Niles’ high hopes take a dip. After all his efforts, no one else is interested in joining his growing “party,” leaving him and Winston with only Felix, who has to finish his guard rounds before they can officially depart together the next day. They part ways with Felix, agreeing to regroup in the morning, and set off toward the salon to prepare for the ball.

While they walk, Winston gives a contented sigh, reflecting aloud, “That went better than expected.”

“Yeah! And now we only need to find a ‘nerd,’” Niles adds confidently.

Winston's brow knits in confusion. “A… ‘nerd’? Is that some kind of sorcerer?”

“More like an engineer,” Niles corrects, sparking Winston’s interest.

“Ah, an engineer! In that case, the town has several fine ones, but since time is running out, we could seek one tomorrow,” Winston suggests. He raises a brow. “Why do we need an engineer, anyway?”

A mischievous grin spreads across Niles’ face as he pictures all the wonders from his home world. “To make all the cool stuff we had on Earth! Imagine something as small as my phone—but just a taste of the endless marvels out there.”

Winston nods slowly, eyes glinting with the thought. “Like your artifact—the phone. That device alone would revolutionize communications here.”

“Yes!” Niles chuckles, feeling a renewed purpose. “And that’s only scratching the surface. Just wait ‘til you see!”

As Niles and Winston neared the salon, the fragrant scent of oils and perfumes floated through the air, mixing with a din of voices. Any calm they’d expected was quickly shattered by the unmistakable, grating pitch of Prince Xhiva’s complaints.

“This is all wrong!” Xhiva’s voice bellowed, booming through the open door. “I look like a fat pig in these clothes! Bring me something else!”

Inside, a flustered salon attendant scrambled through piles of garments, his hands trembling as he searched for anything that might satisfy the prince. Xhiva crossed his arms, frowning at his reflection with disdain. “And make me look thinner!” he demanded. “This mirror is clearly broken! I refuse to be reflected like… this!”

Winston stifled a chuckle, whispering to Niles, “I think we’ve discovered the real reason he keeps firing his tailors.”

Niles smirked. “Maybe he’s searching for a mirror that’ll flatter him as much as he flatters himself.”

They shared a conspiratorial grin before stepping through the doorway, already sensing the chaotic energy that only the prince could bring. "Well, I must be off to my own quarters now," Winston announced, clearing his throat and adjusting his robes. “I’ll see you at the ball tonight." With that, he turned on his heel, his robes billowing slightly as he left the salon.

Prince Xander stood quietly at the back of the room, a figure of calm amidst the bustling scene. His polished leather boots gleamed in the light, subtly emphasizing his poised stance. His attire—a tailored ensemble crafted from the kingdom’s finest, soft fabrics—draped perfectly over his frame, with intricate golden accents tracing the edges of his sleeves and collar, adding a refined touch. The coat, fitting him closely, bore subtle embroidery near the cuffs, hinting at symbols of Xandria’s royal lineage. Behind him, strapped securely across his back, rested his long, black blade—its hilt barely visible but unmistakable, hinting at a readiness beneath his calm exterior. His long, dark hair was gathered neatly into a low ponytail that flowed down his back, giving him an air of composed elegance. He looked every bit the prince, understated yet unmistakably regal.

Noticing Niles, Prince Xander stepped forward with a welcoming smile. “Welcome to—”

Before he could finish, his brother Prince Xhiva’s voice erupted from across the salon. “Amateur!” he snapped at his stylist, then pointed to a rack of garments. “Forget this! Make me taller with a wig and give me long, pointy shoes!”

Xander glanced briefly at the pile of increasingly bizarre fashion choices piling up for his brother but chose not to intervene. Instead, he turned back to Niles and said, “Welcome to the royal salon. I’ve arranged for you to meet my personal stylist—please, follow me.”

At the far end of the room, a middle-aged woman with a piercing gaze waited, sizing Niles up the moment he approached. She gave him a once-over and muttered, “He lacks the build to do these clothes any justice.”

Xander stepped forward smoothly. “That’s why we’ve come to you. No one else could take on a challenge like this and make him fit for the royal ball,” he said, his voice warm with reassurance.

The woman’s expression softened, and a spark of pride lit her gaze. “Well,” she replied, her tone less severe, “since it’s the wish of the oldest prince, I suppose I can work a miracle or two.”

Xander thanked her with a gracious nod, while Niles looked over at him with misty eyes, feeling that this prince was truly the kind of friend anyone would be lucky to have.

“What color do you have in mind?” the stylist asked, focusing intently. Xander paused thoughtfully before replying, “White and blue, with golden accents.” Then, with a gentle smile, he added, “The gold represents your bond with Xandria, a symbol of courage and honor. Our ancient emblem—the dragon on our flag—is depicted in gold, and as for the blue and white… you’ll see the meaning when the ball begins.”

With practiced hands, the stylist and her assistants set to work, using threads and pins to tailor the outfit to fit Niles precisely. Xander examined each adjustment with a discerning eye, occasionally giving input. “A bit tighter around the arms,” he suggested, nodding approvingly as the stylist adjusted the seams.

The assistants measured Niles’s feet and fetched dark leather boots that matched Xander’s, adding a final touch of unity between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the stylist stepped back and gestured toward the grand mirror at the center of the room.

Niles stepped forward, catching his reflection in the mirror, and barely recognized himself. His attire was stately: deep blue trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a tailored blue coat adorned with intricate golden embroidery. With the polished leather boots and carefully crafted details, he looked almost like a prince himself, ready to represent Xandria alongside his new companions.

As Niles admired his reflection, the stylist clapped her hands, signaling two assistants forward with an array of brushes, combs, and polished scissors. "Let's bring everything together," she said, gesturing for Niles to sit in a nearby chair.

One of the assistants approached, meticulously trimming Niles’s hair to a refined, even length while shaping it to frame his face just right. Another assistant began brushing and styling, pulling strands back and subtly taming his hair with gentle oils. The effect was understated yet princely—a look that suggested both elegance and adventure.

At the same time, a third attendant carefully took his hands, examining his nails with a slight grimace before filing and shaping them to a smooth, clean finish. They buffed his nails until they held a soft sheen, each one polished and sharp, as though even his hands had been given a royal makeover.

Once they finished, Niles ran a hand through his newly styled hair, surprised at the silky feel and the way it seemed to fall perfectly into place. His hands looked princely too, with nails that, for once, actually belonged in the halls of Xandria's grandest salon. With his polished look complete, Niles stood and took a deep breath, feeling for the first time like he truly belonged here.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Xander grinned, giving him an approving nod. "You clean up well, Sir Niles. Now, let’s go show them what Xandria’s banished summoned champion looks like."

"That's more like it!" Xhiva’s voice rang out, echoing with the satisfaction of a prince entirely pleased with himself. He struck a pose, his arm raised dramatically. "Time for dinner!" he declared, sweeping out of the room with all the grandeur he could muster.

Draped in a towering baroque wig that added at least a foot to his height, a voluminous ruffled collar around his neck, robes that billowed like sails, and absurdly long, pointed shoes, he looked ready for anything but a royal dinner. His face was powdered in bright, theatrical makeup, giving him a cartoonish glow. The salon artist bowed with a flourish as Xhiva passed, leaving the room as if he’d just stolen the show.

Niles stared, half expecting the local circus to come calling for their missing performer.

“We should follow him,” Prince Xander said, glancing at Niles. “My siblings and I have prepared a light meal before the ball.”

Niles grinned, gesturing down the corridor. “Lead the way, Prince.”

They moved through the long, echoing corridors, with Xander waving and nodding kindly to passing guards and castle attendants, his presence dignified yet approachable. Niles watched him closely, like he was studying a mythical creature. Finally, he couldn’t help but say, “You’re... different from your siblings, you know?”

“Different?” Xander’s eyes sparkled as he looked over, warmth in his gaze. “How so?”

“Well, you’re just... princier than the rest,” Niles replied, with a smirk. Xander laughed, the sound genuine and relaxed, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

“‘Princy?’ I don’t think that’s even a real word.” He paused, the laughter fading as a thought crossed his mind. “Sir Niles, I should be transparent with you. My siblings and I… we didn’t have what most would call a normal childhood.”

They took a turn that led them to a quiet balcony. The setting sun cast the castle’s grounds in warm shades of amber and gold, and far below, they could make out wagons and guests arriving. Felix and his fellow guards were stationed at the moat bridge, welcoming nobles from far and wide. Xander’s gaze wandered over the horizon, and he spoke thoughtfully.

“How much do you know about how people level up in this world?”

Niles shrugged, venturing a guess. “By defeating monsters?”

“Correct,” Xander said with a faint nod. “And also by taking down other humans. The one who delivers the final blow receives the experience.”

The air around them grew heavy, as though a shadow had passed over. Xander’s voice softened, a tinge of uncertainty in his words. “Sir Niles, would you say… I’m a good person?”

Sensing the weight of the question, Niles answered earnestly, “My gut tells me you’re a good man.”

Xander smiled, the sincerity warming him. “Thank you… but there’s more to it. What I’m about to tell you—this stays between us, understood?”

Niles lifted his pinky. “On Earth, this is how we promise.” Xander, amused, wrapped his own pinky around Niles’s, giving it a solemn shake.

“My father wanted my siblings and me to understand death early.” Xander’s gaze grew distant. “He… he presented us with war prisoners so that we could ‘level up.’ I tried to shoulder that burden for my younger siblings, Xhiva and Xemena, but there was only so much I could shield them from.”

Niles listened intently as Xander continued. “Xhiva… he tried to make light of it at first, joking, but over time, he found his way of coping in food and drink. Xemena, though—she was different. To our father, everything was black or white, but Xemena… she was all the colors.”

Xander’s voice tightened as he continued, hugging his own arms unconsciously. “They blindfolded her. My father made it a game, something she thought they’d share… but the lever she pulled, it wasn’t a toy. She didn’t know what it did, and she was too young to understand.” He exhaled, eyes shadowed with the memory. “One time, a prisoner’s scream slipped through. She removed the blindfold. I couldn’t cover her eyes fast enough… she saw everything.”

He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “Our mother was distant. She never hugged us, never said she loved us. It was a forced marriage, so love was something we learned to live without. But Xemena, when she ran to her, hoping for comfort… she was pushed away. And our father witnessed this.”

Niles felt a chill as Xander’s story deepened. “In the king’s eyes, pushing his child was a assault to the king himself. So, the next time… when Xemena was blindfolded again and pulled the lever… it was our mother who was hanging.” Xander’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Sir Niles, please don’t hold anything against Xemena or Xhiva. Blame me, if you must.”

“But you were just a kid yourself,” Niles protested, his voice thick with empathy.

“And thus, the burden of the eldest prince is mine to carry,” Xander replied quietly. “Thank you, Sir Niles,” he added, meeting Niles’s gaze. “Yesterday’s duel was the first time in years that I’ve seen my sister smile.” He extended his hand. “Is this how it’s done?”

Niles grasped it firmly. “Just like that.”

Xander’s mood lightened a little as he shifted topics. “So, any idea what you’re planning to do tomorrow, once your banishment is official?”

“Not a clue,” Niles replied, grinning. The two shared a laugh, a rare moment of camaraderie between worlds. “Perhaps you’d consider joining me on my journey?” Niles asked, half-joking, fully expecting a polite decline.

Prince Xander’s gaze drifted thoughtfully, a faint smile touching his lips. “Now that would be an adventure…” he mused, as if savoring the idea “But I’ll make sure to visit—and I’ll have a proper parting gift for you.”. He paused, then nodded. “Shall we go find the others?”

They headed back down the corridor toward the small chamber, where the light meal awaited. Xander knocked on the door, and a cool, commanding voice from within called out, “Enter.” It was Xemena.

Xander opened the door quietly, leading Niles into the chamber. Inside, Xemena sat elegantly in a silken chair, looking every bit the dignified princess. She wore a stunning crimson gown adorned with intricate gold embroidery, her hair styled with delicate ornaments that underscored her royal status. Around her neck, a gold necklace with a gleaming ruby caught the light, highlighting her striking yet formidable presence. Her arms were crossed as she looked over at them, eyes narrowing slightly.

"What took you so long?" she asked sharply, studying Niles with a cool gaze. “I suppose even a monkey can be dressed up, but it’s still just a monkey.” She nodded toward Xhiva, who was devouring every plate in sight. “Did you punish whoever decided to dress him up?”

Xander raised an eyebrow. “If we did, we’d be left with no brother.”

Oblivious, Xhiva interrupted with a grin. “Worry not, sister, I look quite fancy.” Just then, a smear of mustard dripped onto his elaborate robe. Xemena rolled her eyes, glancing at the ceiling as if seeking patience. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” she muttered.

Across the room, Roy and Gustavus lit up at the sight of Niles. “Niles!” they called out in unison, crossing over to greet him. Gustavus’s eyes grew misty. “Oh, did you miss me, Gus?” Niles teased, grinning.

“Not in the slightest!” Gustavus sniffed, pointing an accusing finger at Xemena. “She threatened to cut my hair off to make me look ‘intimidating!’” he whimpered, touching his hair protectively.

Roy laughed and joined in. “Yeah, so Gustavus here went sprinting down the halls, yelling, ‘Please don’t make me bald—no one will ever love me!’” He doubled over, catching his breath from laughing. “And then that ‘woman’ caught up and smacked him!” he added, throwing a thumb in Xemena’s direction.

Xemena sighed, unbothered. “I thought this moss-headed fool would be the least troublesome,” she muttered. Rising gracefully, she cast them a stern glance. “Just don’t embarrass us tonight.” She looked directly at Niles. “And no duels.”

“I wasn’t planning to!” Niles replied, hands raised in defense.

Xander chuckled and moved to rescue what food remained on the table before Xhiva could get to it all.

Gustavus nudged Niles, taking in his attire. “By the way, Niles—you dress well.”

“Very sharp,” Roy agreed, nodding.

The two wore pristine white uniforms that looked almost military, Gustavus distinguished by a green sash and Roy by a red one, lending them a crisp, dignified look.

“Don’t expect any more resources spent on you,” Xemena added with a dismissive wave.

Gustavus and Roy exchanged a quick, indignant look at the princess, signaling their shared frustration. The room was arranged for a comfortable gathering, with a small table in the center, surrounded by plush chairs and sofas.

“Let’s get this over with,” Xemena declared, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table. At her command, everyone gathered around as she began explaining the evening’s plan. “The king will give a welcome speech, and each of us will be presented formally,” she stated. “There’ll be dancing, food, and plenty of drinks.” Her fingers drummed rhythmically as she added, “There are also some influential people you’ll need to be cautious around.”

“First, Sir Zacharias, crown prince of the distant empire of Zairule—”

Xhiva leaned in, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “He’s also Xemena’s former betrothed.”

“XHIVA!” Xemena’s voice was sharp, but Xhiva shrugged, unfazed.

“But he called off the engagement,” he continued, earning a smirk from the others as they leaned in, eager for gossip.

“So… she’s single?” Niles asked with a grin.

Xhiva nodded with mock sympathy. “Always has been. Who can handle that temper?”

“Why did he end things, anyway?” Gustavus asked curiously.

“Because he knew he was outmatched!” Xemena declared, slamming her hand down on the table, commanding the attention of all five young men now watching her intently.

“Next,” she continued, regaining her composure, “are representatives from the Golden Bank. It’s critical we maintain good relations with them.” Just as she finished, there was a knock at the door.

“Excuse me, but we’re ready for the ceremony to begin,” a voice called from outside.

Xemena sighed, clearly feeling pressed for time but determined to finish. “And third,” she said, eyes narrowing as the boys leaned in again, “do not embarrass me.”

At her command, the door swung open to reveal a group of impeccably dressed court assistants waiting to escort them. “Please, follow us,” the lead assistant said, bowing slightly.

“Lead the way,” Xemena replied on behalf of the group. They straightened up and moved forward, ready to make their entrance at the ball.