The sun shined down brightly onto the bustling streets of the city of Lugunica. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in since the funeral, and there was a feeling of celebration in the air. The smiles people wore were more genuine than they had been in months, and there was a glint of hope in their eyes.

Most of the damage the city had suffered in the attacks had already been repaired. The kingdom had spent a great deal of its limited resources on cleanup, which had concerned many when the measures were first announced, but the massive construction projects had ended up boosting the local economy significantly, to the point that the projects were later extended to begin renewing the areas devastated by the great fire.

There were even whispers that the kingdom was considering launching new projects to build proper dwellings in the slums.

But although the people seemed positive overall, if an observer were to watch closely, they could have made out minor signs of unease. Some people had a slight hollowness in their eyes that their smiles could not fully cover up, and many looked to the sky on occasion, their faces slightly pensive.

The news of the Divine Dragon’s demise had not been taken as poorly as might have been feared, as the feeling of triumph after overcoming the attackers had dulled the worst of the fear and sorrow in the capital, but all could sense a great change in Lugunica’s future.

Perhaps that change would be the end of their kingdom. “After all,” many asked, “without the dragon, how will we protect ourselves from Vollachia?”

But that pessimism wasn’t common. Most knew that Lugunica had survived against the empire for hundreds of years before the Divine Dragon entered a contract with them. With strong will and good fortune, perhaps they would last hundreds more.

----------------------------------------

Fourier stood still, his arms lifted out to the side. Servants flitted around him, carefully layering ceremonial robes over his shoulders, applying makeup to his face, and one was even manicuring his hands.

Fourier didn’t think anyone was going to be close enough to even see the careful adjustments to his nails’ length, but he didn’t interrupt. It was an important day, and his caretakers wanted to be absolutely certain he looked his best.

So he tried to relax and ignore their fussing, instead letting his mind wander.

Of course, as soon as he did that, it went straight to his current topic of concern.

Perhaps I could coax a company in from Kararagi? That would certainly help fund our efforts, but there’s no way they would be willing to enter the Lugunican market unless they can see a clear profit for doing so.

He tilted his head in thought, only to draw a noise of complaint from the servant doing his makeup.

He gave a look of apology as he straightened himself, but the servant had already gone back to their tools.

I’ll think about it. Maybe I can have someone look into it.

Two faces flashed through his mind at the thought, those belonging to a green-haired noble and a cat-eared knight.

But he dismissed the possibility as soon as it arose. His two closest friends had their own issues to take care of, and Julius was in a much better position to begin such negotiations. Fourier had only thought of the duo because he wanted to see them.

The three of them had seldom had a moment's rest after the events of the riot and Fourier’s second curse. Lately, with all the preparations going on, they hadn’t had the time to meet up for more than a few hours a week.

In the aftermath of the assassination attempt, they had stuck together like glue, with Crusch organising the city garrison and her soldiers to aid the rebuilding efforts, and Ferris bringing Fourier’s body back to good health and removing the last vestiges of the curse.

Roswaal had double checked his apprentice’s work, but had not found any issue with Ferris’s healing. In fact, he had proclaimed that his own magic would not have even been effective, as the new curse had been markedly different from the previous one.

The court mage hadn’t stayed long, departing to handle ‘several important matters’ before promising that they would meet again in the future.

In the months since, Fourier had only exchanged letters with the man, while Ferris had taken several breaks to go visit him. Chances were, however, that meetings with the irksome Margrave would remain infrequent, as many matters demanded his personal attention at the border. The Margrave had stayed in the capital for a much longer duration than ever before, and Fourier expected a return to the prior state of affairs.

That had left Ferris alone to ensure Fourier remained healthy, which had initially thrilled him but had rapidly spiralled out of his control.

At first, Ferris had split his time between both Crusch and himself, and even bedridden time spent with either of his closest friends was something to be cherished. However things had taken a turn for the worse when Ferris had decided that while the two of them were reckless, Crusch could at least be trusted to handle her normal duties while she recovered.

Fourier, on the other hand…

He couldn’t exactly blame his knight. His lifeforce had been severely damaged in the battle between the curse and the dragonic mana, but he still felt that Ferris had overreacted by confining him to his quarters for so many weeks.

Much of that time had been spent sleeping. His injuries caused him to feel excessively tired, and Fourier was sure that Ferris contributed to it, using just a hint of sleeping compulsion to ensure Fourier slept far more often than he thought necessary.

But life went on. They’d find a way to keep going.

The servant doing his makeup took a final look, waving the brush over his features one last time, then finally withdrew. Fourier stretched, not moving so much that he’d disturb the ceremonial robes, but enough to get his blood flowing.

“Your Majesty, there’s still some time before the procession is set to begin,” one of the other servants said, walking over to him, but not looking up from the papers he was carrying. “There have been a small number of last-minute adjustments to the route, as the knights are concerned about the narrowness of some of the streets. They’ve already begun clearing the new route.”

Fourier nodded. “That’s fine. Will they be ready for us if we go to the procession now?”

The servant nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. Lady Crusch is already there.”

Fourier nodded, and began walking, waving his hand to order the servants and bodyguards to follow him.

It took a fair amount of time to reach the palace entrance, but it was an uneventful trip. The palace’s great hallways and grand staircases only served to amplify the echoes of their footsteps, making the place feel emptier than it usually did.

Hopefully one day soon, they’d be able to employ the full amount of servants to take care of it.

Once they got closer to the entrance, the loneliness of the building began to fade away, as numerous servants scurried to and fro, trying to get everything ready, making sure absolutely everything was perfect.

No one wanted the day to be anything but a resounding success.

After all, it was the day that they would have a king again. It was Fourier’s coronation day.

Much fuss had been made of how the day would go. They had no dragon maiden to crown him, no Dragon to oversee the crowning, and they did not even feel like they could use the traditional spot, located as it was on church grounds.

Fourier had spent many evenings staying up late into the night, consulting with the elders and the scholars of Lugunican history, trying to find records of how succession was handled in the time before the Dragon.

It seemed that before the forty-first king, the kings had usually been crowned by an older member of the royal family, usually the previous king if he had abdicated, but sometimes an uncle or aunt.

Fourier didn’t have any of those left, and though there was some royal blood in the lines of several noble families, none were related closely enough to consider having them crown him.

Failing that, they had tried to determine if there was anyone in the kingdom well-respected enough that the citizenry would accept them crowning their king.

Miklotov had been the first name that had been brought up as an option, only for the man himself to request other alternatives be looked at first.

Fourier had later asked for a private meeting to determine why that must be the case, only to be disappointed with the answer.

Miklotov had burned a lot of political capital putting out the various fires that had occurred due to the Divine Dragon’s death, especially since to many he seemed almost like a mouthpiece for Fourier himself. Normally the man would have stayed a bit more neutral to appeal to all sides, but the matter had been urgent enough that he’d stepped in.

Allowing another candidate to be chosen would hopefully signify enough of a distance to regain those lost allies in time, but for now it left Fourier without his best option.

They had considered several other options in the months leading up to the coronation.

Someone had suggested that they get a well-respected noble to do it, of which there were only a few, chief among them being Roswaal.

Fourier had sent the invitation out to him, and received just two words in response.

‘I refuse.’

Fourier had expected that answer, but he still had gotten a chuckle out of it when Julius had read the letter out.

There had been a handful of other possibilities, but the only other serious contender had been Reinhard. He was well-liked, and many in the kingdom even worshipped him, although not to the same extent as the dragon. But many had felt that course of action would be unwise, with the Treasurer particularly against it.

Fourier himself had decided to veto the possibility. Reinhard would do it if he was asked to and wouldn’t offer a word of complaint, but Fourier knew the Sword Saint would hate it.

With the established powers all being unavailable, the next best choice would have been an upcoming power, in order to help secure it for the crown. The Church would have been an excellent choice had Jaune still been alive, as it’d been rapidly swelling in support. But after their god’s death, the faith in the church had been shattered, and Jaune, the only one who may have been able to salvage the situation, was missing. His body had not been found, but Fourier didn’t think it likely that he had survived the explosion of the Divine Dragon’s obelisk.

Fourier felt a surge of pity whenever he thought about the man. He had likely died without ever realising that he was being controlled by forces hostile to the kingdom.

Even his life’s work in improving the church was falling apart, as while a replacement bishop had been named, he fell far short of Jaune himself. The short, portly man hadn’t been someone Fourier had interacted with before. They had barely spoken since their first meeting, and he hadn’t returned to the palace since. From what Fourier had heard, he was busy trying to salvage what remained of the central church and reassure the remaining faithful.

Fourier did not envy his task at all. It seemed very likely he would be the last bishop, and at times it seemed he was merely trying to make the church’s collapse as gentle as possible.

He frowned.

Thinking of the church always brought up thoughts of her. And thinking of her always made his mood sour.

----------------------------------------

Footsteps reverberated through the desolate passage, leading to one of their most isolated dungeons. Fourier's grim stride steadily carried him forward alone, as Ferris followed him from a respectful distance away.

“Ferris, we’ll be arriving in only a few minutes, you can stop hanging back,” Fourier announced, voice harsh.

Ferris's ears flattened against his skull, but he increased his pace until he was right beside Fourier.

Pausing for a moment, Fourier turned, his gaze softening as he rested an arm on Ferris's shoulder.

"Ferris, it's imperative that you don't avert your gaze, Melty will be looking at you first, and if we truly want to help her, this is an important first step," Fourier said sternly.

“But I thought you hated her, Fourier?” Ferris asked, head tilting slightly.

“I do, to have the worst of my suspicions confirmed and to find out that the riots and all the death and misery they caused was due to one person…” Fourier’s hand clenched involuntarily, nails puncturing his flesh with the familiar sting, slowly drawing him back to the present.

“It damaged even my trust in my instincts, as people I knew, I could trust betrayed me one by one. Worse yet, it even made me betray Jaune in a way.” Fourier said tiredly.

“In what way exactly did you betray him?” Ferris asked angrily.

“Simple. I left him to die,” Fourier said flatly, “I won’t pretend that it wasn’t the right call, or that I’d make a different decision even if I’d known the truth when I abandoned him, but it’s still painful.”

For a few seconds they moved in silence, before Fourier surprised Ferris by smiling.

“But, even in the darkest moments, people can find things to find pride in. Ferris, your decision to allow Melty to surrender was incredible.” Fourier said, crimson eyes meeting yellow, as he poured out his resolve.

“In this world of ours, it’s far too easy to meet violence with violence, and hatred with hatred. But you broke that cycle by offering Melty mercy, which is the only reason we managed to prevent the riots from becoming a full blown civil war.”

“You're exaggerating,” Ferris denied, eyes fixed towards the ground. “Melty didn’t have anywhere near enough slaves for a war.”

“She didn’t,” Fourier agreed slowly, but rolled his eyes when Ferris remained silent. “But it’s not as if she needed to be anything more than a trigger. Our forces were exhausted and were starting to take significant casualties when they stepped down. At best, we’d have lost many innocent victims whose only crime was being brainwashed. At worst, all the blood could have broken down any sense of remaining good will and led to a far longer conflict, even among the people who hadn’t been brainwashed.”

Pausing, the young king allowed the silence to linger for several seconds, until Ferris finally broke it.

“I only did it because I knew it’s what you’d want. If it was up to me, I’d have likely crippled her, or at least attempted to force the issue with my magic,” Ferris whispered, looking away.

“I know, but do you really think that I wouldn’t do the same?” Fourier asked, smile widening as he muffled a chuckle.

“We all wonder what the people who we look up to would do in the situations we find ourselves in. I wonder all the time what you, or Crusch would do when I’m in difficult situations, just like I wonder what my Father would have done if he’d still been here,” Fourier confided, eyes growing serious once more.

“In the end however, it isn’t our memories of others that make the final decision. In that moment the one who made the decision which helped save our Kingdom was you, Ferris, no one else.”

Scratching his cheek, Ferris desperately changed the subject.

“You managed to rescue Melty’s entire family right? Are we going to move her to a less isolated prison and allow them to visit her?” Ferris pondered, ears rising as he narrowed his eyes.

“Our knights succeeded in their mission,” Fourier confirmed. “That’s part of why I’m coming with you is to tell her the news. But the other part is to see her for myself so that I can consider just how much I’m willing to trust her myself.”

“Please tell me you're not considering pardoning her,” Ferris begged, clapping his hands together. “That’ll burn even more political capital, far more than she deserves. I feel stupid for even having to ask, since I know you really don’t like her, but something like that would be right up your alley.”

“Well, something like that,” Fourier admitted with a quiet chuckle. “If we can genuinely trust her, then we’ll have her work together with some of our barrier teams, to create a metia that can detect her ‘Evil Eye’ ability, as well as its aftermath. Something like the one for detecting the Protection of Mind Changing. It has been passed down for hundreds of years, but we’ve never managed to create another metia like it since.”

“Sadly, without something like that, even I'm not reckless enough to give her complete freedom anytime soon. But that won’t be a problem. There’s only one person in our kingdom who has the requisite skills with metias to have a hope of creating one of this magnitude.”

Trailing off, Fourier waited for Ferris to erupt, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“You aren’t seriously proposing risking Teacher?” Ferris questioned before narrowing his eyes. “I know that you have your issues with him, but risking one of your most loyal and competent subjects doesn’t strike me as wise.”

“I’m not proposing to give her complete free reign with Roswaal,” Fourier acknowledged with a nod. “However, should we think her ready to take the first steps, then moving her to his primary manor’s hold, with improved accommodations, doesn't strike me as a bad idea. Especially since over the long run, nothing guarantees that the Evil Eye Tribe won’t interfere with the kingdom again, especially should they do so after we are all gone.”

“I suppose…” Ferris said reluctantly before his eyes lit up. “You know, Royal Guards are granted a certain amount of leave every month.”

“You can’t be serious,” Fourier moaned, covering his face as he fought off a headache. “That leave is solely in place because the majority of the Royal Guards are nobility and have to occasionally handle things at their estates.”

“If you're going to be endangering Teacher, then I think it’s only reasonable that I check up on him every month,” Ferris said, warming up to the idea. “Teacher did mention that if I was ever in the area I should visit anyways.”

“I suppose so,” Fourier admitted grudgingly. “I have Julius by my side, and the insect controller has been killed. I can do without you for a few days every month. It might even be for the best, it could help reassure the council.”

“Still, I know I’m the one that told you to make new friends… but did it have to be that man of all people?” Fourier complained under his breath.

Before Ferris could retort, Fourier sped up his pace as they reached the cell.

Judging by the look in Ferris’s eyes, he’d regret that dig later, but for now both focused on the lone figure in the cell.

“It’s— It’s an honour to meet you in person again, Your Majesty,” Melty stammered, hurriedly bowing and just barely avoiding turning it into a faceplant.

“Melty Pristis. Although we’ve met once before, it was under false pretences,” Fourier stated, voice echoing through the small chamber. “I would be lying if I said it was a pleasure to be here, however, your actions in surrendering and stopping the brainwashing at a crucial moment have earned you this much, at least.”

“No, not at all,” Melty said, shaking her head wildly. “After I was captured, I was expecting to be thrown into some hole, before being tortured and killed at best. Especially after all the lives I ruined. Instead I was given a surgery that fixed my throat and then was given a bed far better than any I’ve ever slept in, delicious rations, and even books to read for when I get bored.”

Hesitating, the priestess looked at Ferris standing next to Fourier, before seeming to draw strength from the sight of his friend.

“Your Majesty, may I inquire about the state of my family?” Melty finally said, and finally met his eyes.

Her amber eyes were full of tears, but in them Fourier could spot the resolve that Ferris had brought forth blazing strongly.

“My Knights have rescued all of them,” Fourier began, before making his decision. “They’ll be allowed to visit you in a week or two after they have been settled, although of course Ferris will have to check them after that’s been accomplished.”

“Thank you,” Melty croaked, the tears starting to stream down her face. “That’s so much more than I deserve, Your Majesty. If there’s anything I can do in return—”

“Funny you should mention that,” Fourier said dryly, before using what he’d dubbed his announcement voice.

“I’ve decided that in two months' time, you’ll be moved over to another prison, one located with our best Metia creator. There you’ll be tasked with coming up with a way to detect your Evil Eye together, along with helping less skilled healers come up with ways to detect and reverse the effects.”

“Assuming that you continue to do your best while there, your family will be allowed to visit you on occasion while you reside there, and should you succeed, I can promise a royal pardon for the crimes you committed,” Fourier finished, and silence reigned for several seconds as Ferris starred in resignation and Melty in shock.

“Your Majesty?” Melty whispered, as a brilliant smile slowly formed. “I promise, I’ll do my best.”

Nodding one final time, the young king turned and strode out, purposely keeping his pace slow as he strained his ears.

It was perhaps a tad mean spirited, but he really wanted to know what the two of them would say if left alone.

“I heard you call the rations delicious,” Ferris finally said, and he could imagine the way he’d shake his head.

“They are the best things I can remember ever having tasted,” Melty reported happily. “They were a little uncomfortable to eat at first with my throat still sore, but it was amazing the way I felt fulfilled afterwards.”

“I’m guessing the person who made your throat like that did it years ago,” Ferris said, voice tight with anger.

“It’s been several years.” Melty confirmed. “However, while I couldn’t swallow food, occasionally if there was extra food no-one wanted, I’d chew on it for a while before spitting it out. It was a bit of a waste, but it would have been thrown out anyways.”

Fourier couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of flesh meeting rock, as he suspected Ferris had just punched a wall.

“Ferris, are you alright?” Melty questioned desperately.

“Fine,” Ferris gritted out. “Something like that is nothing for me, but what I can’t understand is how you can say something like that with that stupid smile still on your face.”

“Ferris…” Melty said sadly before falling silent.

“Or maybe the truth is that I can understand far too easily, and just don’t want to. If it wasn’t for Lady Crusch I…” Ferris began before sighing loudly.

“Before Lady Crusch, I was starved regularly by my relatives so I can understand the feeling of hunger gnawing at you, until any food tastes better than the imagination can capture. But what I can’t imagine, is how you were even remotely accepting of something like that. Even back then, I was planning on killing my family if I ever got the chance, and only stopped because of Lady Crusch, but you…”

“What good would it do for me to ponder vengeance?” Melty whispered, before her voice grew stronger. “Never mind that though, if you're not going to heal your hand already, give it to me. I promise I’ll heal it, Ferris.”

“I’m leaving,” Ferris reply back was icy, and his footstep loud, Feeling a touch guilty, Fourier finally started walking once more as well, and before long Ferris caught up.

One look at the smaller man and it was clear he knew about Fourier’s eavesdropping, so in return for skipping a lecture, Fourier opted not to bring up the split knuckles still leaking the occasional drop of blood that Ferris was ignoring.

----------------------------------------

Sighing, Fourier forced his mind onto less depressing memories. After their unsuccessful search for candidates, Miklotov had finally come around and agreed to crown him.

It had required Fourier to raise the possibility of crowning himself to his elderly advisor.

Surprisingly, he had actually been considering the same idea. It had precedence as the progenitor of their Kingdom, the very first king of Lugunica, had done the same, but sadly, it was the worst of their available options. A monarch to crown themselves was considered the height of arrogance, and Fourier had not done anything that would justify that arrogance.

Eventually even Miklotov himself had conceded that for this ceremony it would be best if he officiated it and handed over the crown. It would partially rob him of his ability to handle the Sage Counsel, but it would reassure the public.

Part of the process of ensuring less focus was given to Miklotov specifically, was the decision to finally announce his engagement to Crusch to the public.

The idea that the whole kingdom would finally know the truth of their engagement made goosebumps start to rise, but it also was a thrill. Every time he’d seen Crusch since their engagement he’d had to fight the urge to embrace her, and had to settle simply for a smile anytime they were in public.

He’d even asked Ferris for tips on how to better hide his feelings, only for his friend to cruelly shoot him down.

Anyone with eyes already knows you're infatuated with Crusch. Hiding your feelings now, would make it clear something’s changed.

Shaking his head, Fourier refocused as he exited the palace’s grand doorway, lifting a hand to shield himself from the sun while his eyes adjusted.

Slowly, the carriages came into focus, including one large carriage that Fourier had always seen as unwieldy and extreme.

It was wide enough that it could be pulled by four ground dragons abreast, and it was so large that it would need all four to move. It had no roof, and the centre was raised above the rest, so Fourier would be able to smile and wave within sight of everyone.

There was a seat he could use if he got tired, but he had recovered most of his health and energy since the attacks. He could afford to stand for a few hours to make sure his citizens got the best look at him possible.

He lowered his hand, and made his way down the steps.

The servants scurried around, making sure everything was ready, but Fourier could see they had done an admirable job.

He reached the carriage, and with a hand from one of the knights assigned to be his bodyguard for the day, he pulled himself up so he stood on the dais.

“We’re ready to go when you give the word,” the knight said. “However, I would prefer to wait a few minutes for the messenger from Marcos to get back. They may have finalised the new route.”

Fourier nodded. “Do what you think is best. Do you know where Crusch is?”

“Here, Your Majesty,” a voice called up from the side of the carriage.

Fourier looked down, and suddenly found himself struggling to meet the speaker’s amber eyes.

Crusch had forgone her usual soldier’s uniform, and even the sword that usually hung at her hip was gone. In their place, she was wearing a black satin dress, with resplendent jewels around her neck and floral decorations holding up her ponytail.

It was so at odds with her usual attire, but Fourier thought it suited her well. Her usual military uniform hid much of her more caring side, but Fourier had always been able to see past it.

Although after Crusch’s actions following the attack, it wasn’t just him that recognized her compassion, but much of the kingdom.

He hadn’t expected that the news of her visit would spread like wildfire, but he was proud of the part he’d played. Even if he had done it while under cover.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It hadn’t been nearly as hard as he had expected to join her on that day, but perhaps his friends had sensed that there was no way he was going to be left out.

----------------------------------------

“How do I look? Stunningly attractive I hope,” Fourier asked, performing a quick spin as he studied his mirror.

“You look as graceful as ever, Your Majesty,” Julius said, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned against the wall. “However, it may be wise to avoid spinning and pirouetting while Ferris is away. Even I would not escape the scolding that is sure to follow, should he find out that you tripped while still on bed-rest.”

“I think at this point, I have enough experience pushing my body through crisis that I know when to stop!” Fourier exclaimed, spreading his arms widely and puffing out his chest.

He held the position for a moment, Julius simply looking on in judgemental silence.

The knight broke first, looking away and shaking his head.

“I’m afraid that those incidents are more likely to lead to the opposite conclusion, Your Majesty.”

Fourier smiled, dropping his arms and relaxing his muscles.

“Perhaps you’re right, but there will always be times when a man must push himself a little, and when his beloved visits is as fine a time as any,” he declared, crimson eyes burning with passion.

“Perhaps,” Julius echoed.

A smile rose on his lips, tinged with mischievousness, and he looked back at Fourier.

“However I would expect such a man to be capable of waking up, by themselves rather than needing to be prodded awake.”

“Even you, Julius!”

Sinking to his knees in defeat, Fourier clutched his heart dramatically. “To think even my sworn knight would betray me, truly I am assaulted on all fronts.”

Julius let out a chuckle, but then he cut off, his eyes flicking to the side to look at something only he could see.

“You may want to rise, Fourier,” he said as a green spirit’s cheery presence lit up beside him. “Alo tells me Crusch will arrive momentarily.”

Eyes widening, Fourier rose and quickly smoothed out the wrinkles formed as he heard the approaching footsteps.

Julius, too, transformed, abandoning what little leeway he had given himself, once more shifting into the perfect knight.

“No need to be so stiff, Julius,” Fourier scolded, knowing that the knight would ignore his words. His knight would allow himself to relax somewhat when it was just the two of them, but at all other times, he still conducted himself as the Finest Knight.

He opened the door to reveal Crusch, dressed once more in her usual military attire.

“Your Majesty, it’s good to see you standing again,” Crusch greeted with a smile. “The last time we met, Ferris wouldn’t even allow you to get out of bed.”

“He worries too much,” Fourier said with a wave of his hand, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Ferris still wanted him to remain in bed as much as possible.

He took a step closer and grasped her hands in his own. “Besides, just seeing you, it gives me enough energy to fight a thousand battles! Nay, a million!”

“Is that so? It’s good to hear your recovery is making such fast progress,” Crusch allowed, her smile widening.

Then she turned to Julius. “Before today, how long has His Majesty been spending out of bed?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say, Lady Crusch,” Julius began, refusing to meet Fourier’s desperate eyes. “However I’ll note that other than maintaining his duties, His Majesty has spent all his time dedicated to recovering for the past few weeks, save your scheduled visits.”

“Oh. Is that interfering with his recovery? Perhaps I should visit less?” Crusch asked. She spoke calmly, but from the slight tightening of her grip, Fourier could tell the idea displeased her.

“Of course not,” he declared, her amber eyes meeting his. “Every time I see you, I put that much more effort into recovering as soon as possible. You can even ask Ferris if you don’t believe me. If anything you should be visiting me more!”

“That isn’t quite how recovering works for most people,” Crusch said with a soft chuckle. “However I wouldn’t put it past you to do so. Although I think I really will have to ask Ferris to make certain.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve been out of bed regularly yourself,” Fourier noted, raising an eyebrow. “I wonder if I should also ask Ferris if you should have been taking work so soon.”

“Thankfully, Ferris has already fully healed my physical wounds,” Crusch said. “My gate will take longer, but so long as I avoid using mana and continue my sessions with Ferris, it will heal in time. Staying active does me no harm. Can you say the same?”

“I can't,” Fourier admitted, the words coming out slow and forced, before strengthening once more. “However, I’m proud of the choices I’ve made. I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t push myself for something like this.”

“You truly are a handful at times, Fourier,” Crusch said, trying to sound disappointed, but her smile brightened as she spoke the words, and Fourier felt himself fall in love all over again.

He coughed and looked away, desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject.

As he moved his head, he spotted Julius hiding a chuckle in the corner. Mentally, he lambasted the knight whose smile became just a tinge to smug. He swore that should a time ever come where Julius wanted to change the subject, he absolutely would not allow it.

“Judging from your comments on my workload,” he began anyway, his face growing warm, “I take it Ferris has filled you in on what I’ve been doing lately. But I don’t know what you’ve been up to. How have you been? Anything you need royal help with?”

“I’ve mostly been dealing with the aftermath,” Crusch said, raising an eyebrow. “In particular, I’ve been assisting my father in hiring many of the Karsten engineers to take a look at the buildings that burned down, to see what can be repaired and what needs to be demolished. Watching my father deal with his contacts shows that even though I’m head of the family, I still have a ways to go in forging contracts.”

Smile dimming, Crusch continued, “In addition… there’s one more duty that I’ve inherited that I will need to deal with soon, now that the ashes have been collected.”

“Ashes?” Fourier murmured, then he paled as he made the connection. “If you're dealing with that matter personally, then I’d like to join you if possible.”

“Join me?” Crusch repeated, a rare look of bafflement crossing her face. “Your Majesty, while I appreciate the gesture, I’m afraid it’d likely backfire. At best it would change the gesture to be one of appeasing the masses, and at worst it may very well damage your reputation.”

“That's…” Fourier said, trailing off as he himself came to the same conclusion. “So what!” Fourier said voice growing louder, before he forced himself under control. “I want to be by your side, it’s clear to me that this is important to you.”

Crusch didn’t look swayed, so Fourier pushed his mind further, searching for a solution.

“And even, if Fourier Lugunica can’t attend, that needn’t apply to a nameless Karsten Knight.”

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It took a moment for his words to sink in with his two companions, but they soon figured out his implication.

“Most knights don’t wear helmets,” Julius said, a touch of resignation in his voice. “It may be wiser for the both of us to disguise ourselves as soldiers or militiamen instead. With how busy the knights are, it would be perfectly believable for Lady Crusch to resort to their services instead.”

Fourier beamed.

“See, even Julius supports the idea! While it dashes my dream to be your knight, I’d be honoured to accompany you as a soldier instead,” Fourier said, seizing on the unanticipated support.

“With Julius by our side, we’ll both be safer as well. While you may have recovered physically, even you’d struggle to face multiple foe’s with your swordsmanship alone. With only Julius and I attending you’d even be able to cut down on the amount of guards you’d need to bring, especially since most of the knights are still busy.”

“Your Majesty…” Crusch trailed off, a rare look of uncertainty crossing her face for but a moment.

This wasn’t the first time Fourier’s recklessness had pushed him to involve himself, and so after gazing at him quietly for a few more seconds, she allowed her unspoken protests to fade.

Instead her face softened, and the fearsome general faded away to leave only the girl he’d fallen in love with, her face twisted with indecision.

She clearly didn’t want to drag Fourier away from the palace, away from the protection of the knights and soldiers therein, but at the same time, Fourier could see she would appreciate his support.

She spared a look at Julius, who gave a single, resolute, nod.

“Very well,” she said, a smile brightening her face. “I will procure uniforms for the both of you. But please do try to avoid standing out too much.”

----------------------------------------

“I never knew these militia uniforms could be so itchy,” Fourier complained quietly to Julius, just a few steps behind Crusch as they made their way through the marketplace.

“A good portion of it is simply due to them being new uniforms,” Julius noted calmly, his strong stance drawing eyes, even with the helmet. “Once they’ve been properly broken in, such issues would likely fade. In addition the uniforms aren’t made with the same quality fabric you are used to.”

“Good to know. If nothing else, keeping this uniform and coming out by ourselves later on might not be a bad way to interact with the citizens,” Fourier mused, carefully eyeing his surroundings, at the marketplace that only spared brief glances at the three of them.

He could have sworn he heard Julius sigh at that, but when he looked, Julius’s posture was as elegant as ever. Much more so than Fourier’s own stiff movements. He was even managing to carry the leather satchel at his side without it swaying.

Fourier glanced between them, studying Julius’s posture, trying to relax his arms and walk normally. He had been in armour before, but it wasn’t something he was well-practised in.

But he wouldn’t give up. He had to do his best to commit to the role they’d agreed to play to support Crusch.

When they arrived at their destination, Crusch raised her hand to knock on the door. They were in a rather out of the way section of the area, where the streets were narrow, and the buildings poorly maintained.

After a minute had passed since knocking with no response, the trio exchanged glances.

“Julius, can you detect anyone inside?” Fourier questioned wrinkling his nose as a particular smell finally hit him. The smell of strong and pungent alcohol drifted out of a nearby window, making him thankful for the stuffy mask for the first time. It may have been making him sweat, but at least he wasn’t being subjected to the full power of the stench.

“There are two people inside the house. A child and an adult in separate rooms,” Julius reported with a frown.

“Should we come back later then?” Crusch wondered, clearly not wanting to disturb either occupant.

“If not for the smell of alcohol, I would agree,” Fourier said, tone darkening.

“A child should never be exposed to the sight of their parents under the influence. Usually the other parent or family friends would be able to look after the children, but…”

But that wasn’t always an option for those who had lived in the middle of the area scorched by the fire.

“I’d like to ensure that the man can afford to leave the house without leaving his child unattended. If nothing else, the pension will be enough to hire a babysitter.”

Frowning, Crusch nevertheless once more resumed knocking on the door, this time far louder.

In seconds they heard a crash, and the sound of things being moved around before the door was wrenched open.

Squinting through the light invading his home, the owner belted out a sour, “What does some noble want with me?”

Studying the man carefully, Fourier couldn’t quite suppress his frown. The man was large, easily taller than both him and Julius, and as well muscled as some of his bulkier knights, and had a fierce face with a scar running by his eye. More than his size though, the man had an aura of sadness and anger about him as he stared the trio down.

So this is her husband. Kadomon Risch.

“I’ve come in response to a promise one of my knights made to your daughter,” Crusch said calmly, staring the man down. “He had promised to return her body, should he be unable to save her.”

Snarling, the man took a step forward, only for a smaller form to come bounding out of the house in a rush, as it clung to the man’s leg.

“Is it Mom? Is she back yet?” the girl asked desperately as she eyed the strangers.

Taking a deep breath, Kadomon suppressed his negative emotions and spoke in a soft and gentle voice. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but no, I still haven’t gotten any news about your mother.”

Shaking her head wildly, she spoke. “I don’t believe you! I heard the pretty lady say she was here because her knight promised!”

Kneeling Crusch faced the little girl directly, ignoring the flash of rage that crossed the father’s face. “I am indeed here in response to that promise, it is a duty that I have inherited from Lucius himself. My knight perished working on the firebreak and was thus unable to handle this personally, but his final request was that I complete it on his behalf.”

“Let’s discuss this inside,” Kadomon finally growled, glancing at their surroundings.

That was a wise move, in Fourier’s opinion. No crowd had gathered, but he could see movement in some of the surrounding windows. There was no need to discuss such devastating matters in front of an audience of curious onlookers.

The house was tiny, even more so than Fourier would have thought having seen it from the outside.

The man guided them to a table in the kitchen, and took a seat only for his daughter to jump in his lap.

“Darling, I’m sorry but I need to talk with these people alone,” Kadomon said softly, any negative emotions hidden even from Fourier’s gaze.

It brought his opinion of the man up, while they had clearly found him in a bad moment, the man was still able to force himself to remain gentle around his daughter.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Crusch said, voice equally as soft. “Your daughter needs to understand exactly what has happened, and I suspect it will be better coming from me.”

“Now wait just a… darn moment” Kadomon says anger filling his expression for a moment, before he masked it once more. “Plum’s just a little girl, she—”

He cut off with a grunt as his daughter elbowed him in the ribs. He twisted to try and get some space, but she kept thrashing about.

“Shut up!” Plum shouted, her face growing red with anger. “I’ve been asking when mom is coming back forever, I won’t let you stop me from finding out now!”

“Plum,” Kadomon said, holding his daughter and easily stopping her movement, as he carefully raised her to look her in the eye. “After you find out, things will be different. I thought that maybe it’d be better to get used to the changes we’ve already had to deal with first.”

“If I may,” Crusch broached, breaking the stalemate between Father and Daughter. “Plum, your father isn’t wrong that things will change once you know the truth. However I can tell that you both fully believe in Plum’s ability to understand and accept things.”

Exchanging a glance with his daughter, Kadomon slowly exhaled as he slumped, allowing his daughter to fall into his lap once more.

“I’m ready,” Plum stated bravely, yet Fourier’s eyes could easily make out the slight shaking betraying the truth.

“Very well,” Crusch said, her voice terribly grave as she locked eyes with Plum. “Your Mother is in the same place my Knight is now.”

For several seconds everyone stood silent as Plum’s shaking got worse.

“You're lying!” Plum shouted. “You’re lying, you have to be lying! My mom can’t die that easily, she promised me that she wouldn’t leave me alone! Dad, tell me that she’s lying!”

“I…” Kadomon hesitated off balance, but even that was enough to tell the girl the truth.

Hopping off her Father’s lap she ran to Crusch instead, and buried her face into her leg, chest heaving as she sobbed.

Fourier found himself taking a step forward, but halted as Julius rested a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to allow Crusch to handle this.

Pulling the girl up, Crusch gave Kadomon one last glance as she ascended the stairs carrying the girl away.

Rising Kadomon stood, only for Julius to clear his throat.

Kadomon froze, gaze conflicted, before with a sigh he allowed himself to also fall back into his seat.

For a few seconds Fourier stayed quiet, feeling strangely out of place, wondering if his voice would shatter the strained piece, as all three of them listened to the sobbing that was slowly getting quieter.

“Plum isn’t the only one who lost a mother far too young,” Fourier said quietly. “Lady Crusch lost her mother to illness when she was even younger than your daughter was now. If anybody can relate to her and help her understand, I would believe in her.”

“Losing someone to illness is different,” Kadomon said, pain twisting his expression. “As terrible as it is, there’s no one to blame and you generally have time to come to terms with it. That fire…”

“I know,” Fourier acknowledged, thinking back to how he felt when he had thought his family's death had truly only been a disease. “But Lady Crusch has a way of touching one’s heart, and should that fail then it’s better she direct her anger towards her than you. And I believe she was right.”

Kadomon gave him a questioning look, and Fourier clarified. “You believe Plum will be able to handle it. For what little it’s worth, I believe that as well. And… well, the only other option would be to lie to her, and string out her hope until she finally figures it out. In my opinion, that path would be far crueller.”

Fourier left his own worries unsaid, a part of him wanted to bound up the stairs and give his own attempt to cheer up the grieving girl, and the worst part was he suspected he’d succeed if he tried. It had always been left unsaid among the trio, but Fourier had always been by far the most gifted among the three at making friends and it wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with a depressed individual.

But this wasn’t about him, and as cruel as it made him feel, it wasn’t truly about Plum either to him. This was about Crusch, and he needed to have faith that she’d be able to do a wonderful job helping Plum as well. And as he closed his eyes and remembered Ferris, he found that faith coming back to him.

“Lady Crusch will help your daughter,” Fourier repeated, any doubt gone as faced Kadomon. “So allow me to ask you directly, will you be alright?”

“Me?” Kadomon repeated, a touch of surprise entering his voice. “I can take care of myself if you can't tell, kid.”

“Kid?” Fourier repeated, completely thrown off for a second. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone undercover, he’d done it before a few times even when he was just the fourth prince, but few would call someone who wielded a sword a diminutive, so it was a new experience. Repeating it quietly to himself once more, he felt a twisted delight shoot through him.

Clearly he was so good at being disguised, that he was even fooling Kadomon about his age. Beaming inside the helmet, he stared at the man with a bright smile, his tone having completely caught the man off guard.

“I mean, Sir?” Kadomon backtracked, clearly unnerved by both Julius’s silent menace and Fourier’s delight.

“Sir’s fine,” Fourier said, masking the rising disappointment, before he cleared his throat and refocused.

“Kadomon, I say this with no offence meant,” he began, allowing his hesitation to bleed into his tone to blunt his words. “But much of this house reeks of alcohol, thankfully seeing just how good you are with your daughter, most of my worries have been put to rest, but… Will you be OK taking care of her, while drinking such… swill?”

“That’s…” Kadomon said slowly, before hanging his head. “Ah hell, if even someone like you can tell, perhaps I really have been hitting the bottles too hard lately. It’s just…”

“While no one here disputes how great your loss is,” Julius finally said as he broke his own silence, “your daughter will need you to be at your best. She will be looking to you for guidance on how to channel her own grief, if you should decide the best way to handle that is with alcohol…”

“Gah!” Kadomon exclaimed, burying his face in his arms. “I get it, I get it. Geez you guys sure do like to hit below the belt.”

Fourier felt his smile soften. Kadomon might look rough, but it was clear just how much he cared for his daughter, the fact that he’d changed his mind with so little prodding showed just how little support he must have been given to have fallen this far at all.

Hearing footsteps the three turned and saw Crusch alone, walk into the room, her normally pristine shirt covered with snot and other fluids.

“Ah geez, I should have some rags to clean that,” Kadomon said as he waved her to take his seat.

“That won’t be necessary. One of my soldiers likes to carry hankerchiefs,” Crusch said, her smile striking Fourier straight in the heart when he saw the vaguely maternal look.

“I like to be prepared,” Julius demurred, even as he reached out to his pouch and pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying around. Most of them were older, but he’d claimed his favourite was one his younger brother had bought for him.

Crusch took it in hand, then wiped off most of Plum’s tears, then nodded to Julius.

The knight swivelled the satchel at his side, and carefully took out a decorated ceramic urn, placing it on the table in front of her.

“This contains your wife's ashes,” Crusch said, pushing the decorated urn towards the heartbroken man. “As you may know, anyone who has lost a family member is entitled a pension by the palace in order to remain stable. In addition, since my knight’s final request involved your daughter, I’ve included an additional pension from the Karsten estate and am prepared to offer your daughter a writ of employment at the estate in the future, should she ever need it.”

“I appreciate it,” Kadomon replied slowly, hands clenched by his side. “The extra money and the writ should be able to help Plum in the future, and I’ll make sure to take care of this too”

Kadomon’s hand reached towards the urn before slowly bringing it back to his chest. The trio silently allowed the man a moment to grieve, and only turned back when they heard the sound of the urn returning to the table.

“I guess the rumours are true after all,” Kadomon admitted grudgingly. “You really do have a heart of gold.”

“Well, it seems the rumour mills are still spinning unrealistic tales,” Crusch noted with an amused smile. “I wonder what I’ve done to gain such attention.”

“Ha, you're joking,” Kadomon said with a weak smile of his own. “Everyone’s heard about the noble lady who got put in charge of our capital’s guards and ended up turning everything upside down. I haven’t had to worry about thieves for months.”

“I was only upholding the duty I was assigned,” Crusch brushed off.

The conversation trailed off there. Fourier felt compelled to speak up and fill the silence, but really, there was nothing more to say.

“I’ll be taking my leave then,” Crusch finally said. “I wish you the best in future endeavours.”

Fourier felt conflicted as they left. His mind had been scrambling the entire time, trying to come up with the solution that would help the man and his daughter the most.

But eventually he had to face reality. They were already doing everything they could. Only time would be able to heal the two now.

“Thank you,” Crusch said abruptly. “I underestimated how difficult that was going to be, especially since you must have used most of the personal time you’ve allocated.”

“It was something I was happy to do,” Fourier said, waving it off with a smile. “Now you can better understand just how much having you and Ferris near me can help with difficult decisions. It was nice to be able to focus on helping you for once rather than always being the one helped. Sadly as much as I’d love to spend more time with you, I’m afraid you're right in that I’ve used most of my self-allocated free time.”

As they reached the next intersection, Crusch departed with one final smile, before Julius led him to a small guard’s outpost so that they could finally shed their heavy disguises. Just having the weight gone, allowed Fourier to finally loosen his tight posture as he leaned against the wall.

“Do you think you’ll have recovered enough to stand straight once we reach your office?” Julius asked, worry shining in his eyes.

“Who do you think you're asking?” Fourier responded, allowing a smirk to form. “If I’m visibly tired when I meet up with Ferris, I’ll have to deal with another lecture. So I’ll just have to recover before then.”

----------------------------------------

Quietly Fourier carefully strode forward doing his best to avoid attention as he neared his chambers, Julius right behind him who effortlessly matched his pace.

It’d taken a lot of effort, and some breaks with Julius keeping a lookout, but he’d managed to use his knowledge of the guards schedules to just barely keep the two of them from being found out.

Opening his door with a smile, he giddily took one step inside before freezing as the worst case scenario manifested itself.

Ferris stood at the foot of his bed, a smile that promised suffering on his face.

He spun around, but before he could flee he ran into the issue of Julius inadvertently blocking the doorway, robbing him of the opportunity as Ferris grabbed him. Instantly he felt tired as Ferris, healed the physical strain, at the cost of his limited energy.

“Ferris,” Julius said, voice sounding a touch exasperated, even as he supported Fourier’s body with practised ease.

“So, are you going to tell me what exactly you’ve been doing instead of resting?” Ferris said, ignoring Julius and staring down Fourier. “I was pretty pleased to see you finally schedule a break for some rest, but I should have known you’d just use it as an opportunity to do something that you wouldn’t otherwise be able to book. So what was it this time? Another secret visit to see how construction is going?”

“Ah well, that is to say…” Fourier began, shifting back and forth making sure to avoid Ferris’s penetrating glare. “It’s as you suspected, me and Julius went on another trip where my identity needed to be concealed I’m afraid.”

“Sure,” Ferris said, raising an eyebrow. “And exactly why did this secret visit require armour, rather than that stupid cloak you're so fond of?”

“What are you talking about?” Fourier asked, keeping his face neutral and quirking his brow.

“Playing stupid huh?” Ferris asked, “While I hate to discourage you from what comes naturally, you should know by now that you're never going to win. As your healer, I’ll always notice, and I can tell that the strain you’ve put on your muscle could only come from wearing something heavy, most likely armour.”

For a second, Fourier tried to think up some kind of witty excuse, but from the look on Ferris’s face, he’d only be digging his grave deeper.

“You win, Ferris,” Fourier admitted. “I needed to go undercover as a guardsman so I could accompany Crusch on a task.”

“Lady Crusch?” Ferris repeated, sounding exasperated. “Somehow I suspect that she didn’t know the toll putting that armour would cause you, did she?”

“She knew,” Fourier denied. “It’s just that it was important to the both of us that I be there. I don’t regret it at all.”

“You don’t huh?” Ferris said smile darkening. “I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

“Now Ferris, let's be reasonable,” Fourier said, shrinking back. “She’s my fiance, so naturally I have to accompany her for important matters.”

“Considering you went undercover, rather than go in person, I somehow doubt anyone would expect that,” Ferris said dryly. “Plus, the fact that she’s your fiance is not exactly public knowledge, now is it?”

“It isn’t,” Fourier conceded. “But shouldn’t that just mean I should practise for when it is? Besides, Crusch knows, and I’ve sworn to myself to always do my best for her.”

“Fourier,” Ferris said, face tightening. “I care about Lady Crusch’s happiness just as much as you do, but we both know that when you push yourself until you collapse all you’ll be doing is causing her far more unhappiness, especially if it was because of her.”

Ferris held his gaze for a moment, impressing the seriousness of the situation on him, before Fourier looked away.

“I know,” he said. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

----------------------------------------

“Your Majesty?”

Fourier snapped out of his reminiscing, and focused on Crusch.

She was giving him an odd look, but her lips formed a slight smile.

“Just thinking about something,” Fourier explained, reaching down to take her gloved hand, and help her step up into the carriage.

The faint breeze ruffled her hair as she reached the raised platform. She was so close that Fourier could easily make out the scent of her perfume.

Crusch seemed oblivious to Fourier’s internal distress. She was looking down at the carriage, an odd look on her face.

“Traditionally,” she began, “only the knights and royal family ride in the processional carriage. While I am a supporter, I am not either… at least, not yet.”

She turned her eyes up at Fourier. “This may as well be an official proclamation of our engagement. I thought we were going to wait until after the ceremony to announce it?”

“It’s fine,” Fourier said. “Even if some people figure it out, we’ll be announcing it by the end of the day anyway. And it’s very important for you to be here.”

Crusch tilted her head. “How so?”

“Because you’ve been so busy, and I haven’t had time to see you,” Fourier said, faking surprise, as if what he was saying was obvious. “If you’re not here, I might die of loneliness before the ceremony!”

A war played out on Crusch’s face, exasperation fighting with the bemused smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

But Fourier’s charms proved too much, and though she tried to turn away to hide it, Fourier could see the smile spread wide across her face.

“I don’t really think you should joke about that,” she said, trying to get back at him. “Ferris would be sad if he heard you.”

“Nonsense!” Fourier insisted, going on the attack, determined to make the most of this rare instance where he had the advantage. “In fact, it was Ferris himself who diagnosed my condition! The only cure is to spend more time with my closest friends.”

“Nyah? I don’t remember recomme~nding that.”

“Gah, the reinforcements arrived!”

Fourier turned to see the unexpected third party, the cat-eared healer standing tall with his hands on his hips. He was dressed up in the formal uniform of the royal knights, though as ever, he didn’t look all that comfortable in it. It was obvious from the way he picked at the hems, and the way he would occasionally shift his shoulders to adjust the mantle.

“And what’s with that way of speaking?” Fourier continued. He raised the pitch of his voice, and repeated the word.

“Recomme~nding? It’s like how Roswaal talks.”

He faked a look of horror. “Don’t tell me, is he rubbing off on you? Is he trying to steal you away?”

“Hmm?” Ferris put his hand on his chin and closed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. “We~ll, let’s see… Roswaal could teach me a lot about magic, and he pays his knights very well. Perhaps I should go work for him.”

Fourier let out a pained grunt, and bent over holding a hand over his heart, as if he had been struck a fatal blow.

“No,” he gasped out. “I won’t allow it. I’ll issue a royal proclamation! I won’t let him take you from me! Just thinking about how far away you would be, trapped in those cold northern lands, fills me with despair.”

“Ah, it is colder there, isn’t it?” Ferris said as if realising it for the first time. As if the traitor hadn’t already gone to visit multiple times. “I don’t like the cold. Well, looks like I won’t be able to go then. It’s unfortunate, but I’ll have to stay here.”

Crusch let out a sigh, and the two paused their banter to look at her.

She hadn’t gone so far as to hold her face in her hand, but it seemed giving her time to recover had allowed exasperation to begin winning the war for her face.

“At least try not to act like that when we enter the city,” she said. “It’s bad enough doing out in public, but at least here there are only subordinates around.”

“Not to worry,” Fourier said, straightening up. “We’ll behave. Right Ferris?”

“Maybe,” Ferris agreed. “But if you two start flirting again without including me, I might be unable to control myself.”

“That I can do!” Fourier said. “After all, you are the other person who I must spend time with, lest I fall terribly ill.”

“Oh, really?” Ferris asked. He nodded sagely. “Now that you mention it, I think I did say something like that. I must have forgotten.”

“You realise I can see the wind of untruth blowing around you both, right?” Crusch asked.

“Untruth?” Fourier asked, recoiling and placing a hand on his heart. “I can assure you, I am being entirely truthful when I say I want to spend this time with the two of you.”

“That is not what you— nevermind.”

She rolled her eyes, and turned her head to the front of the carriage.

Fourier himself gave another look to the servants and guards still scrambling around.

Most were in place now, and the ground dragons had gone still, in preparation for the coming trek.

“Your Majesty,” one of the knights called up to him. “The messenger has returned, and we’ve confirmed the new route is ready. We are ready to depart at your command.”

“Very good,” Fourier said. “Do so at your convenience. I shall refrain from interfering.”

The knight nodded and turned to head to the front carriage, but before he could go, Fourier called out, “Oh, one last thing.”

The knight turned back to him with a curious look, and Fourier continued. “We’ve been ignoring the tradition for quite a while now, but today I think we should try and honour it. I have not been crowned yet, so ‘Your Majesty’ is a bit premature as a manner of address.”

The knight nodded. “Ah, I see. It is as you say, Your Highness. I will inform the others.”

As the knight walked away towards the head of the procession, Ferris gave him an odd look.

“Is that really important?” he asked. “Everyone’s been calling you ‘Your Majesty’ since… well since you were cured. Even the commoners from the city have started doing it.”

Fourier shook his head. “I would suppose not. In the end, the manner of addressing the royal family is a matter of tradition, and sacrificing it for the sake of peace of mind was a worthy trade.”

He let his eyes wander, sweeping over the city that sprawled underneath the palace hill.

“And yet…” he continued, a bit quieter, but still loud enough for both of his companions to hear him, “I think it’s important to try and keep it. It’s only a little tradition, but if there ever comes another time where the royal family is reduced to its last legs, I think they would appreciate having it around to sacrifice again.”

“I don’t think traditions are supposed to be for sacrificing in tough situations,” Crusch commented dryly. “This one is for ensuring proper respect is felt for the royal family, and that the monarch is inherently more respected than the rest of the family. What the people address you as doesn’t matter until the royal family recovers.”

A call went up from the front carriage, and the procession slowly began to roll forward.

Fourier felt a slight breeze on his skin as the carriage began to move, which then cut out as the ground dragons’ Divine Protections kicked in.

They made a fine sight once they were in motion.

On all sides, they were surrounded by the best of the kingdom’s warriors. The knights marched in their pure white uniforms, the guards’ and soldiers’ armour was polished so much it shone.

Almost all the knights were present for the procession, excluding only those who were currently patrolling the city.

In all, seven carriages rolled forward over the paved streets. None of the others were as grand as Fourier’s but they were still decorated enough that they didn’t look out of place next to it.

Those carriages held various of the kingdom’s higher-ups, famous faces from across the branches of administration, the knights, the military, and a few of Fourier’s staunchest supporters from the nobility.

Roswaal wasn’t among them, which Fourier found a bit unfortunate. Despite his reclusiveness, the man was popular in his domain, and he was sure many of the coming crowds would love to catch a glimpse of him.

He was pretty sure the court mage would be waiting at their destination, wearing that magic cloak he valued so highly. Fourier couldn’t really ask for more than that.

They soon reached the noble district, and continued onwards, trundling down the main road into the city proper.

A great cheer went up from the sides of the street as the procession approached. A large portion of the crowds were gathered on this section of the route, and Fourier could see the city guards struggling to keep them under control.

He felt bad for them, but it was their job. He had one of his own he needed to see to.

He took Crusch and Ferris’s hands, and lifted them high into the air.

It was important to appear happy for a day as important as this one, days where the citizens got to look upon him. His mood would be used to predict the coming days of the kingdom, so it wouldn’t be good if he looked upset.

But he didn’t think that was going to be a problem for the day. The smile on his face was entirely genuine.

----------------------------------------

It took almost a full hour for them to complete the route that had been planned out. Fourier could see the knights fussing by the crowds, making sure that nothing went contrary to the plan.

They must have done their job exceptionally well, as not a single thing went wrong.

The procession started to break apart as they reached their destination, the other carriages peeling off to let their passengers off, with Fourier’s continuing straight ahead.

A crowd had already gathered, but it continued to grow over time, as citizens kept trickling in to witness the coronation.

Fourier cast his gaze around, examining every corner of the site that had been chosen for his coronation.

It was not the first time he had seen it. They had gone through many possible locations, and Fourier had inspected every single one of them, before deciding on the field where the Fire had burned hottest.

He had thought this location would be best at the time, and was glad he’d made the decision, in part for its size. As the crowd had grown enough, even the massive fields were covered with people as far as the eye could see.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Fourier turned at Crusch’s words, seeing her looking out over the surroundings in much the same way he had been.

“All this devastation, all the death that took place here… looking at it now, you’d scarcely believe what happened here.”

Fourier inclined his head. “I suppose. But in some ways, I think making it like this will ensure it’s not forgotten.”

Crusch nodded, her eyes going to the centre of the field, where a great spire of stone had been erected.

“I suppose so,” she murmured, as the carriage continued onward, over pavement that had so recently been blackened by scorching heat.

Much of it had needed to be replaced during the renewal project, but they had left enough of the original stone that there could be no doubts as to what had happened to the region.

This was the origin point where the great fire had started. Much of the surrounding areas had been saved due to quick thinking on the part of Crusch and her forces, but this central area had been burned to ashes long before the first firefighters had arrived.

Rather than try and rebuild the dwellings, they had decided to turn the area into something of a park, dedicated to all the troubles their kingdom had gone through, and of their triumph over them.

Now grass grew where buildings had stood, and stone tablets had been erected listing the names of those who had perished in both the fire and the insect attacks.

And at the very centre was the spire, a symbol of resolute strength and quiet mourning.

It was a tall column of magically reinforced stone, capped with a statue of the Divine Dragon.

It was a monument dedicated to honouring Volcanica, and a gravestone to mark his passing.

A true grave was being built at the site of his demise, but Fourier knew that many among the populace would want a place to mourn him in the capital.

At the base of the spire, a raised plinth had been raised, tall enough that those who stood on it could be seen from across the entire field.

Fourier’s eyes landed on the people already standing there, focusing on the one right up front.

Miklotov stood waiting for them, his hands clasped behind his back. Fourier had been worried that the elderly councilmember wouldn’t have the energy for the ceremony, but seeing him standing tall with a smile on his face, Fourier knew he would be fine.

The carriage stopped at the base of the plinth, and the knights started taking up positions at the base.

Fourier moved to the edge to step down, but Ferris was faster. In a flash, he had descended to the ground, and offered a hand to help Fourier down.

He stood tall and gallant, a picture-perfect knight helping his liege. In fact, the only flaw in his otherwise perfect facade was the slight twinge of a mischievous smile on his face.

“What are you up to?” Fourier asked with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Hmm? I’m nyot up to anything,” Ferris replied, his tone entirely too innocent. “I’m just helping Your Highness off the carriage.”

Fourier didn’t believe him for a moment.

But then, whatever trick he was trying to play, it wouldn’t be that bad. Not when in front of the public like they were.

So he took the knight’s proffered hand, and stepped down from the carriage.

But no trick came. Ferris helped him down without issue, and Fourier started to wonder if Ferris really had only been trying to help.

Once his feet were on the ground, Ferris turned back to the carriage and lifted his hand again, and helped Crusch descend as well—

“No! That was the trick!” Fourier cried out, barely resisting the urge to fall to his knees. “I wanted to help her down!”

“Trick?” Ferris asked, his voice sickly sweet with false innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am simply performing my duties as a knight.”

“Both of you, stop it,” Crusch said, a slight frown on her brow. “Or I’ll ask one of the other knights to help in future.”

She held her gaze on them for a moment to make sure they were behaving, then started walking to the plinth.

Once she had turned her back on them, Fourier looked back at Ferris, and at his smug, self-satisfied grin.

He couldn’t help the smile that rose up on his own face.

“You win this time,” he grumbled softly, but he couldn’t entirely subdue the levity in his tone. “But let’s behave for the rest of the day. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble,” Ferris whispered back. “But I’ll accept. I think she’ll forget in a week or two. Maybe. Hopefully.”

His face was growing more doubtful by the second, so Fourier didn’t think he would be escaping.

He let out a quiet laugh, and started walking after Crusch.

As he ascended the steps to the plinth, the officials and council members who were present bowed to him.

Fourier motioned for them to rise, and stepped closer to Miklotov.

“I hope you aren’t straining yourself, are you?”

“No. I have been watching my health very carefully,” the elderly man responded. “I would not miss this moment for the world. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a Lion King on the throne.”

Fourier sighed. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of that title. I wish I was, but…”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Without the help of everyone around me, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

Miklotov tilted his head, an odd expression on his face.

“I did not mean— no perhaps I should not bring it up here.”

Fourier looked at him in confusion, but the old man merely smiled at him.

“To roughly restate what you mean… Your Highness, what do you suppose makes a good king?”

Fourier looked at him. “A good king? I— I don’t know. Someone wise, able to make the right decisions for the sake of the kingdom. Someone brave, able to run into danger for the sake of the people. Someone who can lead proudly.”

“Wisdom, bravery, and leadership,” Miklotov repeated. “It sounds to me like you’ve already become a good king. You are worthy of the crown, perhaps more so than many of your forebears.”

Fourier blinked. “What? No, I haven’t. Without your help, I would never have been able to handle the administration of the capital, let alone the entire kingdom. And… well, I suppose you could call some of my actions ‘brave’, but it feels like ‘reckless’ might be a better word.”

“Perhaps,” Miklotov allowed. “But is it not wise to admit one’s own shortcomings, and seek the skills of others to supplement them? And bravery and recklessness are often two sides of the same coin.”

He chuckled.

“You seem to underestimate yourself. You have been forced into a position few of your predecessors have faced, and you have risen admirably to the occasion. You have won the loyalty of the people, of your friends and even some of your foes as well. Your subordinates act with your will to help build the kingdom into what you want it to be.”

He turned away, towards the fields and the people streaming in from the surrounding city.

“Frankly speaking, Your Highness, if you are not worthy of being known as a good king, then I’m not sure anyone is.”

“That’s… I think you’re overestimating me,” Fourier said.

“I’m sure many of the previous kings felt the same way. I can just imagine it now.”

The council member smiled and shook his head.

“Ah, but I probably shouldn’t imagine the great Farsale as an eight-year-old boy. That might be rude of me.”

“I’m not eight anymore,” Fourier protested. “You’re missing a digit.”

“Forgive me. I have such difficulty telling you young ones apart in my old age.”

Fourier held his gaze for a moment, but he couldn’t hold back the smile rising on his lips.

“I never thought you would be one to joke around,” he said, turning to watch the crowd gather. “You were always… not ‘stern’, but you were always quite serious.”

“It was important not to spoil you like a doting grandparent,” Miklotov said. “The Dragon knows your father did that enough. But now you are to be king. I can afford a little light-heartedness, wouldn’t you say?”

Fourier let out a small chuckle.

“I suppose you’re right.”

They watched the people gather for a while longer, then Miklotov cleared his throat and turned back to the officials behind them.

“I believe we will be beginning soon,” he said.

Fourier nodded.

He watched the people for a moment longer, seeing the way their eyes found him and stayed there. Their faces were joyous, and their cheers were filled with their hope for the future.

It would be difficult to live up to their expectations, both those of the people, and those of Miklotov. But he’d try.

----------------------------------------

The ceremony was a long and overly pompous affair.

Much of the time was spent on the nobility of the kingdom. Many were important enough to pledge their allegiance to the new monarch as part of the ceremony, and many more had shown up to do so, throwing their support behind the throne.

Every one of them knelt before Fourier as they made their pledges, and for each one, Fourier had to say the ceremonial response.

It was time consuming, and Fourier could feel his throat starting to ache, but their declarations were welcome.

Traditionally, the priests of the Church of the Divine Dragon would have sung hymns as part of the ceremony. They had decided to forgo that particular aspect for the day, but they had decided on an alternative.

As the final nobles made their declarations, a full orchestra of musicians started playing their instruments, several among their number using wind magic to ensure they could be heard all the way across the field.

They played the tune of one of the more traditional of the royal songs, one that apparently predated the contract with the dragon.

Fourier had a brief moment to relax as the music played, and soon Ferris had appeared by his side, fussing over him and trying to surreptitiously soothe his throat.

But even though most of the public’s attention was directed to the orchestra at that moment, there was no way that no one was looking at him. Fourier waved Ferris off, preventing him from conjuring a healing orb.

If someone spotted one, they’d likely grow anxious, wondering why Fourier would need to be healed in the middle of his coronation, and perhaps spread that anxiety to the others around them.

“Later,” he promised in a quiet voice, and Ferris reluctantly backed away.

Once the orchestra had finished the first hymn, they continued to play, but at a much lower volume, allowing attention to go back to Fourier.

Miklotov stepped forward, an attendant at his side carrying the royal crown.

“It is a great honour to stand here today,” the elderly council member began. He hadn’t raised his voice at all, but everyone gathered could still hear him, as wind magic carried his words across the field.

“I have served this kingdom under both your father and grandfather, and in that time I have seen the great resiliency of the Lugunican people, our determination in the face of adversity, and our ability to overcome adversity.

“There exists no better proof of that resiliency than the events of the last year, and of this coronation. Together, we have driven off the enemies that sought to throw us into chaos, and together, we have rebuilt stronger than before.”

He turned to his attendant, and Fourier knelt down.

Miklotov took the crown, and held it high.

“This is the Crown of Lugunica. For generations, the kings of our nation have worn it and guided the country. Now it passes to you.”

Miklotov’s hands didn’t tremble in the slightest as he held the crown aloft, but to Fourier’s eyes, the crown looked so incredibly heavy in that moment.

“Fourier Lugunica,” Miklotov continued. “In place of your father, who fell to sickness, I ask this question of you. Do you swear to lead the kingdom of Lugunica through peace and strife, in times good and bad, to the best of your ability?”

“I swear it,” Fourier answered.

“Then may your rule be long and prosperous,” Miklotov said, and placed the crown down on Fourier’s head.

It was unexpectedly comfortable. Fourier didn’t know why that fact surprised him, many previous kings of the country had worn it for many hours at a time during important ceremonies.

But as he stood up, he realised his initial judgement might have been superficial.

The crown was not as heavy as he feared, but there was still some weight to it. And as he moved his head, he felt it shift, as if it were waiting for one wrong movement to topple off his head.

Was there a lesson there? Something his predecessors were trying to teach him?

Something to think about later.

“My people,” Fourier began, turning his attention to the crowd of faces.

“We have all undergone great hardship to reach this place. One year ago, I was the fourth prince, and the likelihood of me taking the throne was so low as to be nothing. One year ago, the worst of our problems was our faltering economy. Since that time, the majority of my family perished, leaving me as the only survivor, and shadowy enemies struck out at us.”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

“But we have overcome those tragedies!” he cried out, spreading his arms wide. “By working together, we have been able to defeat the enemies that had been arrayed against us. The insect swarms were dispersed, and the fire was stopped.”

He lowered his hands, and his voice took on a more sombre tone.

“Many of us lost their lives in this battle. Countless people were trapped in this very field when the fire was set. Many more were attacked by insect swarms. Their deaths are tragedies we will not soon forget.”

He raised his voice again, looking into the crowd, and making eye contact with as many people as possible.

“I swear, I will not allow a tragedy such as this to happen again. As long as I rule, I will fight for our nation and our people!”

There was a moment of silence, one that seemed to drag on and on, and just when Fourier had decided he had better say a few more words, one of the people in the crowd raised their hand.

“Long live the king!”

The single, solitary voice called out without the benefit of wind magic to carry it across the field, but Fourier could still hear it.

And several others had heard it as well. This time, many others had joined in with the call, beginning to chant it together.

“Long live the king!”

Then it spread further, until everyone Fourier could see was chanting it.

“Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!”

Fourier spread his hands wide, basking in the adoration the crowd showed him.

This is why we do it.

It had been a long time since he had heard the voice that had spoken those words, and longer since he had last heard them. But Fourier could still remember it like it was yesterday.

His father had gathered the princes one day after a royal proclamation, and had them look upon the cheering citizenry.

This is why we work so hard to keep balance between the factions, why we try and listen intently to the voices of the people, why we stress about the problems our kingdom faces. So that when we look upon the faces of our people, we know we have done what is right.

His father had not been a very good statesman. He was adequate, but adequate wasn’t enough when faced with the kind of economic problems Luguica was facing.

And yet, Fourier felt that his father had done better than he ever would have if he had been competent but ruthless. As he listened to the crowd cheer, he made another, silent oath in his heart.

I will always remember my father’s words, and endeavour to rule with the same kindness he did.

Then, as the field began to quiet down, it was finally time. Fourier’s heart started racing, and it felt like his throat was closing up.

Don’t lose your nerve now. Just go through the motions.

“While this is unusual for this ceremony, there is one last announcement I have to make.”

He could hear footsteps behind him, but he didn’t turn. He already knew who it was from the sound of the gait.

“Traditionally, it would be my father making this announcement. As he is no longer with us, I will reveal it in his place.”

He swallowed, and the footsteps stopped beside him.

He felt another hand brush his, and he clasped it, sparing a brief glance to his side.

Crusch smiled back at him, outwardly calm, but he had known her a long time. He could see the slight traces of nervousness on her face.

“I am both proud and happy to announce that as of this moment, I am engaged to Duchess Crusch Karsten!” he said, his voice booming over the field.

He lifted their hands high into the air, as the crowd broke out in cheers once more.

There were no words this time, but somehow, Fourier felt that there was more meaning to it. Rather than the reaffirmation of tradition, this was a simple gesture of happiness and well-wishes.