It all started one fateful day. I was in King Procyon’s private chamber, sitting across the table from him, when the monarch uttered an unfamiliar name.
“Serafina?” I repeated, trying to conjure up any memories of the girl. In the recesses of my mind, a vague recollection began to form.
I, Sirius Ulysses, was the only son of Achernar, younger brother of the king of Náv. I was blessed with gray hair and silver eyes—a rare sight in the kingdom—as well as a naturally tall and lean frame. Upon my father’s passing, I inherited the title of duke at the tender age of nineteen and also became the vice-commander of the Náv Horned Beast Knights. Because of those respective titles (or perhaps because I was the king’s nephew), I was often called to the king’s private chamber, a far more exclusive setting than even the throne room.
That day, I went to the chamber thinking it would be business as usual, but the visit soon took an unexpected turn when the king ordered everyone else—including the servants—to leave the room. As I watched, perplexed, the king picked up a bottle of fine wine, poured two glasses, and handed one to me. I sank into the sofa and eyed the king as I carefully sipped from my glass. Just a quick glance at his profile told me that he was on edge.
This is no ordinary matter, I realized and steeled myself for the unknown. Meanwhile, the king gave a painfully feigned smile.
“Thank you for taking the time to come out here today. Oh, and I know it’s been a while since we last saw each other, but I must say you’re as good-looking as ever. I can see why you were voted ‘Most Handsome Member of the Horned Beast Knights’ for three years straight.”
I did not humor this comment with a response. The king only praised my looks when he was trying to push a job no one else could handle onto me.
With a nervous expression, the king wiped his sweaty palms against his chest. Falteringly, he said, “Have you heard of Serafina?”
“Serafina?”
The name did not immediately bring anyone to mind.
My reaction prompted the king to hang his head in dejection. “I see,” he said quietly. “You know every key figure in the kingdom, yet hearing the name Serafina yields no immediate reaction. That is quite shocking for me, I must say. Serafina is my youngest child, the second-born princess of Náv. She will be six this year.”
The vague pull on my memories finally took on a concrete form.
Oh, yes. I did know her. Almost six years ago, there was a ceremony to celebrate the birth of a new member of the royal family. The queen had held a tiny infant in a white lace dress.
What happened to the princess after that? I spotted the three princes and the eldest princess every so often, but I couldn’t recall seeing Princess Serafina after that unveiling ceremony.
Figuring that she was probably being raised in some sequestered part of the castle, I took another sip of wine. But suddenly, the king let out a deep sigh.
“No, it makes all the sense in the world that you wouldn’t know about Serafina. She doesn’t reside in the castle, so your paths wouldn’t have crossed. She lives in the Forest of Lent.”
“The Forest of Lent?” It was a deep, dark forest at the far east edge of the kingdom. A frontier land, one could call it. “Why is Serafina living there?” I asked, puzzled.
The king checked if the door was shut soundly before he responded. “This matter is only privy to a select few,” he said, as if he was having difficulty forming the words. “Serafina was born blind due to an unknown eye disease. Many doctors and saints attended to her after her birth, but not a single one found a cure.”
My eyes widened; this was all news to me.
On reflection, though, there was no way I would have known. The king must have been desperate to keep this information secret, seeing as how not a word of this had spread outside his inner circle. It showed just how deeply he cared for the princess.
More often than not, a physical disability was considered a major deficiency among royalty. As her father, the king must have been trying to shield the young princess from the world’s judgment.
As I chewed on that thought, King Procyon lowered his gaze to his arms that were folded in front of his chest. “I suspect that Serafina’s eyesight will never improve,” he continued with a strained tone. “The girl will have to live her entire life in darkness.”
This would be extremely harsh on the young princess, most would agree. But if even the most privileged man in the kingdom couldn’t restore her vision, then it was the reality she would have to accept. With a small, sorrowful sigh, I drained the rest of my glass.
The king continued: “As you know, the castle is a den of wolves where even a slight mistake could cost you a limb. A blind girl like Serafina would be a walking target. So I sent her away to a different environment, hoping to call her back to the castle once her eyes had healed…but despite trying everything, to this very day her vision has shown no improvement.”
The king paused there, clenching his hands into fists.
“And so…since she is not getting any better, I have decided to bring her back to the castle immediately.”
“I understand how you feel as a king,” I replied out of lack of anything more insightful to say.
“Serafina must live as royalty,” he went on with a taut expression. “I must hurry and get her accustomed to the castle so that she can establish her place here. Her road will be difficult, but she must learn to stand on her own two feet…”
At this point, the king lifted his head and sprang from his seat. He grabbed my arms and gazed at me imploringly.
“Sirius, you must help me! Listen to a father’s request for his daughter! As my nephew, duke of this kingdom’s highest house and vice-commander of the Horned Beast Knights, I ask you to bring Serafina to me!”
As a father worried for his daughter, his plea made sense. The question of whom to entrust to retrieve the princess was not one to take lightly. After all, not just anyone could be trusted with a member of the royal family. The king couldn’t go himself, so he would have to send someone in his place—and when one considered logically who the best someone would be, there was no better candidate than me.
I was one of the most important figures in the Náv Kingdom, next to the king, and because I was a shoo-in for the knight brigade’s future commander, I was well-liked among the general populace as well. As a knight, I was known for ensuring their safety by slaying monsters day after day.
“I doubt that anyone will bat an eye if I were to retrieve Serafina, given that she is my cousin. Very well, I accept your request,” I answered without hesitation.
The monarch’s eyes lit up. “My thanks, Sirius!” he declared in a way that could only be described as a holler. “And while you’re at it, be sure to sing her praises throughout the land!”
“Excuse me?”
“She has red hair, so I expect she has it in her to become a talented saint. However, she is not yet of age, so she cannot form pacts with spirits, nor can she wield much strength of her own. I would very much appreciate it if you were to put in a good word for her on the road. Just yell something like, ‘Wow! Serafina is so amazing!’ at the top of your lungs and make up some saintly-sounding deeds. I’m sure the ladies will be keen to listen to what a handsome young man such as yourself has to say. And since you’re the strongest knight, you’re quite popular with the men too. Everyone in the kingdom will believe what you say—no reason not to exploit it!”
Ah yes, I thought in the ensuing silence. Our monarch is the type who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.
As I felt a throbbing headache coming on, I figured that this was a good time to ask to take my leave. The king was grinning from ear to ear as he rambled off some incomprehensible nonsense about “being Serafina’s cheerleader.”
After I emerged into the hallway, I let out a deep sigh. I couldn’t help but mull over my physically distant cousin.
The royal family owned a villa in the Forest of Lent. Serafina was supposedly living there, though I recalled that it was a very old structure. Add in the remote location on top of that, it was unlikely she received many visitors.
The princess had her whole life ahead of her. Yet from the moment she was born, she was hidden away with only a scarce few attendants and knights for company—and she was unable to see a single thing. It seemed like a terribly lonely existence to me.
In retrospect, I probably pitied her for it. I thought that perhaps her life would be full of struggle. I wanted to at least support the blind young girl and ensure that she would have a bright future. And so, even knowing that the days to come would be utterly hectic, I began to plan my visit to a land far to the capital’s east.
My later interactions with the princess thoroughly dispelled all notion of pity from my mind, although there was no way I could have foreseen that at the time. To my dismay, I must confess that I held the notion of protecting my young charge.