It was set in stone from the day of his birth that Roy would someday walk the path of kinghood, born the legitimate heir to the throne, to a mother who passed away when he was too young to remember. His father kept mistresses, but his paramours were not aristocrats; the king much preferred toying with airheaded peasant women instead. If he fathered children with them, it was never discussed. Not that it mattered as, regardless, Roy possessed the most legitimate claim to the throne.
From his earliest memories, Roy had grown up with the knowledge that everyone expected him to someday be king. This awareness first came to him shortly after he turned five years old. On that fateful day, Roy and his retinue of servants rode in a carriage through the outskirts of the capital, whereupon he saw a neighborhood populated with tumbledown hovels and emaciated people, a far cry from the splendid mansions and shops outside of it.
“What’s that?” Roy asked one of his servants.
“That, Your Highness, is where the impoverished live. You mustn’t ever go there, or else you might catch an illness.”
Roy ignored the servant, leaped down from the still-moving carriage, and ran into the neighborhood. Alarmed, the servants stopped the horses and chased after the runaway prince.
This neighborhood was indeed a part of Wienne, but unlike in the comfortable middle-class sectors of the city that sat right next door, starvation infested the area. It was a depressing, dreary place, and the people who lived there walked about with no light in their eyes. These were not the same eyes as those the prince saw on his usual carriage routes.
The servant caught up and, scowling, admonished Roy. “Your Highness, what are you doing? This is very dangerous. We must leave this filthy place at once.”
“My lord father gave me a gemstone for my birthday,” Roy said. “Sell it and use the money to give these people food.”
The servant gasped, at a loss for words.
“Now!” Roy commanded.
“Y-Yes, Your Highness!”
Roy immediately looked into the matter and then understood how this neighborhood came to be. His father’s wasteful spending habits were steadily leading his country into an economic decline, but with his habit of distributing money to commoners left and right and hosting frequent parties, the king was by no means an unpopular ruler. Still, previous rulers were, perhaps, more well loved. His constant revelry and unwillingness to take his leadership duties seriously led to the kingdom’s eventual degeneracy. Its treasury declined steadily, and as a result, money could not always go to where it was needed, as such neighborhoods in Wienne and other cities proved. While some merchants were eager to curry favor with the king to turn a profit, others lacked the necessary support to continue their work, and so the scope of the nation’s poverty continued to spread.
The prince lacked the power to fix all of this, so first he decided to appeal to his royal father. Hearing this, his father cried, “Oh, what a valiant son I have! Orstoll’s future is in good hands!” Then the king redoubled his efforts to entertain himself.
After a few more unfruitful attempts to persuade the king, Roy gave up, used what funds he possessed himself to help the impoverished whenever he could, and devoted himself night and day to studying to become the best king possible. The wet nurse who took care of him after his mother passed away shortly after he was born told him, “Your Highness, I want you to grow up and become a wonderful king for me, please.” Roy took her words to heart and made them his life’s goal. I must become a wonderful king, he vowed, so I can bring my people happiness.
Roy attended his first party when he was eight. Up until then, he had refused every invitation, insisting he was too busy studying. This surprised Crow, his old friend from early childhood and the closest to Roy in age of Marquess Harbald’s three sons. “It’s rare to see you at a party,” he admitted frankly.
As it turned out, Roy had an actual reason to attend for once, as a famous economist just so happened to be visiting Orstoll and likewise had been invited to this party. I must talk with him, Roy thought. I want him to answer my questions and give his opinions on my ideas.
Much to Roy’s delight, he discovered the economist shortly after the party began and had just set out to talk with him, when he was mobbed by a crowd of squealing girls.
“Oh my goodness!” cried one. “Is that really you, Your Highness? This is the first time I’ve ever had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. My name is Marcie, and I am the daughter of Count Shiren.”
“My name is Serena, daughter of Marquess Tebes,” said another. “We met ever such a long time ago. Do you remember me?”
“Oh, you’re as handsome as everyone says!”
“Your Highness! Please, come talk to me too!”
Just like that, his path to the economist was blocked. What is their problem? Roy thought. Why are they in my way? Roy was puzzled, but the more socially adept Crow looked on with a smile that suggested well, duh. He was a prince. What else did he think would happen?
“Go away,” Roy told them. “I want to go to talk to that economist.”
“Ooh, you know about economics?” Marcie squealed. “Oh my goodness, Your Highness, you’re so smart!”
Serena added, “Please, Your Highness, teach me about economics too!”
There was no deterring these pests, and Roy did not have much experience in talking with girls in general. Studying and taking care of the kingdom as best he could in his philandering father’s absence left Roy with no time to find a fiancée. In this gap, even those of lower status threw themselves on him with impunity.
He puzzled over how to get these girls out of his way when suddenly, he heard—
“Forgive me, sir, but I must excuse myself. The carriage back to my homeland will be leaving shortly. I must thank you, as it was a great honor to attend a party with such illustrious guests as our young prince,” said the economist to his aristocratic acquaintances.
One of the aristocrats chuckled. “Take care now.”