The portion heading out to stop the rebels—Prince Teiki and about two hundred soldiers—left midway through the week. Lord Ozuru made sure the royals at the palace, Seiko included, were still guarded; in that sense, he spoke with Seiko for a short time in order to help her determine who she would want to watch her. In the course of a few days, they spoke more than they had since she came to the palace—it was still odd to think of him as her father.

Typically guards were the same gender of the person they were watching; then they could truly follow their charge anywhere, in all circumstances, and there was a very small chance of any resulting scandal. However, Seiko could only consider herself friends with only a dozen soldiers, all men around her age, and even fewer did she feel comfortable sharing her new role. In the end, Ujuro and Asahi—who both had a certain right to know to begin with, Ujuro as her stepfather and Asahi as her lover—were chosen as her guards. Masaaki was told as well so he could keep an eye on her during battles where Ujuro or Asahi might be away, considering that Princess Maenomi and Prince Kyuru were often close during battles.

Fortunately, none of them seemed to mind. Seiko was grateful that it ultimately gave her more chances to speak with Asahi—a few more chances for them to be alone, when Princess Maenomi allowed Seiko to do whatever she wanted on some afternoons, and plenty more times where she didn’t have to hear her voices giving grim predictions.

A week passed since Prince Teiki left. Seiko had spent much of that time being reacquainted with the royal family with her new role in mind. When she wasn’t with Asahi, her voices picked out each heir’s flaws to explain why they hadn’t received silver hair over a year prior; it was hard to say much to any of them as a result.

King Tsunkei had seven children, although two were borne of a mistress; the two youngest had been killed, and one of the mistress’s children had died of illness earlier in the year. Lord Ozuru only had two children, excluding Seiko; Maenomi and Kyuru, both from Lady Yukira. The oldest of all the children was Prince Jukazu, followed by Seiko herself with a two years’ difference (Prince Teiki came third by mere months); the youngest living child was one of late King Tsunkei’s, at age four. Altogether, there was almost a two decades’ difference between the youngest and oldest.

Seiko’s routine stabilized a bit after the first few days—she ate and trained with the other soldiers, helped Princess Maenomi in the morning, and typically spent the afternoon wandering. She never had a chance to fully explore the palace, so she took the opportunity to do so now. She was stuck here, after all.

Prince Kyuru had offered to come along with her one day, so his two guards followed behind them. Her ‘official’ role became more of an extra guard to whoever needed it as her preferences changed, but Lord Ozuru was willing to make a few compromises—albeit more out of begrudging respect one should pay to royalty, rather than remorse or love. She didn’t quite mind what emotion—if any—was behind it, since her own feelings were similar.

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The prince entertained delighted conversation with her, and Seiko spoke with him kindly. Their little tour around the palace eventually ended when they reached the courtyard, coming in time to see a few men argue with the guards.

“It might be best if we get the prince out of sight,” Masaaki suggested.

Seiko nodded, gently pulling Kyuru behind her.

“That means you, too,” Masaaki muttered, glancing at her with a frown.

Her response was to take a few steps back and bring Kyuru with her, and as soon as they were out of sight, weapons were drawn and blood was spilled at the gates. Seiko winced as the voices returned—and, louder than the rest, was one that sounded like Prince Teiki.

Everything from today onward will be so much different. But will it be for the better, or for the worst? You’ll be the one to determine, little Seiko.

By now, she could gather what the additional voices meant—she could guess who the voices were. Seiko didn’t want to hear them—didn’t want them to cloud her judgement—so after they went to a quieter area, she took out her little knife.

Masaaki grabbed her arm before she could make any cuts. “Stop that,” he said firmly. He took the knife from her, then gestured to the bedrooms. “Take Prince Kyuru somewhere save until the battle dies down. I’ll send Kinjo your way.”

“Let me have the knife back,” Seiko pleaded silently. The voices were only growing louder as the fighting came closer; rebels had come in for the second time that year. “Please. I want the silence; I don’t want to hear them.”

“You can make do with a sword,” Masaaki replied. “I don’t care what the reason is, but I’m not giving this back to you. Whatever it helps with, it’s not worth it.”

She would have protested more if the fighting wasn’t growing closer. Silently, along with Kyuru’s other guard, Seiko took the prince to a separate area.

The battle passed by in a blur, despite taking several hours. Seiko could barely hear her own thoughts among it all, only knowing vague happenings. Rebels made it to their little hiding spot, and the guard that came with them was killed; Kyuru was injured at well, but Seiko dealt with the attacker. At some point the courtyard was set ablaze, but the palace remained mostly safe thanks to stone walls at the base.

Kyuru‘s wound wasn’t something he could easily recover from, if he recovered at all—the voices urged Seiko to give a quicker death, so she slit the boy’s throat. A voice like his thanked her in her mind, and the action brought a certain uproar with it, satisfaction mixed with fear, disgust, excitement. She stayed in the corner of the room after that, faintly aware of the action. Her voices told her the murder was a mercy, but she hated listening to them.

By the end of the battle, six new voices had been added—those sounding similar to Prince Kyuru, Teiki, and all of the children younger than the latter. Seiko couldn’t remember how, exactly, the battle ended, only that Asahi found her near its end, and how Maenomi screamed when she saw her dead brother.

Instead, Seiko dreamed of twin boys, one of them like her—charming but tainted, cursed with something inexplicable. If you fail, her voices whispered, there will be another with your fate—another with your duty. The sister nations of Gin and Kuro will fall after one battle, whether it be you, that boy, or another further down the line…

With a world so corrupt, fall is inevitable. All that has to be done is for a royal family to die out completely.