"I'm alright, don't worry too much about me—"

Hope put a hand on his left shoulder and gritted his teeth.

The searing pain from being stabbed by Milloula resurfaced, and he whizzed at it. Hope had known just how powerful Milloula was, after their initial encounter, and he'd known Beatrice couldn't beat her alone.

It wasn't as if Hope felt he could help fight alongside Beatrice or anything of the sort. But by giving Beatrice an upper hand even by just bringing her the titanium blade, he could be at ease, knowing that he'd spared an effort to turn the battle's tide.

Ever since he'd first been treated by Ayesha and her fellow medics, his resolve to help fight the invading Sigurd bubbled, filling him with confidence.

"Hope, let me see your wound," said Ayesha as she sat on two knees, while Hope put away his shirt.

"...The wound opened a bit. Here, I'll stitch it back."

"Again? Uh, maybe later—Ouch!"

Ayesha stitched the stab wound in a few seconds and breathed a sigh. After covering it with a new bandage, she squinted her eyes at Hope.

"I know what you're thinking. You want to find ʼānisa, isn't it?"

"She's still out there by herself, Ayesha. There's no way I can leave her like that," replied Hope. "You want to search for her too, right? Then, let's go together. We don't have time to lose."

Ayesha shook her head and bit her lip. She settled into a comfortable sitting position as she adjusted her floor-length dress. It appeared, at least how Hope saw her, that Ayesha didn't want to help him search for Ava.

Which wasn't the case at all. To Ayesha, she felt a great need to look for the little girl even right then, however...

"Za'im had sent a few others to find ʼānisa. So... there's no need for us... for you, exactly, to strain yourself searching for her."

"Boss... He said that?"

Hope narrowed his eyes at Ayesha, and she looked away. Was this the same fifteen-years-old girl that cared for Ava?

He knew how disciplined and strict she was on herself when Richarde was involved. Any order their Boss gave to her, she would obey without any reservation, to the point where, she would disregard her own feelings.

Hope hung onto the fact that Ayesha abstained her desire because of Richarde.

"A message for you, Hope," continued Ayesha. "Za'im said you should prioritize yourself first and foremost. Think about your circumstances first before anybody else. They're plenty of people who can search for Ava quicker, than the you who's injured and battered."

"Isn't that the truth?" added Ayesha as she held Hope's gaze firmly.

"..."

Aside from his promise to protect Ava, Hope felt a sense of responsibility for her as her 'guardian', which drove him into thinking he should be there for the little girl. He'd let his emotions took over.

Hope wasn't someone who would rely on feelings when given a choice, but sometimes, he too made mistakes.

In the end, Hope Domitius was only human, bound to carry out irrational actions in certain situations.

. . .

. . .

Looking back at how he was a year before, there was little to no disparity in his growth. Back then after the authorities charged him for murdering a female classmate in cold blood, he was taken to prison and lived there for a few days before being put into trial.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Hope Domitius, your family's here," said a dark-haired man in a formal white uniform.

A prison guard visited Hope in his jail cell, and the boy with matted blonde hair stood up upon being called. Hope's hands were handcuffed after he stepped out from his cell, and briskly, the guard pulled him into the visiting room.

Hope swept his gaze around the narrow, forty-feet in length, chalky white room. The place was furnished with about twenty simple metal seats each lined up along two sides paired with adjacent white wooden tables across.

When Hope took a seat, he was faced with a clear, reinforced window and a corded handset placed next to it.

The guard motioned for him to take the telephone handset, and he grabbed it after a few moments of hesitation.

"...Hello?" whispered Hope, his eyes locked onto a blonde woman on the other side of the window.

"Honey, how're you doing?" The woman, namely his mother, Mrs. Domitius said these words before she put up a thin smile, "You... How have you been?"

"I-It's awful," confessed Hope. "Mom, when can I get out of here?"

Mrs. Domitius bit her lip. Her presence there wasn't related, in any way, to getting Hope out of prison, but rather, it was more towards her wanting to deliver a piece of news.

"...You're charged with murder at such a young age, and they'd sentenced you to live here for a lifetime—"

"I didn't kill her!!"

Hope stood up and gritted his teeth. "I didn't do it! It wasn't me! S-Sir Brodwig, h-he did it!"

"Honey..."

"Mom, why won't you believe me!? I'd explained to you and Dad, and you know that it wasn't me! I was accused of committing a crime I didn't do!"

"We're going to the Philippines," said Mrs. Domitius.

"...Huh?"

"Your Dad, you see, his boss had just recently assigned him to work at a company branch in the Philippines. He got posted there."

"...What are you saying? You're here just to tell me that... you're going to leave me?"

Tears filled Hope's eyes as he stared at his own mother's distrusting countenance. The face she made in front of her son was bereft of trust and kindness. Deep inside, Hope realized his mother didn't even care to disprove the crime he didn't do.

His family—when Hope last saw them—they all wore pretend smile and fake couthy expression.

Simply put, any trust they had in Hope was lost, and their opinion on him changed to that of a 'depraved child'.

Even if they had the wherewithal to open the case again for him, they wouldn't do it. The evidence was veritably stacked against Hope from the very beginning.

And so, Hope continued to live sixty days of his life in prison. He didn't have any so-called 'acquaintance', and trepidation took hold of him when it came into conversing with boorish inmates.

Lunchtime was a veritable hell, with the rebarbative prisoners unabashedly hollering and getting into fights, causing tumult whenever they were together.

After a few months languishing under these situations, an unexpected individual visited Hope in his cell. Six people wearing black metal masks with an intricate pattern engraved on its surface appeared before him and fell on one knee, forming a pathway for the Queen of the United Kingdom.

"Q-Queen Fortune Sybyll Barnwell!? Ah, I mean, Your Majesty!"

Hope bowed in fear of the ruling monarch after he sat on both knees. Why was Her Majesty here, in front of him!?

Hope shook his head a few times and pinched himself, and true enough, the Queen standing with her cane a few feet before him was the genuine article.

Queen Fortune smiled as she looked at him. "I have a granddaughter about your age, Hope Domitius. Princess Aya Barnwell. Do you know her?"

Hope nodded repeatedly. "O-Of course, Your Majesty! Princess Aya is the daughter of Princess Sophea, Your Majesty's eldest daughter. I'd seen both of them on TV before with you."

The Queen seemed perturbed by something, her warm gaze still on Hope. However, the blonde boy himself didn't notice this and his incoherent remarks continued for a while.

"...I am well aware of the crime you'd committed, Hope," said Queen Fortune softly.

"I-I didn't do it, Your Majesty! I'm—"

"Regardless whether you did it or not, it still stands true that at such a young age, you're thrown in prison, sentenced to life imprisonment."

"..." The Queen's words repeated itself in his mind. While putting a hand over his chest, Hope took a deep breath and gazed at the Queen. "I never wanted any of this, Your Majesty."

"So did many others who were in your position, and those who still are. At eleven-years-old, you have yet to experience life, Hope. You have a long journey ahead. So, I'm giving you a choice."

"A choice?"

"Do you want to remain here in this prison, or join Le Morte D'Angharad? It's a paramilitary company under my command, Hope, and so far, it'd helped a lot of people especially those under my rule from being exploited and abused by their respective countries' corrupt parliament."

"Will you help me as well, Hope Domitius? For the sake of our people. For the sake of my granddaughter's future," added Queen Fortune.

Hope's mouth gaped upon being asked to help none other than Queen Fortune Sybyll Barnwell herself. He quickly recollected himself and asked, "But how can I be of use to you, Your Majesty? I-I'm not good at anything. At school, I'm not the brightest student either."

A smile flitted across Queen Fortune's face. "My intuition brought me here."

"...Your intuition?"

"Yes. And my intuition hasn't failed me yet. So, I'm certain that you'll be able to help me achieve my goal. Le Morte's goal. So, I ask you again. Will you help me, Hope Domitius?" said Queen Fortune as she extended her hand.

"...I will help you, Your Majesty. If someone like me can be of use to you, then I'll be glad to put myself in your care."

Hope took the Queen's hand, and she laughed. "Perhaps one day, I'll arrange for a time where you can meet Aya."

"I-It would be my honor to meet the princess, Your Majesty."