A gold-haired young lady yawned inside her room, as if she is bored and unmotivated to wait for someone to come to her. Her long hair covers her small back and the zip behind her dress. She is sitting on her round, soft bed, covered with white sheet. A set of curtains are tied behind the bed, which is supposed to enclose the lady in case she is in need of privacy. There is a soft cushion positioned in front of her and a huge carpet made of fur under her feet. There's a dresser next to her bed along with a mirror above it. The large windows enable to lady to look and see the moonlight and the starry nights every day. The elf-like ears are able to clearly hear to faint breeze of the night. After a while, someone politely knocked the door twice before entering.

"Lady Flare, it's almost bedtime," a maiden entered her room.

The lady yawned again before her eyes popped open as if she just noticed the presence of the maiden in front of her.

"No, Cellica, I'm not wearing the silk pajamas!" Flare protested, pouting her cheeks.

"Did you know that silk is made out of bugs? That's gross!" she added.

"Oh please, not this again," the maiden rolled her eyes, smiling at the same time.

The maiden then handed another set of clothes, which Flare immediately grabbed and rubbed on her cheeks.

"Ha…this one is the best…" Flare moaned.

The maiden just covered her mouth with her hand, holding herself from laughing.

"What?" Flare asked.

"Oh nothing, you're just giving me an image of how you might be with a man," Cellica replied wittily, but Flare just tilted her head in confusion.

"I don't understand…"

"It's nothing," Cellica giggled before taking back the silk pajamas.

"You have to wear these sometimes you know, how am I supposed to talk to him every time you reject his gift," Cellica added, but her tone easily tells that she is disgusted by the person she is referring.

Without saying much, the maiden sat next to Flare and began talking to each other, like two peas in a pod, inseparable. The two of them began talking non-stop like mosquito that is flying next to a person's ear. They talked for hours about a lot of stuff, and then eventually ends up about Flare's status.

"…I mean, please. I know I am not a child. I can totally see that he is trying to keep the monarchy and remain king by keeping me alive. I don't want to marry him either!" Flare kept on complaining as the maiden listened to her rant.

"Still, all the gentleman and nobles that come around here call you the melancholic princess, you know," Cellica sneered.

Flare just laughed and looked down.

"I'm not melancholic, I'm just gloomy and unmotivated," she replied truthfully.

"…True, every day you have to put a fake smile to the crowd which called you 'Princess' a few months back. Now…" Cellica blurted.

The maiden stopped halfway when she saw the gloomy look her friend's face.

"How'd it come to this?" Flare asked herself, reminiscing her past.

Constructed above the stream, the city of Whitefall is home to humans lead by the previous King Edwen. This city wasn't built by a stream by accident, as the river provides almost everything the city needs, which contributes to the town's flourishment. The city contains 5 districts with all buildings made of quality stones and marbles with its ceramic rooftops. The district at the east is called the Bazaar, home to merchants and caravans from inside and outside the city. The west district mainly where most people live in, since this district is mostly dedicated to housing. This district mostly focuses on arts and education, since there are schools built inside the district. The south district is filled with plantations, farms, lush green fields, pastures, barns, everything that people normally see in the countryside. The north district is home to the military, where people work in the production of weapons, triremes and much more. Also, it is home to Whitefall Harbor. The central is home to central command, the palace and the Royal Academy. The perfectness of the city made Whitefall self-sufficient to operate on its own, but the previous king along with several nobles made trade deals with cities all around the island to build relationships and comradeship among each other, until 5 months ago.

"I don't understand what did father did wrong. Why is it like this? Why is this happening?" Flare asked, repeating the question over and over again to her only friend living inside the castle.

Cellica, the maiden remained silent, unable to answer her question.

There are 5 races that reside in the archipelago. Humans, Elves, Sylphs, Dragon-kin and Demons. 10 years ago, demon-kind waged war against humankind. The long war between two races ended with a peace treaty, followed by the sudden death of King Edwen five months ago. Both sides suffer severe casualties, but luckily the peace treaty was enacted, which made the army of demons retreat back to their homeland, dubbed Redstar. It actually has a long complicated name, Caymupibuhm, but the humans just name it Redstar. The current king, Ragnar Grove, was chosen from one of the Pathfinder Knights, since King Edwen was once a decorated warrior from the Pathfinder Knights. The Pathfinder Knights are no more, but the princess is named the leader of the Pathfinder Knights.

"I take the queen hasn't loosened up on you yet?" Cellica asked.

Flare shook her head sideways.

"Just few days after father died, how can she marry that man?!" Flare asked, a bit angry.

Again, Cellica remained silent.

"…And now, me?"

"Ew…" Flare grossed out.

"Did you get any letters from your beloved 'brother'?" Cellica changed the topic, teasing Flare.

Flare immediately blushed and remained silent, hiding something behind her rear. Cellica just giggled and asked Flare about his condition.

"He's still looking for Alex in Redstar," Flare answered half-heartedly, to which the maiden sighed.

"That Mitchel. Did he forget that his brother betrayed us and allied with demon-kind?" Cellica sighed.

"He is your 'brother' after all, sending letters and all…" the maiden teased, and received a pillow strike to the face.

"He's my half-brother. Don't have any weird thoughts!" Flare puffed.

"Yeah, yeah…"

They talked for hours until the maiden excused herself from the tower that Flare is sleeping in. Once again, the fallen princess is alone in her quarters, stuck inside a prison made to seal her away until the time is right. Flare looked at the letter her half-brother, Mitchel, sent to her and puts it away inside her drawer, along with the many letters that he had sent previously. Every day, she sits inside the tower with only one friend to talk to, a stepmother that barely cares about her well-being, a king whom casted her to the sidelines and…

"Oh yes, I forgot…" Flare reminded herself, jumping out of her bed to take out a letter from her parcel.

"I wonder how Uncle Talbot is doing," she wondered, holding the piece of letter in her hand.

Although her father isn't here, there is one person that also kept her afloat in her dark situation. It was The Royal Judicator, Talbot, whom she looked to like an uncle. Since his work mostly bring him throughout the nation, even outside Whitefall, he always brings back attractive trinkets and delicious desserts from the outside. He would also remind her about etiquette and manners, since he cannot always be the nice uncle. His actions are also influential to the princess, giving her the heart to stay at the castle. However, before she could read it, she dozed off, falling to the night sky and the white moonlight that shines her now dark room.

…..

"No, that's wrong!"

"…You don't have to yell like that…" Flare murmured, pouting her cheeks as she slowly tries to cut a piece of stake correctly with a knife.

"You don't pierce the fork first. The fork is supposed to act like a pressure to prevent the food from moving as you cut the meat. Again!" the woman instructs.

At the other side of the long table, there's Archbishop Lincoln, and the current monarch, King Ragnar Grove.

"…I don't know if it's true that step-mothers behave a lot meaner than biological mothers, but from what I see, it seems to be true," Lincoln joked.

"Haa…I heard that she has been doing this since the previous king, but that little girl hasn't learned a thing. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be amazed or disappointed," Ragnar joked along, and the two of them laughed.

Flare just looked down in embarrassment as she tries to correctly use the cutleries, until she scratched the plate and received another scolding.

When the session has finished, and Flare's step-mother had already left the dining room after reviewing and scolding Flare again, Ragnar and Lincoln stayed to talk. Flare, who the assumed have left, is hiding behind a wall, eavesdropping their conversation. She knows full well that she'll probably get scold, and probably beaten if Ragnar hears them, she did it anyway.

There are traces of bruising on her thigh, wrist and back. Since Ragnar took control, her life could be interpreted as a prison-like life. Although she had little freedom during King Edwen's rule, Ragnar's rule offers her closer to none. In the earlier days, Ragnar always scolds her when she didn't heed him, and later, he beats her.

However, for some time, there are traces of Ragnar trying to go make small talk with her.

The two men continued their discussion to the kitchen, where, Ragnar, as always, during his free time…bakes cupcakes.

"How long until the marriage?" Lincoln asks.

"Oh come on, padre. You're the attending minister," Ragnar chuckles as he pulls out the batter he had already made previously.

In fact, there are at least 5 trays of batter, each prepared differently.

"Ah, I see you are still trying to combine meat with cupcakes. How many times to I have to tell you that cupcakes are meant for icing and sweets, not meat?" Lincoln kept pestering the king.

"…Laugh all you want. I will still try to re-create that food I had in the Sylph capital. They combined it perfectly together, and I've just discovered the ingredient to make it," Ragnar replied while his eyes are focusing on the batter.

"It's not made from cupcakes, but from pie crust, which would explain the perfection," Ragnar explained it to Lincoln.

"And I suppose you get this idea by…"

"Well, we have loads of them there. Can't I ask one of them to teach me how to cook?" Ragnar replied sarcastically to Lincoln, preventing him from finishing his sentence.

Lincoln remained silent.

"Oh, cut me some slack, will you? I practically built a shrine for your research. Why can't I take a bit just to learn how to make a meal properly?" Ragnar nagged.

"Huh…yeah, yeah, but in exchange, you'll have to give me a bite. Though I suppose I'll also vomit from this one too," Lincoln joked.

"What a surprise! The batter is enough to make a lot of experiments, and remind me, from what I hear, your pasta sauce is still a disaster. I remember having a stomachache for weeks after I ate your cooking months ago," Ragnar retorts, and the both of them left.

"…There just talking about food. It's better if I don't hear any weirder topics," Flare murmured to herself before carefully tip-toeing away from the kitchen.

They continued to talk about food for a while.

"She'd already left, so now I can ask the real question," Ragnar utters.

"…She'd have to be a lot cleverer if she wants to eavesdrop a conversation, but I'm more surprised that you didn't just yell and hit her like usual. Something happened?" Lincoln asks.

"…Nothing, I just feel…bizarre, that's all," Ragnar murmurs.

"Heh…"

"How're you feeling? I suppose the transfusions are taking a toll on you," Lincoln asked directly, drinking a cup of tea.

"I'm alright. How about those bodies? You dispose of them?" Ragnar inquires.

"You should know. You designed the whole system. They are walking like moths to a flame just to have salvation when no such thing as that exist," Lincoln replies.

"…And how long will her ability mature? You know I can't just watch her face forever, although technically we are getting married soon," Ragnar asks again.

"It will be soon. Her energy is definitely increasing, but it is still not in the proper level like her father. Too bad someone did something and prevented me from siphoning something," Lincoln comments cynically.

"Ah, don't play buddy-buddy with me, old man. I suppose this form will be enough for now, but if you really want to do what you want…"

"…I suggest you continue doing what you do, and focus on giving salvation to those poor sods. Your injuries aren't healed enough, and that's why I can beat you in a fight," Ragnar suggests.

It was more like a threat than a suggestion.

"My, my, looks like the country rug rat has turned into a wild fox," Lincoln retorts cynically.

"…We've never been friends, and we never consider each other as one, but we both have a common goal. Don't forget that," Ragnar implies.

"Yes, yes…" Lincoln just nods.

They remained silent for a while.

"You should bring Violet to the park for some breath of air, and remind her where she sits. To be honest, I'm still surprised you are keeping that uncultured swine," Lincoln comments.

"Well, if I had just kept Flare and killed her, it could lead to a lot of unprecedented actions, and one of them being...well, you'll lose your chance, to make it simpler," Ragnar reminds Lincoln.

After finishing their conversation, the two of them left for the church, without any guards. Instead of using the street, for some reason, the two of them are walking through the back door to prevent being seen. There's less crowd when the exit the palace through the back door as the two of them wore robes, similar to a ones priest where as they walk around the city.

"You know, you are a king, so you don't have to wear these robes like you were doing back when you were on missions. You can just get away with most things," Lincoln sarcastically comments on Ragnar's poor choice of clothing.

"N-N-Never mind the minor details. I'm just checking in, see if you're up to speed on things. Do you even know how much money it took to decorate that humongous cathedral of yours?" Ragnar looks away shyly.

Suddenly, the two of them stopped.

"…Huh, it's been a while since someone did this. You're still good on your feet, right?" Lincoln pestered Ragnar.

"I'm not that old, unlike you. Well, I haven't been in combat for a long time. This seems like a perfect opportunity to warm up and loosen my muscles," Ragnar said as he moves his shoulders around.

"I see, so you think you're still good at fighting, huh? But don't get too carried away," Lincoln pestered him more.

"Don't get too full of yourself, being all gangly like that," Ragnar joked back.

"…Do not interfere," Ragnar warned Lincoln.

Then, it an instant, 10 assassins just appeared out of nowhere in the air. However, before they could do anything, all of sudden, all 10 of them got stabbed by a sword. Each of them have one sword stabbed through the heart at pinpoint accuracy. When Ragnar confirmed that all of them are dead, he flicked his fingers, and all the swords dissipated into thin air.

"Gngh…!"

One of the assassins is still alive, but barely breathing. Ragnar approached him, and immediately stepped on his head.

"Is your target me? Or the King of Whitefall? Or maybe old man Lincoln there?" Ragnar asked the assassin, and pushed his feet harder until he could 'crack' sounds from the man's skull.

"…J-Just kill me…" the assassin said.

"Well, that would be the easy way, but…"

In an instant, five pikes appeared and stabbed through each of the assassin's limbs, and one to press his neck further into the ground, which prevents the assassin from moving at all, even to twist his neck.

"There are still more of them…" Lincoln points.

"I get it. I'm not that old," Ragnar bickered and raised his arm.

"What were they even thinking sending only 20 assassins to take down the highest-ranked Pathfinder Knight?" Ragnar murmured before gripping his hand and pulled it back.

Immediately, 10 more assassins were pulled from every direction, and all them of them got stabbed with a sword through their heart. All 10 bodies rained down to the ground and sodden it with their own blood.

"…They have no ambition, these assassins, which is why they bore me the most," Ragnar muttered to himself.

"Yet you keep one alive. Why?" Lincoln asks.

Ragnar turned his back to the dead bodies and focused on the one that he maimed. He flicked his fingers again, and all the weapons that appeared from thin air, again, dissipates back into thin air. He grabbed the assassin by the neck, and suddenly, grabbed the man's chest and rips the cloth covering his body.

"Yup, this one's a woman, just as I thought," Ragnar utters.

"…Well, I see your senses haven't dulled yet," Lincoln joked.

"Well, she sounds like a man since she muffled her voice. Now, I wonder why is she here?"

"Clearly, these are all rookie assassins. So, I'd guess that…you're one of those resistance fighters, aren't you?" Ragnar asks as he chokes the woman harder.

"Of course, King Edwen's reign ended so suddenly and I take charge, and you don't like how I rule things."

"This is so…boring…and cliché!"

Then, Ragnar just kicked the assassin to the side away from him.

"Leave, and never come back!" he warns.

The assassin, puzzled, just looked at him in confusion.

"What? Surprised? Go on, scram! You assassins bore me," Ragnar repeats his threat as he watches the assassin limping away from him.

"…Hmm…I'm surprised you're letting her go. You've gone soft, which contradicts what you did said to me few minutes ago," Lincoln muttered.

"Hmph…"

As the woman is limping away, suddenly, a kid just appeared from behind a wall.

"…Rex, what are you doing here?" the woman suddenly asks, concerned, puzzled, and worried.

"Mom…where am I?" the kid asks, obliviously.

"It's all right…it's all right, mom's okay now…come, let's go home…" the mom said as she limps towards the kid.

"Mom, why are you injured?" the kid asks again.

"…Mommy's just, tired…"

"Enjoy your retirement, lady-assassin," Ragnar smiles as he walks away with Lincoln.

The two of them walked away, leaving the assassin behind to reconcile with her child without a care of them. The assassin is still limping away, while the child is still terrified of watching her mother bleeding in front of him. The mother on the other hand, is crying. Tears are flowing out of her weary eyes as she limps towards her with her arms reaching out to comfort her child.

"Mommy's fine…"

Meanwhile, Ragnar and Lincoln are just walking away, leaving the two of them behind.

"Have you been practicing your magic tricks, Archbishop Lincoln?" Ragnar chuckles.

"Oh, don't tease, I'll love it," Lincoln chuckles.

Suddenly, a summoning circle just appeared underneath the kid, and black pus begins to emerge from it. Without a moment to spare, the pus latches onto the kid and begins to devour him whole. The pus inflates, and sucks the kid into itself. The mother, who was limping, immediately jumped towards the gunk-like pus and grabs onto the kid's arm and tries to pull him out, screaming for help at the same time. She screams in terror, asking for salvation and the safety of her child.

"NO! NO! HELP ME, PLEASE! PLEASE!" she screams for help, but people, who are just crossing at the adjacent road, couldn't seem to hear her.

"…That's a neat trick, creating a bubble to silence her," Ragnar praises Lincoln.

"It would not be in our interest for anyone to discover how cruel you actually are," Lincoln jokes.

As the assassin tries to pull her son's arm, the pus begins to devour her along as she continues to scream for help. The woman tried her best to help her son, until...her son's arm was torn off because of her excess force. The part of the arm that was devoured by the pus is decaying at an increasing rate. However, the woman, blaming herself for injuring her child, cries in terror as she tries to dig for her child inside the pus. It led her to be completely devoured by the pus, and the pus disappears completely when the summoning circle disappears.

"…Terror tends to inspire people more compared to kind-heartedness. The more intense the terror, the more emotions die. Terror happens when hope turns into pure despair. Did you enjoy that?" Ragnar asks Lincoln.

"What a terrible piece of cheap drama, but, it's not so bad. I'll give 6 out 10 rating, since you've lost your touch in playwriting," Lincoln rates as the two of them approached the cathedral.

The two of them entered the cathedral through the back door and smiled when the priests and nuns came to greet them. The nuns in particular were quite excited to see King Ragnar entering the church regularly, even served him high-quality tea as the king sat on the first row bench and prayed to god for salvation.