A peasant without a system was simply ordinary. But a prince without a system was a storm without its thunder and a rose without its thorns.

Such things did happen. The phenomenon was sad and rare and often a betrayal from some vengeful king, uncle, or stepmother. A systemless prince had to guard himself like no other. Lacking the system promised by his elders and latent in his blood, he tended to go mad with paranoia—if he wasn't just murdered. His only fortune, if you can call it that, was the fact that a system could only be seen by its owner. If a prince or princess cursed with normalcy could either successfully bluff the Skills of their Class or go their whole life without needing to use them, they might just go undetected.

Most didn't.

There was no god for royalty. By the might of their systems, royals were meant to make legends out of themselves as the powerless princes stayed mundane forever.

But common knowledge is a tricky thing. (You should know that. You've read the title, haven't you?)

***

A parade of rich and regal guests stepped onto the ramp of the largest ship in the world. Many were lords, ladies, princes and princesses of the great kingdoms across the continent of Sapya, flaunting capes and feathered caps of every color. Some were socialites, aristocrats, scholars. There was a surprising amount of wealthy young couples who had nothing better to do. A few small-town news reporters looked distinctly out of place. Then there was Prince Jacob with his maid.

He already had a reputation—not for being systemless, not even for being a philanderer, but for being an unapproachable eccentric. Now he'd brought his maid. That was the first mistake: maids and other servants were supposed to follow the promenade, boarding the ship last. Why would he have his maid by his side, if not to feed rumors?

As the parade became a crowd in the entry hall of the enormous ship, flocking to tables of punch and hors d'oeuvres, Jacob and the maid had no party of their own to speak to, no crowd of friends and associates. He wore muted blacks and browns, keeping his head low and his expression lower. He was thoroughly grim even though, as the king of Alzeny's least favorite son, he had never been given any great official burden. Then again, maybe that was exactly why he was grim: he had never been expected to rise.

Alone, Prince Jacob would've been tragic, pitiful, or even worth the respect you'd give to a tough vagabond with a checkered past. But thanks to the maid, he was comical.

She was a storm of blushes and bowing. "Hello, sir! Sorry for bumping into you—on behalf of the kingdom of Alzeny, I do apologize. Oh, he-llo, Queen Daintiz! I recognize you from the—oh, she ignored me. Greetings..."

As Jacob's maid curtsied and welcomed literally everyone who crossed their path, nobody spoke to her, nobody at all. Least of all Jacob.

Only minutes after they'd passed her did the laughter and quiet speculation begin.

"It's amazing," said Professor Arcus Federline, one of the foremost scholars invited to the maiden voyage of the Known World's Fair. He certainly looked the part, and he adjusted his glasses to better observe the strange guests. "It's like a natural phenomenon. They pass over her like water over a rock."

"Him too," his traveling partner noted.

"Makes me feel sorry for them." The professor turned to Malcolm. "You expect a breakup by the end of the trip?"

There were thousands of witty things Malcolm could've said at that moment (like "no I expect one tonight," for instance, or "no I'm sure it's already happened"), and nine times out of ten he would have been the one to bring the wit. Instead, he said, "They're not together like that. Never will be, either, unless Jake's got a side I don't know about."

Prof. Federline took the hint. He looked at Malcolm and twitched his chin, meaning, Go on. You know you want to.

"He comes through my shop now and then," Malcolm said, turning away with a light smile. That was such an understatement it was basically a lie.

"He's interested in antiques and curiosities, huh?" The professor put his hands in his sweater pockets. "Good on him."

Actually, Jacob only came to hear rumors—hints of the trouble going on in Alzeny beyond the castle walls. Malcolm and his curiosity shop gave the prince "eyes on the ground," so to speak. But Malcolm knew when to keep his mouth shut and didn't explain.

"Let's all hope he won't be king. We need more scholars serving the people where they live, not stuck forever in the clouds or the—hey!"

Prof. Federline couldn't help pointing. He'd seen something in the crowd, but only for a flash: a suspicious hand, a gleaming needle.

It came and went. Malcolm and the professor had caught it. No one else.

They whispered to each other, making sure they'd both seen it. The professor's sense of justice had been riled up and it showed, but Malcolm stayed perfectly calm. "I think he should know about this," Malcolm said almost lackadaisically. "If I don't tell him, it's treason."

Two hours later, he did, in the dining area. Was that too long to wait? Apparently not, since Prince Jacob was still alive, and eating shrimp on silver skewers at that. The maid was elsewhere, so he almost looked normal.

It was a two-seat table, though, almost as if Malcolm was destined to come. Accordingly, he slid in without bothering to say 'hi' and said in a low voice, "Listen, someone on this ship is trying to kill you."

Jacob winced at him. "Again," he said flatly. "Malcolm, why do you think this is news? I'm royalty, I'm on guard against murders and hostage situations all the time."

"Well, yeah, I know, but this time they tried to get you out in the open. While everyone was coming in. I saw it and so did the guy I was with."

"And it was...?"

Malcolm flashed his teeth at Jacob, and Jacob wanted to knock them out.

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"Why don't you figure it out, Jake? It'll be fun for you. It'll be a good test of your mettle."

Jacob hated that kind of talk, especially because he'd grown up with it. You're the youngest, so you'll really have to prove yourself, family members had said, shortly before dropping him in the hedge maze or the wilderness or the city, forcing him to find his own way home.

You may not ever be king, an uncle told him on a night he remembered all too clearly, but of course I'll activate your system! Someone has to, eh? He elbowed his ribs. Then again...

Gently, deliberately, Jacob slid a finished skewer into a half-eaten biscuit.

"You're lucky you're my friend," he said.

"I'm sure I am."

"Thank you for half-informing me. I appreciate it when you half-do your job."

Ah, good, his sense of humor decided to show up. Malcolm nodded in appreciation, forgot to say "well you don't even half-pay me," and saw himself out.

Leaving Jacob to his thoughts.

The prince sat back in his chair. His window seat gave him a clear view of an extremely clear horizon. And to think: soon there would be nothing but sheer blue as far as the eye could see. The Known World's Fair would leave the harbor, would leave the borders of all Sapyan territories. In the words of the ship-museum's founder (and the whole "grand" ship, Jacob was convinced, was not much more than a vanity project), this would be symbolic of the peace that, on some idyllic future day, would unite all nations in happiness. In Jacob's mind now, it only reaffirmed how lawless this ship was.

Bad enough that he was here just because no one else in Castle Alzeny wanted to go. His parents called it frivolous. Prince John the Valiant, honored firstborn, was abroad on a diplomatic mission, as usual. And Prince James the Just was on a way-too-conveniently scheduled pleasure cruise—while Jacob was the only one with the guts, honesty, and downright heroism to admit he had nothing better to do than board.

No, he had no interest in this pointless ship, this overblown waste of funds from several rich nations. (You can have a museum or a cruise ship. Choose.) Yes, it pained him that he'd come aboard with that stupid maid. It was his idea of a good deed, bringing along the servant who'd been most excited to take a trip.

A powerless, frivolous maid. A prince without the power he'd once been destined to have.

...Unless she was a not-so-powerless maid.

Well, that wouldn't make sense, since Jacob knew that systems were hereditary and exclusive to royal families. If they weren't, all the histories of the world would be very, very flawed.

Therefore, if Pip was his assassin—a possibility he reached with no surprise and no emotion, beyond a little healthy indignation that his own servant might turn against him—she couldn't have anything special at her disposal. She couldn't have the Skills Persuade and Curse, to say nothing of the further Skills awarded exclusively to kings and queens. Magic crystals? Maybe. Those were expensive, but not impossible for her to acquire by any means.

Rumbling, low and steady and consuming the entire ship, reminded Jacob that he'd finished eating several minutes ago and the dining hall was nearly empty. Being seen as a weirdo loner wasn't the problem, he thought (it made a catch-all cover for a systemless prince) but if he really did suspect Pip, he may as well confront her as soon as possible. He had other suspicions on his mind, naturally. They just weren't as easy to try and resolve.

His plan was interrupted. The journey was about to begin.

Magic worked through the ship's engines: commingling fire and electricity, expertly proportioned, mixed milliseconds before the combination might have blown the whole place up. Plates clattered against their tables and Jacob's body quaked against his chair as the ship sped up into a roar, skidded hard across the ground, and lifted off into the sky.

***

Jacob's suite, which his maid had already been let into by the staff, stood at the end of a long hall of green and gold. Picture frames lined the wall, their sketches hinting toward the exhibits that filled the ship. The one by his door showed a portly alligator-like monster, recreated from crumbling bones. "Visit the Model Iguanosaur! As If It Had Never Died," the caption said.

After the initial turbulence, the Fair and all its beautiful suites were now flying smooth as butter.

Not even most royalty had ever taken a flight like this. Jacob had taken rides on a five-seater, even taken a few flying lessons himself, but his skyboats had never soared above the clouds. (Not interested.)

And maybe standing on the deck would be pleasant, with nothing to do but take in impossibly fresh air. Only he didn't have the time or patience for "pleasant" right now. He'd tasked Pip the maid with unpacking his things. In hindsight, that sounded like the exact wrong task to give her, but take into account the fact that his switchblade and crystals were in his pockets, and how he never traveled with any possessions he couldn't stand to lose.

He touched the blade lightly now, opening the door with his other hand. As close to silently as he could do it. The door had a natural creak to it. He moved it back and forth on its hinge as he opened it, two inches forward for every one inch back.

Expansive blue poured in from the wall-sized window. That was the first thing he saw and the source of the light that threw everything into a silhouette: the freestanding book cabinet, the crystal-engine electric lamp, and the couches that begged for far more than two visitors. To his left was the bathroom, and to his right, the bedroom. Pip was nowhere in sight.

Not until he turned his head. The bathroom lights were on. He could see her, but only barely and from the back. Kneeling, her feet poked out from the open door. He heard sloshing water and a running faucet.

She was...washing things? But he had no clothes to wash. Besides the dirt that was always hanging out on the tail of his favorite long coat, but she'd know better than to—

Jacob's mind was too agile and paranoid to linger on one idea for long, or even on one at a time. Even as he worked through that thought, he was throwing it away and picking up another: Pip could be washing out blood.

Maybe if he turned his head the other way, he'd see a mattress without sheets and a body without a soul.

He could be a mere servant's accomplice...

"Oh!" cried Pip. It had taken her a few moments to notice him, but a reasonable amount of moments, Jacob figured. His subconscious mind was used to processing information this way, always judging what was normal and what wasn't.

Jacob stepped into the suite's common room. Pip rose, but didn't stand yet. Though a bit frazzled with her long black hair in disarray, she looked overjoyed to see him.

"Don't be alarmed! I'm just washing the sheets," she said. "They weren't clean to my standards, and I'm afraid maybe they still aren't..."

Jacob closed the front door and played innocent. "I'm sure to me it looked spotless," he said. "Do yourself a favor and relax about the cleaning while you're here."

"Okay, but let me finish this one! I mean, I've already started!" Pip stood over the bathtub, bent and wrangling with the intensely wet fabric. "Before I start to dry it out, can you check it for me, please? Just double-check. I mean sir, please, may I."

Even when Pip wasn't in a hurry, she herself was the hurry. At Castle Alzeny she was the maid of all work, the scullery maid, the lowest of the low—and being constantly exuberant was an asset. (And it helped, as far as the royal family was concerned, that typically she had no one to talk to but a couple of other dotty young servants on the same bottom rung as herself.)

Now, though, she was activating Jacob's fight-or-flight response in about a hundred different directions.

When he paused to consider his response, Pip stepped out anyway, still in full maid regalia, carrying the terribly wet blanket as if it were the driest and finest towel.

Jacob only saw the whole blanket for an instant, but for the record, yes, it did look spotless.

He focused on drawing his switchblade.

Pip gasped. "Oh no, sir, please don't—aah!"

And tripped dramatically, flinging the whole blanket in the air as she faceplanted.

It could've happened in slow motion: Pip falling, Jacob focusing, his eyes zeroing in on her stabbable face, the back of his mind processing the blanket in free flight. Funnily enough, the only words on his mind at the time were, It's impressive how far she happened to throw that blanket.

That's when his common sense kicked in. The moment was too brief for him to act upon it, but nonetheless it told him, She didn't just happen to throw it, Jake.

And the truth slipped out when she used her Skill: "Fold!"