince of this kingdom, despite the continuing recognition of his blood ties to the royal family. In consideration of the royal blood flowing through his veins, Wynkin of Yteland will still be considered an adult after turning fifteen and is not required to repeat his debut at age sixteen. From this day on, he will be given the title and fief of the duke of Ealdon, thus continuing the venerable ducal line as Wynkin of Ealdon.”

Soon voices echoed through the venue, celebrating the newly inaugurated duke, saying things such as:

“Congratulations, Your Grace.”

“I am very sure that we will hear a lot about the many great accomplishments of Duke Wynkin of Ealdon in the future.”

“It is a good fortune for Ealdon that the venerable line of dukes will still be continued in future, is it not?” and so on.

Violant was overwhelmed with the sudden turn of events, although the berserk becoming Duke Ealdon didn’t come as too much of a surprise for her. The political balance of Yteland was literally shifting right before her eyes, and she became a witness of this event, the consequences of which were anything but foreseeable. On the other hand this unexpected move allowed for more stability in the princely factions, since an overturn of events in the Edric-Wynkin faction or rather the Edric faction became increasingly unlikely. No matter how often Wynkin had reaffirmed that he had no interest in the throne, with this move he had made what was only a simple statement before into an irrefutable fact.

Wynkin, now Duke Ealdon, accepted the countless comments and congratulations, his lips slowly turning to a smile. Then he said: “This will not be the last surprise I have prepared for this evening…”