Eventually things died down. Somehow this legendary status normalized. The necklace itself is light, but the responsibility is immeasurable.

I still regularly chat with my predecessor in order to fully understand how everything works.

The necklace is a key. I expected him to tell me it had something to do with the kingdom-heart but it seems to not be the case, apparently that’s a whole other story.

The necklace opens a vault made by magicians in the ancient era. The entire castle was built to stronghold it. It’s why King Wolfbourne centered his rebellion where he did. It’s why my dad and him fought so relentlessly to retake this land from the demons. And it’s why the king had been so insistent on repairing this place instead of building a new castle where it stood.

I honestly had no idea. And apparently neither did many other people. The only ones in the castle aware of this fact are some of the high rank court researchers and the family themselves. I doubt even my own brothers are aware of it. Although as Skule progresses in the military he will probably be let in on the secret. The people in charge always must understand what is at stake. This isn’t just a country. It’s the hope for humanity.

When I was first lead to the vault I was tense. I expected cobwebs lining piles of gold and feline-golems ready to pounce at any moment, but that wasn’t the case. As we carefully stepped in the direction my predecessor indicated I began to feel waves of exhaustion.

The old man explained that it was my mana being used to open the gate. But I didn’t understand until I took another step, and the hallway around me vanished. I felt like I was in nothingness. But the heft of the old bones on my arm remained constant, so I continued to step across the uneven inky terrain.

Eventually the dark corridor opened wider and surrounding me were piles of crates, barrels and hundreds if not thousands of beautiful unique relics.

From my understanding, the vault doesn’t exist as a space on earth. The vault is a spatially locked spell connecting a—contained but inaccessible —void to the real world. This spell can only be activated with high amounts of mana flow, and the necklace I was given on my first day.

There is also a couple ways to materialize the vault as a carriable item like a ring or a sack but the researchers who had been studying it concluded it would likely require the hero to activate this functionality. And it makes sense. The hero shouldn’t have to make a hundred trips back and forth into the vault to haul everything out.

I honestly wonder if I will see the day when it finally happens.

Statistically it’s unlikely.

Well if anything I know today isn’t that day.

Hell, I bet even if the hero did appear today, they’d probably keep the gates closed. Today has to be about the king. It’s only once that a king turns forty-two.

But isn’t that true for everyone? I suppose I should keep that to myself though, let the maids say what they want on this joyous occasion.

Typically, on days like this I would chat with the guards or try to blend in with the recruit butlers. Officially I am a Court Adjunct, an antiquated title the king pulled from an old novel he read. I’m supposed to play the role of a note taker, and overall assistant to the king. That’s in order to hide, or rationalize, the fact that I have protection shadowing me at all times.

In order to play this role, I of course need to take the courses themselves. Which includes the head maid Vena’s endless, civility classes, as well as the, twice daily, uniform forum the butlers put on.

I’ve gotten extremely good at tying ties.

Eventually resigning to the fact that I will find no company with either guards or butlers on such a hectic day I decide to hole myself up in the library.

Technically there are three but only one is worth visiting. Although it does bring my encounter probability up by quiet a bit. But I am sure her highness is just as busy as everyone else on an important day like today.

Arriving and picking through the leather-bound books I land on one about migratory patterns of butterflies. ‘Who in their right mind would write about that’ I ask myself as I lug it over to a nearby table and begin paging through the highly informative prose.

Truly an absorbing work. The hours flowed like molasses.

How many left until this party? The clock on the wall says noon but the librarian mentioned it can be slower on hot days.

“It’s right.” A voice beside me says without glancing up from her book.

“I see.” I absently nod before returning to the page I had left. “And when did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago.” Lotil giggles flipping a page with a lingering lick of her finger. “You were pretty absorbed. I didn’t even need a silence spell.”

Whoever taught her magic was a fool. Did they think she would use it with good intentions?

I always figure ignoring her would eventually make her leave me alone. But that never seems to work. Some way or another she always draws me in.

“Dad wanted me to ask for your help tonight.”

“The King?”

Damnit. Perfect bait. She’s too powerful.

“We are putting on a little show tonight before the big speech. I guess nobles out of earshot are thumbing their nose at your new position as Court Adjunct. They rattle on about how ‘my child would have been a far superior blah blah…’, you get the picture. They think you only got the spot because you are a weakling who’s dad is friends with mine.”

“Was that not the case?”

“Well sure, it’s half true, but still we can’t have people questioning ‘The Kings Decisions’.” Lotil reiterates with a chop of her hand. “So, you will be aiding the king in the speech tonight. When he steps up to the podium he will stare at the written speech carefully at varying distances before patting down his coat pocket…”

“The king wears glasses?”

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“Nope.” The princess rejects with a shake of her head. “But the Minister of Information says that atleast 22% of the nobles would respect him more if he did.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“People say it makes you look smarter. And dad is always getting told he looks like a brainless mass of muscles.”

At my look of shock Lotil concedes a point that feels important here.

“Well yeah, I guess it’s only me who says that, but still, no complaints. Dad has already signed on. He agrees it looks pretty fashionable. You wouldn’t know it but half the days he is late its because he can’t decide which cape looks cooler.”

I feel like there are too many points to ask about in what I just heard. Half of me wants to ignore it but the other half wants to admonish her for speaking about something like that outside her family. Although the latter leads to a road I don’t want to bring up. “Fine. Where are these glasses?”

“Someone will give you them during the party. A butler, so you probably won’t notice. Just check your pocket before the speech starts, the case will be there.”

Is it weird to find that terrifying? Why is pickpocketing such a well taught skill in the butlers training regime? Or I suppose that would be putpocketing wouldn’t it?

“I…”

“We should actually probably get ready. It’s getting pretty late.”

“It’s not even twelve fifteen,” I mutter with another glance at the clock. “Doesn’t the party start at four?”

“I know! Like I said we don’t have much time.” Lotil laughs, knocking her chair back and pulling me up beside her.

It seems I really have no choice in the matter. If it were me, getting ready would have happened ten minutes before the party, maximum. But somehow Lotil can consistently bring me into her flow with ease.

Maybe I have no defense against her even now. If I attempt to ignore her words they still somehow get heard. Even if I stomp my foot she can just drag me.

Maybe for the better.

With only a hint of feign reluctance, I follow her to the hall we first met in. A deep inner hallway that somehow still received the light of the midday sun.

I’ll never understand the inner structure of this place. I’ve already stayed here for almost a month and yet I feel like I will always remain lost in this maze of corridors.

“You know we met on this very day twelve years ago. Kind of Ironic don’t you think?”

We did? “Was it really? I suppose it was late-spring but wasn’t that …”

“You are surprised my mom’s funeral was the same day as my dad’s birthday?”

I trailed off for a reason, how was she able to pick up my exact line of thought? It’s not fair.

“Think about it, do you postpone my father’s birthday celebration? A celebration spread across the entire continent? Or do you postpone my mother’s funeral?”

“I… Well, I suppose I…”

“And face the full wrath of my father. Forgot to add that part.” Lotil tuts with a wag of her finger. “Anger is apparently the third stage but I’m sure he could skip a few.”

“Hence outright cancelling the castle celebration and hosting a small funeral?”

“A few of dad’s advisors also figured it would be pandemonium to announce the death of the queen immediately so only close friends capable of keeping the secret were invited. I only learned most of this after I started lessons.” Lotil continues, wrenching the door handle on her room and nodding to the maid waiting with a wheeled wardrobe.

Taking a seat at the chair the maid quickly prepares, I wonder how best to bring the conversation back to a somewhat safer topic. It seems I entirely ignored the fact that we had assembled here to get changed.

Only when the fabric screen is pulled in front of the wardrobe do I realize just what is going on. Is Lotil aware that the sunlight from her window is making the fabric screen sheer? She must, right? What did she whisper to the maid when we arrived? Better yet, why aren’t I waiting outside? But getting up now would probably give the wrong impression. Her slendering form has nothing to do with my rational.

Ah. They sprung.

No, ignore it. I’m falling into her trap. Look away.

“Did you know they were friends?” Lotil asks, as if realizing I had looked away.

“They…” I gulp before shaking the gutter out of my head and comprehending the connection. “Your mom and mine?”

“Mhm. They went to school together before they met our dads. Apparently, they introduced the two. You could say our mom’s are the ones who really founded this country.”

“Sounds about right.” I nod with a chuckle. I’m surprised I never heard my mom brag about it. Maybe Lotil’s mother’s death made it difficult to brag about their joint achievement.

I was too young to really notice but I do seem to remember my mother looking somber in those days. Of course, she would so rarely show it around us, but if you looked when she wasn’t expecting, you could see it for a moment.

“You know they wanted it too. What you wanted.” Lotil emerges from behind the screen causing me to almost block my eyes, before realizing she was indeed properly dressed.

Oh, she’s referring to that. Any opportunity to tease me about it I suppose. “Let’s drop it there.”

Lotil covers her cheeks in a mock blush. “Oh, you are embarrassed with your desire to monopolize me now?”

“Just stop.”

“Doesn’t a girl deserve to confront the man who rejected her? I think this conversation is completely fair game.” Lotil grins before turning to the maid who was brushing lint off a coat jacket from inside the wardrobe. “You agree right, Tasha?”

“Of course I agree Princess.”

“See, two vs. one.”

“Rigged.” I mutter as I step up from the seat and follow the maid’s directions behind the screen as Lotil takes my spot in turn.

I’ve realized by now the futility of denying the maids their job of changing people, so I just carefully focus my thoughts and breathe deeply as my outfit is stripped rapidly.

Only once my briefs are stepped out of, and I hear a soft ‘oh my,’ from behind the curtain do I remember my precarious location.

“Ah, right. You never mentioned what you thought of my dress.” Lotil conveniently asks as the maid folds my worn clothes and begins gathering the suit from the closet.

“Can it wait a moment?” I ask glancing down at my feet and shuffling into a profile.

“You had a good few seconds to see it. You must remember how I looked, right?”

A test, really? But what’s the pass mark? If I claim I don’t remember, what benefits do I gain? If I remember anything right now its her form when still behind the curtain. But again, now is definitely not the time to think of that.

Finally, with proper pants pulled up my legs I breathe a sigh of relief. With mind cleared I do actually remember quiet well. “The dress itself was black. Not entirely unlike the dress I first met you in, of course bigger and more adult. You’ve always looked good in black, it somehow matches you well. Like father like daughter I suppose. I think the accent on the chest was red, an embroidery of a fire lily maybe? I don’t know, I’m not great with flowers.”

“Surprised you only remembered the one on the chest.” Lotil grumbles in mock frustration. “For your information, there is also one on the brooch in my hair, and the lace on my gloves.”

“Ah…” I mutter as the jacket is wrenched over my arms.

I know she is just doing her job, but I think the tie could be a bit on the looser side. Perhaps I mistook the proctor from the start.

With the dressing done, and still hours left until the party, a different maid was quickly sent in with a cart full of tea and various sweets and cookies. With no other choice I joined Lotil at the table and quickly found a few caramel filled pastries amongst the assortment.

“Still straight for the caramel.” Lotil giggles spinning the tray to give me access to one I had missed.

“And I shouldn’t be surprised they bring an entire tray of shortbread.”

“The chefs were complaining about the left-over pastries, so I taught them a simple trick to reducing waste.”

“Serve nothing but your favorites?”

“Exactly.” Lotil vigorously nods munching into a third square of crumbly biscuit. It will always amaze me how she can eat so carelessly without getting a single crumb onto her expensive gowns. It’s almost as explicable as her ability to bring up a serious topic and quickly flip to the mundane chats our time is seemingly known for.

I don’t regret it. If that’s what she was wondering. I’d reject her again today too.

How would that even feel? A consort; not married, not committed, but in love, and together constantly. Wouldn’t that be the most painful thing ever?

What about when a worthwhile candidate appears?

Do I clap for them during the royal wedding?

Do I carry the rings?

I get that she’s not just a girl. She’s not someone who is in a position to choose, her marriage will be something used to further the country. And as someone who has been raised knowing that, its understandable that my rejection of that would be something surprising to her.

Thinking about it, am I not still in that position I dreaded? Despite my rejection I still ended up trapped behind these painful bars. I’ll still have to stand on ceremony when she’s at an altar. As Court Adjunct where else would I belong?

Was I snared by a trap nobody had even set? Or was this just always my destiny?