“Hold your head high, boy, you’re the beginning of a new era,” Morold gave his son a corrective tap on the chin as he adjusted his cloak. He stepped back, looking Rivalen over with a scrutinizing gaze. “You are fortunate; you have the eyes of a trustworthy man. I don’t doubt that you will be able to fool the king and his kin, but you will need to believe in your own abilities as well, or your gifts will go to waste.”

“Yes, father,” Rivalen said. He squared his shoulders in an attempt to look more confident, but still a flicker of doubt crossed over his face. “How am I to earn the king’s trust when I first arrive though? I’m an outsider, so naturally he’s going to be wary of me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Morold answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Cedric will be just as skeptical of the servants in his own household as he will be of you, boy. I’ve taken the liberty to plant false witnesses in the castle, and they have been reporting to the king that his current staff is riddled with wizards. He should be desperate enough to clear them out that he’ll welcome you with open arms.” He chuckled for a moment, but quickly returned to his usual stern demeanor as he went on. “Of course this also means that you will need to tread carefully during your time at the palace. Cedric is on high alert for the slightest traces of magic within his walls, so you must act with vigilance if you ever find yourself in a situation that demands the use of your powers.”

“I will, father,” Rivalen nodded, feeling slightly reassured now that he knew about Morold’s prearrangements.

“Good,” Morold rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I have high hopes for you, Rivalen. Don’t disappoint me.”

Rivalen dipped his head, “The sooner I depart, the sooner I can be done with it. I’ll take my leave immediately.”

“So be it,” Morold retracted his hand. “When you take up a position in the castle, be sure to contact me at the earliest opportunity. I will be awaiting word from you here.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Rivalen picked up an animal-skin pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Goodbye, father.”

---

EIGHT DAYS LATER

Rivalen stared up at the walls of the castle in awe of their vastness. Morold had described the king’s estate in lengthy detail, but seeing it in person was a completely different experience. After having lived in the poor, small village of Oldpine for more than twenty years, he never imagined that such an enormous structure existed. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what the inside looked like. The inside… Suddenly, he was quite eager to step through the doors.

Rivalen looked away from the castle when he caught sight of a servant girl walking by with a breadbasket—likely something she had picked up at the market. He cast the tall double-doors one last glance and hurried to catch up with her, calling out to get her attention, “Excuse me; hold on one moment, miss!”

The girl turned around, casting him a cautious look (everyone was wary of everyone else these days, it seemed…) and taking a step back as she responded, “Yes?”

Rivalen held up his hands and smiled in an attempt to seem less threatening, “I heard that the king has openings for new servants in his palace. Do you think you could tell me how I can get an audience with him in order to determine if I’m qualified for the job?”

The girl hesitated for a moment and then nodded, “Actually, you came at just the right time if you’re looking for a position in the castle. King Cedric is holding auditions right now, although…” she looked Rivalen over and cracked a smile. “I don’t think you’re likely to be chosen for the role.”

“And why is that?” Rivalen frowned at the girl’s words. He couldn’t see how she knew whether or not he was well suited for a job at merely a glance. Was there something he had overlooked?

“Well,” the girl’s subtle grin grew wider. “For one thing, King Cedric seeks a woman to fill this position. He is looking for a personal attendant for his daughter, Princess Roxanne, and I doubt he would be willing to appoint a strange man to such a trusted duty.”

“I see,” Rivalen nodded contemplatively. “In that case, when will he be holding auditions for the other positions?”

“He won’t be,” the girl shook her head. “King Cedric has more important things to do than look for new servants, what with all of the wizards on the loose. It will be quite a while before he replenishes the staff.”

“Oh,” Rivalen knit his brow. “Well, thank you for your help.”

The girl smiled again and turned to take her breadbasket inside the castle.

Rivalen looked at the castle again with a concerned expression. His only flicker of opportunity to install himself near the king was put out by the simple fact that he was a man. Of course, he could always learn a spell to change his own sex, but he wasn’t desperate enough to try a move like that just yet. Maintaining such a powerful enchantment would be quite draining and he would have to avoid any and all mirrors in the palace—reflective glass had a nasty habit of revealing the truth—and besides that, the thought of living as a woman for so long was off-putting to him in more ways than one. No, an enchantment wouldn’t just do. He had to find some other way to win the position.

If King Cedric was willing to take time out of his allegedly busy schedule to hold auditions for a personal attendant, the role was obviously one he deemed of high importance. Perhaps he was even getting a bit desperate to find someone suitable. In that case, Rivalen wondered if he might be able to convince the king that he was the right person for the job—even if he was a man. All he needed to do was come up with a reason why he was more qualified than his female competition. It couldn’t be that difficult, right? He smiled to himself. Suddenly, his situation didn’t seem so hopeless after all.

Rivalen climbed the stairs leading up to the castle and pulled open one of the large doors. After stepping inside, he stopped again by the entrance, taking a moment to admire his surroundings. The inside of the palace was even more breathtaking than the outside, but he didn’t have time to stay and stare at it now. According to the servant girl, King Cedric was holding auditions at that very moment, and he didn’t want to miss his chance to infiltrate the staff. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand and continued walking.

To Rivalen, the castle was built like a labyrinth. Its countless hallways branched off and crossed over each other, weaving a confusing path for the village-born outsider. After doubling back twice and consulting a number of servants for directions, however, he managed to find the right corridor where four women stood waiting for an audience with the king. He frowned at the sight of them. Well this just wouldn’t do. He didn’t come all this way to stand in a line. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. It looked like he would have to clear out the competition.

Rivalen approached the girls with an apologetic smile, “I’m very sorry, ladies, but King Cedric is no longer taking auditions.”

The four turned to look at him, muttering amongst each other in concern. “How do you know that?” one of women spoke up, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m a servant of the king,” Rivalen lied with a casual shrug. “He gave me instructions to let all of you know that he’s found the person he’s been looking for, so he is no longer holding auditions.”

“Are you sure?” another girl spoke up worriedly. “Why didn’t he come to tell us, himself?”

“King Cedric is a busy man,” Rivalen replied simply. “He sent me in his stead.” He dipped his head in a bow. “I do apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.”

“Well that’s just wonderful,” another woman sighed with a shake of her head. “I suppose there’s no point in waiting around here anymore.” With that, she walked off down the corridor, and the other three girls followed suit, grumbling in frustration. Rivalen watched them go, stifling the satisfied smirk that threatened to take over his lips. Being a man did have one advantage, he supposed. The four women had no idea that he was out to get the same position they wanted! It had almost been too easy to get rid of them.

Rivalen turned back to the door to the king’s audience chambers when he heard them creak open. A young woman—he guessed that she was the last one to hold an audition—stepped out, escorted by a court official. The official left her to find her own way out of the palace and turned to address the next person in line, “The king will see you now—” he stopped short when his eyes fell on Rivalen. He knit his brow in confusion and glanced over the young warlock’s shoulder, “Where did the other girls go?”

“I have no idea,” Rivalen shook his head and shrugged. “However, I would like an audience with the king since there is no one else here.”

“I don’t believe you’re suited for the position,” the official said curtly.

“I believe I’m more suited for the position than you realize,” Rivalen said confidently. “If you let me speak with the king, I think you’ll find that he agrees with me.”

“Very well,” the official sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose there’s no harm since the other girls seem to have left.” He opened the door and waved his hand, gesturing for Rivalen to come inside. “King Cedric will see you now.”

“Thank you,” Rivalen nodded and stepped through the doorway.

This was where he got his first look at the man he was supposed to kill.

King Cedric was an older man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t strong. Rivalen could see the outline of hard muscles beneath the sleeves of his white, silk shirt. While the man was still able-bodied, however, Rivalen was also certain that Cedric wouldn’t stand a chance against his own powers. He swallowed anxiously, feeling a sudden surge of anger. This was the man who outlawed magic from all of Miroin and sent every wizard into hiding; the man who sentenced his mother to death. Here he was, sitting in a room alone and completely unguarded, and Rivalen could take his life with a single wave of his hand.

But he knew he shouldn’t. If he killed Cedric now, the king’s two children would be taken into protection and he would be unable to get rid of them, too. He bit back his anger and forced himself to relax. In order for this mission to be successful, he had to be patient and wait for a moment when all three members of the royal family were vulnerable. So, instead of summoning a bath of flames to burn Cedric alive or enchanting the tapestries on the walls to smother him to death, Rivalen simply leaned forward in a begrudging bow, “Your Highness.”

If possible, the king looked more surprised to see him than his official had. His eyes widened as they fell on Rivalen’s unexpected form. After staring at him for a moment, Cedric turned to the official with an impatient glare, “What is this?”

“This,” the official said stiffly. “Is our final candidate for the position, Sire. He believes he has some… special qualifications that distinguish him from the others.”

“Is that so?” Cedric mused, looking Rivalen over skeptically. “Does he know that I will only accept a woman for this role?”

“I understand perfectly,” Rivalen spoke up, taking a step forward. “But I believe that you will make an exception for me.”

“And just why would I do that?” Cedric scoffed. “Take this fool out of my sight, Alain.”

“Your Highness, wait,” Rivalen went on persistently. “I assure you, my motives are pure. I intend to protect your daughter, not harm her.”

The king pursed his lips in thoughtful silence, a gesture which told the warlock that he had made the right proposition. Cedric was obviously worried about Morold’s frequent attacks on the kingdom, all of which had been slowly getting closer to the castle, so he must have been afraid for the princess’s safety as well. This was the key Rivalen could use to get in, and luckily his suspicion was proven correct when the king spoke again, “Go on.”

Rivalen nodded, fidgeting slightly in his eagerness, “I believe your majesty will be pleased to know that I am skilled in fighting those wizards that have been tormenting you, and I wish to offer my services to protect your daughter.”

“I have plenty of knights who would be willing to do the same job,” the king pointed out, though he leaned forward in his chair, seeming interested in Rivalen’s words. “Why should I hire an outsider whom I have no reason to trust?”

“Because I am more capable than your knights,” Rivalen explained. “I have information about your enemies that the royal guards don’t know and may not be capable of understanding without getting close to someone who uses magic. For me, that person was a friend who is now deceased. Of course, I feel no regret about his execution. He was violent in nature, a typical characteristic of wizards, so it is better for everyone that he is gone now. The only good that came out of our friendly relationship was that I learned of a critical weakness in him that I also found to be true for every other wizard; one that I’ve used to kill three others already.”

“And what is that?” Cedric asked, his interest now audibly piqued.

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” Rivalen said. “If you knew my secret, you wouldn’t give me the job I want.”

“This sounds like trickery to me,” the king narrowed his eyes.

“If I’m lying, you’ll easily find out the next time a wizard attacks, now won’t you?”

King Cedric paused at that before nodding in agreement, “Very well, but what have you to gain from protecting Roxanne? I refuse to believe that you want to take this position out of the goodness of your heart.”

“You aren’t wrong. I want payment in silver coins and a room in the castle.”

“In return for my daughter’s safety?” Cedric leaned back in his chair. “That sounds fair to me. I will give you the job, witch-slayer.” He turned to the official, Alain. “Escort our guest…”

“Rivalen,” he supplied his own name with a polite smile.

“Yes. Alain, escort Rivalen to the stables. Roxanne should be there now, and I want her to meet her new personal attendant.”

“Sire, are you certain that this is a good idea?” Alain asked concernedly. “A young man attending your daughter? It sounds suspicious to me.”

“You worry too much,” Cedric shook his head and turned back to Rivalen. “I’m sure our guest is aware that if he tries to do anything indecent, his head will roll before he can speak another word with that silver tongue of his.”

“Naturally,” Rivalen bowed again.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Alain bent forward in a reluctant bow as well and then gestured for Rivalen to follow him out the door. “Come with me, sir, and I will take you to see Princess Roxanne.”

"Maria? Where...are you taking those bags?"
"Your Highness. I am afraid my time with you has come to an end."
"Maria...but why?"
"I'm afraid it must be this way, Your Highness."

The older woman sorrowfully turned away from the princess, who was clutching her fists at her sides, unladylike as it might be. Roxanne couldn't help but notice that her actions were slow, reluctant, and of course she herself felt the same way. Another caretaker whom had to be sent away? And on what grounds? It seemed they would never tell her, and this frustrated her beyond belief. Especially since she made the mistake each and every time to grow attached to them, to then later have them taken from her for whatever circumstances. They all seemed like wonderful people, warm and affectionate, like people to fill in the role of 'mother' if hers still had been alive to date. Each and every time, however, without fail, they would be asked to leave by her father. For the Lord knows what.

"...Maria." she sighed, holding open the door of the woman's chambers in the castle for her to walk out with her two bags gripped loosely in each hand. The room looked bare now, pale walls with a neatly made bed and now lacked the warmth it had when Maria's personal effects were scattered haphazardly across the bed, or even across the singular desk that stood in one corner of the room, usually for writing letters by candle-light on. All that remained was a little pot of ink that sat lonely against a candlestick.

"Must you go?" the younger woman walked by her former caretaker's side, as the distance through the labyrinthine castle was crossed in hardly any time. It made her feel hollow, the way this woman, like those before, had come in and lived in the castle like their home, and were suddenly kicked out. She mentally bit her tongue. Perhaps she was being too emotional. Maria did not say a word past an apologetic smile up at the princess, and soon the ornate doors of the castle stood before them. Roxanne only just kept herself from cursing them.

"I will miss you...Your Highness." the doors now gaped open, and the warm summer daylight poured into the castle. Attentive guards stood at either side of the two women as the shorter, older woman was forced to say her goodbyes.
"And I you, Maria." Roxanne smiled warmly, the sun lighting her face, and the woman bowed to her superior one final time within the walls of the castle.
"You will make a just ruler someday, Your Highness. Of that I am sure."
"By God's grace, Maria."

And before she knew it, all that was left in Roxanne's line of sight was the silhouette of the woman as she disappeared into the horizon.

---

"But... Father!" Roxanne protested, staring her father down with liquid annoyance dripping from her tone. "That...you cannot just do something like this without consulting me beforehand!"
"Roxanne." the king's voice was stern. His imposing figure also didn't make the situation any less easier on the young princess, and there was only so much she could raise her voice with him before he had heard enough. "The kingdom is in a state of ruin, and we do not know if we will live to see another day, each day. A battle of life or death wages constantly between us and the outside world."
"But-"
"I'm not finished." he growled, putting Roxanne back in her place quickly enough. She tucked into her evening meal quietly, eyes focused on the plate in front of her now. She did not want to lift her head and look up at her father, and her shoulders slumped when he continued speaking. Her attempt to prove to him that the leg of lamb on her plate was more interesting than whatever he had to say to her clearly wasn't working in her favour, for he continued to speak. Her brother sat quietly throughout the conversation, green eyes darting back and forth between either party. "I will arrange to see the women concerned in the morrow. Once we find somebody suitable, she shall be introduced to you and will commence her duties as your personal attendant immediately."
"I told you, father. I have no need!" the sound of cutlery against crockery was loud and clear, echoing her dissatisfaction.
"I have spoken!" the king's voice boomed, filling the room with a slight echo that sent chills down both children's spines. If they could relate to each other in one way, it would be in the fear they had of their father. This particular paranoiac of a ruler could be scarier than he might have initially thought.

---

"Brandon, it isn't right." the siblings, climbing up to their respective chambers in the castle, chattered among themselves.
"I know, Roxanne. I do." he replied in a sharp, single puff, a little out of breath from having just climbed the flight of stairs they left behind them, "But it is for the best, it truly is. One of those filthy wizards may come and take either me or father away, or even worse, have us killed, and then what will be of you? Your caretaker will be around to help you grieve and alleviate the stress on your shoulders as you prepare to become queen."
"But it isn't set in stone; that I will be crowned queen! It isn't set in stone that either of you will die!" she shook her head in disbelief. It simply could not happen. Despite the attacks, the downfall of the kingdom, the thought of her father and her brother being taken from her seemed so distant, so alien. Like if somebody was recalling the events of a nightmare that would never be possible, not in a thousand years.
"It might very well be, and you know it." her brother, in one of his more sombre moments whispered just loud enough for him and his sister to hear, as they approached the wooden door to her chambers.
"Mmh..." she shrugged off the thought, habitually gathering her skirts to curtsey to her brother, as expected.
"Goodnight, dear brother."
"Goodnight, dear sister." he bowed his upper half slightly before placing a hand on her shoulder which made her look up with curiosity flickering in her olive orbs. He was smiling again, though it didn't quite reach his melancholy ones. "And do remember not to fret yourself too much. I am absolutely positive the new personal attendant will be a lovely woman. Another Maria, I pray. May the Lord grant us his kind favour."
"...let us hope."

---

The summer sunlight streamed down and seemed to be everlasting, as the princess of the castle crossed a set of wide open fields on horseback. Her raven hair billowed behind her in the wind, mixing with the mane and tail of the stallion she rode. She was laughing, innocently, ever urging the stallion faster and faster. And in that moment, everything was forgotten and lost, and it was frozen in time as perfection. It was always the same exhilarating feeling whenever Roxanne was out on the green, with the grass below her and the azure sky above. Even in the sparse forests that lined the edge of the field, the trees made her feel at home. Though the deeper forest had always given off an eerie vibe, and she swore to herself never to venture in by herself. Though for now, nearing the first sights of trees, she ducked down low as the horse slowed slightly to jump a low-laying log with ease, before she pulled the reins in to stop it more, and bring it around gently. In the distance she could see the very small silhouette of the stable-boy, having run to catch up with her. He couldn't have been older than fourteen, fifteen at max, though with him and his father being one of the king's more trusted workers, the job was frequently passed down from his father to the boy.
Quentin, his name was.

"Your Highness, Your Highness!" he dropped panting with his hands on his knees as the woman brought the horse back in a steady canter, slowing and prancing by the skinny boy in a cheeky circle.
"Yes, Quentin?" she smirked. She was notorious for sweet-talking the poor boy into letting her go out with the horses during lazy days. This particular one hadn't been exactly lazy, but more so a case of her not wanting to remain in the vicinity of her father too long. The thought of another personal attendant, a new personal attendant left a bad taste in her mouth.

Nothing a ride out in the fields most certainly cannot fix, she had thought to herself.

"There...huff. There is...puff. Someone has...come to see you...huff. Your Highness." he spoke through gasps, and perhaps caught up in his own steadying breathing, didn't notice her expression change into quite the sour one at the thought. Though, she knew fate was a cruel thing, and wasn't slow to finally submit to the current happenings.
"I know, Quentin. I was told." she shuddered a final time, before leading the horse in the direction of the stables in a begrudging walk, a pace easy enough for the stable-boy to keep up with and catch his breath as he'd speak to her.

"Your Highness? You said..." his voice trailed off, bright blue eyes trying to find hers. His messy chocolate curls framed his face and bounced with each step he took.
"I know what I said, Quentin." she snapped in a way that made him flinch, and stay quiet for the next minute or two.
But he quite liked the company of the castle's princess, so he dared to keep talking even after. She had grown to be a big sister to him, albeit still in quite the formal sense. "Your Highness, one of the castle guards is there. And there's a strange man with him..."

"Huh, a man, you say..." her voice drifted off. She assumed then that perhaps the interviews weren't over yet, and that this man wanted to see her for formal business. Was it a suitor? Oy vey, not another one.
"Yes, Your Highness. I was very surprised. Has...has the King ordered more suitors to come see you today, Your Highness?" he asked inquisitively, though now not looking up at the rider of the grey stallion anymore. Instead he stared dead ahead, and as they walked on, more silhouettes became visible. And as the boy had rightly said, they were those of two men. A woman would have been of shorter stature.

"Not as far as I'm aware, Quentin. Not at all." she squinted now in her eagerness to glean more information about the foreign looking man before forced to make conversation with him when close enough. Unfortunately, the sun was not in her favour and shone down in a way that made it nigh impossible to conjure up an idea of his features from just there, but she could tell he wore a cloak, a hooded cloak, that seemed quite unlike a noble. Perhaps it wasn't a suitor after all. But then again, who would have requested, and further actually acquired, an audience with her?

She couldn't help but bring the stallion into a trot for the last metres or so, pulling gently to have the obedient horse stop just by the guard and this foreign man. Though she did not dismount just yet, preferring the higher ground for more reasons than one.
And she couldn't help but scrutinise him.

She had to admit. He was quite a comely man, for a peasant, after all. His dark hair came to the nape of his neck and framed a face with a sharp sloping jawline, dusted with the beginnings of a light, neatly kept stubble. There was almost - dare she say - an innocence about his features. Something about him that put her at ease, though perhaps it was that he was a simple young man, and not the son of a noble, with whom she would have to be stiff and ever courteous with.

"Good morning, Alain." she chirped in greeting to the castle guard whom she recognised just by one look at his face.
He offered a bow in response, followed by the customary 'Your Highness', expression stony and unreadable as ever, and began to speak again, "His Highness has sent this man to..." he faltered for just a second, clearing her throat before continuing to speak. "His Highness has sent this man to be your personal attendant, milady." he spat the words out as if they were venom, with an obvious reluctance in his voice. Roxanne could see he was clearly unamused.

Though that didn't stop her from bringing a hand to her face to try and cover up a smile, even a tiny laugh. She scanned the man from head to toe one final time before speaking to him with hooded eyes, curious hazel meeting resolved brown(?) and a refined however almost condescending tone, "Yes, yes, my father may be the jester he thought himself to be in his youth. May I ask you to state your true business with me, sir? It would appear I am the only one who has yet to entwine myself in this intricate joke my father is playing..."

Rivalen smiled victoriously as he followed Alain down the corridor. While he didn’t get the most desirable position in the castle, he now had an opportunity to get closer to the king and his family. And to think that all it took was a few white lies! There was no fatal ‘secret weakness’ in wizards; he had made it all up, and yet King Cedric had bought every word. Morold’s attacks must have left him extremely worried about his daughter’s safety if he was acting so quickly to find protection for her. In fact, his thoughtless actions only put her life in further peril. Cedric had practically handed the princess over to his enemy on a silver platter! He couldn’t wait to tell his father.

“In case the king doesn’t come to his senses,” Alain spoke up, interrupting Rivalen’s thoughts. “I suppose I had better inform you of your duties as the princess’s… personal attendant.” He was still visibly reluctant to admit that Rivalen had been given the job. He paused to clear his throat before he went on, “First and foremost, you will be expected to wait on Princess Roxanne from sunrise to sunset. You must offer her your assistance without question or complaint whenever she may need it. You must also make sure that she is cared for even when she is not giving you direct orders. This includes bringing her breakfast from the kitchen in the morning, cleaning her general living quarters, taking care of her laundry…” He trailed off, knitting his brow. “Err, on second thought, you should just bring her laundry to the servant girls and have them wash it. Anyways, you will have other responsibilities, but those will be your main tasks. Do you think you can handle them, witch-slayer?” He spat the title with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“I think I can,” Rivalen shrugged, ignoring Alain’s taunt. “Living the life of a servant is a small price to pay for the knowledge that our princess will be safe from harm, wouldn’t you agree?” He cast the official a wry grin.

Alain scoffed and shook his head, “I suppose I can’t argue with that. Now come along, the stables are this way.” He turned down a wide hallway that led to a set of doors on the west side of the castle. Rivalen followed after him, admiring the paintings on the walls as they walked. A number of different scenes were depicted, ranging from memories of successful war conquests to portraits of former rulers to expensive-looking pictures of scenery that the king had likely been given by foreign artisans. They were all different, but they were also all beautifully crafted. Rivalen made a mental note to explore the rest of the palace once he was settled in. He figured that he might as well start learning the layout now. It was soon to be his home once he got rid of King Cedric, after all.

Alain opened the door and they stepped out onto a wide, open pasture, framed on all sides by the surrounding forest. He continued to lead Rivalen until they came to the stables where a young boy was tending to the horses. The boy looked up at them, his gaze resting curiously on the warlock before he turned to speak to the official, “Hello, Alain. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Quentin,” Alain nodded in greeting. “Could you fetch the princess? This young man is here to see her.”

“Alright,” Quentin said, his eyes darting to Rivalen once more before he turned and ran off to find the king’s daughter.

After a while the boy returned with a stormy gray horse, atop which was a young woman: Princess Roxanne. Rivalen watched as she approached, narrowing his eyes slightly against the sunlight in order to get a better look at her. Honestly, she was much more beautiful than he had expected the daughter of King Cedric to be. With her dark hair, green eyes, fair skin, and slender frame, she had quite a unique appearance. It was almost disappointing that he would have to kill her, too.

When she stopped in front of them, Roxanne went on greet Alain who in turn announced Rivalen as her new personal attendant. Rivalen expected her to show at least some sign of surprise or disgust at the news of her father’s decision, but instead she merely laughed, taking the official’s words as a joke. She then turned to him to confirm her theory. Unfortunately, however, she would find that she was severely mistaken.

“He speaks the truth,” Rivalen said with an innocent smile. “I was given an audience with the king, and he tasked me with the responsibility of taking care of you, Your Highness.” He leaned forward in a deep but elegant bow. “I hope I don’t come as a disappointment. I promise I will work hard as your attendant to ensure that you are well cared for and want for nothing.”

Roxanne's tiny giggle dissipated as soon as, contrary to what she had believed was going on, the man explained his situation to her. He truly was going to be her personal attendant.
It took her a handful of seconds to glance between the two men, quizzical expression painting her features, and when nobody said a word further it appeared as what they were saying happened to be the truth after all. However, she wasn't the first to break the silence in that moment.

"But Alain, he's-" Quentin began, cheeks still a light pink, though whether it was from the former running or the thought that Her Highness would be waited on hand and foot by a man was unclear.

The guard cut the boy off, knowing full well in the back of his mind the question that was on everybody's mind:
Was King Cedric out of his mind to assign a man to do the job only a woman could do, and a job only women have done traditionally, for centuries?
"Yes, Quentin, I-"

"Enough." a feminine voice spoke up among the two males' chatter, and Roxanne gazed, hard-eyed, at the man with the former innocent smile, now with his head lowered in a deep bow to her. She seemed to be gauging him from where she sat atop the Clydesdale-cross stallion, who under the tense moment appeared to grow nervous or restless himself, snorting and pawing at the ground. Or perhaps it was at the presence of this stranger.
"Quentin. Would you assist me?"

"But of course, Your Highness." the boy, holding his tongue, was animated again by her words, and moved over to hold the reins of the horse, and Alain moved to her side as well to help her dismount, skirts and all, without causing any injury to herself. She thanked the two of them curtly, and stepped closer to the man introduced as her new personal attendant.

"Rise, and tell me your name, good sir." she stood tall and proud to appear more intimidating, in hopes that if this was still somebody's idea of a charade it would be concluded immediately. "And outside of that, I am only left to wonder. What would a gentleman like you gain from being my personal attendant? Furthermore, I pray my father has not completely lost his mind, for assigning a man to a position a woman is so aptly suited appears to me to be one of his more..." she paused, grasping for the appropriate words as to not disappoint the gentleman who appeared so eager, but in a manner in which she wished to quietly dismiss him. She would not be having another personal attendant, and on top of that, it would most certainly not be some lecher with a silver tongue, "...jocular decisions."

"Your Highness." Alain's voice was uncharacteristically soft as he stood stiffly at the princess's side, weapon in hand and him on high alert, "I am regretful to inform you that His Highness, King Cedric appeared to be perfectly content with this decision. I am afraid this is not the practical joke you may take it to be, though it pains me to admit it."

"Yes, I can see why..." Roxanne shrugged her shoulders in defeat, half-turning around to notice Quentin hanging around with the horse in tow, though his ears had gotten the better of him in a way that made her chuckle. He was always eager to know of all the news in the castle and more, though Roxanne had deemed it never maliciously, but only to sate his own curiosity. Having known the boy from his childhood years ensured that he was one of the people she could talk to about whatever was on her mind, concerning the royal affairs she was forced to dabble in.
"Quentin, please, would you escort my dear Wind to somewhere he may quench his thirst? I realise he might be parched, and I should not burden a poor horse and have him entangled in my own affairs." she nodded at the boy, who took the hint faster than she expected and with a disappointed sigh and a begrudging 'Yes, Your Highness...' took a tighter grip of the reins. Though, she did say one last thing to them before the two of them made their departure:
"He is growing into a fine young stallion, Quentin. Although his breed might be better suited to cart pulling, he rides like his namesake. I appreciate all your efforts, Quentin. It is an extraordinary caretaker that makes a horse great."

"I...Th-thank you, Your Highness!" he squeaked. Her compliments always caught him off guard, and had him sheepishly trying to push some stray tufts of hair away from his face, behind his ears, fidgeting with rosy cheeks again. He even puffed out his chest as he bowed to the three individuals, his leaving gesture, before walking off with the horse trailing behind. Roxanne could have sworn she heard him whistling halfway down the line.

"Yes, well." her attention was returned to the matter at hand, at the man who had stood from his bow now. He stood taller than her by far, though she wasn't one to be put off by something like that. She did hold a higher honour than most men she spoke to, besides.
"Your name, sir. I'm afraid if it is as my father wishes, then it will have to be as it has to be. I do not particularly approve, but..." she sighed quite deeply here, dusting off and straightening the skirts of the royal blue gown with trimmings of silver she had chosen to don that particular day. It contrasted heavily with the colour of her skin, and even the colour of her hair and her eyes, feminine and refined as it was. "...I hope you hold your word to your promise."

She brought her voice down, blinking up at the man through hooded eyes again and an almost threatening ease about the words she spoke, and the smirking lips through which they came, "Try anything funny, anything at all, and I will have you hanged, drawn and quartered before you so much as have a chance to call my name to beg for my mercy. I will also have you know I personally am competent enough with a bow and arrow. And if you so much as try to run, I will find you. And I will hurt you."
Straightening herself up and giving the man as bright a smile as she could manage, she continued in a loud enough voice for even Alain, who stood by tense though still ready to pounce, to hear. "I, though it pains me to say it, have no choice but to accept your offer for now. Do know that I will consult my father about this, so if I find out this is some ploy and you have our dear guard Alain in cahoots with you, I will know. Furthermore, if it really is as you say, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir..."

Rivalen straightened his posture at the princess’s command and looked up to find that she had dismounted from her horse and was now standing in front of him. The way she held herself was clearly meant to be intimidating, but he found the attempt more amusing than anything else. Roxanne was younger and much shorter than him—he could easily have rested his chin on her head if he wished—and her regal status didn’t threaten him in the least. She might have been powerful, but her father was even more so and he was the one authorizing Rivalen’s assignment as her personal attendant. As much as she hated it, he was here to stay until King Cedric decreed otherwise.

Rivalen stayed quiet and observed the other three, taking the opportunity to learn more about Roxanne as she spoke with the others (‘know thy enemy’ was a popular phrase with Morold). What he saw, however, was slightly worrisome. Part of him had been hoping that she would be arrogant and cruel towards her servants so she would be easier to hate. Instead, though, she treated them kindly and even seemed to take their words to heart. He knew he had only watched her for a short while, but so far she was turning out to be quite different than the spoiled princess he had imagined.

Since Cedric had ordered the murder of his mother, Rivalen had no problem summoning his anger when he was around the king—in fact, he predicted that he would often have to stifle his rage when he was in the man’s presence—but he was no killer, himself. Roxanne had not wronged him and, as far as he could tell, she was a genuinely kind person who didn’t deserve the same fate as her father… No, he closed his eyes, silently scolding himself for letting such thoughts into his head. She is Cedric’s daughter. Father was clear in his directions: Every member of the royal family must die. It’s for the good of our kind… for the good of Mother. Princess Roxanne’s death is a necessary evil.

Having strengthened his resolve, Rivalen opened his eyes again and let out his breath in a quiet exhale. He never expected his job to be easy. Though he had been trained to do so, he had never killed anyone before. Violence just wasn’t in his nature, so to take the lives of two innocent people—he would never include their father in that category—was going to be a challenge. He just hoped that he could give the prince and princess a swift passing when the time came, since Cedric’s were the only screams he longed to hear.

Rivalen blinked, suddenly realizing that Roxanne was waiting for him to give her his name. He dipped his head in a subtle bow and smiled again as he replied, “My name is Rivalen, My Lady. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance—” he stopped short as an unexpectedly mischievous look came over the princess’s face. She went on to give him a vicious warning about overstepping his boundaries before she returned to her previous, lighthearted demeanor and greeted him more formally.

“I swear to you, I bear no ill intent,” Rivalen pledged, resting a hand over his heart. “I am but a humble commoner from an even humbler village you’ve likely never heard of, and I’m only here to make sure that my princess is well taken care of.” His smile wavered slightly as he heard a snort from off to one side.

Alain shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “A humble villager, are you? That’s not the same speech you gave His Highness during your audition, witch-slayer.”

“It’s not any different, either,” Rivalen pointed out, turning to address the official. “I never claimed to be a person of great importance when I spoke with the king, and I don’t believe I am. I credit my talents to circumstance and dumb luck. It was only by those two factors that I came across the wizards’ secret in the first place. Apart from that, I am merely a simple peasant. The only reason I told His Highness of my successes with the wizards was so that he would be aware of my capability to protect his daughter should I need to do so.” He glanced back at Roxanne and gave her an impish wink. “However, after meeting our lovely young princess, I’m beginning to think that she won’t need my help, after all. Her Highness looks perfectly capable of holding her own against the strongest of magicians to me.” He sighed in mock despondence. “It seems the only thing I’ll be protecting her from is dust bunnies and dirty stockings.”

Mm? Hesitant?
...I wonder.

"Rivalen..." the princess repeated to herself aloud. A name that elegantly flowed off the tongue. However, perhaps a name she mightn't, despite all the attempts made by her tutors to teach her to never ask for a name twice lest it be deemed rude, remember instinctively. She repeated it to herself a couple more times to cement it into both her speech and her memory, though loud enough for the gentleman to hear her take note of it, after her curious little threat. "Rivalen, Rivalen. I pray, for your safety, that you swear true to the Lord."

Roxanne listened to what he had to say, concerning himself and his origins. Though it was only a brief introduction, it didn't strike her as particularly spectacular, or anything worth her father singling him out to be her caretaker. A humble woman from a humble village would still be just as qualified for the job as this person, Rivalen. Her gender would give her an advantage this man did not have, concerning perhaps more private matters, such as-
Her thoughts wandered to an area in which she drew blanks.
...just how am I supposed to ask, when I wish to bathe?!

Shaking her head noticeably to rid herself of the idea, reassuring herself that said hurdle would be crossed when they approached it. She looked the man in the eyes again to catch the end of his sentence, '-my princess is well taken care of.'
"I appreciate your concern." she spoke softly to the man now, being unable to hide the traces of being flattered through upturned lip corners in a tiny smile. If her tutors had ever taught her anything about common courtesies, concerning men, women, nobles and commoners, she had completely put hours and hours of teaching to waste. Never appear too eager, or too yielding. the words of a strict old woman echoed in the back of her mind. Roxanne, habitually, paid it very little heed.

Alain was next to speak, and what he said made the intrigued princess' eyes widen and eyebrow quirk. Witch-slayer? This common looking gentleman?
It was an interesting title to bestow upon a man like Rivalen. Though it seemed oddly...satisfying. As if she finally realised just why her father was doing exactly what he was doing. His paranoia over the taking of his wife's, Roxanne's mother's, life continued to resonate strongly with whom he had become. Somebody who claimed to have the ability to slay witches would be, in her father's mind, absolutely instrumental in his daughter's safety, and ideal to protect her from that very thing he grew to fear the most.

Roxanne listened attentively to each and every last word that Rivalen said to Alain, curiosity piqued after learning what this man supposedly was.
Dumb luck and circumstance.
The wizards' secret.
And, all of a sudden, Roxanne found herself very curious just to find out exactly what these circumstances were, and, more importantly, just what exactly this secret was.
Though that would have to be saved as a question for a later time. After all, if this man would be her personal attendant, there would be many a thing she would ask him about many a matter concerning him, his life, and many a thing she would potentially tell him about her and her own life on top of the affairs of the kingdom. If only as a casual adviser, than anything else.

His wink and words that followed, though they shouldn't have, sparked her own curiosity and mischief both. It was almost refreshing having somebody not quite as uptight as everyone else in the kingdom was. Humour was a scarce commodity among noblemen and noblewomen, and the slightest attempt to joke around warranted scoffs and stares. She usually had to contain herself, though thankfully, with her brother being the jester in private he was, she had been saved from the torture and had not yet gone mad. Her brother, and...him.
The thought of him made the tips of her ears go hot, and she was thankful they were hidden behind the dark curtains of her hair.

She returned a smile of her own, bringing a hand to her lips to stifle a coy chuckle. Something told her this man would be dangerous, though not so much for his fists, since he did look unarmed and quite plain, but more for his demeanor. It might, if he wasn't careful, get him into hot water with the more uptight members of the castle staff.
"Oy vey," she began, feigning a tiny gasp, "dust bunnies and dirty stockings are the absolute worst enemies a princess must deal with, mind you. I think, Rivalen, you would be noble in your ways to make very sure she never has to encounter the like, so long as she lives." she smirked.
The irony in her statement was unbeknownst to her.

"Alain." she called to the guard again, who was clicking his tongue at the misbehaviour of the young man, even gesturing from where he stood, behind the princess, that he'd behead the man if he continued to act that way.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Have you shown Rivalen his quarters yet? I...presume he will be occupying Maria's, unless other arrangements have been made."
"No, Your Highness. I have not been given direct orders by the king to make any changes."
"Ah, I see. So he is assigned to Maria's quarters."

Dong, dong, dong.
The sound of bells chimed in the distance. It was the nearby church, signalling the hour.
"Oh..." Roxanne began, looking to the guard. "Alain, what is the current hour?"
"It is approaching midday, Your Highness. The clock would have just struck eleven." he replied.
"It would be time for my afternoon classes then, it would seem." she nodded, trying to recall what had been scheduled for her on that day and at that time. Her father, despite everything that was happening, made the value of education apparent to his children. He had assigned numerous tutors to teach them through their teenage of the life of nobles, and the information about their kingdom, and others, so his children would go out into the world knowing exactly what they had to do.
He however banned the tutoring of the history and development, the uses and virtues of magic within the kingdom. It became to a point where the children had heard of the words 'witch', 'warlock' and 'wizard' and deemed them all malevolent entities by default.

Maria would have kept track and delivered the message to me, she thought to herself and her eyebrows knit in thought. When nothing came to her, she sighed and looked to both Alain and Rivalen again. "I wish to retire back to my chambers, where I pray somebody will be waiting to inform me of the tutor that will be arriving by midday. I believe it would be an appropriate time to guide Rivalen to where he will likely spend most his time in the near future."
Roxanne's decision was made. On top of that, perhaps she would have a chance to learn more about the man as they made their way to her chambers. She intended for the walk to be a languid one.

"Your Highness, allow me to escort yo-" Alain spoke up, clearing his throat.
"I think I will be fine, Alain. It is apparently this man with whom I will have to spend a lot of time in the upcoming future with. As much as it continues to feel out of place in my mind." she reassured him, eyes hardening on the man in a way to finalise her statement. "However, if you are so very worried, you may follow behind at a safe enough distance to impale him with a sword or spear should he, at any moment, forget his place."

She looked to Rivalen again, "You might just be one of the luckiest men in the world, sir. Personally attending to a woman. I pray you have made arrangements for the tasks that are more...unsuited to you, or you plan to make them. For now, however..."
She took one slow step first, and then a couple more, away from the man, before sparing the blue skies and the green grass and the stables nearby one last glance, and then turning on her heel and beginning a slow walk, back to where the doors leading into the fields were, and eventually all the way back up to her chambers.
She could only pray Rivalen followed, and that Alain did not give him much more trouble. However, the set of heavy footsteps behind her that unmistakably belonged to the guard confirmed his intentions to her. Perhaps he would spare the young man with the silver tongue, even if just in the current moment.

Rivalen was pleased to see that his comedic attempt had gone well with the princess. He knew that he had been taking a gamble by making a joke, since most of the upper class citizens of the kingdom—the royal family included—were known to be lacking in the department of humor, but the risk turned out to be worth the reward when he earned a smile from Roxanne. In that moment, he learned a number of things about Her Highness. He now knew that she was fond of tactful jesting and, from the words she spoke to him afterwards, that she had a sense of humor, herself. By that fact, he determined that she was not a completely conservative, rule-abiding young noblewoman, which would inevitably make his task of gaining her trust much simpler. Ah, if only father could see how devious he had become! He couldn’t wait to contact Morold later and tell him of his successes at the castle.

“Have no fear, My Lady,” Rivalen said in response to Roxanne’s ‘concern’ about dust bunnies. “I will see to it that she never lays eyes on a filthy room again, let alone an unwashed article of clothing.” Not that you will have to worry about such things for very long, he added silently. The morbid joke brought him back to thinking about his real assignment in the palace. At the current rate by which he was progressing with the princess, he suspected that he would find an opportunity to catch her and her family alone sooner than he expected when he first arrived. If so, then he would have to start making plans concerning their murders early on as well. The thought was slightly disconcerting. He had been hoping to wait at least a few days before he had to truly begin making preparations. A foolish expectation, he chided. The sooner this is all over with, the better.

Rivalen then noticed that Alain was making threatening gestures at him from behind Roxanne. While his jesting had been welcomed by the princess, the official was not nearly so amused. He shot Alain an apologetic look and made a mental note to be more careful about letting his humor slip in the future. He didn’t want to be expelled from the castle for an out-of-place joke, after all. Morold would surely disown him if he did anything that stupid.

As Roxanne and Alain discussed the issue of his living quarters, Rivalen again contented himself with listening in silence. He had been curious about this as well, though it wasn’t a very high priority on his list. What kind of room did the king plan to give him? Would his room be near to the princess or would he be living among the other servants? Of course, concerning his plans, it made no difference where he slept at night, but he couldn’t help but wonder where his room was going to be. According to Roxanne, he was going to be taking over the quarters of someone named Maria.

Rivalen was just beginning to ponder who this ‘Maria’ was when he was startled from his thoughts by the sound of a deep, resonating chime. He looked up to see a tower in the distance with a strange looking circle on one side. It was patterned with notches at equally-spaced intervals and two lines of different lengths that extended outward from the center. After staring at the foreign design for a moment, he realized that it was a clock: something he had only heard about from his father. Supposedly nobles used them to tell time more accurately than ‘morning,’ ‘noon,’ and ‘night’ like the commoners did, but he couldn’t see how it worked. He would have to ask someone more knowledgeable about it later, but for now the clock remained a mystery to him.

Roxanne then announced that she would be showing Rivalen to his room on her way back to her own chambers and followed up by giving him a subtle warning that he should make arrangements to take care of duties that were better suited for a woman. Without waiting for a reply, she turned around and began walking back towards the castle, leaving both her attendant and guard to follow after her.

“I told you before, My Lady,” Rivalen said, trotting up to walk beside Roxanne. “I am no lecher. I only wish to see my princess taken care of, so I will have the proper arrangements made in due time. You have nothing to worry about.” He shot her a wry grin and lowered his voice, “Although, for this relationship to work, you’re going to have to put a bit more faith in me, Your Highness. You see, I don’t appreciate being tailed by him all day.” He subtly tipped his head back towards Alain. “I don’t think he likes me very much, and I’d rather not be run through by his sword.”

"As much as I want to believe you truly are working out of the goodness of your heart, I still believe in the existence of some ulterior motive, Rivalen." the princess said, only sparing a side-glance and expectant half smile at the young man who had now joined her side. "Perhaps I will stop worrying once you've proven to me that you're trustworthy beyond a shadow of a doubt. And for that to occur, I will have to give you the opportunity, no? Until then..." she lowered her voice to match his tone, "He stays. I think you two will end up getting along delightedly."

Her sarcasm made apparent, she feigned a tiny sigh before continuing "He only will be your guide around the castle, or any other guard my father chooses to assign, until you are familiar with the different halls and chambers, and you do not end up getting hopelessly lost. After all, I do not believe this is the norm for a humble man from a humble village. Besides, I do believe you will require his assistance, at least for the first couple of days. He accompanies us now for, after I am escorted to my own quarters, I believe he will show you to the now-vacant ones of my former personal attendant: Maria."

However, there was a small period of silence between the two individuals as they walked, with the guard a few paces behind and absolutely silent despite his footfalls, through what seemed to be endless hallways lined with paintings Roxanne had seen a million times over on a million different occasions, so much that none of them even warranted a second glance from her. She was the one to break the silence, eager to know more about this stranger. Eager to know about his origins, his title and his intentions, dreams, aspirations, what have you. The best way to do just that was to ask. "Rivalen." she said, still getting accustomed to the name rolling off her tongue in that foreign way it did. "You said you were from a village I probably have not heard of, yes? You might be correct and you might not. I'd like to know its name. Perhaps, also of your origins. Perhaps more about yourself."
She paused, enough to turn a corner and just about avoid a rushing servant girl with as much grace as she could manage. It seemed that the kingdom was always animated as noon approached.

Continuing their walk at a slightly brisker pace now, she looked up at the man without so much as tilting her head. That much she had at least learnt from her tutors: The art of silently, subtly scanning and judging someone as to not let them know you were practically eyeballing them.
One last time she took him in, from dark locks to his waist and the attire he donned, and then up again. He most certainly did not look like the witch-slayer Alain had called him.
"And pray tell, why do they dub thee, such a simple man, the title of 'witch-slayer'? I must say, I am most definitely intrigued."

They were cut off yet again by another person who looked to be needing to get somewhere, though in a stiffer, more composed manner, and Roxanne immediately recognised the youth. "Brandon!"

"Hello, sister." he began, stopping to say his hellos.
The guard behind the two offered a slight bow, "Your Highness."

Returning his gaze to his sister, her brother appeared visibly surprised when his eyes fell on the youth who stood by her side. He grew visibly tense and growled under his breath, in a manner so subtle, but threatening all the same. "Roxanne, who is this man, and why has he been let into the castle? What business does he have here?"
Saying this, he stood a little taller himself, subconsciously intimidating to this man as the protective instincts kicked in. Brandon stood at about the same height, and shared his sister's dark hair and green eyes. They both had the dark hair of their father, but the green eyes did not belong to Cedric. The king had light brown orbs; his wife possessed the children's shared olive green. The same eyes that sharply raked this man into his memory, as opposed to his sister's subtle scans.
"You. State your name and your business."

His sister tugged at his arm gently, trying to convince him it was of no issue, though the words she spoke felt bizarre to him, and continued to feel foreign to her at best. "He is the...err. New personal attendant father has assigned to care for me."

"...what."
"It's true, brother."
"Has he gone mad?"
"I don't know. Have you asked him if he has?"
"I will when I see him. In fact, I was just heading to the court to attend to some matters. It would appear there is trouble on one of our borders."
"Oh, God. Not another magical attack, I pray?"
"I do not know the specifics, but I would assume so."
He clicked his tongue in disgust, spitting the following words like venom, "Filthy wizards. Filthy witches. If I was able, I would kill them with my own two hands. Especially for...what they did, to mother."
"...Brandon..."

She stroked his upper arm a little to soothe the young man, whose attentions were quickly returned to Rivalen. In his eyes, the extinguished fire was replaced with a kind of defeated sadness, "In times like this, it would appear we are in heavy requirement of trustworthy assistants. I do not know what you plan to do with my sister, but I pray you attend to her well. You will be up against my wrath if you so much as glance at her the wrong way."

Roxanne shrugged off the thought, returning once again to Rivalen's side. Taking one final look at the two of them side by side, the raven haired youth cracked a smile of his own, "Oh, Frederick most certainly will not be pleased, princess."
"Stop it!" Roxanne pleaded in a squeak-like voice, the tips of her ears going hot again. Every time he was mentioned, her heart would want to leap out of her chest. Her brother knew it just as well as she. He was a Duke whom the princess had grown quite fond of, though this knowledge was yet to be revealed to her father.

Alain stood forward, composed as ever, occupying the prince for any given details about this attack at the border. If the man was one thing, it was genuinely concerned for the safety of the ruling family. The prince had to fill him in, and when his knowledge drew blanks, he gazed between the duo and Alain before sighing heavily, defeated, and continuing, "I believe these two should be able to make the rest of the journey to...uh. Where were you two going?"
"My chambers, brother. Tutoring begins at midday."
"Oh yes, I had forgotten." Being older by four years and having as much information as the king could possibly manage crammed into his son, Brandon spent his days making decisions and arrangements with his father in court. It seemed like an eternity to him since he had last taken a class two and a half years ago.

"Then I take my leave of you two. Alain, if you would?"
"Yes, Your Highness." the guard shot a glance back at Rivalen before continuing to head in the opposite direction with the prince. Roxanne could tell by the worry her brother tried to contain that the situation might have been worse than she had imagined.
She couldn't imagine it, however. So she let it go. She had no idea which border it was, either. Perhaps it was best she didn't know.

"Shall we continue, Rivalen? By the Lord, if you had wished for something else, you could have been a rich man..." she sighed softly before smiling at the direction in which her brother and Alain headed. The gentleman's wish was granted, by pure circumstance. And that particular phrase was something her brother had told her that her mother had said to him a lot, when he had wished for something simple and that very thing had happened.

Perhaps if you had wished for something else, something better, it also would have come true, my son.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to learn to put up with him until I earn your trust,” Rivalen sighed. Suspicion and more suspicion; it seemed that he would always be beneath someone’s watchful gaze. If only the king had been seeking an attendant for his son, then he wouldn’t have had to worry about being scrutinized for signs of perversion by every person in the castle. But, as the situation stood, he was Roxanne’s personal attendant and he was going to be monitored because of it. He would just have to be extra cautious whenever he used his magic beneath the roof of the palace.

After a brief moment of silence, the princess addressed him again and began inquiring about his background, leading him to wonder what he should tell her. He had already started inventing a false past for himself when he spoke with the king earlier that day, but he didn’t want to make up too much otherwise it would be difficult for him to keep his stories straight. Keeping that thought in mind, he decided that it would be best to stay true to the majority of his memories and only fabricate the areas concerning magic—and his imaginary wizard friend, of course.

“I still believe you won’t know the name of my home village,” Rivalen said adamantly. “But I’ll tell it to you anyways: I come from a small settlement on the east side of the kingdom called Oldpine. It is quite humble with a population of only thirty people at the most and, as far as I know, nothing important has every happened there apart from a few witches and wizards being captured.” My mother included, he added to himself with a stab of longing. “Overall, though, there isn’t much to say about the village, and that’s why I doubt you would have known about it.

“Now, you also wanted to know about me?” Rivalen glanced down at Roxanne and caught sight of her subtly looking him over from the corner of her eye. He turned his gaze away and wondered what she hoped to learn by doing that. His clothes were like that of any other peasant in the kingdom and he carried nothing of importance—at least, he had cast an enchantment over his valuables so that they looked like nothing of importance. From what he could tell, there wasn’t much the princess could glean from his appearance alone, so he left her to her fruitless examination and went on speaking, “My mother passed away when I was young and I have no siblings, so my father is the only living family I have. I don’t want to give you my entire life’s story in the same day we met, so for now, that’s all the information I’m going to give you about myself.” He smirked slyly.

When Roxanne asked why he was called ‘witch-slayer,’ Rivalen scoffed, “Actually, today is the first time anyone has referred to me by a title that presumptuous. As I told you before, I only see myself as a common man who happened to be at the right place at the right time. Yes, I have killed three wizards, but no, I am not some all-powerful witch-slayer, as your father chose to put it…” He fell silent as his eyes rested on a young man rounding the corner ahead of them. There had been many people passing by as they walked to Roxanne’s chambers, but this one seemed different from the others. He carried himself in a more businesslike manner and wore clothes that looked much too expensive for the likes of any servant boy. Rivalen watched him with interest. Could he be…?

“Brandon!” Roxanne called out, confirming his suspicions. The young man was indeed the crowned prince, the son of King Cedric. He was also Rivalen’s third and final target. The warlock took a step back as the two siblings began speaking with one another, hoping that they might not mention him, but still it didn’t take long before Brandon directed the conversation towards his sister’s new personal attendant. Rivalen groaned inwardly. He had had enough attention for one day, especially since everyone who laid eyes on him seemed to think he was some sort of a lecher or other lowly type of human being. At this point he had almost given up hope that he could convince them otherwise, so even when the prince began challenging his presence in the castle, he didn’t bother to defend himself in the slightest.

Let him doubt, Rivalen thought bitterly. I have his father’s blessing, anyways.

Fortunately, however, the siblings’ conversation was steered back towards kingdom affairs and Rivalen was spared from the annoying task of refuting accusations of ulterior motives. He was glad about that, but they also mentioned something that piqued his interest: supposedly there had been magical attacks on one of Miroin’s borders. He turned away, concealing a smile by pretending to admire one of the paintings on the wall. His father must have been making a move to distract Cedric from keeping wizards out of his own estate, thus making Rivalen’s job to get in much easier. He would have to remember to thank Morold for that later.

Rivalen’s good humor fled at Brandon’s final words, however. Filthy wizards? His kind did nothing to warrant such hateful words! It was the king who drove them to violence, not their own nature. Granted, there were some wizards with a tendency to do wrong, but the same could be said about normal humans. The hypocrites! They had no right to look down upon those who were born with magic just because one person used his gifts for evil. He bit his tongue to keep from snapping these words at the prince. Forcing himself to remain calm, he took a shaky breath and reminded himself that soon it wouldn’t matter what the royal family thought. Morold was going to be king and wizards would be free once again. It was only a matter of time.

Rivalen was just about to decide that he disliked Roxanne’s brother when the prince said something that caught him off-guard. There was still a threat attached to the end, but Brandon had essentially given him his approval to take care of the princess. Rivalen blinked in surprise, “I will tend to Her Highness to the best of my ability, My Liege.” He bowed to the prince, though he found the gesture to be much more difficult than when he did the same for Roxanne. Brandon might have earned a few points back for putting his trust in him, but Rivalen still didn’t forgive him for his comment about ‘filthy wizards.’

The prince went on to tease his sister about someone named Frederick—Rivalen wondered who this man was that could make Roxanne’s cheeks turn rosy at just the mention of his name—before he took his leave, bringing Alain with him (God bless!) so that the princess and her attendant were left alone in the corridor.

“We shall,” Rivalen nodded when Roxanne asked if they should continue. He allowed her to take the lead as they started walking again, “I’ve spoken a fair bit about myself, so I think it is only fitting that you tell me something about yourself now, My Lady.” He grinned at her in a friendly manner. “I’d like to learn a little more about the lovely young princess whom I’ll soon be attending.”

"It may be as you say." the princess mumbled to herself with knit brows. "I do not believe I've heard of an Oldpine before. As it stands, the significance of capturing a few wizards and witches is not very much to be boasted, especially when my father had his guards sweep the surrounding lands and settlements and wiped them out in droves from particular areas."
She couldn't help but clear her throat with a triumphant, almost proud lilt in her voice as she continued to speak, "Thirty people? I don't believe there are any less than that number within the walls of this castle alone."

When her observation did indeed yield no results, she shrugged her shoulders in disappointment, though lent Rivalen her ear, curious indeed as to the story this man had behind him. What she heard saddened her, and she found her gaze focused hard on the floor ahead of her, anywhere to avoid the man's undoubtably sullen expression at bringing up the topic. It took her a few seconds to muster up the words, "I extend my condolences to you for your mother." before she turned to look at him again. His sly smile in place of the expression she had expected made her all but flinch. Commoners definitely are hardier than any noble I've ever met.
She recalled an incident long ago where someone grew borderline hysteric over her innocent overlooking of, or not paying enough attention to, the death of someone important in their extended family. Though she was young, and didn't know. The memory made her shudder.

Her eyes widened at the man's words, and she couldn't help but blurt out "I thought it was a pretentious title, myself. But killing three wizards by only your two hands? God be praised, that is remarkable, Rivalen! And each time, I assume they must have been ridiculously powerful, and you stood no match save..." she spoke the next words softly, with a hint of disbelief, "Being in the right place, at the right time."

She would have egged him on to tell her more, tell her all about it, when her brother popped around and the brief conversation passed swiftly. In the end, she was left with one less guard and her personal attendant himself. Though it would be like this, him with her alone, more often than not in the upcoming days, or weeks or even more than that, depending on when her father would realise just what he'd done, it still made her nervous. But of course, being in the vicinity of a formerly unknown man, a former absolute stranger whom she had never heard about, was always going to feel a little bit off.
He wouldn't be a stranger for long, though, despite the little about himself he chose to share with her. She could respect that. Perhaps being interreogated as soon as being met with all the grandeur of such a situation, such a life, would prove to be jarring.
Perhaps she may grow to enjoy his company after all. He hadn't tried anything particularly funny just yet...and if he was going to be her personal attendant, he'd have to see her at her best and her worst, naturally.

"Myself, is it?" she let out a tired sigh, as if the very idea of the task of talking about herself would wear her out. It was definitely more dramatic than not though, and as they turned one more corner and, faced with a flight of steps, she stopped mid-corridor. It was quieter here, as they approached the princess's empty chambers that lay at the top of the stairs and a couple of paces after ascending them, as most of the servants were down making preparations for the afternoon meals, or teas, or going about cleaning the hallways closest to the castle entrance. The area in which they stood was circular and wide, and the stairs curved as they climbed onto the floor above them. She hung at the bannister, back to the wall, and studied him one last time before smirking and putting on a particularly uppity voice, exaggerated and mocking of any other royal, "Princess Roxanne, of the kingdom Miroin. My pastimes include enjoying hearty breakfasts upon waking, shirking my share of royal duties and actively hating magic, magic-users, and anything that has to do with therein."

She paused, "Truly, I personally wonder why witches and wizards are how they are. I do not believe I've ever met any before. However, as you may know, the Queen, my mother, is no more, herself. Her life was taken by a magic user when I was fairly young."
The memory brought her longing, and not so much pain. She was too young to remember when her mother's life was extinguished, but the sorrow she grew up with not having a permanent motherly figure and, in its stead, being gifted an increasingly paranoid father bit at her. "...the loss of my mother has left my father beyond hatred for magic. He absolutely despises it. Whenever we are visited by foreign officials, they particularly seem surprised when we are forced to mention that we are indeed not intending on using magic to better our kingdom's stance. I wonder if they look down on us. Call it something queer."

The fleeting thought was replaced quickly. She did not want this man to see her weaknesses through this early on. "I believe I also forgot to mention, if you had not confirmed it till now. My love for the outdoors is overwhelming. In fact, not particularly the outdoors, but being out on grassy fields, on horseback..." she smiled at the thought in a way that made her face glow, radiating warmth and sincere affection, "It is absolutely surreal. I feel free, and happy, when I am lucky enough to indulge myself in such things. In contrast, my second love would be literature. Reading and understanding books and scriptures that talk about our pasts, our presents, perhaps even our futures. I wish I could read all the written documents of the world."

Her smile faded, into a sorrowful one now as she looked up at Rivalen with melancholy green eyes, and then up the stairs before them, finally leaving where she stood at the bannister to gather her skirts and continue on, to climb them. "...however, those things are not particularly easy to continue doing, for my father has been seeking suitors and wishes to have me married into a household we may strengthen Miroin's standing through."

For a moment, Rivalen feared that he had overstepped a boundary with Roxanne when she sighed at his request to tell him about herself. His worry was short-lived though, because soon the princess had stopped walking and began to give him an answer. He leaned back against the opposite banister, taking in every word she spoke. His motives for doing so were not as innocent as he would have the princess to believe, but he still wanted to learn as much about her as he could. Perhaps she might even tell him something that he could use against Cedric later on. If only he was so lucky.

However, Roxanne’s first words didn’t sit well with him. Rivalen felt a familiar stab of frustration when she spoke of hating witches and wizards in such a lighthearted manner. It seemed that everyone in the royal family shared in the ignorant belief that all magic users were rotten to the core. If only they knew! He almost wished that he could tell the princess what he really was so he could prove to her that not all wizards were the heartless killers she imagined them to be… But, then again, he wasn’t the best example of a ‘good’ warlock, either. The entire reason he had even chosen to become her personal attendant was so that he could get close enough to the royal family to inevitably take their lives. It wasn’t exactly the most convincing argument to persuade her that he wasn’t just another bloodthirsty brute. So, he swallowed his anger and forced himself to simply nod at Roxanne’s words—he also had to keep up the part of a ‘witch-slayer,’ after all.

When the princess brought up her deceased mother, Rivalen wasn’t surprised. It was common knowledge that the late queen had been killed by a magic user and was the reason why Cedric began exterminating all of the witches and wizards in his kingdom. What did catch him unawares was the brief pang of sympathy he felt for Roxanne. The death of his own mother he left him traumatized for years during his childhood. Since then, he had learned to channel his grief into hatred for the king, but he still felt an occasional hollowness from the loss. He supposed he knew better than anyone what the princess was going through.

But that doesn’t mean I can empathize, Rivalen reminded himself. Even if he shared a similar history with Roxanne, he couldn’t let himself get too close to her. It was already going to be difficult enough to kill her; he didn’t need to make the task any more challenging by adding emotional ties into the mix. So, when the princess moved past the story of her mother and went on to describe her passion for the outdoors, he was relieved.

Rivalen watched her features light up with an infectious smile as she described her affection for horseback riding before she sank back into a sullen melancholy when telling of her father’s intentions to marry her off to a suitor. He nodded in understanding since he knew firsthand just how stifling one’s duties could be. His mission in the castle was particularly so. He was forced to suppress his own morality in order to lie and manipulate everyone so that he could ultimately murder three people. Even though it was for a good cause—the freedom of magic and vengeance for his mother—he wasn’t fond of the process.

But he chose not to dwell on that now. Instead, Rivalen copied Roxanne’s earlier sideways glance, looking at the princess discreetly from the corner of his eye as he considered what she said about her father’s desire to marry her off. In all honesty, she was a striking young woman, one whom many a suitor would be eager to court. He imagined it wouldn’t take long before one of them won her hand in matrimony—if she lived long enough, that is—but she didn’t look happy about the thought. Rivalen supposed he could understand. Once she was engaged to some wealthy prince, she would likely be unable to continue her personal hobbies. He didn’t know much about traditions between married nobles, but he suspected that Roxanne wouldn’t have very many freedoms after she was married, either.

“It is true that you may not be able to do those things forever,” Rivalen admitted as they continued to climb the staircase. “But you do have them now, so I would suggest you hold on to them for as long as you can.” He paused for a moment and then laughed. “I suppose that must sound obvious to you right now, doesn’t it? What I meant to say was that from what you told me, it seems like your life will only get busier from here, what with all of the visiting suitors and an inevitable marriage, so you should hold on to the moments you get to yourself now without ruining them with worries of the future.” He glanced sheepishly at Roxanne. “Was that alright? I know I’m not much of an advisor, but I promise I am trying my best…” He blinked, suddenly realizing he had been so focused on trying to console the princess that he had forgotten to use proper titles. “…My Lady.”

"Mm?" Roxanne, mid-ascent, was surprised to hear the man at her side speak. She had expected him to remain quiet, and let her wallow in her despair for at least until he knew her better. After all, he was a man, and by nature she had expected him to be practical and limit all his interactions, wherever unnecessary, to lighthearted jest that would keep the atmosphere between the two bright. She most certainly did not expect to hear him comment on her own explanation of her plight.
Though when she heard his first words, it seemed like he was just repeating to her the inevitability of her situation, in a way that made her roll her eyes, subtly as ever. Admitting her situation wasn't the hardest thing she had done. It was approaching it. The world could say "I know" to her concerning her situation and that would not help her grief in the slightest. In fact, it would only aggravate it.

His following words surprised her further. When she had expected him to stop, and only blankly state her situation to her, he continued. And he continued with actual advice.
Hold onto them as long as I can...?
His laugh was refreshing, and she found herself at ease immediately, and with the duo reaching the top of the stairs and her panting softly for breath (she never did get fully accustomed to running up and down them everyday), it was a welcome feeling. It made her hold her head a little higher in her continuing her walk, "Oh, I've heard it said to me a million times over."
The words that followed were, admittedly, pretty motivating. To enjoy what she could in the present.
Perhaps she had been doing the opposite. Spending too many days worrying about what the future may hold and not enough days doing just what she loved: Visiting the archives and reading, reading about everything she loved, from medicine to past wars and ancient cultures and traditions, to the taming and domestication of different animals, to the different types of food in the world documented.
Perhaps it had left her sulking longer than she should have been.

"Rivalen..." she started, approaching the large, ornate double-doors that led into her personal chambers. She turned the handle on one of them gingerly, pushing it open and hanging in the doorframe, gazing up at the man with a tiny laugh of her own and a respectful look about her eyes. And in that moment, she did realise that perhaps he did mean the best for her after all. Maybe one piece of consolation was not going to make him a saint in her eyes, but it was definitely a better place to start than nowhere to show her that he perhaps genuinely did care.
The case could be, however, that he still was using that silver tongue of his to gain her trust before daring to be daring with her when in her chambers with her, in private, over the ruse of some simple task as serving her breakfast.
Worry less.
Though, taking his words properly to heart for the first time since she met the man, and trying to look past the silver tongue he possessed, she accepted them.
And she respected him greatly for the effort he made, too. Her emotions manifested in the smile she gave him. Pleased, and for once, lacking doubts about him.
"Rivalen, that was wonderful. I thank you very much for your efforts. I...perhaps I will try that. To worry less about what's to come, and instead, hold onto these fleeting moments I have now. Thank you, very much."
She paused herself, gaze moving from the gentleman to the interior of her room. She still had to prepare for her afternoon classes, which would take about two hours, at the very least. And then it would immediately be time for the next meal of the day, the last one before supper, the grandest of the meals and served usually for all three of the family together with entertainment, in the evening as the clock would chime 7.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave of you, after all, Rivalen." she bit her lip. There was something she'd wanted to say, but she let it slide, even if just for the moment. "I believe, as my new personal attendant, the first task I assign to you will be an easy one. I will be finished with these classes in about two hours. And when I am finished, it will be time for dinner. At..." she thought for just a moment, "Two on the clock."
Little did she know that commoners were not familiar with the system of a clock and of timekeeping beyond morning, noon and night. Blissfully ignorantly, she automatically assumed that the entire world knew how a clock worked. The church most certainly did, and that was enough to convince her that by default everyone else did too.
"I would appreciate my meal brought to my room then. Thank you."

She stood tall and gave the man a dismissive nod, preparing to disappear into the room behind her. Through the crack of the door, plenty could be seen already. It was a room definitely fit for a princess with fineries lining nearly every square inch of the walls, and the floors. The bed was massive, and the ceilings high. There were wardrobes and a large desk piled with books, some of which had spines that almost fell apart with wear and tear. Books that were very old, and presumably the princess' own reading material sneaked in from the archives.

"It has been a pleasure, Rivalen." she stopped, smiling to herself as she stared blankly into the room. At the bed, at the desk, anywhere to avert her gaze from his eyes.
He was young, and handsome of his own accord, which only made the situation more difficult. Perhaps if he was just a boy, it would have been so much easier.
Though it could have been worse: It could have been a lecherous old man who had come to snap up the position, and her father had hired just because he claimed he had 'killed three wizards'.
She breathed a subtle sigh of relief, thanking the Lord in that very moment.

The thought that she would grow quite close to this man, by necessity if nothing else, over the next while was a thought that resurfaced and made her insides tingle with an unfamiliar feeling. Was it coyness? Was it embarrassment? Was it an innate modesty, that finally spoke up against such an obvious taboo?

"I hope to see you when I am finished."
She paused again.
"Perhaps you are not as...bad as I had previously written you to mind to be. Perhaps this relationship might actually work. Perhaps you are not the lecher I had initially taken you for. However, it only has been brief. I cannot place my full trust in you yet, of course. The truth will be as the truth will be. If your intentions are pure, I shall see it. And if your intentions are not, I shall see it. Unfortunately, for the latter, it may be a little too late."
Her thoughts drifted to all the possible dangerous scenarios and she shook her head to rid herself of them.
"Until then, Rivalen. The castle is yours to explore. If you so choose to set down your few belongings, you may find a guard - they will be dressed as Alain was - to guide you to the personal attendant's quarters. Maria's quarters."
And with one last dismissive nod, and an "I bid you farewell, if only for the moment.", she disappeared behind the door, letting it click in place behind her in her absence.

Pleased that Roxanne had appreciated his meager advice, Rivalen lowered his head in a polite bow, “I’m glad I could be of service to you, Your Highness.” And in a way, he truly was glad. His father’s approval had always been hard to come by, and instead the man was always pointing out ways that his son could improve. Rivalen knew he meant well, but it still would have been nice to hear a ‘good job’ every once in a while. So, even though he knew it shouldn’t have, Roxanne’s praise made his chest swell with pride. He was almost disappointed when she announced that they had to part ways.

…Almost.

Even though he appreciated the princess’s laudatory words, Rivalen knew he wasn’t here to win her approval. He had more important things to do; things that he couldn’t do as long as she was around. So, as much as he enjoyed feeling useful, it was for the best that they let each other alone for a while. The only problem was figuring out when they were to meet again. He had no idea what ‘two on the clock’ meant but, not wanting to seem like an ignorant peasant, he wasn’t about to ask for a definition. Instead, he nodded along as if he knew exactly what the princess was talking about and prayed that he would be able to find someone who could give him a proper explanation later.

“It has been a pleasure for you, My Lady, but it has been an honor for me,” Rivalen said, smiling again as he met Roxanne’s gaze. When he did this, however, he noticed her look away, averting her eyes by examining the interior of her room through a crack in the door. He blinked in confusion. Had he done something to offend her already? Slightly anxious now, he looked away from the princess as well and followed her gaze to the open door, but as it turned out, this did nothing to lessen his unease.

Rivalen’s heart skipped with a different kind of nervousness as his eyes fell on Roxanne’s room. Until this point, he had been so concerned with getting into the castle that he hadn’t felt the full weight of the responsibility he had chosen to take on. Now, looking into the princess’s bedroom, it was all suddenly very real. He was her personal assistant, which meant that he would be tending to her personal needs. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. He had never even stepped foot in a woman’s chambers before. Morold had always disapproved whenever he showed interest in any of the girls in the village, and they were constantly on the run from knights, so Rivalen never had a chance to try getting into a relationship with someone. That and his mother’s early passing left him with little to no knowledge about women, and now he was supposed to wait on one hand and foot. Even though it was only an act, he couldn’t banish the slight flutter in the pit of his stomach.

Rivalen forced himself to put the thought aside though as Roxanne began to speak again. He replaced his anxious expression with one of casual interest, hoping that the princess hadn’t noticed his momentary discomfort. “I must admit, you are not what I was anticipating either, Your Highness,” he said. “Before I met you, I had thought you would be a spoiled brat, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and expecting the entirety of the kingdom to bow to your wishes.” He let out a curt laugh, shaking his head as if embarrassed by his own assumption. “I’m pleased to say that you’ve far exceeded my expectations, My Lady. I’ll return with your dinner at, as you say, two on the clock. Until then,” He bowed one last time and turned to walk back down the staircase, leaving the princess to retire to her chambers alone.

Now that he had some time to himself, Rivalen decided that the first thing he was going to do was find this room he had been assigned to. He descended the stairs and walked down the corridor, his dark eyes roving over the people that passed by as he searched for someone dressed like Alain had been, someone who could direct him to his room. The castle was still bustling with activity, but it didn’t take long before he spotted one such man standing at a corner up ahead.

“Excuse me,” Rivalen called as he approached the official. He waited for the man to turn towards him before he went on, “I was hoping you could give me directions, sir, to the chambers that formerly belonged to someone named Maria.”

The official stared at him confusedly, “Maria’s chambers? What on earth do you need from there?”

“Well,” Rivalen said slowly, bracing himself for the inevitable scrutiny that would follow his next words. “I have been assigned to live there for the duration of my stay in the castle.”

The official’s bemused expression, as expected, transformed into one of concern, “But that would mean you’re—”

“Yes,” Rivalen interrupted impatiently. “I am Princess Roxanne’s new personal assistant, and no, I am not a debaucher who is only here to satisfy some indecent urge. Now that that’s cleared up, would you please be so kind as to direct me to my room?”

“Err, yes,” the official nodded, seeming eager to put the subject behind them at Rivalen’s sharp tone. “Maria’s chambers are this way.” He turned and began walking down the corridor towards another short flight of stairs that led down to the floor below. Rivalen followed behind him, doing his best to memorize the route between his new room and Roxanne’s quarters. He would of course have to learn the layout of the palace eventually, but he had a feeling that he would be using these particular hallways much more frequently as he served the princess.

At the bottom of the staircase, the official led him to a room that he noted was two doors down on the right hand side of the corridor. He also noted that it was close enough to Roxanne’s chambers that he would be able to reach her quickly if she needed anything, but far enough away that he could give the princess some privacy as well—quite a fitting location for a personal attendant. He only wondered what it looked like on the inside.

Rivalen turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping into the room. He walked around the edges as he examined his temporary, new home. From what he could see, his chambers were much simpler than Roxanne’s. The living space was small and furnished only with a bed in one corner and a wooden desk in another. A thin, empty dresser stood alone at the back of the room. The walls were bare as well apart from a single window across from the door that provided a clear view of the clock tower outside. He guessed that was done intentionally so the princess’s personal attendant would be able to serve her more punctually, but the lines on the round face still meant nothing to him. He wondered if the official whom had brought him to the room could tell him how the strange device worked.

Rivalen turned to ask, but the other man spoke first, holding out his hand, “Give me your bag.”

“Pardon?” Rivalen knit his brow in confusion.

“I need to search your belongings before you move in to the room,” the official explained curtly. “It’s nothing personal. The King only wishes to ensure that no wizards slip into his castle, so we guards are required to search any and all newcomers for items of magic.” He nodded at Rivalen’s pack, “Your bag, please.”

Rivalen eyed him for a moment before shrugging the pack off of his shoulders, “I suppose that’s understandable.” He was thankful now that he had already taken the steps to disguise his belongings with an enchantment before he had arrived at the palace. As they were now, the official would only see his spell books and magic artifacts as plain reading material and candle sticks. He held it out for the guard to take, “Go through all of it, if you’d like. I have nothing to hide.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the official smirked. “I’ll be thorough.”

As the man went through his belongings, Rivalen went on to look at his new room more closely. He enjoyed its simplicity, but he also knew that the lack of elaborate furnishings would make it more difficult to hide his books and artifacts. He could only keep up the enchantment for so long—about two more days at most—before he ran out of the energy he needed to sustain it. So, if he wanted to avoid getting burned at the stake, he would have to find a more permanent place to keep his magic items hidden.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, Rivalen heard a loud creak from the floorboard he was stepping on. He looked down at his feet and then froze, eyes wide as another idea came to him, I wonder…

“You look like you’ve never heard a squeaky floorboard before,” the official spoke up from the other side of the room, looking at Rivalen with his lips pursed in amusement. “Also, I’ve finished searching your bag and, fortunately for you, I found nothing suspicious.” He handed Rivalen his pack. “Enjoy your stay in the castle.” With that, the official exited the room and left Rivalen by himself.

“Oh, I will,” the warlock smiled to himself and closed the bedroom door. Now that he was alone, he could finally complete the first item on his to-do list. He crossed over to his bed and dropped his bag on the mattress, opening the top and rummaging through his things. After a moment, he retrieved a thin, handwritten spell book, a small mirror, and a candlestick, all of which he carried over to the desk in the other corner of the room. He sat down in the wooden chair and began thumbing through the pages of his book. Before he left Oldpine, he had written down a number of spells that Morold had taught him since he didn’t have them all memorized. Now, that notebook was proving to be quite useful, because after a bit of skimming, he found the spell he was looking for.

Rivalen picked up the candle again and fixed his gaze on the tip, his eyes taking on a subtle, golden glow as he focused his magic on the first spell, “Sebud o heli.” It was a simple spell, one that every wizard learned when he could first tap into his powers, and one that Rivalen knew by heart.

In the next instant, the candle flickered to life, a small flame dancing on the tip of the wax. Rivalen watched it proudly. The freedom to use magic again felt immeasurably satisfying. Setting the open spell book down on the desk, he picked up the mirror in his other hand, waving the lit candle in front of its glass surface as he recited the second spell from the book, “Anim o bodivoi’ da ask nemi.” He waited as the image in the mirror became warped for a moment before it cleared up again. The face it reflected now, however, didn’t belong to him.

“I see you’ve made it successfully into the castle,” Morold said.

“Of course, Father,” Rivalen nodded.

“Well, don’t spare me any details,” Morold said with a hint of impatience. “How did you get in? What position did you take in the castle? I hope you chose a role that will keep you close to Cedric and his spawn.”

“You could say that,” Rivalen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’ve been assigned to be the princess’s personal attendant.”

Morold blinked at him in surprise through the mirror, “I must say, Rivalen, that is impressive. How did you manage to win such a trusted position?”

“I may have told Cedric that I know how to kill wizards,” Rivalen shrugged. “He believes I know of some grand, secret weakness in our kind that I’ve used to hunt them before.”

“Hm,” Morold grunted, nodding thoughtfully. “That was a risky move, Rivalen. It may have gotten you a high position in the castle now, but you won’t last long. Cedric will want to see proof of your capability to fight magic, and even if he continues to believe you can do so, he will try to pry this ‘secret weakness’ out of you so that he can use it for his own benefit. As soon as he finds out you’ve lied to him, he may very well have you hanged for treason.”

“That’s assuming he lives long enough to find out,” Rivalen objected. He didn’t want to think about what could happen if the king realized he was bluffing. Just the thought of it made him shudder. “Right now, the only thing I need to worry about is giving him proof of my capabilities, right? I’m sure we could stage a fight that will convince Cedric I’m not a fake—at least, one to convince him long enough that I can take his life before he suspects otherwise.”

Morold thought for a moment, “I suppose I could arrange something, but it will take time. The act needs to be flawless or Cedric will see right through it, and he will kill you for tricking him.”

“I know, Father,” Rivalen grimaced.

“Until I finish making the preparations, just try to keep your head down and don’t give Cedric a reason to question you, understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. Contact me again in two days to update me of your progress. Meanwhile, I will get started on the preparations for your fight. Goodbye, Rivalen.”

“Goodbye, Father,” Rivalen bowed his head and waved the candle in front of the mirror’s surface once more, his eyes taking on their golden hue as he tapped into his magic. “Rios dui bodivoi’.” The glass warped again, this time showing Rivalen’s own reflection when it cleared. He sighed and blew out the candle, setting it down on the desk and stowing his mirror in the top drawer. When that was done, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the clock tower through the window. Keep my head down, huh? The best way to do that, he supposed, was to simply play the role of a servant, working diligently and satisfying the princess’s every need. It wouldn’t be too difficult… if only he could figure out how to read that cursed clock so he could complete his very first task as her personal attendant!

A sudden knock on the door made him jump. Silently scolding himself for letting his guard down, Rivalen took a slow breath to calm down before he got up from the desk chair and walked over to open the door. Standing outside his room was a young servant girl—she couldn’t have been more than fourteen—who stared up at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. She dropped forward in a deep bow, speaking quickly, “My apologies, sir! I believe I have the wrong room. I was looking for Her Highness’s new attendant. Do forgive the intrusion.”

“You have the right room,” Rivalen said as the girl turned to hurry away. “I am the princess’s attendant. What do you need?”

The girl shook her head in disbelief, “Please, you don’t have to lie to me, sir. I’m very sorry for bothering you. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not lying,” Rivalen frowned and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I was appointed by King Cedric earlier today. Now, tell me what you need, would you?”

The servant girl gaped at him for a moment before she seemed to find her words, “I apologize, sir. I was expecting… err, I was expecting a woman.” She paused again, knitting her brow as if she had forgotten what she wanted to say, and then went on, “I came to tell you that Her Highness’s dinner will be ready soon. The cooks are nearly done preparing it in the kitchen. I assume you already know that you are to deliver it to her chambers?”

“I do,” Rivalen nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock tower in the window as another thought came to him. “Say, can you read the time on that?” He pointed at the clock and smiled sheepishly at the girl. “I’m afraid I can’t make out the meaning of those symbols.”

“Of course,” the girl chuckled softly and stepped forward to enter the room, but then she stopped, shifting her weight uncertainly. “Um, do you mind if…”

“You can come in,” Rivalen laughed and walked to the back of the room, resting his arms on the bottom sill of the window as he stared out at the clock tower. “So, what does it say?”

“Right now it’s almost twenty ‘til two,” the girl said, stepping over to join him at the window. “Do you see those twelve lines that make a circle around the outside of the clock? They represent the twenty-four hours of the day, but each number is accounted for twice. The twelfth hour is on the top and the sixth hour is on the bottom. The rest of the hours are spaced between them like this,” she traced a clockwise circle on the window with her finger, pausing at different intervals as she counted off numbers from one to twelve. “Now do you see the two lines in the middle of the clock that point at the lines on the outside? They’re called ‘hands.’ The short one represents hours and the long one represents minutes, which are shorter lengths of time in each hour.” She stopped when she noticed the puzzled look on Rivalen’s face. “Err, I’ll tell you about minutes another time. Most time is kept according to the hour in the castle anyways, so just look at the line that the short hand points to and you should be fine for now.”

“Okay,” Rivalen said slowly. The concept of keeping time was still abstract to him, but he felt like he was at least starting to understand how the clock worked. As long as he could remember which lines represented what hours, he would be fine. He turned back to the servant girl, “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome,” the girl smiled. “If you ever need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Rivalen thought for a moment. “Actually, there is one more thing you could do for me.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know how to get to the kitchen from here? Since I’ve only been in the castle for less than a day, I don’t know my way around yet.”

“Of course,” the girl nodded and gestured for him to follow her. “It’s right this way.”

--

With the servant girl’s help, Rivalen managed to find the palace kitchen and pick up Roxanne’s dinner. It was a challenge to carry everything through the bustling hallways without spilling anything—he was almost tempted to use magic to make the platter float above the crowds—but luckily he was able to make it up the stairs without dropping any plates or glasses. He adjusted his hold on the platter when he reached the princess’s room, balancing it in one hand so he could knock on her door with the other as he called, “Your Highness? I’ve brought your dinner.”

The princess was left alone to her thoughts as she glided over to her desk, books strewn across its surface and some even in piles on the floor around it, and began to sort through them to try and jog her memory. She couldn't help but splutter as she repeated Rivalen's words to herself under her breath, "Spoiled brat?! Lord, that one is definitely a strange one. Or...is that really what the common people perceive us as?"
She lingered on the thought. Nobody before Rivalen had had the guts to own up to such a thought to her personally before, even if it had crossed their minds. They were all meek, the personal attendants she had before. Even the individuals stationed as guards and people of service throughout the castle wouldn't so much as dare to say such a thing to any of the royals. It might very well mean they would lose the tongue with which they said it.

Pushing one particularly worn book aside, Roxanne happened upon one of the books that looked as if she had written in them herself recently, and turned the cover over to look inside. Sentences of elegant, curving script in rigorously practised straight lines adorned the thin pages within, and she gazed upon them, with the thought suddenly clicking in her mind.
Her next class happened to be something she absolutely loathed.

And as if the universe had picked up on her sudden realisation, there was a knock at her door and the gruff voice of an obviously older gentleman. "Your Highness, it is time for your tutoring in Accounting."
Roxanne couldn't help but sigh, rolling her eyes incredibly dramatically. If there was one thing she absolutely despised, it was working with numbers. Especially numbers of this state, where she would be taught about how to budget, and her mathematical proficiency, or rather lack of, would make itself very, very apparent.

With a willful stare at a volume on the left of her desk, the latest book she had been reading being a particularly racy romance novel with a haphazard slip of blank paper stuffed between the pages in desperate replacement for a proper bookmark, she tore her gaze away and sulked as she slowly trudged to the doors of her chamber.

---

Accounting was just as laborious as it always was, making Roxanne incredibly grateful it wasn't a class she took everyday. Her classes were spread out throughout the week, dabbling in different topics as to keep her attention, especially important seeing as four hours of her day would be spent taking classes alone. She did not particularly care for the subject, not so much because it was the numbers she had to deal with, but that Accounting itself was nothing but demoralising. The situations and simulations presented to her did not usually involve the kingdom of Miroin itself, as to test the young lady's reactions for future circumstances that might await her, but somehow, and in some way, the conversation always directed back to Miroin's current, failing state. Her tutor, an older gentleman perhaps in his mid-50s and the advisor to the king concerning finances, would always bring up his personal opinion on the kingdom's 'state of ruin', and pray that times would get better. For his age, he was partial to spending some minutes of class-time simply mulling over the state of the castle, as if always trying to find some way, some impossible loop-hole through which its stance could be strengthened.
Time and time again, he turned up no answer, and sulked through the rest of teaching the young princess. She detested his demeanour though knew he meant well, from the heart.
...which was difficult to say about just all of her tutors. Her tutor on public speaking, one of the more uppity women Roxanne was forced to deal with, seemed to have her own sadistic fun of recounting all the possible ways in which the princess might fail miserably, rather than motivate her by presenting situations in which she might shine.

---

The chiming of the clock as the hour settled on two startled the old man, as it usually did, and made Roxanne smirk a little at his disorientation. He furrowed his brow, pushed his tiny spectacles up further on his nose and coughed to clear his throat as he stood up, bowing comfortably to the princess who remained sat at her desk before gathering his belongings, two or three of his own books and some loose pieces of paper, his pen and ink-jar and moving to make his departure. "Farewell, Your Highness. I would advise looking into those problems for a while longer, if you have the time, of course."
"I will if I'm able. Goodbye, Marcus, sir."

The man hobbled to the doors, trying to keep all his belongings in check, turned the handle and made his way out, nearly bumping into the young man with the dark hair carrying the expensive-looking platter laden with edibles, and almost tripping, and tripping the boy in his surprise. "Oh, terribly sorry." he grunted, adjusting his arms to be able to carry the books and the inkpot with ease. He was shorter than Rivalen, and in his haste to find somewhere to put the items down, did not so much look the boy in the eyes for even a second. Though perhaps it was fortunate that he didn't, or else he would have been held up at the door itself, interrogating him as to his motives for the princess. As if the platter he held did not make it clear enough...

"Come in." a tired-sounding voice feebly came through the doors, signalling for Rivalen to enter.

The princess sat at her desk, her head in her hands and eyes intently focused on the material before her. The mixture of handwriting and occasional scribbling showed that her tutor and her had both written on the particular sheet, and it evidently strained her to so much as look at the sheet. It detailed the kingdom's expenses, and the income, and the numbers put down did not look in their favour. At this rate, they would have to tax the people of the kingdom higher, and Roxanne knew that was not a particularly clever move, seeing as there were already a few shows of protest against the rise in taxes, by the people. Of course, they were silenced with haste.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the large window that stood a little ways from where her desk was, bathing the right half of her figure, hunched over the desk, in a soft, white glow. She almost seemed fatigued.
...but of course, two hours of something like Accounting would not end easily.

"Mm...m?" she grunted, finally looking up with tired eyes finding Rivalen, and her blinking twice before her eyes travelled down from the man's face to the platter and lit up at the sight of something to eat. It was reviving, to say the least.
"Ah, Rivalen." she spoke up, stronger and louder now, and surprised with herself for remembering the man's name. Though she fumbled with it for the initial five or so seconds of seeing him again, post intensive mathematics, it finally did come to her and she was proud. "Dinner, is it? Thank goodness, I thought I might just face an untimely death, with all due thanks to starvation and particularly exhausting classes."
She chuckled at her own joke before gesturing him closer, "Come."
She hesitated for just a second with a lazy thought crossing her mind, though she dismissed it with a tiny sigh, "...and close the door behind you. The kingdom is ever noisy throughout the day, and I have important things to tell you."

She sat up, grabbing a piece of paper she had written things down on earlier, perhaps the day before or that very morning, in anticipation for the personal attendant to be decided by the day's end, or the next day. It was decided much faster than she had initially assumed, but it was decided nonetheless.
"...I've got something for you here. Since you are my personal attendant, after all, it had occurred to me that, to wait on me in the most efficient fashion, you would have to know how I was placed throughout the day."
She squinted at the list before continuing, "I've made a little list if it's particularly difficult for you to remember, but seeing as you managed to have my dinner here on time, I don't think that will be too much of a problem. Thank you."

She offered the man a smile, leaning back in the elegantly crafted chair as she turned it sideways slightly to address him, "Err...you can put that down on my bed for now, thank you, Rivalen. I'd much rather you look at this just for the moment. My days in the castle are not as complicated as...someone who'd called me a spoiled brat" her tone grew sour here, and she shook her head, clearly finding the taste of the words quite unappealing, "...would assume them to be. I rise at 6 on the clock, every morning, so breakfast would be best served by 7. The rest of my mornings after breakfast are spent with my father and my brother. It is in that time we are most able to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, and usually by half-past nine, we disband to spend our following free-time as we please. Midday is when my afternoon classes begin, and usually they end at two on the clock, like today. Dinner is served at 2 for that very reason. You...would not be able to believe the appetite one acquires after sitting through such long lectures, haha."
She stopped to smirk at the man, flinching a little when she realised she probably was overwhelming him with information as of the moment. Though she had no intention of stopping just yet.
"Following that, I have two more hours of time of my own leisure, where you perhaps most likely will find me reading as opposed to out on the fields during the mornings, and by 4 on the clock it is time for my second set of classes for the day. These end at 6, and supper is served at 7, and usually ends by half-past 8. Usually, following this, I retire to my chambers and..."
She paused, unsure how to address the following issue, "...err. Usually, after supper, every other day...I request an elaborate bath. Though...um. I don't believe I'm quite sure how we...will tend to that."

Good lord, nobody said this would be this difficult!

Her next words came out in an almost-mumble, rushing by with her cheeks the palest hue of pink, "...Sunday mornings are spent at the church, which is quite close, seeing as it is the building that hosts the gracious clock - and bell - tower. Most mornings are when any officials who request to speak to father, Brandon or I make their appearance. Life in the castle is...fairly mechanical. Scheduled. Like a clock itself."

No sooner had the word ‘dinner’ left his mouth than the door to Roxanne’s room was opened and a short man came shuffling through. Rivalen, being unprepared to move quickly, had no time to step out of the way, and the man, being too intently focused on reaching his destination, didn’t seem to notice that anyone was standing there. Naturally, a collision resulted—or one almost did. Luckily, the short man noticed Rivalen at the last moment and came to a halt, saving both of them from dropping their loads. He also accidentally saved the warlock from a worse fate, even though he didn’t realize it.

Startled by the man’s sudden appearance, Rivalen had instinctively tapped into his powers, which he would have used to keep his platter from falling if the man had run into him. He managed to avoid using magic this time, but his heart still skipped a beat when he realized that he hadn’t been able to stop the second reaction that happened whenever he accessed his powers: His eyes were glowing gold. Silently cursing himself for slipping up, Rivalen quickly turned away from the man in the hopes that he hadn’t noticed anything, but fortunately, the man was too concerned with his books to even spare him a passing glance. After muttering a brusque apology, the man went on his way, and the young attendant was left holding his breath as he forced his irises to return to their normal dark brown.

Once that was done, Rivalen exhaled quietly. The brief encounter had been mildly frightening to say the least, but it had opened his eyes to a critical weakness in himself: He now knew that he relied too heavily on magic. He hadn’t even stopped to think before he summoned his powers even though he was in the heart of Cedric’s castle, and within sight of the king’s beloved daughter, no less! If he wanted to survive here, he would have to learn how to cope without magic, to live like a normal man. He winced inwardly. He had been using magic for so long now that it had become a part of him, just like his arms and legs. The thought of willingly living without it felt unnatural.

Rivalen turned back towards Roxanne’s room when he heard the princess call for him to enter. Instead of following her simple direction, however, he wavered in the doorway. His worries about using magic were suddenly outranked by the remembrance of his… uncomfortable responsibility to take care of the king’s daughter. Perhaps if she had been but a child his job would have been easier. He mentioned to the princess that he had expected her to be a spoiled brat, but he left out the small detail that when Morold told him she was the younger of Cedric’s two children, he had been expecting a brat of the age of twelve or thirteen rather than a mature, young woman—and a beautiful one, at that. And now she wanted him to come into her chambers, where they would be alone…

You’re just here to bring her dinner, Rivalen reminded himself, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. Besides, Roxanne is Cedric’s daughter. It doesn’t matter how old she is; she’s my enemy, and I have to think of her as such. He opened his eyes again and stepped tentatively through the doorway, his gaze wandering over the inside of the princess’s room. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at it through the crack in the door earlier, and he could see now that her chambers were even more elaborate than he first thought. There were a number of antiquities and expensive-looking decorations that spanned across every wall in the room; a countless number of old books piled on her desk; multiple wardrobes that he guessed were packed with fine clothes; and a huge bed that looked as if it could fit a small family.

Rivalen was so caught up in marveling at the princess’s lavish collection that he nearly missed her next words to him, but he managed to pull his gaze away from a particularly interesting shelf of fineries in time to catch her directions for him to close the door and come closer. Stifling another wave of unease, he did as she asked, shutting the door and moving towards the desk at which Roxanne was seated as she went on to announce that she would be explaining to him her schedule.

Rivalen was just about to ask where she wanted him to put the platter of food he was carrying, but the princess spoke first, telling him to set it on her bed for now. Still slightly overwhelmed about being alone with Roxanne in her chambers—with the door closed now, no less—he simply nodded and did as she asked, placing the silver tray on the mattress and turning back to listen quietly as she went on to list her daily routine. Through the fog of his mind only a few things stood out, the first being a time frame in the morning where Cedric and his two children would all be together. At the mention of this, Rivalen was able to momentarily forget his discomfort and focus on his original plans. If he could find himself alone with all three members of the royal family on one of these mornings when they gathered together, it would be the perfect opportunity to fulfill his duty for his father. He made a mental note to pay special attention to the whereabouts of the king and his children during that time.

However, thinking about time only led him to wonder how he was going to keep it. He didn’t know what “half past” meant, but he had a feeling that it had something to do with the “minutes” the servant girl had mentioned to him earlier. He would have to try to find her later so he could ask for a proper explanation. For now, though, he just feigned understanding by nodding along with the princess’s words so she wouldn’t know of his ignorance.

Just when Rivalen was beginning to think that he could handle his new job, Roxanne said something else that made him cringe. Personal attendants are in charge of baths? Part of him knew that he should have expected something like this, but it came as a shock nonetheless. He swallowed anxiously, feeling his face grow warm at such a thought. Roxanne didn’t look very comfortable about the situation, either. He could see a hint of a flush in her cheeks as she went on to explain the last part of her schedule.

When the princess was finished speaking, Rivalen cleared his throat and spoke softly, “Err, I believe I will be able to memorize the routine, Your Highness. It may take a day or two, but I’m a fast learner. As for your baths… I’m sure I can figure something out. Perhaps one of the servant girls would be willing to assist me.” He blinked when he realized how his words sounded and went on hurriedly, “Um, I-I meant to say that maybe one of the servants could take over that task for me, not help me with it. I promise that I do respect your privacy, My Lady.” He leaned forward in a deep bow. “Please forgive the slight of words.”

"I-" Roxanne began, only biting her lip to keep herself from interrupting Rivalen as he spoke, and his own nervousness, infectious as it was, made her fumble for her own words. With her cheeks growing ever pinker at the extremely awkward thought of one extremely awkward situation, she found herself holding her breath. So much that she brought a hand to her lips to try and hide even part of her expression from him, and couldn't help but laugh - quite awkwardly still - at his little slip-up. "O-of course! Yes...yes, that's what you meant. Of course!"
She kept herself from shaking her head, eyes travelling down to where he stood in a deep bow. Her fingers, previously hanging idle at her side clenched the fabric of the skirt of her gown and fiddled with it a little as she cleared her own throat, assuming a more dominant tone to the best of her ability before continuing, "I...I understood what you had meant, Rivalen. You...you are forgiven. Rise, now."

...though that didn't particularly serve to lighten the tension in the room at that moment. And it wouldn't, either, even as she continued to speak. "Well, I...I prepared this list for you. Rather, this list for the new personal attendant, when I new they were arriving. I realise you will have memorised the daily routine soon enough, though I would like for you to have it. I insist."
She held out her hand and the scroll to him, though it was small, compared especially to the more formal scrolls that messengers brought to the kingdom from others. The schedule was never intended to be more than a guideline, and she had thought that she could pass it into the hands of a woman, rather the woman who would grow to become her friend more than just her personal attendant, and that the size of the sheet of paper did not matter.
Unfortunately, in this situation, it very well may have been life or death.
Giving the rolled up sheet to Rivalen would mean their hands would definitely touch at some point. The paper was too thin for her to grab one end and him to grab one end and successfully make the transfer that way because it would fall to the floor and-
She paused.
It was not like she cared or anything, up until that point. The paper never seemed like an issue, it really didn't. She considered taking him for his word for a second and actually not giving it to him. But then it would have gone to waste, and Roxanne hated that she'd spent even a fraction of her time and effort on something like that, and then for it to have to go to waste.

"H...here." she spluttered, hoping that it would be done quickly and without much fuss, and that the fear only stayed within her own mind. Of course, Rivalen wouldn't have been thinking about a thousand and one things. The very idea for a peasant to even do so was hilarious at best.
Or maybe he knows, and he just wants it to happen, and-
She grit her teeth to settle her paranoia. In a way, it made her almost like her father. Perhaps paranoia wasn't something induced at his wife's death, but the case was more one where his inner paranoia was amplified. And genetically passed down to his daughter. Brandon usually was much better at hiding it, and sometimes Roxanne believed he didn't so much as feel a thing.

She had intended on the action to be as swift as humanly possible, though knew that fumbling with the scroll like that would make her drop it, and she did not want to seem like the absolute ditz of a stubborn brat Rivalen had taken her for naturally. She reached out with the scroll gripped tightly enough in her hand, lifting it to his and placing it in his, fortunately, open one. She thanked her stars he wasn't as nervous and hadn't balled his hands into fists just yet.
Her slender fingers brushed against his palm as she did so, and it made her flinch and her grip on the paper tighten, though she swore to herself she'd let go.
And she did, thankfully, hurriedly enough, taking her trembling hand back and holding it with the other, to her chest. She could tell even an action so small as that left her cheeks flushed, and she tried to focus her gaze anywhere but the young man with the deep brown eyes standing before her. They moved to the tall walls, where paintings hung high, not unlike the ones in the hallways. Some of them were stories of old wars won, and some of them were Victorian beauties of the current day and age, women in their fineries, enjoying occasions like tea in lavish gowns, or banquets and masked dancers. Some of them stood in the arms of suitors, or lovers Roxanne had always made them out to be. Some of the paintings were particularly daring, scantily clad women in the styles of foreign artisans, laying on sofas and mattresses.
...nothing happened to improve the state her cheeks were in as her thoughts drifted to the texture of his hand.

Rough.
She lingered on the thought. It was completely unlike that of any man who had taken her hand to kiss the back of it in greeting, because even so, they were all too soft. No, this was a man's hand with ridges accredited to honest, hard work. But of course, he was a commoner, and it was completely likely that he spent his days out on the fields doing hard work to even get by. Oldpine very likely might have also had the knights ravage it to take tax from the inhabitants. She winced at the thought of the poor people being forced to pay up whatever little they might have earned, though she, from her former Accountings classes, knew there was just no other way.

She snuck a glance at Rivalen again. He was handsome still, up close like that. She felt her thoughts wavering. She wanted to reach out, touch his hand again. The feeling was so foreign to her, and she wanted to trace every last crease, down his knuckles, just to have an idea of what life outside the castle would be like. Sure, the women's hands were similar (she'd especially come to find when she'd bathe), but there was still a delicateness about them that Rivalen's hands lacked. Something masculine about his hands, that even the hands of the growing Quentin's hands lacked.
The touch of a man. Rough, and hardened by the world. The capable, hard-working hands of a man.
She bit her lip, internally cursing at herself for letting such a small detail have her this flustered, bringing her hands to either side of her again and, to not prolong the moment any longer than her thoughts always going back to thoughts of this man's origins, and his work, and oddly enough whether he really had killed three wizards or not, and if that was his active occupation.

She moved over to the bed, hanging at the top left post for a second with her back to the man before gathering the skirts of her gown and sitting herself down before the tray, a hand reaching for a piece of spiced bread. In the same motion of breaking off a tiny morsel, she made eye-contact with him again. And then broke it. And then told herself to maintain it, and returned her eyes to him, "That would be all, Rivalen. Thank you. Though since I am at leisure now, I...you may pull up a stool." she gestured to the two dainty-looking stools at the foot of her bed, probably used for visitors like the doctor and whatnot, "...I still know nothing about you, save what you told me earlier. Did you find your room without much trouble? What did you do, before this? You...you're still young, but not young enough to not have had an occupation. I find myself increasingly curious about the mysterious man whom I have to refer to as my 'personal attendant' henceforth.

Rivalen rose again at the princess’s command, but kept his gaze fixed on the floor. After his last blunder, he wanted nothing more than to leave Roxanne’s chambers and hide away in his own room until the tension dissipated. He wondered what was wrong with him. Normally he had no problem keeping his emotions in check in order to deceive someone. He had done so on many different occasions with the knights in Oldpine, putting on a confident face so they wouldn’t see his fear, or feigning innocence when caught in the act of using magic. He had even lied right to the king’s face! But somehow when he tried to look Roxanne in the eyes, his mind went blank and he could no longer think straight. For a moment, he wondered if he had been enchanted, but he quickly discarded the thought. The princess might have had an enchanting beauty about her, but she was no witch. Whatever it was that was causing his wits to fail, it wasn’t sorcery.

Rivalen lifted his gaze from the floor as Roxanne offered him the scroll upon which she had written her schedule. He looked from the small paper in her hand to her olive green eyes, only to see his own anxiousness reflected in them. Knowing that the princess was just as nervous as he was, the warlock felt a strange mixture of relief and concern. He was relieved that he wasn’t alone in his discomfort, but he was also worried about why she was uncomfortable. He doubted Roxanne was anxious for the same reason that he was. After all, she was royalty; she probably thought of him as nothing more than a commoner who only gained a position in the castle by the grace of her father. There was no reason for her to feel the same nervous excitement that he did at the thought of being alone together in her room... Oh, God.

Quickly banishing the unseemly idea, Rivalen attempted to distract himself by holding out his hand to take the princess’s scroll. He hoped that perhaps once the exchange was made, Roxanne would tell him that his work was finished and he could retire to his own chambers until he was needed later. Unfortunately, however, it wasn’t that simple.

When Roxanne placed the paper in his waiting hand, Rivalen felt her linger for a moment longer than she needed to before she let go of it and pulled away. He hesitated, his eyes moving from the princess’s face to the paper she had left in his grasp, before he took the scroll and busied himself by looking over its contents, wearing a focused expression so the princess might not notice his perpetual discomfort—though maybe it was too late for that. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had been toying with him by letting her hand brush against his for that extra moment; if she had already realized how completely foreign this situation was to him and was using his fluster against him… But, then again, that didn’t explain the color in her own cheeks and the anxious way she avoided his gaze. Just what was going through her head?

Exhaling in quiet frustration, Rivalen skimmed over the list Roxanne had given to him, though he found himself admiring her handwriting rather than memorizing her schedule. The words were artistically crafted compared to the messy scrawl of the peasants—or at least of those peasants who could read and write to begin with—and they flowed with a certain elegance that naturally drew his eye. He wondered absently if she was taught to write in such a manner or if she had developed the calligraphy on her own. Either way, the scroll looked more like a work of art to him than a mere to-do list.

Rivalen lifted his gaze from the paper when he noticed Roxanne get up from her seat at the desk and walk over to the platter of food on her bed. Unsure of whether or not she wanted him to follow her, he remained standing where he was until the princess told him to pull up a stool. He felt another brief flutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach as he did what she asked, picking up one of the stools by the foot of her bed and setting it down near the side upon which she was sitting, and had to remind himself yet again—he was beginning to marvel at his own forgetfulness—of his original purpose in the castle. Being alone with the princess was only a side effect of that mission; he couldn’t let it overshadow his father’s plans. So, when Roxanne started bombarding him with questions, he had regained his bearings enough to think his answers through.

“I found my room perfectly fine, and I assure you, I’m not that mysterious, My Lady,” Rivalen said with a shrug, slipping the scroll into his pocket and sitting down on the stool. “My life before I came here isn’t very interesting, either.” He thought for a moment, sorting through his memories as he tried to determine what he could tell the princess without raising any red flags. He didn’t want to resort to inventing a new childhood for himself, but being a warlock, much of his true past was filled with magic. Most of his adolescent years were centered around running from the knights with other sorcerers, watching them get caught and executed one by one… and dreading when his own time would come. He shuddered as he recalled when his mother became one of the captured and his father took him into hiding… But, of course, he could tell none of this to Roxanne.

“I’ve helped my father work in the fields since I was just a child,” Rivalen lied, forcing himself to hold Roxanne’s gaze so she wouldn’t suspect that he wasn’t being honest with her, although he couldn’t help but cross his arms as he went on. “Life in a small village like Oldpine is hard. Everyone has to put in their fair share of effort, from the youngest boy to the oldest man, or there aren’t enough workers to pay off His Highness’s taxes.” He looked away from the princess, wincing as if he recalled a painful memory. “My father has been in poor health since my mother’s passing, so he is finding it more and more difficult to tend to his fields as of late. These past three years, I’ve almost completely taken over his responsibilities.” He looked up at Roxanne again. “But that’s why I came here. I hope you’re not offended, My Lady, but I didn’t just take this position for your sake. I am proud to be able to serve you, but I’m also here because my father needs the extra money to pay His Highness’s taxes. If I can send home a few silver coins, it should be enough for him to get by on his own.” He held a finger to his lips, which curved upward in a secretive smile, “Please, would you keep this just between us? Your father believes I am only here to protect you and I fear that if he discovers my ulterior motive, he may send me home and my own father won’t be able to pay his taxes.”

"Quite mysterious, if you ask me..." the princess smirked and retorted under her breath, only just loud enough for him to hear, though she popped the piece of bread into her mouth and chewed it surprisingly slowly, more focused on what the man had to say than the food in front of her. Her eyes held his as he continued about his childhood, and his working in the fields. Dipping some of the bread in the hearty meat stew served alongside the bread, her eyebrow quirked only when he crossed his arms, a gesture she took to be defensive, though she credited that to his more reserved personality than anything else. She nodded as he continued, only trying to imagine the difficulties and hardships of living in a little village as opposed to the life of royalty she had always known. Though she couldn't exactly pinpoint just how much they had to work on a daily basis, she could conjure up a vague idea, and that made her shudder.
Perhaps she was a little spoilt after all.

"...yes. Of late, the taxation my father has set in place seems outrageous, even to me." she affirmed when he looked away from her, the details of the former classes still fresh in the forefront of her mind and making her wince at the thought that they would have to, at this rate, increase the amount even more. It was obvious the commoners were struggling to keep afloat in a situation like this. It was much more heartbreaking to see someone genuinely admit to it, though, face-to-face. She could not help but feel sorry for the young gentleman, and even more so when he mentioned his father's waning health.
She continued listening to him for the most part, having finished off the bread and quietly still downing the last spoonfuls of stew. She spoke again only when the last of it had disappeared down her throat and the empty plate and bowl were left on the platter, though there was still a bowl of fresh, sweetened cream and a tiny plate of cut fruits remaining on the platter.

Her eyes widened at the mention of his true intentions, and she was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Relieved because she knew that this man had intentions beyond genuinely wanting the best for her, which she could have sworn on any other day came off as beyond just a tiny bit odd, dare she say 'creepy'. Disappointed because although she knew this was creepy indeed, it was almost a bit flattering to have someone so devoted to her - and the kingdom - but mostly her wellbeing, so much that they would take up the job just to be at her side. She shook her head and directed her thoughts to whether she should tell her father or not, weighing the pros and cons against each other. There seemed to be nothing particularly compelling about telling her father that, and she presumed he would already have arranged for the payment with Rivalen so everything was settled anyway, so after a rather dramatic sigh, she spoke again, "I suppose I won't tell father, then. Though something tells me I will not have to, as it stands. It does not particularly benefit my situation, or yours. All that will end up happening is you getting sent back, and me not benefitting in the slightest, apart from acquiring a personal attendant I'm more naturally comfortable with. After all..."
She smirked as she said her next words, eyes glittering with curiosity and wonder as she held his gaze, "It's not everyday you meet a witch slayer, mm? Dare I say, I'm quite curious to see just what this trick of yours to killing them is."

"Though I do feel for you, and your father, Rivalen." she nodded, "It must have been a hard life, especially with your mother passing away when she did."
Her suspicions of this man's hard-work ethic confirmed by his former occupation made clear to her, she couldn't help but feel satisfied with herself and her deduction that he was indeed a hard worker. The ridges and overall hardness of his hands were still an exciting, lingering feeling in the back of her mind. For a fleeting moment, she lingered on the thought of a younger him working out on the fields, in the warm spring sunlight...
What do you think you're doing?!
She scolded herself internally.

"If it is an ailment that cannot be cured by the people of the village..." she pondered on the thought, wondering if such a thing would even be advisable or proper for someone in her status and standing to do, "...perhaps once you are more settled in, and have proven you can hold your place as my personal attendant...err. Perhaps we can arrange for a doctor higher up to tend to your father, here at the castle perhaps - I'm sure we can find a spare room for the doctor to see him - and see if they could so much as restore some vigour to him, as to continue living a more normal life, if not tending to the fields as he used to."
She tucked into the fruits and sweet cream now, relishing the taste as it travelled down her tongue. It was these people, these workers in the fields, that made farming of such quality produce possible. In a way, she couldn't help but respect them.
"If you are gone, is there someone there to take care of your father? I recall you mentioning you had no siblings, so...you must worry about him, hm? You'll notice in your chambers, if you haven't already of course, there is a pot of ink and a quill present. You should find some paper in one of the drawers, as well. I'm sure you wish to write to your father frequently."
And she couldn't help but laugh a little here, "He must be so proud, his son getting a position like this, after all..."

Finally finishing whatever was on the platter, save a cup of tea that was getting the slightest bit cold, she took that up in the very end, green eyes curious as ever as they looked back over him, "Did you enjoy tending to the fields? I've told you of my interests, but I have no idea of your own. Perhaps...hm. Once I finish this tea, I wish to go to the castle library. If you are a man of literature, I'm sure you would like to escort me there. I have to return some volumes, actually, and take out some more."
She shot a nervous glance at the romance novel sitting unsuspectingly on her desk and almost choked on the tea she was sipping. It was herbal and fresh and laced with ginger, the kind that stung when taken down the wrong way, and made her cough a tiny, quiet, suppressed cough, "...err. Though...yes. What would your interests be, Rivalen? I must say, I'd like to know how you'd be spending your free-time, when not tending to your princess, of course..."

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Rivalen said when Roxanne agreed to keep his ‘true intentions’ a secret, though her following words caused his ever-present smile to waver. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see the next time a wizard attacks, now won’t you? Although, I do hope neither of us will have to encounter such a dangerous situation as that, My Lady. I’d prefer not to engage a sorcerer in battle if I can avoid it, as their kind is known to be violent and ruthless in nature. If I can live my days in the castle only fighting dust bunnies and dirty stockings, I can truly say that I will be content.” But he knew that wasn’t going to be an option. Morold was already pulling the strings to arrange a mock-battle that would keep Cedric occupied, and it was only a matter of time before Rivalen found an opportunity to clear out the presiding royal family. So, as tempting as it was, the life of a pampered servant boy was not for him.

Though… thinking about it now, Rivalen had to wonder how he could falsify a convincing weakness during his staged fight. It had to be something real enough that Cedric would believe he was a capable ‘witch-slayer,’ but subtle enough that it would leave the king wondering just how he did it. Meeting such specific requirements would be tricky. He would have to look through his spell books later and see if there was anything he could use.

Distracted by thoughts of the upcoming battle, Roxanne’s next words caught Rivalen completely off-guard. His eyes widened in surprise when she suggested that he bring his father to the castle for medical treatment. He never expected her to make such an offer—it was why he had chosen the lie in the first place! Morold couldn’t come to the palace. His face was known by many of the king’s guards after all of the battles he had waged against them, and he would be recognized immediately, blowing Rivalen’s cover in turn. He fidgeted anxiously, his eyes shifting away from the princess’s face as he examined a suddenly interesting tapestry on the wall, “Err, thank you for your generosity, My Lady. I appreciate it; I really do, but my father… he’s an ornery man. He refuses to leave his home for fear of dying on strange soil.” Rivalen forced himself to meet Roxanne’s gaze again, faltered for a moment, and then went on, “He is stubbornly content in Oldpine, where he is being cared for… by a close friend of his, one whom he has known since his own adolescent years.” He bit his lip, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Even if His Highness gives the order directly, my father will not leave his home. So, I am truly grateful for your offer, My Lady, but I must respect my father’s wishes. I’m afraid I have to decline.”

At the princess’s question, Rivalen managed to give a halfhearted smile, as if the effort was straining, “Of course I worry about him. He’s the only family I have left, even if he is a stubborn old man.” He paused, slightly surprised by the truthfulness of his own words. Even though Morold was not ill, he was reckless, and that recklessness had often led him into many close calls with the knights in Oldpine before. Rivalen remembered the long nights during his childhood where he would lie awake, wondering if his father would return home from his attacks on the kingdom. He was often concerned about Morold’s safety, and he was even more so now that the man was living on his own with no one to talk him out of any foolhardy ideas.

“I’ve actually written to him already,” Rivalen said, his smile now coming a bit more naturally as he recalled the brief conversation he had had with his father. Morold had been mostly critical of his actions, as he always was, but he had also praised him for getting a high-ranking position in the castle. He was never one to offer praise lightly, so the subtle compliment meant quite a bit to Rivalen. “It was the first thing I did when I found my room. Honestly, I think my father didn’t expect me to get the position, since… well… since I lack certain feminine qualities, but he will be pleased to hear that His Majesty thought highly enough of my humble talents to give me the job in spite of that.” He sat up a bit straighter on his stool, proud with the knowledge that Morold was indeed impressed with his progress so far.

Rivalen fell silent again when Roxanne began questioning him about his interests. He stifled a frustrated sigh. Again, he was faced with a subject about which he could not be fully honest. In reality, he often spent his time practicing spells from his books—proper pronunciation was a cruel mistress—or studying recipes for interesting potions. Magic was sewn deeply into every part of his life to the point where he could not separate himself from it. Did he even have any normal hobbies? Truly, he couldn’t say for sure.

“Um… yes, literature is quite alright by me, My Lady,” Rivalen said, looking at the princess concernedly when she began to cough. After a moment, however, she seemed fine again, so he continued, “Since I’ve lived in a small village throughout my entire life, I haven’t had access to many books, so I wouldn’t mind learning a little more about the kingdom I come from.” He paused, thinking again. “Since I’ve been busy assisting my father, I haven’t found time to develop many of my own interests. I suppose I never minded working in the field, but I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, either. However, I do know that I would like to spend some more time exploring the castle. I’ve only seen a small fraction of the hallways and rooms, yet I feel as though I’ve seen more riches than I ever imagined could exist—and those are only the decorations!” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sure I’ll find other ways to occupy myself when I’m not serving you, My Lady, but for now wandering the castle is the pastime that piques my interest the most.”

Roxanne offered the man a reassuring smile, and perhaps in her ignorance and unwillingness to accept the reality of the situation of the kingdom, continued to deny to herself the possibility of a wizard attack to even occur on the castle itself, "I...of course, yes. I do believe there will be no immediate need for you to fight off any magic-wielders. For that, I am thankful, truly. Their kind seem so...so driven by malice, it almost is frightening sometimes. It almost is frightening to try and fathom just what runs through their minds when they so ruthlessly..." she paused here, lingering on the memory of her mother a final time, "...do what they do. Dust bunnies and dirty stockings are a much meeker evil, as I'm sure you know."

His fading smile and look of surprise only made her more curious, and his following words though a little suspicious were not unreasonable. His father seemed like an interesting man indeed. Stubborn to the point of not leaving his home, even if it meant a cure for his illness? A way to prolong his lifespan? She shook her head ever so slightly in quiet disapproval of this strange man's choices.
It is a funny way in which these common folk think. If it was any haughtier a noble, perhaps they would value their own lifespans over their place of burial. But no, in fact. Even nobles have their own worldly pride.
She wondered what kind of man Rivalen's father was. An older gentleman, with dark hair and dark eyes like his son, beginning to gray? A man who once in his prime tended fields and sported sinewy muscle, now reduced to a cripple with a bad temper? Perhaps he was a quiet man? Or was he loud, and easily angered? Was he depressed, and paranoid, like her own father after losing his wife? Roxanne would have to ask what took Rivalen's mother's life at some point in the future, perhaps when she'd get to know the man better. For now, she considered it a wound she did not intentionally want to bring up, and in addition, pour salt into.

"Your father definitely sounds a strange man, Rivalen."
Sighing deeply, genuinely for once, she looked the man right in the eye. It wasn't like she was blaming him for how his father was, but finding nobody else to convey her disapproval to, she decided it would be him. "Are you absolutely sure? Perhaps you should write to him and...ask how he feels about it, personally. You never know; he just might appreciate the invitation, whenever it occurs. If ever it occurs, of course."

She shrugged her shoulders and sipped more of the tea, continuing to listen attentively as Rivalen spoke. She couldn't help but smile when he mentioned he had written to his father, the very first thing. He definitely looked like a family man, despite that silver tongue of his. It was quite apparent he really did care for his father all that much. Being royalty, Roxanne did love her own father, but perhaps was never forced into a situation where a bond like that would develop between father and daughter. Sure, her mother had passed away as well, but there was never a shortage of servants, never a shortage of caretakers to step up and fulfill those roles. It almost made her feel a little jealous, a little hollow inside, that she couldn't ever fathom that kind of fatherly bond.
"He sounds a strange man, but a man who has raised a good son. I wonder if you picked up your roguish charm and silver tongue from him, or your mother, Rivalen..."
She spoke the words as more of a rhetorical statement to herself than a genuine question to Rivalen. Although she did flatter him, it was flattery on genuine bases. He really did have a roguish charm about him that continued to catch the princess off guard. Every time he smiled at her with ease. Every time he confidently spoke up. The honesty and simplicity behind his character was apparent, and a trait she figured she'd quite come to appreciate, despite his sense of humour and gusto. Admitting to such a thing made her laugh again, her cheeks a carefree hue of pink yet again.
"Your father certainly wasn't the only one surprised when you acquired that position, let me tell you, Rivalen."

"Ah! A man who would love to read!" the teacup, now empty, placed on the saucer resting in the platter, she clapped her hands together delightedly, her eyes glistening in a way that was characteristic of them whenever she was excited. "If there's one good thing that will come from you being my personal attendant, it would mean that there would be a lot to read, indeed. I realise that perhaps literature was difficult to come by in your village of... Oldpine, was it? But here, most definitely, I want to extend our library to you, as a welcoming gift for becoming a part of the castle of the ruling family of Miroin. I'm quite impressed, really. I didn't expect a boy who worked in the fields his whole life to be able to read, but power to you, Rivalen. It is an amazing thing, is it not?"
Realising she was gushing, she bit her lip and nervously laughed it off, slowly rising to her feet and gracefully making her way, past him, to her desk, where she searched for some books among the mess of them. Some of them required her to bend down and reach for them, as there were small piles to either side of the desk, until about four rather thick-looking books, some of them with intact spines and some not, rested safely cradled in her arms.
The romance novel was left, quite strategically, untouched on her desk. Though unfortunately, it was in such a way that it was apparent that it was the very same novel she had been currently reading.

She turned to Rivalen again with a mischievous grin, "I'm sure for someone who comes from a village, really, all this would be magical. Just wait until you see the library. You might just fall in love with it, like I have...it's a beautiful, beautiful set of archives. Since I am free for the next..." her glance fell to the window, noting the clock with the large hand pointing at the notches for 8 and the small hand pointing a little under the notches for 2. 2:40pm.
"...err. For the next hour and twenty minutes, I think I'll go down to the library and make the exchange of these books for some more. I would very much like if you did accompany me, Rivalen. You could start by holding either the door - or these heavy books - for me, if such a thing interested you, at this very point in time. Of course, if you have other plans..."
She looked him over where he was on the stool, and couldn't help but smirk wider.
Something about him told her that he would be quite the interesting reading companion.