The princess did everything she could after the bet was made to ensure her success. She couldn’t just tell the recipient of the matter, but she could plant the seeds of doubt within him, and so she did. Putting on her royal dress, she teleported back to the house on the isles and mobilized the knights, but still making sure that they kept the damage to a minimum. She couldn’t change out of her wardrobe in time, but she used that to her advantage, showing the boy her regal appearance to stealthily tell him that something was amiss. And by raising the same doubt towards her attendant, she made sure that by proxy, the boy was warned of the imminent danger.

Yet, failure still haunted her. The seeds of doubt only grew into curiosity and disbelief, and with the boy’s rebellious nature, he would do exactly the opposite of what she expected. The knights, once thought to be loyal to her at first, were revealed to be only in name, and their fanaticism towards people like the boy was much larger than she expected. In the end, it was only a few steps away from being a massive carnage, though which side would take the brunt… that was something that she couldn’t bear to think of.

No use dwelling on the past, Beatrice, thought the girl. We still have the trial left. Peter should still be alive. If we play our cards correctly, we can solve this situation without any more disputes or bloodshed.

Clinging onto that small ray of hope, Bea went through the rocky path to the harbor, as well as the arduous seafare with a fire under her seat. Only when their boat had docked did the girl hastily stand up, almost rushing to her destination as fast as her legs could take her.

However, she was soon halted by her only loyal attendant left, who hurriedly tugged the skirt of her dress as soon as he saw her sudden movement.

“Milady,” sounded Pedro. “Rushing things will not make them any better.”

“But…”

“I’ve already sent a letter to the physicians beforehand. They should already be waiting for us at the castle gate; I’ll come talk to them right away.”

“... Okay, you do that, Pedro,” nodded Bea, albeit reluctantly.

As the carriage stopped, the group was greeted by another line of armed soldiers bearing their pride and joy – the signature crimson three-headed lion insignia.

“Welcome back, Your Highness and entourage,” one of the knights stepped forward and took a bow. “We’re here to–”

“Transport the prisoner, I know,” Bea hastily cut the man off, turning around in worry. “Where are the physicians?”

“We’re here, Your Highness,” from the back, a woman in a black robe stepped forward. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

With a shake of the head, the girl gestured towards her back. “No. Treat the prisoner. He’s in critical condition. You of the Round, too. Don’t cause any unnecessary damage.”

Though their eyes lightly shook with worry, the physicians and soldiers heeded her words and took off, Pedro quickly accompanying them as told. Bea, however, didn’t get to rest just yet, as another (annoyingly) familiar voice sounded above the platform to the front gate, calling out to her:

“Why, if it isn’t Sister dearest! What brings you here in this hour?”

The sun had nearly set behind them, dyeing the sky in a shade of crimson. It would be natural to ask such a question considering it was a long trip from the isles to the capital, but for someone who was already aware of the situation from the start, such a show of concern was naught but a mocking attempt.

And so, it was only natural for Bea to brush away her sister with contempt. “I have no time for your childish theatrics right now, Eliza. If you’re only here to make fun of me, then leave.”

The young girl, however, was unfazed. “Oh, please, dear Sister, don’t think that everything revolves around you. I’m merely here for my Prince Charming, of course. He accompanied you back, right? Where is he right now?”

“If you mean Pedro, he’s with the knights and medics right now. Don’t bother him.”

“My!” exclaimed Eliza, clearly acting out the surprised look. “Is he injured somewhere, perhaps? I sure hope there was no danger in that backwater island you were staying on, dear Sister.”

“He’ll get to visit you later, Eliza, don’t bother him,” Bea let out a defeated sigh. “And please, you’re a lady of royalty. Don’t just throw yourself into a man like that, no matter how much you like him.”

“Please, as if you’re any better,” scoffed the young girl in response. “Aren’t you doing everything within your power for that scoundrel that caught your fancy?”

For the first time ever, Bea was silent. In a way, she admitted that her sister was right, as frustrating as it might be. But unlike her sister, she was handling it with class and care… at least, that was the thought she used to convince herself.

“... I’m going to rest,” in the end, she chose the best way to handle the situation: disregarding it entirely and running away.

“Dear Sister, your room is that way,” with a chuckle, Eliza pointed in the opposite direction of Bea’s steps.

“Did I stutter?”

It was the only thing left the girl said before disappearing from the scene, followed by a few angered shouts from her sister echoing by the wayside:

“Hey! Don’t just ignore me like that!...”

In truth, she never did plan to rest. Not when her dear friend was hanging by a thread. Making her way to another tower opposite her bedroom, Bea climbed the spiral staircase in the surprised eyes of all the maids and butlers present. At the end of her trip, the girl found herself facing a giant wooden door, on it was the golden-plated word “Library”.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Bea creaked open the door. Inside, a hunchback man with a deformed eye was holding a lamp in wait, lightly bowing towards the princess as soon as her presence was known:

“Welcome, Your Highness,” said the man. “Did you come back to return the ancient tome you stole–”

“Borrowed. I’m the First Princess, after all. I would never steal.”

“Ah, right, borrowed from this place?”

“No,” Bea lightly shook her head. “Give me every single documented case of heresy in Britain recorded.”

“Your Highness, that’s quite the sudden request,” the hunchback librarian lightly moved his deformed eye in surprise. “What makes you so interested in reading these old incidents?”

“I have my reasons,” Bea only shrugged, purposely avoiding the question. “Now where are they?”

“Last shelf, Your Highness.”

The girl ventured forward, deep into the library’s maze of books of all kinds. Walls and walls of shelves passed her sight, while the smell of dust and old paper permeated her nose as if she was passing through history itself. The girl walked and turned in all directions, carefully tracing her steps to not get lost within the countless books of the labyrinth, before finally being able to track her target.

Hidden deep within the corner of the library lay a small shelf with only a few books. Among them all, there was a rather thin one, unlike every other source of material present. Its content was only about half the thickness of the silver book housing the cross, let alone the plethora of references, textbooks, and the like. Contrary to the other books on the shelf, this one’s pages weren’t stained yellow – a rare case with books dated this old.

As the girl’s fingers slid through the pages, she knew that this was what she was looking for. On the first page, a single line of ink was present.

“List of criminal cases.”

Only as she continued to check the contents did Bea understand exactly why this book was so new. Unlike the others, it was constantly being recorded and updated, and its content dated decades, even centuries-old incidents – proof of the previous Queens’ unrelenting effort to protect the nation that they’d built.

Bea’s goal was clear – to prove the boy’s innocence, she needed to find proof, any proof, that his bloodline was wrongly treated. Anyone would be fine, but if there was one, then there could be another.

And so, she looked. But the further she looked into the book, the less her hope lasted.

“First case, Alfred Pendragon. Used dark magic to destroy half of London…

“Second case, Edward Pendragon. Failed attempt to assassinate the current Queen of that time, Diana…

“Third case, Edwin Pendragon. Infiltrated the Knights of the Round Table to cause a coup d’etat, but failed…

“Fourth case, Henry Pendragon. Caused the great London fire…”

It wasn’t such a long book, but every case was that of the Pendragon name. And worse off, none of them had any documentation of the perpetrator colluding with Demons or using the cross’s power, meaning that it was likely none of them could awaken the cross’s latent strength.

“Case eleven, Clyde and Nora Pendragon. Caught stealing a cross from the Royal household and fled to the Isles of Man. Attempted a dark ritual to undo the seal to the Demon inside the cross.”

The girl could only let out a bitter laugh, turning her defeated gaze to the rocky ceiling in frustration. All of her efforts had been for naught – documented records meant nothing at all, if not only turning the situation even worse. Eyewitnesses weren’t in her favor either; at most. There was only one that she could trust. The chances of winning the ensuing trial were close to zero.

“Generations after generations… everything, everyone was only busy with killing and destroying one another,” the girl muttered, a single tear welling in her eyes. “Is this really how it’s supposed to be? Is this it? Are we supposed to continue to hate each other, continue to loathe each other for eternity?”

It was at this moment that a familiar voice called out to her.

“Your Highness?”

Not “My Lady”, like his disguise on the isles. Not “Beatrice” like how he used to call her when they were children. “Your Highness” – as if trying to remind her of her current position, and the weight that it brought – the dark-skinned boy spoke.

“Welcome back, Pedro. How’s the situation?”

“He should be fine for now,” Pedro, now adorning a white suit befitting nobility, lightly knelt, his hand crossing his chest as a sign of respect and loyalty. “Unconscious, but his injuries are already healing. They said it should take around three days for him to wake up.”

Bea wanted to cry both tears of joy and frustration at the news. Joy for the fact that the boy was alive, and frustration for the fact that she couldn’t do anything to help him. But she knew of her current role – she couldn’t show any weaknesses, especially not in front of the only retainer she had left.

“And what about the others?”

“Sir and Madam Bakere have both returned to their loggings, Your Highness.”

“What about Eliza?”

“Her Highness the Second? I haven’t seen her,” his eyes shook for a second. “Neither did I see Her Majesty.”

Though her brows slightly furrowed as a sense of uneasiness crept up on her, Bea didn’t react anymore.

“By the way, if I may…”

“Permission granted. You may ask, Pedro.”

“Is that the criminal record you’re reading?” The boy asked with a curious look.

“It is,” with a sigh, Bea answered. “I was trying to find proof that Peter is not a threat to be considered, but…”

At that moment, the girl caught Pedro’s eyes looking at her with astonishment and a hint of confusion. After an awkward pause, the boy finally opened his mouth, as if awakened from a daze:

“Your Highness… surely you jest, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever considered that… the documents that you hold in your hands might have been forged?”

“… Huh?”

Bea only uttered so much. She didn’t want to admit it, but it made perfect sense.

“Peace” wasn’t something so easily achieved. Hidden behind peace, there would always be sacrifices. Losses unknown to anyone. Even with the angels’ guidance, there was still no way for humanity to completely be free of sin. And so… where would the sinners be recorded?

The answer, simply put, was nowhere. The unnaturally thin book was the biggest proof. The crimes must be kept as low and as infrequent as possible, to warrant a peace that, though fake, would be ever-lasting. But to completely erase all records would be tantamount to admitting it in the first place – someone had to be the brunt of all evil, to create a front that evil still existed, but it would always be stomped out by the undying justice of the land. In the end, only one clan was fitting for the task.

“But even if it’s all forged… Then what proof do we have?”

And that was the hardest pill to swallow for the two. Even if they had realized the nature of such forgery, there was nothing that they could do. There was no concrete proof to expose the previous rulers of their wrongdoings, and even if there was, what would happen if Bea were to say out her own ancestors’ sin? What good would there be for the people, knowing that none of the royal family could be trusted?

In the end, she was still at the same crossroads that she once caught herself into. However, this time, she wasn’t alone.

There was a long pause before he uttered his answer. Pedro was never the smart type, and so, he had to rack his brain for a good while to reach the conclusion he was about to say. But in the end, his answer was clear.

“…We don’t,” said the boy, clutching his hand in a mix of faith and frustration. “We’re powerless before Her Majesty, so there is only one thing we can do: trust Peter with everything we have, that he’ll behave in front of his trial, and hope that the Queen could find it in her heart to pardon him that way.”

A simple solution, one that ultimately wouldn’t achieve anything. But it was the best solution that they could think of.

“… Thank you, Pedro. I’ll…”

“Pedro!” Before Bea could finish, a figure barged into their location. The same hunchback librarian uttered in urgency. “Your Highness! Forgive my rudeness, but I must make a report! Her Highness the Second Princess has traveled to the underground dungeon!”

“Hurry!” Bea turned to Pedro, and the two made their way off.