"Hey, kid," someone leaned over Alice. "You're not saying anything weird to her, are you?"
It was one of the Roundtable Knights. She had dark red hair and her eyes couldn't have been more fierce. It was like staring into an open flame. She wore a sword on her back and bore the Gray's family crest. Something about this made the young duke feel envious.
She studied the young duke. "You know, for the duke of Falden, you're awfully small. Are you sure they're feeding you right?"
Alice punched her shoulder. "Don't be mean, Tess!"
"Well, excuse me, princess, but have you forgotten who they are? Or do I have to remind you again?"
The young duke did not know what to say.
"Hey, kid, do you wanna hear stories about your father? How about some rumors about you, and man, they are hilarious."
"That's enough," a stern voice said. A guard had appeared behind the young duke without him even knowing.
"Woah, a Dark Knight," Tess grinned. "I was wondering when I could meet one of you guys."
The guard remained still, his face hidden behind the shadows of his helmet.
"Is that real darksteel armor?" Tess continued. "Here, let me feel your chest, I'm great at telling them apart—"
"You can't touch them," the young duke stopped her. "Only I can."
"Only I can?" she laughed. "How old is this kid?"
The guard inched forward.
"Alright, alright." she surrendered with a smile. "Let's not ruin the relationship between Wilmere and Falden, okay?"
After being scolded by Alice, who looked half her age, Tess agreed to let the young duke spend his time alone with Alice. It was a mutual agreement between the guard and her which the young duke did not understand. He didn't know either if they were friendly or not, but he hated it whenever the guards would turn hostile. The feeling and sight of anger always made him scared. He wasn't necessarily the one to be inclined about violence.
"Sorry about that," Alice watched Tess continue to bother another guard. "The Roundtable isn't mean like her but my father insisted that she stays. I know her younger brother and he's way nicer."
The young duke was not listening to Alice. He was zoning out, staring at the combined crowd between his people and Wilmere. His father was nowhere to be seen as the guards stood their ground against the Roundtable. This was his birthday yet none of this was even celebrated towards him. Today was only about his father.
"Are you listening to me?" Alice snapped him back. "You've been picking your nails a lot."
The young duke shifted his seat. They were sitting away from the crowd on a bench. It's more quiet given the crowd had become livelier as they became comfortable. Their smiles and laughter wasn't even directed towards the special day for the young duke.
"I—" Alice hesitated. "I didn't expect you to be younger than me. I'm not trying to be mean either."
The young duke picked at his nails again.
"But, there are rumors about you and your father. About Falden. It spreads so quickly, even I know about it. That means…Wilmere knows about it."
"What do they say?"
"Are you sure?" she grimaced. "Have you not heard them yourself?"
"I think I know some of them."
The young duke was lying. He knew all of them. If they had spread to Wilmere, then it was only logical that all of Falden would have already heard it. The young duke was the first to overhear them over his own maids and courtiers speaking his name.
They talked about how he's a failure. Someone like him was destined for so much greatness yet he's been failing at everything. The young duke won't learn the kingdom's politics, he doesn't understand how to control his mana, and he just does whatever he wants under his father's title. Nobody could tell him otherwise, because who would ever argue against the duke of Falden?
His mother was a concubine, only used to breed mana-sensitive children like him yet he's having trouble meeting that expectation.
The amount of expenses they've tried to shape him into the perfect successor never worked. Because the young duke felt like none of it mattered. He's been trapped alone in this empty kingdom with only himself and his servants, it's rare that anyone else comes to visit. And even if they do, they always ask the same questions. That probably explains why he's so nervous around Alice, another royal that's around his age. He didn't even want to be friends with her. The guards were enough to keep him company around the castle.
"I don't believe in any of them," Alice said. "And you shouldn't either."
The young duke suddenly grew attentive.
"I think you're pretty cool, rebelling against your father. And guess what, I'm doing the same thing! I wanna be an adventurer like Tess but my father will never let me."
"An adventurer?"
"You know, people who sign up to explore the lands? Fight beasts and travel through the unknown? Have you ever gone outside your palace?"
"No," the young duke frowned. "I can't leave. They don't let me."
Alice looked around wearily. "They keep you here?"
The young duke didn't want to answer.
"Hey, lovebirds," a familiar voice came between them. "What're we talking about?"
"Tess?" Alice pushed her away. "I thought you were with my father."
"Nah, he says he doesn't need me." Tess looked at Lex and smiled. "You know, King Alexander once contemplated about having his daughter…and the son of Falden…I think you know where I'm going with this—"
"What—stop!" Alice pushed her again. "You know I'm going to make sure your brother knows all about this!"
"I could hardly care what you say to him about me. Maybe you should go marry him if you like him that much."
The young duke watched them fight away into the distance. He wanted to contemplate what Alice had said but then, his mind could hardly bother something like that anymore. He stood off the bench and figured he would spend the rest of the day in his room. He wasn't even needed here. Whatever his father would discuss with the king of Wilmere, had nothing to concern him.
Even walking back into his room through this crowd, he still can't drown away the murmurs as he walks past people. As much as how intriguing the Roundtable Knights were to him, meeting Tess sort of destroyed that feeling. And even so, they probably thought the same about him. The young duke wasn't even a figure anymore, he felt like he had become an attraction. An exhibition of his own failures for display so everybody could see.
Somebody stood in front of him. "Jack Mercer, pleased to meet you."
The young duke looked up. He must have been part of the Roundtable. He was tall and had his long blonde hair gathered into a ponytail. His face could have passed as a beauty model. He would have been strikingly handsome if it wasn't for that annoying smirk across his face.
"What, you're not gonna shake my hand?"
The young duke grudgingly shook the man's hand.
"You know," he firmly gripped his hand. "You've become quite the celebrity back in Wilmere."
The young duke felt something swelling in his chest.
Jack glanced around, watching the Dark Knights surrounding him in the background. He released his grip on the young duke's hand before anything could escalate.
"Do you wanna see my spear?" he said. "It's a magical artifact, I can—"
The young duke walked past him.
Jack froze, a tired look washed across his face. "I will never understand children."
The young duke wanted to at least say goodbye to Alice. She was the only person that was nice to him not because he was the duke of Falden, but because he was just being himself. The young duke was tired of being chained below his father, being glued to the title of the duke, and having to bear the weight of his own expectations. He wanted to run as far away as possible but they would never let him. Behind the wall of his vigorous training curriculum, was set only for his imagination.
The young duke waved off the maids that bowed as he walked through the silent, depressing halls. He was too tired to even feel happy anymore. Maybe his father would celebrate his birthday later in the day. What if he was needed during the courtyard? The young duke hardly doubts that. When was the last time he was ever needed?
"Boy?" a familiar voice stopped in front of him. "Where are you going?"
The young duke looked up. It was the woman that he hated. He had never learned her name, in spite of the harsh training that she forced him to endure. This woman always organized the schedule for his day. His tiresome hours of controlling mana, the strain of physical endurance, and the boring lessons of his father's politics.
"Do you understand what today is?" she scolded him. "Where is your father? Why aren't you with him?"
The young duke averted his eyes away, again deciding to blatantly ignore the woman in front of him.
"Are you running off again? You do this every year."
"Leave me."
"Return to your father," she demanded. "You're embarrassing him by the minute."
"Leave me," the young duke said again. "Now."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Leave me!" the young duke shouted even louder. "Move out of my way!"
The woman recoiled her scowl and stood aside for the young duke.
This didn't make him feel any better. He never liked the feeling of anger. It was already obvious what the maids that he passed by were thinking. This entire facade was a joke to him. His father's shadow was already consuming enough, he never wanted anyone else to have the same feeling. The young duke never meant to impress anyone neither would he ever will.
Sometimes, he wished he could see his mother. What would his mother think, he thought, was his mother even aware of his existence? If so, would she be proud of him? Or pity his name just like everyone else. She was sent away and forgotten like an object. Even after asking about the young duke's mother, they talk like she had never existed. It broke the young duke's heart, knowing his mother likely hated him too.
He opened the chambers into his room and closed it behind him. He angrily unbuttoned his tight clothing, ripping a few threads in the process, and threw it away across the room. Why was he crying? He was in his room, the only place in this forsaken castle where he could find peace yet the air inside felt even more suffocating. He was never really comfortable anywhere he went. Looking into the mirror again, he couldn't be more disappointed. Was this what everyone else saw when they looked at him?
Then he climbed onto his bed, stubbing his toe.
The young duke looked under. It was the same case that his father had gifted to him. His birthday present. The feeling of excitement ignited again. He quickly hauled the heavy case onto his bed and clicked off the locks and lifted it open.
And there it was, waiting for him and calling his name just like last time. The dark and supposed cursed blade which they had said.
It didn't look cursed to him, the young duke thought, it was just a birthday present.
The young duke felt the blade along his fingers. The steel was warm, as if it was newly forged despite being trapped in this case. He felt the two of them shared a similarity. They were both imprisoned by their own makers and denied the freedom they deserved.
He reached for the handle and grabbed it. That was the last thing the young duke could ever remember.