All soldiers were asked for identification and were told to swear allegiance to the royal family before being initiated. Then, they were asked if they wanted to guard the royal family—that led to another round of investigation and, if deemed suitable, a meeting with the children.

Miss Shiharu led the interrogation, while Seiko often sat in just to ensure compatibility. Who the children favored may not make the best guards, or else might come into conflict with Seiko herself. Maybe to ensure no one left, Lord Gin did his best to make sure everyone—children, servants, and soldiers—could get along without any issues.

Soldiers came in waves, usually traveling in groups of two or three. Most were men closer to the late king’s age—a majority of the women were the same, albeit often unmarried and childless by choice. ‘Guard tests,’ as Princess Maenomi dubbed them, were held almost every evening after dinner.

Every prince and princess, barring Prince Jukazu and Prince Dazuki, came with Seiko and Miss Shiharu to the front courtyard. Every soldier who agreed to the scrutiny of the late king’s mistress were lined up, side by side, standing straight and facing forward. The only thing Seiko knew about the general instructing them was that he was from the Hiroki family, which guarded the border between Gin and Kuro.

All of the younger ones were used to the routine, so they lined up as well, albeit by age. Seiko stood behind the line while Miss Shiharu ended it, holding Princess Akemi’s hand.

Her voices sighed, prompting her to look at the soldiers’ faces. She immediately recognized the men from earlier—Kinjo and Masaaki. For whatever reason, her voices didn’t like them; they cited superficial, petty reasons. Maybe them being here was her chance at knowing why.

Both lines stood there in silence. The younger ones thought that having a stranger protect them from strangers was paradoxical; Prince Teiki only came due to his mother’s insistence, while Princess Maenomi seemed intimidated by the concept.

After a minute, Masaaki—standing right in front of Prince Kyuru—bent down and offered a smile.

“Hey, little prince.”

“Hello?” he replied, confused.

“What’s your name?”

“Gin-Hyomoto Kyuru.”

“I’m Masaaki Sonoru. It’s nice to meet you, Kyuru.”

Every soldier and the older children shuddered.

Such disrespect! one voice complained.

Not quite; he means it kindly, a distorted version of the king’s voice added. Seiko couldn’t distinguish him as clearly anymore.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Misplaced kindness, considering the ultimate outcome…

Prince Kyuru, on the other hand, laughed.

“Are you good at playing games, Sir Masaaki?” the boy asked.

Masaaki’s smile only grew. “What kind of games do you like to play?”

Prince Kyuru rattled off a few and Masaaki playfully described his skill at each. Seiko only saw the boy so excited once, maybe twice in her time being here. Miss Shiharu seemed impressed as well.

While his cousin had a successful conversation, Prince Chiki stepped forward and looked up at Kinjo.

“If you’re my guard, can I use your knife to stab Jukazu?”

“Chiki,” Miss Shiharu chided. “That’s very rude.”

“I don’t see how,” the boy replied, crossing his arms and frowning at her. “Jukazu did something weird to Teiki and now he’s all quiet! Teiki’s never quiet!”

The second eldest prince cradled his arm and looked away. “…Assuming you’re worried, don’t be. I’m fine.”

He’s not, her voices half-sung, almost happy at the fact. He’s terrified of Jukazu now. He knew of the murder, but didn’t think he would get hurt. Things will only get worse for them from here…

“Please don’t mind Chiki,” Miss Shiharu told Asahi, who stayed relatively still and even-expressioned. His eyes never quite touched her; she didn’t understand why. “He’s been testing his limits.”

Kinjo murmured some kind of response, and Prince Chiki stepped back with a huff. On the other hand, Prince Kyuru’s conversation with Masaaki ended. Lord Gin’s son looked at Miss Shiharu.

“Aunt Shiharu, can I have this one?”

Miss Shiharu looked over Masaaki, then glanced at Seiko.

“Do you have any objections, Miss Tsujihara?”

Kinjo perked up then shrunk again, earning a smirk from Masaaki, while Seiko shook her head.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, at least. He can change positions if minds change.”

“All right.” Miss Shiharu focused back on Masaaki. “You are…Masaaki Sonoru, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Masaaki replied with a bow. “And I would be honored to watch over Lord Gin’s son, if all agree to it.”

“Ozuru trusts anyone his children do,” Miss Shiharu said. She paused for a moment. “Well, his children and Miss Tsujihara, I should say. So as long as you don’t betray them, you’ll stay in his good graces.”

“Understood.”

He won’t last long, the voices predicted.

Yet something in his expression implied sympathy, and Seiko had to disagree with her voices. The way Masaako smiled at Kyuru, letting the boy tug him halfway around the courtyard before Miss Shiharu asked them to come back, made Seiko feel like he might stay.

Besides, agemates will be hard to find here. Mikka would be glad to hear of some good news, mixed in with all the updates on her safety and the official state of the capital. She would be pleased that her daughter didn’t stay away from people—actually made friends, or at least made an attempt.

You’ll wish you never came.

The voices were the only thing that made her feel that regret. Maybe they were concerned that she would prove them wrong—that, with other people nearby, she wondered if the voices might dull to nothing more than a quiet murmur.

It won’t be so easy, they warned.

Seiko didn’t care. She almost smiled, actually, thinking about it. Just having the illusion of control was enough for her, until the actual concept became a more plausible goal.