It was a simple plan, elementary for any tactician preparing for war, but it was not so simple for Rordpier. Even a century later, the scars of war left the nations’ relationship in a precarious place. Sending dignitaries was difficult enough, to say nothing of conducting an exchange program. Indeed, why would a kingdom allow potentially hostile actors to run amok, regardless of their purported intentions?
The prince was realistic. He conceded that achieving his goals on his own was unlikely. Therefore, he would serve as a decoy, the obvious spy, if the Rordpiers were to send one. Meanwhile, a particularly skullduggerous attendant joining him on his journey would perpetrate the true scheming.
This proposal turned the forum into a shouting match. Sharlemein, with his calls to action and denunciations of his weak-livered, coward of a brother. And Schroden, with his citations and numbers and logical reasons as to why the cost of the hawkish firstborn’s conflict was simply too high.
Ideally, they would have set the plan in motion in time for Royal Academy’s opening ceremony in April, but Sharlemein’s vehemency coupled with the emperor’s wavering delayed a decision until the night of April 1st.
Come September, just after term resumed following the summer recess, Schroden would attend Royal Academy. He had much to prepare for and many letters to send.
“So be it. If my role is to be a decoy, my sudden appearance will work in my favor. While they study and scrutinize me, they’ll leave themselves open to the true dagger at their backs.”
Schroden’s mouth curled, and the flickering candle cast a dark shadow over his face. The throne lay within his grasp.
He stood and paced to the balcony. The constant, oppressive cold was a bit less biting than usual. Often, the only spring Rordpiers could expect was a brief reprieve from the snow. Schroden’s eyes fell to the heaps of snow that had refused to melt since last winter, regarding them more coldly than the air biting at his skin.
“Theolas will be mine. And once it is…” Schroden gazed up, expecting to see stars, but found only dark, low-hanging clouds. Something sparkled among them: a single, twinkling speck. He grimaced. “More snow.”
They had plenty of that in this land of ice. Schroden did not think twice about his appraisal. It seemed spring would offer no reprieve.
The flake danced and swayed on its way down to his balcony. Repulsed, Schroden caught it in his hand.
There was no warning. Only a wish.
Sweet dreams.
Hirosaki Shuuichi was a twenty-three-year-old gardener when he boarded that fateful flight bound for England. He’d had dreams of studying their horticulture.
Plants were his life. All throughout school, he’d participated in gardening clubs. At first he was satisfied with trimming a hedge here or pruning a branch there, but the spectacles of nature that gardens of the west put on display planted a new, more passionate seed inside him. He wanted to be a landscape designer, and the only question was how.
During the haphazard process of answering that question, he happened to find himself aboard a plane. Even as he chatted with the woman next to him, his head spun.
The woman was Shirase Reia, a twenty-year-old college student on a tour of some kind that she’d won in a sweepstakes sponsored by a video game.
“And there’s ten of you, you said? Must have been a pretty successful game if the developers are splurging that much,” Shuuichi said.
“It’s crazy, huh?” Reia said. “They’re actually pair tickets, so there could be up to twenty, but, well, I’m going by myself. I’m not sure exactly how many showed up.”
“Hey, lucky me. If you’d used that extra ticket, you and I might not have gotten to talk.” Shuuichi smiled softly.
Reia blushed. “O-oh. Yeah, true.”
A twist of fate had placed them together, much to Shuuichi’s delight, for as it happened, he quite liked women. He liked dating women, talking to women, loving women, being friends with women—Shuuichi simply liked women. Some would balk at such frivolousness. Others might applaud his taste in gender. Shuuichi had heard it all.
He asked the girl about her hobbies, and she obliged enthusiastically. Only one thing occupied her mind these days: the game sponsoring this very trip.
Reia bombarded the boy with pellets of lore from a seemingly infinite silo of knowledge, eventually producing the game itself. She indicated one of the men on the cover. “This one’s my favorite.”
“Pale, blond, and handsome. Such a shame that I’m so tan.”
“Maybe,” Reia giggled, “but I think you wear it well.”
A goofy chuckle bubbled from Shuuichi’s lips. “You’re just saying that. So what’s this guy like?”
“Not at all like you, Hirosaki-san. What you see is what you get with him. He’s cold, calculating, crooked, and selfish to top it off. He’s perfect.”
“Reia-chan, I hope that’s not telling of your dating history. He sounds abusive to me.”
“Meh, it’s a game.”
“Your face, your fate, I guess.”
Shuuichi’s predictable reaction amused Reia. She went on to describe the plot at length, completing her transformation from a shy, reticent girl into a chatterbox without an off switch. Shuuichi couldn’t find one, at least, but that didn’t bother him. He listened intently, absorbing every tidbit of information. Nothing charmed him like a woman with passions.
Reia did not return to her senses until the end of her spiel. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry? What for?”
“For talking your ear off.” The heat in her cheeks intensified.
He donned that silly grin again. “So long as I’m chatting with a pretty girl, I’m in my happy place. I should be thanking you.”
Some people flattered with empty words, but Reia didn’t sense vapidness in him. Her cheeks burned even hotter. “I, um, don’t have many friends, so I don’t get to talk about this very much.”
“No?”
“I wasn’t sure what to think when you started randomly talking to me, but I’m, well, happy you did.”
Those mannerisms. The way she shyly brushed her hair behind her ear. Shuuichi was done for. “Go out with me, Reia-chan!” he whisper-yelled.
“Huh?! You—I-I don’t know what to say. This is a little sudden.”
“Is that a no?”
“You’re, er, single, I’m guessing?”
“Sure am. It just never works out for whatever reason. Every single person I’ve asked gives me a hard pass.”
“Your timing could use some work,” Reia muttered shyly, voice too low for him to hear.