Sitting inside the carriage on our way to the royal palace, I was watching Bellevue's royal district swipe through the window. The scenery was familiar from that day when Grandfather Emilien and Mael made our way to the ducal palace.

"Those days feel so far behind."

"Uhm. You were saying?"

"Nothing. I was talking to myself, Lord Paul."

"Is that so, but didn’t I already tell you to not call me Lord Paul?"

"Yes, you already did."

"Then why are you still calling me that? Do you have a problem with calling me by my name?"

"No, it’s not that... It’s just that calling you Paul feels a little inappropriate."

It sounded strange and overly familiar to my ears. The same way it felt to call Maa by her real name.

"I fail to see the issue here. What do you call Mathilda?"

"Maa."

As though coming to a realization, he nodded, then said, "I see, that’s where it came from. If calling me "Paul" doesn’t suit you, even though it should, what about Uncle Paul, or just Uncle?

"I think I like that better, Uncle."

"This is settled then. Though I guess it shouldn't have been in the first place, it feels so wrong to be addressed as "uncle"."

"Wrong?"

"It is unusual for anyone in our family to be referred to as an uncle or cousin, especially in the position I currently hold. You're not aware of our Douglas family's tradition of only having one filial hereditary line?"

It was only then that I remembered Maa’s explanation of that said tradition running in her family, so I finally came to understand why he said it felt weird being called "uncle."

In the Douglas family, to give the church and noble society assurance that the Douglas weren’t spreading their given-noble name to just anyone, only the chosen heir, if that one happened to have brothers and sisters, is allowed to have children who in turn would carry the name "Douglas''. Which meant that, taking into account the fact that Lord Paul was the current head of the family, there should be no one with the right blood to be calling him "uncle," just as there was no one to call him "cousin."

"I have. Maa told me about it."

"Well, I guess you know then."

Since free time wasn't what Maa and I lacked the past few months, she took time to narrate a bit of her life story. Thus, I came to learn that, before the circumstances that eventually led her to Beaumont to work for the Aubrecht family, she was the one who was initially meant to be in the position that Lord Paul occupied.

This meant that, while Lord Paul is no longer supposed to have anyone call him uncle, he had previously been in a position that allowed it. By those who should've been Maa's children.

"Was it you who was tasked with dealing with the Eirwein brothers?" Lord Paul suddenly asked after a brief silence.

The question came so out of nowhere that it took me some time to correctly muster an appropriate answer: "I was part of it, but all I did was deal with the elder brother, Schlain. As for Austen, it was Maa and Lydia that took over the task of dealing with him."

Though it was brief and quickly contained, for the first time, I saw Lord Paul losing composure over anything, as he, upon hearing these words, jerked out of his seat.

"Mathilda and Lydia did? Personally?"

"Yes, without anyone's intervention. Uncle didn’t know about that?"

He shook his head.

"When it comes to the aristocracy’s business, I believe the less I know the better. As such, I do not involve myself beyond what is required. The only thing I need to know is what I need from them and what the aristocracy needs from me. So I didn't know; in fact, I never bothered to ask how that was handled; I only knew it was and that it involved you. But who'd have guessed that at her age, she'd have come to deal with it personally,... though perhaps this isn't so out of character for her," he mumbled, most likely to himself, before looking up at me and asking, "What's that sorry look on your face?"

"Maa told me about you and Ainsley—that you two were friends. good friend when you were still children."

"I’m starting to think that it’s actually better that Mathilda doesn’t tell you anything." Lord Paul sighed before going on. " Yes, I admit it. He was indeed my friend, but our paths strayed apart when he chose to take part in this vengeful journey of his. So I doubt it is appropriate that you feel or even express condolences over his death, given that the responsibility for their deaths could be traced back to me. But regardless of what you just admitted she did, only she deserves your condolences right now. It would be Mathilda. Her son and her."

I nodded as I understood exactly what he meant.

"After your showdown in the northern fortress, he was taken to the fortress, wasn’t he?"

"Yes," I confirmed. Then, anticipating his next question, I went on, "But Maa immediately sent me here after that, so I would be able to tell how things unfolded after my departure."

"I see. I hope everything works out for the best between them. It’d be regrettable that he would take the same path as they did."

"Indeed. That would be deeply regrettable."

***

We were led by guards into an opulent castle of nothing but white and gold when we arrived at the royal palace. We were led to what I assumed was the throne room, with all these massive paintings. It turned out to be nothing more than a waiting room, as on the opposite side of where we arrived stood a tall door heavily guarded, which this time, with the large emblem carved on it, I was certain was the one leading to the throne room.

There were sofas in the corner of the room, as expected of a distinguished, noble-owned room, and atop one of those sofas sat a familiar silhouette, one that, upon noticing our presence, stood up to greet us.

"Greetings, Lord Douglas, Lo–Ronandt, I was waiting for you," she started.

"Greetings, Princess Tiara," Lord Paul and I both replied.

The speech was then taken over by Lord Paul. "We profusely apologize if we made the princess wait too long for our humble selves.

"It was nothing worth mentioning, I, myself, just took a seat when you both arrived."

"I see. That being said, we weren’t expecting to have the princess personally welcome us."

"I was here to warn Lord Douglas and Sir Ronandt that there might be a slight delay in your queried and answered audience. I hope Lord Douglas won’t take it too personally."

"Absolutely not. I, in fact, wouldn’t know how to thank the crown for this warm welcome. After all, it is not everyday that one is so lucky as to be blessed with a royal presence. Thus, I would like to take this opportunity to personally express my family's gratitude to the princess for honoring my granddaughter with your presence at her birthday party. It has been an honor for her, as it has been for I."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"It was unnecessary, Lord Douglas; it was my personal—"

Not paying attention to their conversation, I failed to even notice that my inattention came to both of their attention.

"Ronandt?"

"Hum?" I mumbled, finally coming back to my senses, "I apologize, did I miss something?"

"Nothing to worry about," the princess said as they both looked at what had made me lose interest in their interaction."We were just talking about Lady Rebecca's birthday the other day."

"I see,…"

"Could it be that Sir Ronandt is interested in our royal paintings?" The princess asked.

"Do you, Ronandt?"

They both obviously realized my undisguised and open interest in the massive painting on display.

As such, knowing there was no use denying past this point, I honestly confessed, "I admit, I am quite intrigued."

"I didn’t know you had any kind of interest in painting or any form of art."

"Well, it seems I do, Uncle," I remorselessly lied.

"Sir Ronandt seems to be full of surprises," the princess chuckled. "I propose I give you a better look at them, if, of course, Sir Ronandt is interested."

The question came out of nowhere, and instead of searching for an answer for myself, I searched for one from Lord Paul, who, upon noticing my glance, went to take a seat on the sofa.

"Standing up is not for an old man such as myself anymore. So I’ll be waiting, sitting here."

Having understood that the left was upon me, I nodded at the princess' proposal.

"Those are the paintings of the kingdom’s past kings, aren’t they?"

"Yes, indeed. Those are the Altairian king’s paintings, from the very first one to the very last one. The royal family made it custom to hang each king's best or favorite painting on the hall's four walls."

Some of these paintings were individual portraits; others were duo portraits; and still others were family portraits, but the man wearing the crown was the focal point in each of them.

A silence took place, seemingly because she seemed to be expecting, I suppose, a comment from me, yet the only answer I could come up with was the question "Why?"

"Why?"

"This hall is a waiting room; these paintings are the best and the kings’ favorite ones. Why place it here, out of all places?"

"That, I admit, I never considered," she admitted. "If Sir Ronandt were to think of a reason for that particular placement, what might you theorize of?"

I did come up with a theory of my own but chose to, nonetheless, not voice it.

"I apologize; I can’t come up with anything."

"Why are you apologizing? If there were someone that should be apologizing, it should’ve been me, the one knowing the answer to that question."

"What about just forgetting that question, princess? I think I shouldn’t have asked it in the first place anyway. "

She didn't appear to simply accept, and after a thoughtful pause, she proposed, "How about I don't forget it, but instead of today, give you a proper next time we meet? That should be fine, right?"

"I suppose yes."

"We have a deal then?" she said, holding her hand out.

I nodded, accepting the proposed handshake, despite the mundaneness of that said deal. "We do."

Immediately after the handshake, she proceeded to briefly summarize the stories behind each painting we passed by. Despite the passion and the obvious mastery she held over all these paintings, I didn’t feel particularly interested in all the details she exposed. At least, until we got to the corner of the hall where a strikingly large painting was hung above others. The said painting was larger than the others, which were already large enough, so much so that I had to take a few steps back to fully observe it.

Noticing the contemplative and intrigued gaze with which I looked at the painting, the princess asked, "This is the painting that caught Sir Ronand's attention earlier, right?"

"What does the princess know about this one?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

If I were to say that I had some form of interest in painting, I would be lying, which I did earlier.

I am a simple man. I have such a thing as a keen interest in painting. While I could claim to know what I would most likely call beautiful or ugly in an artwork, I was not confident enough to claim to know anything else. As such, if there was something in that painting that struck me, it had to be on a very superficial level.

In this case, it was familiarity. I recognized not one but a few of the faces depicted on the painting. Five of the eight painted individuals, to be exact.

"This is a unique illustration of the apostles Djeem and Kine and their only daughter, the princess Elena, and the apostles Kiady and Aurora, along with their children, the elder prince and princess Ferdinand and Amelia, and, of course, their youngest son, prince Altair."

This time, after hearing confirmation from the princess herself, I got confirmation that I was not simply hallucinating.

"Prince Altair and Princess Elena, who would later be known as the first king and queen of the newly founded kingdom of Altaira, making them the royal and ducal family line's very ancestors. While the elder princes became the pioneers of what is known as the Paladin Order. "

Not being able to hold my curiosity, I ventured toward what truly intrigued me about this painting and forwarded the question, "Wouldn’t the Princess know where that painting is exactly coming from? Who painted?"

I had an answer and a name in mind, yet I still sought confirmation.

"Who painted it? I don’t… I don’t know. Like most paintings in this room, this is actually a very old painting, we believe it to be more than two thousand years old, and as such, I believe it impossible to know who the author could’ve been."

Two thousand years old, huh?

That wouldn’t make sense.

"I see…"

Despite how easily distinguishable Djeem was with his albinism, he was nowhere near the one that drew the most of my attention in this painting. Instead, it was Ferdinand, Amelia, and their parents, whose portraits immediately captured my attention.

"But I do know from Grandfather that this was a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes, a gift from the church."

The moment she made mention of the church, I got, as vague as that clue was, my final confirmation of exactly where and from whom that painting came.

"I was told it was a gift from the pontiff of the church to the king of Altaira at the time."

Having received the confirmation I was seeking, I looked up at the painting, saw the portrait of Kiady, Aurora, and their two children, and saw the very same face, trait for trait, as the one I saw in the Iharana Great Forest.

While the fact that the painting wasn't just a resemblance but was a perfect representation of the apostles and their children didn't immediately catch my attention, when it did, I was left impressed with how perfectly accurate these four portraits were to the siblings, Aurora and Kiady. It was even as though a reality figer had been used here.

I knew beforehand, before even asking the princess, that whoever the painter was, it was simply not possible to achieve this level of accuracy using descriptions of the apostles and their children alone. The only explanation that would justify such a faithful illustration would be that the painting was much older than what the princess suggested and that the painter had personally painted the apostles and their children, or at the very least that the painter had been around long enough to have seen what the apostles and their children look like.

As I no longer forwarded any questions, the princess proceeded to expose what she knew about the paintings.

"It is not known where they left; wherever the apostle Kiady and Aurora left, the eldest royal siblings followed, leaving their little brother behind. Until now, it is not known where they went. There is a theory that the apostles went to search for the apostle Solomon, who left years prior. But it is what it is: just a theory."

Well, well, well. Aren’t you guys a little too close to the truth?

"Does the princess believe in that theory?"

"I?"

"Yes."

"I do not."

"Oh, I thought the princess might. May I ask why?"

"Since that theory is based on the same record that tells us what kind of person Solomon was, it is, to me, safe to assume that the apostles Kiady and Aurora, who were known for their love for their children and humanity, would never abandon them to pursue a man who abandoned humanity in pursuit of strength."

"Oh, that’s an interesting point of view. Then, why does the princess think they aren’t back, especially Kiady? He was documented by these very same records as being eternal, wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t he come back?"

"That… I wouldn’t know how to answer that. Perhaps something happened."

Oh, yes. Something happened.

"Perhaps."

"Otherwise, of course, he, Aurora, and the eldest prince and princess would return to the humanity they spent their lifetime protecting."

Maybe you people weren’t so close to the truth as I thought you were after all.

"Princess Tiara's faith in the seven apostles is quite admirable. I wish I could’ve said the same for myself."

"You do not believe in the Seven, Sir Ronandt?"

"Let’s say I had my share of bitter experiences with a few of them, so no, I do not have the faith you have. I hope that won’t earn me a death sentence for blasphemy," I joked.

I, immediately regretted letting these words out since I was expecting the princess, as faithful as she seemed, to take my joke wrongly, but surprisingly, she took them with humor.

"I don’t think you will. At least, not here, Sir Ronandt," she laughed.

"That’s a relief."

It was just at these words that the gigantic door leading to the throne slowly opened, meaning that time for our requested audience with the crown finally came.