“Count, this is something precious to you, isn’t it? I can’t accept this!”
“I won’t be able to take it with me.” Ruseria stopped Herscherik from hurriedly returning the pocket watch. Then, although he thought it might have been against court etiquette, he wiped the dirt from the prince’s face. Feeling the particular sensation of a child’s skin, Ruseria reminisced about how his son often played in the dirt and muddied his face. His son had chuckled at each wipe of Ruseria’s hand on his cheek. The prince before him now did not smile. Somehow, that fact felt very regrettable to Ruseria. “Thank you, My Prince. Now that I know someone like you has a hand in this country, I can leave this world with a shred of hope.”
When the indictment at the party didn’t go as planned, Ruseria had tossed the watch on purpose, in a split-second gambit that someone would take notice. Ruseria had won his own bet. The seed to save his country had now been sown.
“Live well, My Prince. And please save our nation.” Ruseria was aware of how reckless that sounded. What could the Seventh Prince, a three-year-old, possibly do to that effect? Still, he couldn’t help but hold out hope. Herscherik was the only member of the royal family out of everyone at the party who had come and directly spoken to him. This prince made decisions and acted on his own accord. “You’ll be in danger if someone finds you. Please return to your room.” Ruseria couldn’t afford to lose the only ray of hope he had found at the brink of darkness.
“Count Ruseria!”
“...My Liege.” Pulling his hand away from Herscherik’s soft cheek, Ruseria took a step back and knelt. Then, raising his right hand to his chest, he took a bow. This was the utmost display of respect that a subject could make to his master. “My body is a sword that cuts through your enemies, a shield that protects you from harm, and a staff that guides your way.” Ruseria lowered his head further. “Even though my body will perish, my soul will remain forever by your side to protect you... Please forgive me.” Even as he faced his own execution the next day, Ruseria couldn’t help but make this plea. He no longer cared to wait for his nemeses in the Darkness Below; he only wanted to be by the prince’s side. If anything, he wished that he had met the prince sooner. If he had, perhaps his life would have come to a different conclusion at a different time.
Herscherik wiped his tears with the sleeve of his coat and stood up. He hadn’t learned much about the etiquette of this country, so he didn’t know how to respond to Ruseria’s oath. So, he simply spoke his mind. “I welcome you, Count Ruseria. Even as your body leaves this world, may your soul be forever by my side. I will not let your words, your thoughts, and your life be in vain.”
Ruseria dared not lift his head until Herscherik had concluded. The silver pocket watch in Herscherik’s hand shone with the faint reflection of the moonlight.
The extravagant room normally used for guests to hold an audience with the king was now darkened, with all of its windows covered in thick curtains. The faintly illuminating lights seemed to further weigh down the atmosphere of the room. On the tallest throne sat the king, with the minister beside him in a seat almost as tall. By their side stood the adjudicator, reading out Ruseria’s charges. They were surrounded by nobles, officers, and knights all standing in formation without a word.
They added some charges... I guess they’re making me the scapegoat for those, too, Ruseria noted in self-defeat. While his hands were cuffed, he was still clad in attire becoming of his nobility. Combined with his neatly combed hair, his appearance was unmistakably that of a gentleman, in contrast to the treatment he had received when he was arrested.
“In consideration of your rank as a noble of the kingdom and by the mercy of His Majesty, you are hereby granted the privilege of self execution.”
A golden chalice embedded with jewels was presented to Ruseria. Self execution, in this case, meant suicide by poison. Ruseria glanced up to find Grim smirking behind the minister, who wore a solemn expression. The king, on the other hand, stared down at Ruseria with an expression that was utterly devoid of color. He was still none other than Solye Gracis, the father of Herscherik, to whom Ruseria had sworn his loyalty to the previous night.
...I used to think they were much alike. Perhaps Ruseria was biased. Still, it seemed that the prince he saw under that moonlight had not given up hope like the king before him now clearly had. The prince sincerely wanted to help Ruseria, whom he had only ever met the night of his birthday party. Furthermore, the prince lamented and suffered from the realization of his own powerlessness. Even still, my liege is not without hope. Ruseria could see hope in Herscherik’s jewel-like eyes, unlike in the king’s.
Ruseria was uncuffed and given the golden chalice filled with wine. He wasn’t afraid to die. He did feel some apprehension, if he was being honest with himself, but his newfound ray of hope overruled it.
Dear Creator... Dear gods... May your blessings be upon my liege. Long live Prince Herscherik, and...
“Glory and prosperity be to Gracis!” Ruseria swallowed the contents of the chalice.
The cathedral bells could be heard from the open window. The bells were rung to show the dead their way out and to serve as a guide for any and all departing spirits, good or evil. That’s what Meria had taught Herscherik. Now, the bells tolled to announce Ruseria’s departure from this world. Sitting on a chair by the window as his silky blond locks fluttered in the spring breeze, Herscherik tightened his grip on the pocket watch in his hand when the sound of the first bell reached him.
Only the strong and the cunning survive in this world. Those who are neither, the fools, are rewarded with death after a lifetime of servitude or pay for their insolence with their life!
He recalled what Viscount Grim had said to Ruseria the night before. After watching the scene unfold from the other side of the barred window, Herscherik couldn’t get Grim’s face out of his head.
In a way, that philosophy could apply to Japan, too.
He recalled his previous life. Whenever political corruption came to light, the media had swarmed the culprit, demanding a resignation or some other form of retribution. Ryoko had been infuriated at the news, too, that someone would abuse tax money gathered from the people. Still, it wasn’t a world where one powerful figure could squash such scandals. Of course, no one responsible for such a thing would be sentenced to death, either.
But this world is different.
The one who tried to do right was eliminated by the powerful and cunning evil. This world was crueler than the world of any video game or novel Ryoko had experienced. Herscherik, having enjoyed fantasy genre stories in his previous life, had been living in this world with the same thoughtlessness as someone living in a world on the other side of a screen.
“What will you do, Hersch?” his father had asked him after he finished telling the entire story on that hill, as his youngest son failed to contain his stream of tears. “If you wish, you can leave the royal family. Or you can marry a princess in some safer country. If there’s something you’re passionate about, you can pursue a career in it, too.” It was the best expression of love his father could muster. Even if Herscherik remained in the royal family, Solye could only imagine him being fashioned into another marionette or simply killed off by the minister. Unlike the other princes, Herscherik had no protection.
Herscherik thought the minister might even try to kill his father and make Herscherik their second-generation marionette. If the people were to revolt, the royal family would be slaughtered. Barbosse kept the king alive while maintaining himself as the true ruling power as a contingency for such an event. If Herscherik pursued one of the options his father had presented to him, he would most likely live out his life in safety. If he left the royal family and never looked back, he would probably find happiness, too.
But what about Father? What about the count, who departed this world after trusting me with everything? What about all the people who are neither powerful nor cunning?
“Just and honest people made to suffer simply for being weaker than the rest of the world... It’s not right.” The spring breeze rushed through the room, and it felt like Ruseria had heard Herscherik’s declaration. He jumped off of his chair and tightened his grip on the watch again before gazing up at the sky. “You’re by my side, aren’t you, Count Ruseria?” The bells had tolled to guide the dead. The count’s soul should have been on its way to the next world. But the count had sworn to remain by Herscherik’s side forever, even after his soul left his body. “I won’t run away.”
When he was born as a prince, his starting point in life had been set. That was a fact that he couldn’t change and a position he only maintained through the sacrifices made by his father. Even if he had remained ignorant about the scheming behind the curtains, none of that would have changed. Now that he knew everything, he was in a position where he could change this world. He couldn’t do it through tears, though.
Herscherik was determined not to cry again. “I will change this world. I will protect them.” He swore to protect his father, his family, his country, and everyone the puppeteers had deemed powerless.
For the first time since Ryoko Hayakawa’s reincarnation as Herscherik, he swore an oath.