Where was she? Benjamin dragged the body of the deer back towards the meeting point. A deer wasn’t low on the points list, but it wasn’t that high either. Near the middle, hunting one down was sufficient to prove one’s might, sure. But if it was the Rayleigh family that he was competing with, he would need much more than that. More than likely, each one of them would be able to hunt down a pack of wolves. But was that mixed blood so confident to only choose four? And he even had the cockiness to select someone outside their family? Who even was that girl? A stranger had no reason to be there, much less chosen by him.

He pulled the carcass of the deer along the ground. A path was left in his footsteps as patches of grass were crushed beneath the dead animal’s weight. He pulled it forward by its antlers.

“Urg!” he grunted.

Birds sung above him. When he made his way back, there were already several hunters who had returned before him. Animals of various sizes were placed in allocated spots.

After bringing back a kill, hunters choose between stopping for the rest of the day or continuing the hunt. In fact, those who have more ambition would choose to go on another hunt. A smile flashed across his face. He pulled the carcass into his area, which was shared with his brothers. He was the first one to be back.

“Good job out there,” his mother, the selector said.

“Thank you mother...”

From the corner of his eye, he watched the black tent with caution. The cursed family. That man with pink eyes was staying there. Most likely, he was an Arcleus. But Benjamin Wynt had other priorities. If he found and gained the support of the princess, winning the competition for emperor would be much easier.

He walked around the settlement. The noblewomen chatted amongst themselves and waved at him. But they were not the person he wanted to see. Although undesirable, he still had appearances to think of. He was not a Rayleigh; he couldn’t afford to insult nobles here and there.

“My, you’re even more handsome up close, lord Wynt.”

“Haha, I thank you for your praise, countess Siy. And how have you been these days?”

“Well, I’ve been talking to my beautiful daughter more. Would you like to meet her? I think you two will get along well.”

I don’t care about marrying someone who doesn’t even show up.

He chuckled politely. Waving goodbye, he returned to his walk around. Of course, he was looking for someone. That girl who made his heart race, so long ago. He looked around, left, right. She was nowhere in sight. The emperor and empress was right in plain view. But where was she? Did her absence mean that she was in a tent? If so, whose? It couldn’t have been that Rayleigh’s tent, could it?

Looking around, his eyes darted. Every single flap of a tent’s entrance brought his eyes to it. After a minute, he stopped. If the princess wanted to talk, it was unlikely that she would leave so early. There was no point in searching for a girl with no intention to leave.

The leaves shook with the wind. The weaker ones fell first, but it was fate that they could not avoid. Strong or weak, the rules of nature determined that no matter what, leaves would fall. Benjamin Wynt watched as one fluttered down, its brown skin crumpling as it hit the ground. How he wished that his enemies could die like that too. He was sitting within his tent, the entrance flaps fully open. The chair shifted as he moved his weight around.

“Where is she?” he tapped his feet.

Benjamin stood up. Just sitting would not do. He wouldn’t think about where she might be. He had to search for her. He grabbed his sword from the ground. The leaves crunched beneath his feet.

Those with the privilege of being classified as an Arcleus had to follow certain unspoken rules. They may not approach the emperor’s family. But, there was nothing against the family approaching them instead. If only the princess came to him.

The cold wind blew. His nose burned with the frigid cold. Every breath he took had a crisp flavour, as though he was on a mountain spring. The search for the princess continued. Peeking into every open tent, his eyes scanned the interiors. Even if he was questioned, he had a defense. Benjamin Wynt wasn’t looking for the princess, he was looking for another nobleman. There was nothing in the unwritten rules against that. But after searching to the best of his abilities, the result remained. She was nowhere to be seen. The guardian knights didn’t seem to be panicking.

As he walked, with leaves falling around him, his eyes were once again drawn to the Rayleigh family tent. Tucked between two minor nobles, that cursed family had land there. Burning that tent down would cause too much damage to unrelated innocents.

The flaps opened. A familiar girl left, and his heart started racing. His eyes were drawn to her, and stayed there. Why was she there?

Her head turned towards his direction. He clenched his fist, and his breathing hastened. The frigid cold air burned his lungs. Her choice was clear. That was it.

The world around him collapsed. The girl he yearned for. Those sleepless nights he spent reminiscing about that day so long ago. His heart pounded within his chest, and he gulped. The Rayleighs. The source of all his problems. And that mixed blood was stealing her away. How could he take it lying down.

He dug his heels into the ground, and stomped towards the black tent. The princess met his eyes. She gave a knowing smile. Tapping on the tent, she poked her head back inside. Her fingers outside beckoned him in. His face burned. The grip on his blade tightened. If nothing else, slaying a Rayleigh might prove something.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Come on in.”

That was the first time he heard that voice. High pitched, as if the person on the other side was a girl. The princess was with that lacklustre man. With no achievements to speak of, what did she see in him?

Benjamin Wynt pulled open the tent flaps. Despite the many pairs of eyes watching, he didn’t care. The princess stood within the large tent. By her side, also standing up in a long dark blue dress, was that man with pink eyes.

“Lord Francis Rayleigh, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Benjamin of the Wynt family, son of marquess Ein Wynt,” he said through gritted teeth.

“As to you, lord Benjamin Wynt. I believe this is the first time we’re meeting?”

That man’s voice was gentle. Smooth as butter, and soft like a caring mother. It didn’t suit the rumours around him. They often spoke of him as a despicable, immature man. But that person with pink eyes didn’t look the part.

“Yes. This is the first time. And nice to see you too, your highness.”

“I see. Well, what brought you here? Is there something you want to discuss?”

“Oh no. I simply wanted to meet you.”

The crown princess chuckled at their empty words. Francis gripped at the edges of his dress and pulled it up slightly, and bowed as a greeting. And the hero of the beast wastelands placed his hand on the left side of his chest and bowed.

“Right. Then I suppose I shall start. Francis, this is lord Benjamin Wynt. You may have heard of his achievements in the recent months,” the princess said.

Francis? Without a title or modifier? That was unthinkable. Even in a private setting, a title should never be omitted. But the crown princess did not care, nor did the mixed blood seem offended. Were they that close? And, she had referred to himself with proper formalities. Nobles only dropped the titles and courtesies when particularly close.

“Thank you, your highness,” Francis said.

“Come on, you were calling me Haein just fine earlier.”

“But that was when we were alone. Lord Benjamin Wynt, would you mind if all of us dropped the formalities? It's quite stuffy, really.”

“Ahh...”

What was he asking for? In the first place, it was too soon to be doing that. And, perhaps more importantly, what did she say? That Francis Rayleigh called her by name? Impossible. There was a limit to how rude a Rayleigh could be. Even with his family’s protection, calling a royal by name was an offense that could see him in jail. Unless... She asked that of him?

The sword trembled within its scabbard. His grip shook. Benjamin walked closer to them. His eyes were steady.

“I’m afraid that... Uhh... That would be improper.”

“Ah, is that so? Then let’s keep it in private, Francis, ah I apologise. Lord Francis,” the princess said.

Every single word out of her mouth made him writhe inside. How were they so close?

“I have to take my leave now, your highness. I hope to see you again next time,” Benjamin said.

“Very well then. I hope you do well in the Hunters Festival, lord Wynt.”

“Yes, I thank you for your words.”

He bowed out of the tent. Stomping back towards his own, his feet trembled. Had he lost? And to the Rayleighs, no less?

***

“Follow my lead.”

Those were what she said. Her words reached his ears, though she wasn’t sure if he would understand. It was understandable if he didn’t know it was from her. But even if he did, it would prove his worth.

After her instruction, Francis did as he was told. Regurgitating her words, and adding in some of his own. In the distance, Benjamin walked away.

Her plan worked according to her expectations. With a fuming Arcleus, and a perhaps naive one. Edmond Ren would be the obstacle in her path. Francis Rayleigh seemed easy enough, and the other was already in love with her. Once Benjamin left, she burst out laughing.

She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. The brown leaves fell from trees as time passed. In the warmer months, it was a lush and leafy forest. But, as the shadow of winter loomed, the life within the forest drained.

Haein stayed in the Rayleigh tent, and continued conversing. Despite saying that she planned to leave, she found herself more compelled to stay. There were murmurs from outside. They were all discussing the events that transpired. No doubt, it was about the princess’ involvement and the mixed blood of the Rayleigh.

If they thought that she would choose the mixed blood, it was a win. She, the girl who could influence the future of the world. The selection of an Arcleus, that is to say, a ruler candidate was not easy. Being chosen as one was even harder. The relationship she wanted with Francis was not one of love. The princess could not love. No, rather, like drinking buddies. She would elevate him to the seat of emperor, and he would act as her puppet.

“Well then, Francis, I really have to go now.”

“Alright,” the mixed blood said.

The naive look on his face. That rather easy going attitude he had. Francis Rayleigh looked like an easy thing to use.

When she left his tent, she couldn’t keep that sinister smile off her face. Returning to her parents, she walked forward with a bounce in her steps. Benjamin Wynt was watching her, she didn’t need to look for that. In fact, him watching helped her. If he moved according to how she thought, then perhaps the game would end faster than expected.

Haein gripped her dress. The emperor was talking with other nobles, far away from his wife. She looked at her parents with a cocky gaze. She would be different.

As the day progressed, and the Hunters Festival came to a close, she approached the Rayleigh tent once more. There were no voices from within, and the sun began to set. Most of the members of that family were outside, enjoying the cold breeze of autumn. The only one missing was of course, Francis Rayleigh. But she had to make sure. If she contacted him in front of his family, it would throw her entire plan off. Their dislike for the imperialists were known to all. Rather, they disliked everyone, but particularly hated the imperial family. She headed back towards her own private tent, separated from her parents’.

Tapping the identical mirror-like object, she called his name. It glowed for a moment, and she was connected through. The golden rim of the item proved to be surprisingly light, and lacked the weight to slow her down.

“Francis, you there?” she asked.

“Haein. Missed me, huh?”

“Haha. You kid yourself. No, I don’t. But I suppose I should tell you a bit about what happened.”

“Right. That guy. Who’s the last Arcleus?”

She choked on her own saliva. Had she underestimated him? Beneath that layer of appearances, was there actually intelligence? A noble of his rank would have grown up pampered, sheltered, and ignorant. But he was able to notice that? Perhaps he was different from what she expected.

Being the one doing the marrying, it was naturally that she got the most say in the selection. What the emperor or empress desires, cannot influence her. The past must stay as the past, was what she decided on. And, Francis Rayleigh seemed the most promising.

“Do your best to impress me next year, Francis.”