The Forest of Sauston.

  0500, Fifteenth Day of the First Month, Year 667.

  There was a group of people hiding in the shadows of the Forest of Sawston outside of the Courlogne, the city where the Mont-Rouge Estate, the family mansion of the House of Gauthier, is located. Among them, there was a very well-dressed pot-bellied man. He carried himself as if he were a noble—of course, that was because he is a noble.

  This fat man is Ca?n Louis Alain von Montgris, the current head of House Montgris and he was currently scheming a dastard plot against his fellow archducal household of Gauthier. “After today, House Gauthier will be no more… Oy, Lawrence, everything’s ready, correct?”

  The man that was addressed was dressed very simply in a leather-belt-tied tunic and a worn cloak. Responding from afar, he replied, “Of course, Duke Ca?n. We of the Poussière Stellaire vow to capture the children of House Gauthier.”

  “Leave the mother untouched and don’t injure the children,” Ca?n clarified. “However, I do not mind if you scare them a bit. Just do not physically injure them even if they fight back.”

  “That’s going to be harder, especially if they fight back… but whatever. As you command.” The man named Lawrence turned to look at the forest behind him. “Alright, men, who’s ready to raid a mansion?” There was a cheer, quiet enough so as to not disturb anyone except themselves but loud enough to show their motivation. Smiling evilly, Lawrence turned back to the duke and bowed. “We shall now begin the operation.”

  Ca?n uninterestedly waved them off and saw them snake their way through the darkness of the woods. Ca?n himself stayed behind and simply turned around, smirking to himself as he pulled out a piece of paper, the item that is most essential to his nefarious plan on destroying his rival household.

  0634

  Quentin awoke at the crack of dawn, like he always had.

  However, something was amiss.

  There was unusual activity in the building. Usually, Quentin would awaken to find Blandine, the old head maid, above him, just about to shake him conscious. However, the old maid wasn’t present. This was the first indicator that something was wrong.

  The second indicator was the unnatural muffled noises sounding outside of his room. Normally, it would still be quiet at this time of the morning with the only movements being the maids of the household doing their morning rounds of cleaning the mansion. Finding far too much noise, Quentin threw open his covers, careful to remain exceedingly silent as he got out of bed and headed to his closet. Silently opening it, he reached inside and pulled out the real sword he kept in there, out of sight from his caretaker; perhaps the child was jumping to conclusions too quickly but perhaps he was making the right choice to arm himself. Either way, the weapon he had retrieved was a beautifully decorated sidesword. Unsheathing the blade, he slowly made his way to the door before opening it just a crack to see what was going on.

  What he saw shocked him to his core.

  A group of ruffians was desecrating the building, defiling it by knocking over ornaments, slashing at the walls, using some sort of liquid to discolor everything. Two of them were holding the arms of Quentin’s younger sisters, Célestine and Albertine. Albertine was stock still, perhaps completely shocked into silence at the transpiring events. Célestine, on the other hand, yelled insults. “Get your filthy paws off of me! Do you even know who I am!? I am the daughter of this house, Célestine émilienne Constance von Gauthier! Father will have your heads for this!”

  “Hoho, quite the boisterous little lady we have here,” Lawrence, the leader of the pack, said. He ran his fingers down Célestine’s small chestline, tracing a line from her cheek down to her neck then down a center line through her chest. “Unfortunately, your father will probably not survive tonight.”

  “What!?”

  “You’ll find out sooner or later.” Lawrence simply laughed as he dragged them down the hallway. Quentin waited patiently until he was just outside his doorway before carefully shutting the door so that the man wouldn’t notice and stepped back. He then used some simple body enhancement magic on himself before kicking hard at the door, knocking it off its hinges and sending it smashing into the hallway. Quick-witted, Lawrence immediately drew the sword at his waist and bisected the intruding door only to find a boy charging out of the room, sword poised to strike. Lawrence’s training kicked in as he brought his blade up to block the boy’s full-powered downward strike. Lawrence’s knees actually buckled at the weight of the boy’s body enhancement magic. “Oh, damn, who knew there was such a powerful kid here.”

  Quentin, however, did not leave his blade there for long. He withdrew the slash and proceeded to attack with the strength of his blade: high-speed magically enhanced thrusts. He fired off six in quick succession, although Lawrence managed to deflect each of the child’s strikes. During his attacks, Quentin demanded, “Who are you? What do you plan to do to my sisters!?”

  “Hoh, you have quite the responsible big brother, you two,” Lawrence quipped, ogling the sisters. He then returned his gaze to Quentin. “You’re quite skilled, kid. Is this part of your curriculum as a noble?”

  Quentin felt a chill race down his spine and backed away, keeping his magic up as he hefted his blade. However, he showed no such fear on his face as he quipped back, “Of course. Unlike you uncivilized monsters, I am of high culture. However, I will acknowledge the outside is an excellent training ground for the uncivilized.”

  “Wow, so you aren’t one of those typical arrogant nobles.” Lawrence licked his lips and continued, “That makes it more fun for me.”

  Although Quentin struggled to keep up with the man’s relentless flurry, he kept his face straight and laughed. “Well, I guess I should apologize on behalf of my fellow nobles. Although it would be good for you to note the sarcasm bleeding from my tongue.”

  “Au contraire, ‘Your Highness,’” Lawrence mocked. “I do not believe I deserve your kind words.” I may be breaking my promise here, Duke, but I am very much enjoying this child. I do hope you’ll forgive me. Lawrence then wordlessly cast a curse on the boy, paralyzing him from the head down to his feet.

  “Agh—!”

  “Elder Brother!” Célestine cried.

  “I’m fine!” he called back, gritting his teeth as he tried to force his way out of the paralysis spell.

  “No use trying, li’l prince,” Lawrence taunted as he moved to disarm him. “I’m confident in my ability in Stupefacio to hold even against a noble like yourself, blessed with mana like you are.”

  “Tsk—!” Quentin bit his lips as he was slowly thinking of giving up when suddenly, a single word appeared in his head. “Null!” Immediately, as if in response, the spell holding him down vanished and Quentin shot up and slashed at Lawrence’s hand, removing it from the rest of his body.

  Even after losing his hand, Lawrence hardly flinched and simply recovered his stance. “Tsk, you can use spelljamming at your age? That damned duke better pay me extra—!”

  “Oy, I thought I told you to not hurt them!” yelled the duke in question.

  “You—!” Quentin growled as he pointed his blade at the pot-bellied man, Duke Ca?n.

  “Why are you struggling so much against a mere child?” Ignoring Quentin, Ca?n glowered at Lawrence. “Maybe I shouldn’t pay you in full.”

  “Fuck that, you shitty duke, you better damn pay me extra. This kid’s good enough to get my hand.”

  “Ha, you must be weaker than you advertise yourself as then!”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it, old man. Kid can use spelljamming at his age; I just saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Hoh?” Ca?n raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. Well, just knock them out. We have an execution to prepare for.”

  “An execution!? Wait, come ba—” Before Quentin could finish his sentence, he felt a sharp strike to the back of his neck and his vision wavered. Before he passed out, he heard two squeaks. Célestine, Albertine—! I’m sorry…

  1203, of the Fifteenth Day.

  “Your Majesty, today, I would like to bring to your attention the crimes my fellow archduke has committed against the peoples of our neighboring sovereign state, the Great Empire.”

  When Quentin had regained his consciousness, he found himself chained together in a single-file line with the rest of his family. His father led the line with his mother right behind him. They were then brought into the coliseum one after another where Ca?n, who’s behind-the-scenes manipulation allowed him this, had already brought the royal family and the penal courts to the stands. He also had summoned a good portion of the capital’s populace to witness the day’s proceedings—the criminal trial of Archduke Gratian von Gauthier.

  With a practiced hand, Ca?n handed the scroll with the list of grievances against the kneeling archduke to the official. Clearing his throat, the official began listing off the crimes the archduke had committed, all the while maintaining a neutral expression. “—executing non-combatants without justifiable reasons, disobeying direct orders from a higher chain of command, executing the prisoners of war in his care, and lastly, what seemed to be the gravest of them all—the pillaging and destroying of innocent villages which Your Majesty has specifically forbid. I believe that there is no further need for discourse; these crimes almost certainly warrant a severe punishment.”

  As the long list was completely laid out, the disgusted and horrified expression of the general populace filled the court. “I didn’t know Archduke Gratian was such a man….”

  “There was no way this happened! Impossible!”

  “The snake was finally caught, heh? These damned nobles.”

  “But he doesn’t look like a person to commit such crimes….”

  “It’s the death penalty. It’s over for him.”

  Quentin opened his mouth to protest but was immediately struck by a kick from Lawrence who was standing guard behind them, keeping an eye out for any form of resistance. His eyes bore into the boy. Try anything and I’ll kill you first. Before Quentin could recover, the king opened his mouth. “Wait a moment. Archduke Ca?n, you bring me this list of crimes that you say were committed by Gratian. This many crimes committed by a just man like him seems far-fetched. Do you have the evidence to back up your claims?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty! I present to you, a few people who have directly witnessed such horrible crimes—specifically those from the villages he has ordered to be plundered!” As he announced this confidently, a group of people who appeared to be ordinary foreigners yet riddled with a few bandages and wounds were brought to the court. As soon as they were presented, they began blabbering about how vile Gratian and his army was, pillaging their village, killing their men, and raping their women.

  “Your Majesty! I saw this person giving orders to armed men to raze my house!”

  “I had to see my neighbor and his wife executed before their children! It was terrible!”

  “I was brought down and used as a punching bag!”

  “We don’t know what crimes we have committed but certainly we weren’t at such a level to deserve this kind of treatment! This man brought his army and started attacking us, who can’t properly fight!”

  “Your Majesty, I would like to add.” Lawrence stepped forward and knelt. “I am Lawrence and I was the chief of the largest village destroyed at the archduke’s command.” He held up the stump of his left hand. “I lost this hand to the archduke himself when I tried negotiating with him to spare my village which was populated only with non-combatants; all of those who fought have already been drafted by the Empire.”

  Ca?n turned to the king. “Your Majesty, with this, you should have enough evidence to court-martial and execute the archduke. I believe such vile deeds—especially coming from a man like Gratian—are grounds for immediate punishment, as much as it pains me as his friend and colleague.”

  “He has been possessed, Your Majesty,” Lawrence added. “I saw it with my own eyes; there was some demonic power…”

  “Is that so…? I had my doubts… but that is indeed a possible explanation….” The king’s eyes turned dim upon hearing Lawrence’s conjecture. Of course, as someone who personally knew Gratian for many years, he knew that he wasn’t foolish enough to perform all these crimes when he himself has an immensely strong sense of justice. However, if he was possessed by demonic mana, that was another matter entirely; that could very easily explain the out-of-character ruthlessness and evil deeds, performed by a just man like Gratian as he was simply influenced by the evil plaguing him. “If those crimes were committed under the influence of such evil, then we should immediately exorcise him; once that is done, I will punish him accordingly.”

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  “Your Majesty, unfortunately… I have already searched far and wide for a sorcerer capable of dispelling Archduke Gratian’s possession but the thing in his consciousness is much too strong; I could not find a sorcerer of the right caliber. He appears sane now because our available sorcerers had cast a third-order purification spell to hold the demon back… but this is merely a temporary solution.” Ca?n provided an explanation too convenient for those special mages to not be available. “We cannot afford to risk the demon from completely consuming Gratian; it would be prudent to exorcise the demon by way of a purified guillotine.”

  “Your Majesty, we cannot let him stay in Archduke Gratian’s body longer! The longer we wait, the greater the chance that the demon will abandon its current host to find another one!” Lawrence added. At his words, the archduke began to convulse, screaming uncontrollably and resisting against the chains holding him down; it was for this express purpose that Ca?n had Gratian burdened by twice the number of restraints than his family members weren’t “possessed by a devil.” “Adriaan, another cast!”

  “Right!” Adriaan, a fellow member of the Poussière Stellaire and their light magic specialist, pointed his wand at the archduke. “Third-order Light Magic, White Starlight!” Beams of light left Adriaan’s wand, converging at the archduke’s head. White Starlight was an advanced purification spell but it wasn’t enough to completely banish the demon, as Ca?n stated. Adriaan manipulated the light into chains and gathered them into a crown of thorns which upon fading away, quieted the archduke’s fit.

  Of course, that’s not exactly what happened.

  “Your Majesty, as you’ve just witnessed, it’s taking all we have just to hold the demon at bay! As much as it pains me to do so, we must execute him now!”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, the king sighed defeatedly. “It truly seems that we have no other choice. Very well. As per the law, House Gratian is to be dismantled and their records wiped from the kingdom’s annals. The entire family is to be executed—”

  Ca?n interrupted the king. “Pardon my interruption, Your Majesty, but I’ve already checked his family members; they are free from demonic possession. As their house would be officially stripped from them, I will be taking them under my care. The truly unfortunate case of their father aside, we cannot afford to lose the talents this family can still provide for us. Please, Your Majesty, with all due respect, I beg of you to give this case special exemption due to the extreme circumstances as I’m certain you’ve already seen for yourself.”

  The king pondered for a moment. “—Very well. I’ll grant an exemption. I too would not want to lose such special talents…” I personally also don’t want the Gauthier line to end here as well… I will authorize a thorough search of Ca?n’s evidence; everything has come together far too conveniently. Gratian, old friend, is all of this truly not a falsehood? The king could do nothing but wallow in his thoughts as he sent the directive to his special espionage agents to begin digging, watching the guillotine being brought forth. He also sent away his children, Crown Prince Anselme, First Prince Michel, and First Princess Josefiene, as he did not want them to witness the death of a hero. As an aside, his sons inherit the names of Alban-Bastien and Blaise-Bernard, a remnant from two centuries prior and further back when House Laurent absorbed the other founding two of House Bastien and House Blaise and additionally took on the names of their patriarchs while his daughter inherits the name of “Franka,” the given name of the founding Laruent’s wife, a name all female members of House Laurent share.

  With the children away, the royal consort—that is, Queen Madelief Franka Bastien-Blaise Laurent—spoke her piece. “Dear, I know I should not need to say this—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve already sent them on their way.”

  “Archduke Ca?n has greatly overstepped his bounds. I’ve never before cursed my weak Mystic Eyes as much as I do now. I cannot confirm nor deny Ca?n’s claim of demonic possession.” While she thought she should share it, the queen chose to keep the following thought to herself. I suspect something completely different… Ca?n is most certainly a man who would craft such an elaborate story. I doubt its veracity… In fact, do we not have a recurring issue with that substance called “Deadening Delusion?”

  You might believe you’re hiding your thoughts but how long have we been married, Madelief? King Ambroise smiled internally as he quickly deduced his wife’s thoughts. Nevertheless, he cannot jeopardize a trial with his own personal beliefs. He did nothing but solemnly watch as the executioner brought out the guillotine while other jailers carted away the condemned’s wife and children; the children in particular hurt the king immensely. Eventually, he shut his eyes until he could no longer hear them as they were escorted away back to their cells. Steeling his nerves, the king declared, “The verdict has been set. Archduke Gratian Natan la Abel von Gauthier is to have all of his honors stripped and his house struck from the annals of the kingdom. His house is to be dismantled and all of his estate relinquished to House Montgris; in addition, his spouse, Archduchess Chantal Larisa Flavienne la Danseuse de la Gauthier will have her titles redacted. She and her children can no longer call themselves nobles, whether of House Gauthier or of any of the houses in their names. In the name of Ambroise Alban-Bastien Blaise-Bernard Laurent, twenty-seventh king of Frandei, I authorize this execution.”

  Ca?n nodded, fighting to keep a complicated expression of anger, grief, and resignation fixed on his face. He was—after all—rejoicing at his successful plan. Adriaan cast another third-order purification spell on the guillotine before excusing himself to recover as he had spent too much mana. Internally debating on whether or not to keep his eyes open, Ca?n decided to close his eyes to express the message that he truly regrets not being able to solve this in any other way and to not lose his composure when Gratian’s head finally parts from his body. Ca?n’s ears picked up the sound of the dull clunk of the guillotine completing its stroke followed by a squelch as the condemned’s severed head fell into the prepared bucket.

  Finally…! Finally…!! That accursed Gratian has permanently left the stage. Chantal is now mine!

  Mont-Rouge Estate, former residence of the ruined House Gauthier.

  Current vacationary residence of House Montgris.

  1924, Fourteenth Day of the Seventh Month, Year 667.

  Six months… It’s been six months of this torture. No longer allowed to live without being constantly supervised, no longer allowed to enroll in the Riverain Royal Academy, no longer allowed to even carry on his family name, Quentin—now a quarter past seven—carries his now-useless books everywhere he goes. He had just been given permission to visit his bedridden mother. Ever since his father’s execution, his mother’s health had rapidly deteriorated. Coupled with Archduke Ca?n’s absolutely cruel treatment of her led to Chantal no longer being the kind and graceful mother that Quentin knew. No matter what, she is still his mother but Quentin could nowadays hardly recognize his mother.

  Every day, he would find new bruises on her body and every day, he would catch a whiff of the awful stench of male fluid. Inexplicably, upon his arrival into his mother’s room, his nose was not assailed by the reek of carnal pleasures. This wasn’t too strange as there were other days in which he did not smell it either but Quentin’s vague recollections of the past months has shown a noticeable rise in the number of days he cannot sniff a nose-wrenching scent. “Mother? It is me, Quentin.”

  “Quentin…? Ah, my son. Come here…”

  Once more, Quentin’s gut twisted in agony at his mother’s weak voice. “I will, Mother.” He settled in a seat next to his mother as he leaned in to listen to her next words.

  Chantal was still beautiful but her luster has long since vanished from the abuse she had suffered. Quentin could tell that it took all she had just to smile for her son. “Listen, Quentin. Do you remember your father’s conversation with you the night before his execution?”

  “… Is this about the teleportation circle that Father built that connects to the Yamatsu Region?”

  “The very same.” Chantal then fixed her son with a strong glare. “I want you to take Célestine and Albertine and flee to the Yamatsu Region.”

  “—Mother!?”

  “Shh, quiet.” She reached a hand out to cover his mouth. “Now is your only opportunity to free yourself from this prison.”

  “But Mother, what about you!?”

  “I…” Her voice trails into silence as she begins carefully choosing her next words. “I’ve long since given up. Your father… Gratian was the sun in my life. He brightened my day just by being there by my side. He would always know what to say to put a smile on my face and he would always know what to say to cheer me up. Now that your father is gone… I can hardly keep myself going any longer. I’ve managed to come this far because I love you, my children. However, if my staying alive shackles you to this prison with me, then I have no need for it.”

  “Mother—!? What are you saying…!?”

  “Quentin, my younger brother.” That voice belonged to Quentin’s eldest brother, Tristan. He was halfway to his eleventh year. Dressed in the rudimentary clothes of a novice adventurer, he shook his head as he entered the room, alongside their second brother Yvon who added, “It’s no use, Quentin… Mother has already resolved herself.”

  “But—!”

  “Quentin!” An unusually sharp snap left Chantal’s lips as the third son immediately and instinctively bolted upright. “Please. You must do this. I no longer have the energy to seek vengeance myself.” She then turned to her other two sons. “Tristan. Yvon.”

  “Say nothing more, Mother.” Tristan cut her off. “We will use ourselves as bait to allow the escape of our baby brother.”

  “As big brother Tristan has said. Quentin, little brother, you cannot convince Mother nor can you convince us. We’re in the process of gathering evidence of that accursed pathological liar’s schemes but we cannot afford to tip them off. One of us needs to escape to prepare for our eventual comeback. Our bloodline cannot afford to die out.”

  Faced by his mother’s resolve and his brothers’ resignation, the youngest brother gulped. He did not know where to even begin processing what he was just told, yet he was given no time to calm his mind as his mother reached her hand out, gently grabbing Quentin’s hand and bringing it to one of her prized hairpins. It was an exquisitely crafted work of jewelry his father had bought for his mother as a present for her birthday more than a decade prior when they were mere children. Sourced from the Gilded Principality of Quivira, the simple trinket was among the very few works of [NAME], considered to be incomparable in price to other works of the same style. Feeling its cold make against his skin, something inside Quentin finally snapped.

  Ugh, I’m getting sick and tired of watching. Hey, kid, lend me your body for a second.

  Absolutely not, D. You do not understand the great moral dilemma this young gentleman is undergoing.

  P is right! D, stay right there.

  And why should I listen to you, huh?

  D, you stinking laggard, shut the fuck up. We have no right to interfere.

  You too, N!? Why aren’t you on my side!?

  I am on nobody’s side, the fuck? The only side I’m on is myself and my wards. Original, you might want to do the talking. The kid’s overheating.

  Oh! Right!

  Inside his mental world, Quentin found himself seated in a chair at a round table. Seated with him were five young men who appeared to be a full decade older than he was. They all looked exactly the same but their general demeanors and the way they presented themselves allowed Quentin to deduce that while they were the same person, they weren’t the same person. Wait, what?

  “Hey there.”

  “Uh… hello?” Quentin responded to the boy who presented himself as the most approachable of the group.

  “—I don’t know where to start. Wait, no. Let’s start from the beginning with introductions. My name is Soushirou Itsuno. Soushirou is my given name and Itsuno is my surname. I know I’ve stated it backwards but it is the custom of my home.”

  “I-I see…? I am Quentin Stéphane Aldric Gauthier, third son of Archduke Gratian and Archduchess Chantal. Although I supposedly don’t have the right to call myself that anymore. And the rest…?”

  “You’re quite intelligent so I’m sure you’ve already figured it out yourself.”

  “—They’re you? But not exactly…?”

  “Correct. Little Quentin, have you ever held a conversation in your head with yourself?”

  “As embarrassing as it is to admit, yes, I have.”

  “Well, that is essentially my situation. I am Soushirou Itsuno but these other four seated here with me are also Soushirou Itsuno. I’m what you call the original. The others are unique personalities developed from my incessant conversations with myself.”

  One of them spoke, their hostility apparent but not necessarily directed at Quentin. “Hello. I’m Narcissist Soushirou—N for short. You being my host does not warrant me giving you any respect. However, you are worthy to receive my protection. From this day forward, you shall be my ward.”

  One of the others let out a disgusting scoff. Scowling with his arms crossed, his messy mop of hair coupled with his clearly aggressive attire made for an unkind first impression. “They call me Delinquent Soushirou. D or whatever the fuck you wanna shorten it too.”

  “Apologies for D’s belligerence.” The next one to speak was the most ‘hermit-like’ of the bunch as he was dressed in ragged—albeit clean—clothes. “I’m Philosopher Soushirou. I’m what you would call an avid moral thinker. The silent one over there in that white overcoat is Genius Soushirou. That should be all of us.”

  “Have we lost you?”

  “Uhm… Sort of. Why exactly are you in my head though?”

  “Hmm. My best guess is that we’ve been reincarnated in accordance with Her wishes,” stated Philosopher. “Although why she had us surface now of all times is a mystery.”

  Original hesitantly postulated, “Are we here to help with your dilemma?”

  “Uh… I… don’t know. Do you have any advice?”

  “Your mother is of truly admirable character. She is worthy of my respect just like our mother from our previous life,” Narcissist praised. “It is not my choice but I personally would recommend listening to your mother’s dying wish. While vague, we do have a general understanding of your current situation.”

  “Put simply, it’s shitty. Like, it’s actually fucking ridiculous how much you’re going through. You’re barely fucking seven, bro.”

  “Watch the language, D,” Philosopher warned.

  “Bah! It’s just us here, anyway! Who gonna tell us off, huh?”

  “Suzuka.” Out of the blue, the one who has yet to speak all this time—“Genius Soushirou” as the others put it—raised his voice, saying one name before falling silent once more.

  “—Right. Fine. If that goddess’ words are to be believed, Suzuka is here too.”

  “I won’t say we understand your pain and hesitation but… Quentin, what do you want to do?”

  “I… I want to save my mother!”

  “Even if that means prolonging her suffering?”

  “But…!”

  Narcissist left his seat. “I sincerely extol your filial piety but there are times when you are required to make genuinely difficult decisions to make in life… and unfortunately, this is one of them.” Arriving at the boy’s seat, he picked him up and hugged him close. “This is the best comfort we can give you.” With that serving as the cue, everyone else got up—even Delinquent—and gave Quentin a hug as well. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths. “Have you made your decision?”

  “—I have.”

  “Very good. Do not worry. We shall be here with you. Whatever sin burdens you is also ours to carry.”

  With those parting words from Narcissist, Quentin snapped back to reality, the unfeeling chill of the hairpin cooling his hand. Before his newfound resolve wavered, he opened his mouth. “Mother. I—your son Quentin—vow to clear Father’s name. Elder Brother Tristan, Brother Yvon, what about you?”

  “We’ll be outside. When you leave the room, we’ll know you’ve finished. We’ll handle the cleanup.”

  “But—”

  “I know what you want to say, silly little brother. We’ve already long since said our goodbyes.” However, Tristan did turn to his mother. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “And I as well.”

  “That’s a terrifying omen,” Chantal giggled. “Won’t you please give your father and I some alone time—preferably for a long while?”

  “I can’t promise you that.” Tristan and Yvon both smiled as they turned around and quietly left the room.

  “Mother… I implore of you. You are most certain of this?”

  “—You already know what I’m going to say. Quentin, my son, you are a kind boy—much too kind. I deeply apologize as your mother for forcing you to choose this difficult path.”

  “I… I do not see this as difficult, Mother!”

  “You will understand when you grow older. Unlike you, your mother’s pain will be over before she notices.” With those last words, Chantal guided her son’s hands—trembling as they were as they brandished the intricate hairpin—towards her neck. “Right here.”

  Quentin closed his eyes as he envisioned a first-order Light Magic spell. Channeling it into the hairpin, he silently and gently shoved into his mother’s skull. He felt no resistance and with his Light Magic infused into the murder weapon, he could tell the moment when all life left his mother. His magic also informed him that his mother had no reaction—that she passed on without feeling any pain. Removing the hairpin, he used magic once more to clean it of blood before setting it down on his mother’s nightstand. As tears threatened to spill from his eyes, he laid his mother to rest in the bed before bowing to her sleeping form. He carefully cracked open the door and stepped outside.

  “Is it done?” Tristan asked to which Quentin merely nodded in response. “You’ll want to take these.” Tristan handed his younger brother a few items. One is a map pointing to the teleportation circle which their father had cleverly hidden in the forest behind the mansion. One was the longsword that was his father’s personal weapon. One was his father’s necklace and the last was a letter of introduction. “Without them, Yamato Country will not trust your words—at least, according to Father.”

  “We have a separate task to do. As much as that ingrate would love to kill us, we’re much too valuable to this country,” Yvon assured, roughly tousling Quentin’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready, you are welcome to return… although don’t get mad at us if we exact vengeance on that ingrate first.” Yvon then found himself smothered by his younger brother. “Whoa! Easy there, little brother. A bit too tight on that hug.”

  Tristan also was subject to Quentin’s rib-crushing hug. “When I grow wiser, I’ll return. I promise.”

  “Run along now. Célestine and Albertine are already waiting in Father’s secret passage.”

  “Right!” With his father’s heirlooms in hand, Quentin quickly bolted toward his father’s study before the sentries learn something was wrong. Stealing his way inside, he spots his waiting siblings. “Célestine! Albertine!”

  “Elder Brother!”

  “Big Brother!”

  “It looks like you’re already ready.” Both girls nodded as they brandished their suitcases, packed only with their most precious items filled with memories. The two sisters trailed behind their older brother as he led them through the passage; five minutes later, they escaped into the forest and just then, an explosion erupted from the direction of the mansion. “Don’t look back!” he warned his sisters. “For Father’s and Mother’s sakes, we must escape! Build our strength then return to visit heaven’s wrath on that harebrained fool!”

  “Right!”

  “Ri-Right!”

  While Célestine declared a committed response, Albertine’s came a beat later and more hesitantly. Sensing this, Célestine gave her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze which encouraged Albertine and a smile crossed Quentin’s lips. Ten minutes later, they wove through the forest enough to come across the cleverly hidden alcove where the teleportation circle rested. As he set about preparing the circle, his thoughts began churning. I will have answers… but I’m powerless for the time being. Father’s friends… I hope they are able to help.