He was dreaming.
It was a nostalgic vision. A memory of a night in the distant past.
Richard was small, consoling a young Sigurd. That night, Sigurd was in a mad frenzy. In the period immediately after their return from the laboratory, he was quite unstable. It had to be a consequence of amnesia.
“Who am I?” he demanded, tearing at his hair.
Richard answered, “You’re Sigurd.”
Yet the boy didn’t seem to find Richard’s words convincing.
Richard showed the boy various pieces of evidence that he was indeed Sigurd, including proof that Sigurd had lived in the house where he was born and had grown up with a sister.
But Sigurd couldn’t connect those things to himself. And there was little wonder why—because they were evidence of someone else’s life. Sigurd’s anxieties seemed to become particularly intense at night. That evening was no different.
Sigurd groaned, “I have nothing that seems certain.”
“…You have no memories of your own, so it makes sense you would feel that way.”
“You’re my servant, aren’t you?”
“That I am.”
“So then banish my worries. Give me confidence that I am me.”
Sigurd was waiting for Richard to say something. Richard had to give him a good answer, or he would probably be burned up on the spot.
Richard said, “I cannot do away with your worries right this minute.”
He could tell Sigurd despaired at his words. He gathered the Power of God in his right hand.
But before he could raise his arrow, Richard said, “But I can illuminate a path on which you might gain certainty.”
Sigurd abandoned preparing his arrow for the moment. Perhaps he figured he would just hear Richard out.
“You are the man who will become king. A ruler’s way of living will be your feeling of certainty.”
“What do you mean?”
“A king lays the course for others to follow. Therefore, he is not allowed to waver. That means if you become a great king, then you would also become a man who does not falter.” Richard continued, saying whatever came to mind so long as it sounded good. “Just like the First Queen, whose name is etched into the history books, you will become unshakable.”
A great king.
In his uncertainty, Sigurd seemed drawn to this notion—not that Richard cared. “A king,” the uncertain boy muttered.
“Richard, don’t just stand there in a daze.”
Hearing Sigurd’s voice, Richard came to his senses. He was standing in front of the throne. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window. It appeared he’d lost himself for a while under the rays of the sun. He’d been so busy lately that he hadn’t slept. Procuring test subjects for the foreigner’s human experiments proved surprisingly difficult. Not only did it take time to get the orphans in question, but Richard also had to collect them at night, making sure no one saw him.
“Pardon me… What were you talking about again?”
“This year’s ball.”
Once a year, the kingdom would put on a large ball. It was a pedigreed affair where the upper classes gathered. As royalty, Sigurd would naturally be in attendance.
“I hear this year will be a little different. Royals from foreign nations are also being invited as guests, are they not?”
Lately, Sigurd’s kingdom had been rapidly expanding its power. Acts of invasion were not uncommon, so royalty from foreign lands had begun to come to pay respects, thinking to build alliances with him. This year’s ball was also an attempt at exchange with these foreign nations.
Sigurd said to Brunhild, who was sitting at his side, “You’re going to attend as well.”
“Such a magnificent occasion would be too grand for me…,” she replied.
“You do barely count as royalty. Attendance is mandatory.”
“…Understood.”
And so, it was decided that Brunhild would also be attending the ball.
Richard thought that he might be able to use the ball to his advantage.
At the gathering, everyone would be dancing in the castle hall, Sigurd included. If Richard could sneak an underling into the event, they could get close to the king without raising any suspicions.
Richard had an idea.
If he could make things work, he might be able to acquire the Healing Blade. Richard was having the foreigner make him a drug that would grant him the Power of God, but you could never have too many cards in your hand. Besides, he didn’t know when exactly the drug would be completed.
Once everyone was asleep, Richard headed alone to the dungeon underneath the castle, which held criminals who were slated to be executed.
The man Richard chose had been arrested for the crime of assassinating a senior statesman. He had once been a mercenary, and he possessed a wealth of combat experience. He was perfect for Richard’s plan.
Richard went into the criminal’s cell. The bearded man was asleep, but the sound of Richard’s footsteps roused him.
“What do you want?” The man glared at him. His eyes held open hostility.
“I’m going to take you outside.”
The criminal didn’t believe Richard. He gave a mocking smile. “Outside? Don’t lie. I’m waiting to be executed. The king himself handed down my sentence.”
In this kingdom, it was the king’s job to decide how people who had committed serious crimes would be punished.
Richard said, “Then you should just kill the king.”
“What did you say?”
“I came to make a deal with you. I have my own reasons for seeking the king’s life, and I would like you to cooperate. If you agree to my deal, I’ll let you out of this cell.”
The criminal gave Richard an evaluating look.
“At this rate, you’ll just be executed. Why not struggle to live on?” Richard asked.
The criminal immediately shot back, “I refuse. In the first place, they say the king can’t be injured. Killing him is impossible.”
“That will be no problem. The source of the king’s immortality is a sword he always carries at his side. It protects its owner from any injury.”
That was a lie.
“I would have you cut the belt that holds the sword at his waist. After that, I’ll assassinate the king.”
The criminal hesitated but did not agree. “Your plan sounds too fishy. I’d choose death over being used,” he said, turning his back to Richard.
To this, Richard said, “You don’t want to see your family?”
The criminal twitched in response.
Richard held up a little piece of paper. On it was a drawing of a simple woman. They had confiscated it from the criminal when they apprehended him. The woman’s eyes very much resembled those of the condemned man.
“Your sister, I take it? If I were you, I would want to go see her before I died—no, even if I died.”
The next day, he gave the criminal his instructions.
Richard was in his quarters, selecting an outfit to wear to the ball. Robe, coat, cape—for each of these articles of clothing, long was best.
There came a gentle knock on the door. That reserved sound could only come from Brunhild. Richard opened the door and, as expected, found her standing there. She was a lovely sight, as always.
“What is it, Brunhild?”
Brunhild said apologetically, “The truth is, there was something I wanted to ask of you…”
“What might that be?”
“Could you help me with my dance lessons?”
“Oh, to get ready for the ball.”
Brunhild had lived in the forest for many years. She had taken dance lessons when she was young, but she must have forgotten everything but the basics.