By the time Bellavarn arrived, he felt more nervous than when he asked his boss for a raise.

Ah. That was Bellavarn. Not me. Or it is me, but... ah, screw it.

Both of them hated this place.

Kly opened the doors.

The dining room was... grand was too inefficient a word.

The ceiling towered overhead, and there was enough floor space to hold a ball. The long dining table in the center of the room that could serve two dozen felt minuscule in the vast space. The walls were decorated richly with more art and gaudy colors.

The King was already seated at the head of the table. Black hair turned entirely gray. His face, lined with age, sported an eternal grimace. He wore fitting dark grey clothes colored with royal purple flourishes. Thankfully there was no cape.

In the seat to his left was Tristan, the first prince. A spitting image of his father. Black hair slicked back. The beginning of a familiar scowl was being etched across his face—a younger version of the king.

The king, Francis Lionel II, waved his hand grandly.

"Welcome, guests. Take a seat."

Duke Braster sat to the right of the king, followed by The Duchess and then Bellavarn. Kly took the seat next to Tristan. Normally, the First Princess would take the following seat by rules of seniority, but Anne took her place since she proved absent.

Is this normal? They didn't even try to make an excuse for the First Princess.

The first course was brought out promptly. Bellavarn remembered his etiquette but felt it was even more tedious after having memories of a life with chicken wings and potato chips.

Everyone ate in uncomfortable silence for a while. Not being able to speak without the King saying the first words. Before he could, however, the doors opened and a figure walked in.

The First Princess, Lecil, absently sauntered to her seat. Long, straight black hair unfurled, complimented by a dark navy blue dress covering every inch of skin up to her neck. There was a lot less plush to her outfit compared the the pink of Princess Anne.

What stood out to Bellavarn was that she was tall. She was probably taller than the king. Maybe around the same height as Bellavarn? The differences between the two princesses were striking.

When the last addition to dinner was seated, the king spoke.

"I believe congratulations are in order. Having another child so late is a miracle."

Trisha and Braster weren't that old, actually. Braster was just over forty years old, while Trisha hadn't even hit that benchmark yet. Compared to the King, who still sired children at the age of fifty, the feat wasn't so dramatic as to be called a miracle."

Still, mother and father have been trying for nearly two decades to have another.

"Thank you. It has been difficult, but we are both overjoyed."

Braster reached over and held Trisha's hand.

"It was a joyous occasion when I found out. Not even courtly affairs could dour my mood."

The king nodded as he cut into his meal. Princess Anne spoke with enthusiasm, letting out emotions she had been holding back thus far.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? I think a little girl with such striking blue eyes would be adorable!"

First Prince Tristan added to her sister's comment after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"They won't know for some time. There are a few ways to determine gender before birth, but it is still too early to tell."

Braster confirmed the prince's words.

"That is true. Trisha and I prefer not to know until it arrives."

The king made a gesture.

"Another son would be a boon."

"But father, they already have a son nearly of age. Bellavarn can take over the household in a year. A daughter would be so much better."

"Don't be rude, Anne."

That was Kly. Anne pouted a bit but spoke again.

"What do you think, Duchess?"

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Oh, my. I couldn't bring myself to guess."

The Duchess put a hand to her face and smiled, tilting her head. There was an odd superstition that if the mother guessed and it was wrong, they would lose the child. It was baseless, but why tempt fate.

"Ah, I forget myself. Well then, what are your thoughts Bellavarn?"

Attention turned all at once. Bellavarn paused in cutting his steak.

"I would be grateful for either. Mother and Father wanted another for so long that it no longer matters to me which."

"Oh? Even if it is a boy? You will have competition for the title of Duke."

None of the royal family seemed overly bothered by her insensitive questions—a privilege of being the youngest and constantly curious. Thats why Anne and the others found it odd when Bellavarn chuckled with a light heart.

"If my brother decides one day he wishes to lead the household, I will support him the entire way. Even if was a girl, I'd support her wishes. That's the role of an older sibling, is it not?"

Braster let himself smile openly while Trisha held in her laughter. They were already blessed to have a good-natured child such as Bellavarn.

Anne oohed in admiration at his response. Prince Tristan decided to rain on the parade.

"Succession is a serious matter, no matter the house. A single slip can ruin one's reputation. Rumors can kill. Like the one I heard recently."

Everyone paused in eating, the atmosphere becoming chilly. Kly looked straight at Bellavarn with a flat expression. His eyes twinkling.

"Where a young heir assaulted a maid in his own employ."

Bellavarn had to control himself to prevent from shaking with emotion.

"Is that true? I only remember you saying he had amnesia and acted out."

Anne appeared appalled as she looked to her older brothers. The King looked unamused at gossip being brought up at the dinner table but didn't stop it either.

Bellavarn could feel the tenseness in his shoulders, his mother's silent anger at the events, and his father's regret at this being brought up. It was clear the three heirs planned this. Nobles, especially high nobles, never bring up topics needlessly. This was meant to demean them and remind the Sallows that their place was below the Lionels and would always remain so.

Bellavarn reached a hand over to his mother underneath the table. Stabilizing himself and her. It wasn't about him any longer. This was an attack on the family. Sallows don't roll over like Lions do.

"That maid is no longer in our employ after having lied and fabricated evidence. Going as far as to injure herself in her blackmail attempt."

Tristan looked irritated at Bellavarn's quick-wittedness and Anne hid a smile. Prince Kly spoke flatly.

"Why does the maid still live?"

Curse royals and their sources. Intrigue and gossip nutcases.

"Lord Bellavarn locked himself away from the public. Is that not proof of guilt?"

Trisha squeezed Bellavarn's hand with enough force to crack a knuckle. Bellavarn was determined to stop this before she let her aura loose or her father's curse acted up. There were times when Bellavarn felt there should be some guilt on his part, even if the reason he hid away was because of a broken heart. Regardless of his feelings, Bellavarn was the son of a Duke. He knew how to play their games.

"Watch your words, Prince, you speak of matters you do not understand."

Anne gasped aloud at Bellavarn's audacity. Tristan seemed like he wanted to lurch across the table, but maybe it was Kly's unconcerned facade that kept him back. The only saving grace was that the first princess seemed uninterested. Glancing briefly in her direction, his eyes threatened to widen. Managing to reign himself in, no one saw his surprise. He continued seamlessly.

"The maid was given severance pay and escorted away as she was no longer wanted on our lands. As to myself, I spent time growing the family library and researching magic theory and engineering. I was thinking; there are ways to upgrade several magical tools the Kingdom uses. That includes our standardized weapons."

The king raised an intrigued eyebrow. Even his parents were unsuspecting. He wanted to wink at them.

"Is that so?"

Success.

With the king interested, the others were forced to accept Bellavarn's previous words.

"Yes, your Majesty. Improving upon standard-issue magical weapons is a tall order, but I believe there are subtle ways to increase magic efficiency."

Tristan glared at him with open hostility. It took all of Bellavarn's willpower not to laugh in his face.

King Francis tapped a finger on the table.

"Tell me more."

=

The rest of dinner consisted of Bellavarn chatting some of the mildly promising ideas he had, saving the best ones only in case of emergency. All his plans were conceptual and most of them not even plausible; however, the king was very intrigued by the possibilities. And the Crown would support any ideas once they were concrete and actionable.

After that, the discussion turned to more benign topics. The latest trends and pains of governance.

Dinner concluded on an uneventful note. The King was the first to leave. Rooms were prepared for the Sallows to spend the night before returning home. As everyone else left the dining hall, Bellavarn took a moment to approach the first princess.

"Princess Lecil."

Lecil stopped as stopped her ghostly saunter and half-turned. Bellavarn caught up and bowed slightly, introducing himself.

"We haven't had the chance to speak yet. I wanted to introduce myself formally. I am Bellavarn Sallow, son to Duke Braster Sallow."

The Princess' gaze was blank, though, it was different from Prince Kly's. He seemed to hold back his feelings and emotions. Princess Lecil... it was like there was nothing behind her eyes.

She bobbed her head lightly.

"Nice to meet you. Then..."

Bellavarn took a chance and grabbed her wrist before she walked away. She paused and turned back to look at him. Quickly, he let go.

"Apologies, princess, but..."

He hesitated a moment. He only had a second to see it during dinner, but he recognized it for what it was.

If he was wrong, it was a great insult.

If he was right, the implications were enormous.

Bellavarn spent the latter half of dinner thinking of how to bring this up. There were no right words. So Bellavarn spoke from his heart.

"Please don't hurt yourself."

Something surfaced in her eyes.

It drowned just as quickly.

The princess turned away. She traveled down the dark hallways like a specter vanishing into the night.

=

"Mother, where are Henry and Kerv?"

Bellavarn pulled aside his mother as they walked.

"They should be guarding our rooms. Why do you ask, sweetie?"

"Mother, stop. Did you happen to see the First Princess?"

"See what?"

His mother gave him a faux look as they walked arm in arm. Bellavarn was pulling to get away from the overt affection, but the Duchess had a killer grip.

"I have a suspicion. No, a certainty. Can I ask for your help?"

"Of course you can. Anything you need."

Bellavarn glanced back over his shoulder, his efforts to escape futile.

"For starters, could you please let me go."