"We're not so different, you and I. Disgraced families, sullied names, childhoods wasted working our asses off just to earn ourselves a spot back in the empire's good graces. But where I took my sword and swore to protect it, you took the crown and made this place a living hell. What has this empire and its people ever done to you?"
-??? and Rosanna Castus, Secret Route
***
Vincent had spent a long time thinking about how he was going to explain their situation to the Crown Prince.
Normally, Miss Viola didn't get herself involved with these petty situations. He'd heard both good and bad things about the Crown Prince's bethrothed, but not once had he seen the lady give in to the nobles who talked behind her back, or anger them enough to ignore the Adelais name and just go for the kill. He'd attributed that fact to the lady's natural grace, but he supposed something must off that day, for things to go extremely out of hand.
For starters, he had never seen the likes of Rosanna Castus. Ever.
Second, a certain butler was missing, effectively weakening Miss Viola's defenses and patience.
Case on point: Leonardo Cassius was barelling towards them now, as the three of them waited outside the guidance counselor's office. Forget trying to appease the Crown Prince; Vincent would be dead by Miss Viola's servant if he had any say on it.
"My lady!" The butler almost screamed. There was a deranged look on his face — so much that one would think someone got into an accident. "Where—"
"Calm down. She's alright. Lady Viola is inside," Vincent tried to calm him down, gesturing at the office. Miss Viola had been there for a while now, but nothing worth the panic that her butler was in.
The three girls had gone ahead and delivered their best performance, crying and complaining about a madwoman who harassed them in the mess hall. Said madwoman had made no attempt to defend herself at all, insisting that these ladies got what they deserved, and that she would do it all over again.
"They can apologize to me by washing my uniform," Rosanna Castus sneered," Or by buying me a spare set, or writing me a 1000 word reflection paper on the importance of good manners and right conduct as a student."
Vincent had laughed at that — unwittingly so. But this response only seemed to persuade the disciplinary officer to take the bullies' side, which was why Viola's statement needed to take time.
"You seem to be confident that justice is on your side, Miss Castus." The disciplinary officer probed. "It makes one wonder if justice has a name."
Upon hearing those words, Rosanna had gone deathly silent. She hadn't spoken since then, but she didn't deny it, either.
"I heard that my lady was pushed down," Leo said, unable to keep still. "Why is she the one in there?"
Vincent adjusted his glasses. "The disciplinary officer needed everyone's statement for the investigation—"
"Investigation? It was that bad?"
"Please calm down, Mister Cassius. Daughters of high-ranking nobles were involved, but nothing beyond our power." Vincent assured him. He didn't expect that the discipline officer would be affiliated with one of the girls' families, but he supposed he could put in a good word towards the Prince after Miss Castus basically saved his betrothed. "Besides," Vincent added, "there were many eyewitness accounts in favor of Miss Castus—"
Leo's gaze landed on Rosanna, as if noticing her for the first time.
His expression darkened.
"Of course they favor her. What happened this time?"
…what?
The accusation was directed at the girl currently slumped beside him. In all the years he'd known the boy, Vincent never heard him use that kind of voice…until now.
For some reason, Vincent found himself stepping in, blocking Rosanna from the butler's view. "Pardon me, Mister Cassius?"
Vincent met Leo during their masters' playdates. Little interaction was needed between the two of them, for there lay a tacit understanding that the two of them would forever stay as their master's shadow, never to step into the limelight. Vincent knew all about Leo being forced to stay in the servant's quarters. On days that Vincent get to 'accompany' the prince on his way to the Adelais', Vincent had kept close watch on everyone who knew Damian's idenity...and for some reason, that included a mere servant like Leo.
It was because of that association Vincent knew that beneath the amiable butler that Miss Viola always kept beside her, loyal as a guard dog, was a hellhound to everyone else who wasn't his master.
"I wasn't talking to you, Sir Vincent." Leo said, pushing Vincent out of the way. Then he grabbed Rosanna by the shoulder. "Tell me what happened. What did you do?"
Rosanna remained silent, her head hung low. They had done their best to clean her up, yet there was only so much they can do about Rosanna's skin, which turned a fiery shade of red from the heat. The other girls were lucky that theirs was already cold. Vincent hand lent his own blazer to at least help her cover her wet uniform, draping it over her like a blanket.
It painted a pitiful sight. What did she do? If it weren't for her, Miss Viola would be the one sitting there right now, humiliated. She would have bear the shame of being unable to defend herself, like a wilting damsel held up only by the grace of her title. Even if justice was met, it would be a severe blow to the pride of the Adelais household.
Vincent could have intervened. But if he was being honest— he would rather not. He'd worked hard to earn his position as a royal guard, young as he was, and if he had to do something, he would do it because Miss Viola was associated with the Crown Prince, nothing more. People like him couldn't afford to be good. At the very least, even if the noble families came after him, he could argue that the bethrothed of a royalty outranked them all.
(There was also the possibility of the Crown Prince willing to risk his bethrothed's honor than making his identity known. He liked to think that Damian wouldn't stoop that low, but then again, that same boy almost killed Rosanna some nights ago. So there was that.)
This was why, when he saw Rosanna Castus — someone basically at the bottom of the food chain — step forward and give those girls a taste of their own chocolate, he couldn't help but see her in a different light.
"I ask that you treat Miss Castus with respect, butler." Vincent spoke a little louder. "Please take your hand off her."
The butler kept his gaze straight, unrepentant. "And I ask that you go back to your prince and stay out of our business, knight."
He was about to do something stupid when a voice echoed in the mess hall, loud as a thunderclap. "Leo! Stop it! Miss Castus saved me!"
Miss Viola stood outside the door, her eyes a little swollen.
"…huh?" The butler blurted out, at loss.
Miss Viola then pried her butler away from Rosanna, gripping her by the shoulders. "That's not how you treat the benefactor of your mistress," she scolded. "Isabelle and her goons were targeting me in front of everyone, and Miss Castus saved me. Please, apologize to her at once!"
She might as well have poured another mug of hot chocolate over his head. Vincent watched as Leo's gaze shifted from his mistress, then to Vincent, and finally, to the person in question. A series of conflicting emotions flashed over his face.
"But…that's impossible," he murmured. He stared at Rosanna like he would to a ghost. "You-you would never."
'Ever since I got here, all people do is assume the worst!' Rosanna had said. 'Even my idol thinks I'm the scum of the earth.'
When he first heard it, Vincent didn't believe one bit that Miss Castus was a close friend of Leo's. That was her alibi, at the very least, to justify how exactly she was able to identify the Crown Prince's face. But anyone with eyes can see the butler was constantly at an impasse between saving her and chucking her to the nearest pit. It didn't matter what sort of rumors circulated about the two of them, for Vincent knew firsthand that Leo only had eyes for Viola.
Maybe Miss Castus was finally regretting her decision. There was nothing to be gained in that little act of chivalry.
"Miss Rosanna had no business of interfering," he said. "And yet, she still did. Perhaps what you meant to say is, 'thank you'."
Vincent had no business of insisting. And yet…
"I don't need it." A voice cut in.
All heads turned to the blob somewhere around them, finally coming out of her shell. When she looked up, Rosanna's expression had gone back to its natural state of insolence, which had relieved Vincent, somewhat. Her face was flushed, either burned from the chocolate or something else.
"I told you, didn't I? She's my idol."
She smiled at Miss Viola, like she was caught between admitting a crime and a heartfelt declaration. In the face of Miss Viola's...erm, other longtime admirer, perhaps it was both.
The noblewoman, probably unused to that kind of attention, had gone the same shade of red as Rosanna's burnt face.
"I'm your...what?"