The Maid of the Cursed Princess

[I give my all no matter the opponent, even if they are mere children.]

This line from a cartoonist contributing to the Hyperion Daily News immediately sparked considerable controversy upon its publication.

Reactions ranged from questioning if giving one’s full effort against children could be considered ‘adult’ behavior, to assertions that exerting one’s utmost regardless of the opponent’s age or gender was the most mature stance a gentleman could take – a statement the cartoonist had likely penned thoughtlessly for amusement, yet it unexpectedly became a popular catchphrase.

Second Prince Louis leaned closer to the former view, though his stance was nuanced.

While still relatively youthful, the compassionate Prince regarded children as precious seedlings to be protected and cherished above all others.

Yet regardless of his personal inclinations, he always gave his full effort when engaged with children.

Was this a hypocritical contradiction? A facade of insincerity? Not at all.

“…You kids are being rather merciless today, aren’t you?”

It was simply because the Prince was so dreadfully inept at games that he ended up trying his hardest, only for impoverished orphans to utterly trounce him.

“We’re always like this though.”

“Yeah, Your Highness is just playing worse than usual. And you were already terrible to begin with.”

“Your words cut deep…”

Their innocent yet brutally honest critiques brought a tear to the Prince’s eye.

He was already disheartened by his lack of skill, only to have his character insulted as well with no recourse to refute them.

Was such behavior befitting of a Prince, disgracing the royal family like this?

“I did injure my arm though…”

To be fair, the Prince did have an excuse. Having sustained an injury to his right arm from the assassin’s assault that rendered it unusable for some time, how could he properly enjoy games?

“But you still lost even with both arms, so why mention it now?”

“Oooh, how unsightly~”

“…Ugh…”

Although having both arms intact wouldn’t have necessarily granted him victory either.

“…Let us call it a day. If the mockery continues, I fear my heart may not withstand it.”

“…”

“…”

As the Prince ruefully smiled while conceding the match, his defeated mental state apparent, the twins gazed at him with sparkling, expectant eyes.

“…Very well, I understand. Caramels will suffice?”

“Yaaay~”

“Caramels! Caramels!”

As if they were chicks begging for feed, the children gaped and frolicked about. Sighing despite himself, the Prince placed a basket brimming with pastries and candies he had prepared into their hands.

“Thank you~”

“Thank you!”

Beaming with childlike delight, the twins expressed their gratitude before scampering out of the villa grounds like startled rabbits.

“…I wish they could be so well-behaved and courteous more often.”

Extending him Princely treatment only when receiving gifts – were they rather sly beneath that innocent facade?

“Your Highness, we shall tidy up. With your arm…”

“No need, I have always handled it myself. Just because I can’t use one arm doesn’t erase ingrained habits…”

Brushing aside his servants’ protests that they would clean up, the Prince stubbornly fumbled with the game pieces one-handed in a labored manner.

Witnessing their master’s pitiful state, the servants couldn’t help but feel a sense of inexplicable guilt. Was it truly proper for an Orléans Prince to present such an undignified spectacle? To allow their lord to demean himself so?

“If you insist on concerning yourselves… I have yet to dine, so perhaps prepare a meal first?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

For simply observing his plight had become a form of torment unto them. Thus, upon receiving his command, the servants swiftly and obediently withdrew.

“They are rather kind souls, aren’t they?”

Well aware of his servants’ distress, the Prince had provided a pretext to dismiss them under the guise of mealtime preparations.

But there was another reason as well.

The Prince’s gaze fell upon a woman present:

“…Slave Prince.”

The red-haired, golden-eyed assassin.

“…Shall we move to another room?”

* * *

“So, what brings you here?”

After ushering Ruslan into a private room and locking the door, the Prince briefly examined his arm before inquiring.

“The client sent me to apologize directly for the failure.”

“…Ah… the Marquis Vallière, I take it. Typical of him.”

Was he still fuming over the failure despite spending a fortune hiring assassins from Königsberg? Or perhaps he had dreaded facing the Prince in person after masterminding the plot that had injured his arm, without even informing the intended victim.

The Prince surmised it was likely the latter, for the Marquis Vallière was a rather timorous man beneath his bravado.

“By the way… you are in quite the state, I see. It is such fine weather too.”

Physically assaulted in addition to the verbal tongue-lashing, Ruslan’s appearance was rather bedraggled – disheveled hair damp as if splashed with water, flushed cheeks bearing reddened marks. The circumstances weren’t difficult to deduce.

“At least take a seat first. Some tea, perhaps? Pastries might be… ill-advised, given your current state for presenting before others…”

“Not required.”

Taking a seat as the Prince spoke, Ruslan regarded him and his injured arm with a perplexed expression.

“…You will not rebuke me?”

While the Prince had refrained from physical retaliation unlike other nobles, Ruslan had expected at least verbal admonishment or resentful condemnation from the man whose arm he had crippled. Yet the victim only smiled amiably without the slightest hint of malice.

“Dwelling on the past serves no purpose. What matters is the present, and the future.”

Responding to Ruslan’s query, the Prince gazed out the window.

A bird’s nest occupied one of the trees in the villa’s garden – that of a tiny sparrow.

Yet the mother bird, who should have tended to her hatchlings, instead promptly ejected one from the nest upon seeing it. Culling the weakest to ensure the survival of the rest.

“…Will you be able to kill her next time? Sibylla.”

Yes, this was all.

“Undoubtedly.”

For the sake of the future.

* * *

Ever since the Heroes’ Festival’s abrupt conclusion, the Tripartite Assembly had always erupted into raucous shouting matches.

With the successive unsavory incidents that had led to the festival’s hurried closure, it was hardly surprising for accusatory squabbles to erupt as each side desperately sought to shift blame onto the others.

“Then are you claiming this entire debacle is the fault of His Highness the Crown Prince? Should we have detained our guests in Hyperion even after the Prince and Princess were assailed by assassins? That would have been a far greater disgrace, besmirching our national honor!!”

“Even so, to hastily conclude a Heroes’ Festival held once a decade in such a slapdash manner was hardly appropriate either! Sacrilegious as it may sound, I believe the royal family bears a degree of responsibility in this matter.”

The utterly tiresome bickering continued as always.

Observing their pathetic display, the Crown Prince rose from his seat and ascended the central dais of the assembly hall.

“How sacrilegious indeed…”

“Orléans has long-standing traditions and proprieties that must be upheld…”

The assembly members who had fervently engaged in thinly-veiled partisan attacks under the guise of ‘debate’ gradually lowered their voices upon the Crown Prince’s arrival on the dais.

No matter their political clout, but in the absolute monarchy of Orléans, only the King’s voice could supersede the future monarch’s. And the current King had long since descended into madness.

“Why not continue as you were? You had the floor, Baron Clermont.”

Regarding the assembly with a cynical expression, particularly the most vociferous noble Baron Clermont, the Crown Prince stated:

“If you have nothing further to add, then might I be permitted to address these esteemed members of the Tripartite Assembly? Five minutes should suffice, give or take.”

“…As you wish, Your Highness.”

None dared defy the Crown Prince’s thinly-veiled compulsion, whether his capitalist supporters, the clergy, or even the nobles.

“I have an announcement to make, which compels me to take the floor despite my reluctance.”

Surveying the hushed chamber, the Crown Prince began:

“You are all no doubt aware that in the aftermath of recent events, my sister Princess Sibylla has remained in Orléans.”

Sibylla hadn’t yet returned to the High Tower, under the pretext that she could be endangered by further assassins if she departed, though her true reason was to oversee Dorothy’s treatment.

“Though cursed, Sibylla is undeniably a member of the royal lineage, a daughter of His Majesty King of Orléans. Given the repeated assassination attempts against her life, I can’t in good conscience send Sibylla back to the High Tower.”

In truth, this had been Sibylla’s own idea alongside the chamberlain’s, though the Crown Prince didn’t disclose that detail.

“Thus, until we can apprehend the assassins and uncover their backers, I intend to permit Sibylla’s continued residence in Orléans for the time being. What say you all?”

“I wholeheartedly agree!!”

Unsurprisingly, it was the Crown Prince’s capitalist supporters who responded first in approval.

“And the rest of you? If there are no objections, I shall take your silence as consent?”

Not a single noble dared voice any dissent, for openly defying the Crown Prince’s wishes could jeopardize their futures. It was only prudent to remain silent.

“If there are no objections-“

“That can’t be permitted, Your Highness.”

The objection came from an entirely unexpected quarter:

“How can you allow a cursed being to reside within the capital?”

The clergy, who had until now either sided with the nobles or maintained neutral silence.

“While the Lord watches over us all.”

For the first time, they spoke before the nobles could react.