"Do you knowhow badly I got chewed out by the Agency?" Cantis demanded as she hopped onto Nathan's shoulder. "You can't just turn off the mind connection, Cantis. You need to be more responsible, Cantis. We'll have to cut your paycheck, Cantis." She scoffed. "Fucking bastards, the lot of them. As if my paycheck's worth cutting."
Nathan protectively hovered a hand in front of her. The maid who had moved to swat at the mantis paused and looked at him skeptically. "She's harmless. A pet," Nathan explained.
"A pet!?" Cantis screeched, "I am a being far greater than your tiny human mind can comprehend!"
"You're an insect," Nathan whispered to her.
The maid turned away. He had somehow managed to convince her not to alert the whole household about his injuries, and besides, it was just a cut on his lip. Nothing too major. It stung, but the pain had already started to die down.
That said, he still had no idea where he was or why he was here. Had he been trespassing? That didn't seem to be the case. The maid had been less surprised at his presence than she had been at him getting caught up with the dark-haired guy with anger issues from before. Nathan had forgotten his name already.
He had also managed to piece together some tiny details. He was royalty. Probably too young to be a king, but he couldn't rule out the possibility. His father was dead, after all, as was graciously pointed out by his Extremely Civil Companion.
Gods, he hoped he never met that guy again.
Granted, it wasn't really his own father the guy had been insulting, but the sentiment had been there, had it not? What an asshole.
"How the fuck did you manage to get in trouble in the fifteen minutes I took my eyes off of you?"
It was hardly his fault.
"Sure."
No, really. He'd have just stuck to the pavement if he knew one flower would cause such a big discourse. Although, any conversation with that guy might have devolved into an argument anyway.
Nathan was shaken out of his thoughts when the maid turned back and thoroughly examined him. It was a bit much, really. It wasn't like he'd gotten a concussion or anything. He'd just been punched. People got punched all the time; it wasn't a big deal.
Once she had made sure that he was completely and surely functional, she asked, "Would you like me to escort you back to your family, Your Highness?"
"If you would, please," Nathan answered, smiling. So he had come here with his family. It was probably an invitation, then. Some kind of event? It must have been important if the royal family was present. Or political. Or both. Politically important. Importantly political?
Shit, would he have to engage in politics now that he was royalty? He hoped not. He'd gladly leave that bandwagon to his siblings. If he had any.
He had to have siblings, right? Royal families didn't stop at just one heir. That was reckless, politically stupid. Nothing good came of relying on only one person.
Nathan followed the maid through shadowy halls illuminated by dim candlelight. It had an almost eery feeling to it, the night time shrouding the walls. In the dark, he couldn't make out the colour of the walls. It was like a gothic, horror movie set. He kind of appreciated it.
They passed by several other servants, all of whom ducked their heads respectfully at the sight of him.
The maid had used the word family. Not mother or the queen. So...he probably had siblings, right? Family implied plurality, after all, and it'd be weird if he didn't have more than one family member once that was said—
Or he could just be thinking too much. Ugh.
"Can confirm. You're thinking too much. It's giving me a headache."
Nathan hadn't known praying mantises could experience headaches.
"It's an expression, bitch."
Very expressive.
"Fuck off."
Nathan hummed lightly. The corridor they were walking along began to gradually brighten, with a noticeable increase in the number of candles and lamps. The halls were starting to lose their eery touch, looking more lived-in than the previous part of the mansion they'd just left. Nathan almost missed it. It was goth as hell.
The walls were lined with portraits of men and women, all different-looking, but with the same distasteful look on their faces that looked familiar. Ancestors of Anger Issues Kid, if Nathan had to assume.
The maid stopped in front of two giant, hulking doors. She pushed them open and stepped aside. "They'll be in the banquet hall," she said. She didn't look like she was going to follow him inside.
Nathan thanked her for her hospitality and made his way into the banquet hall, which seemed to be hosting (surprise!) a banquet.
Were lightbulbs not invented yet or did these people in particular just love suffering? There were candles and lamps everywhere, and no matter how fancy the candleholders were, that many of them just couldn't be safe. But then again, he supposed that for a room this big, this many candles would be required.
Nathan wouldn't be surprised if fire safety were the first thing they taught to children here…
From the entrance, he spotted a bunch of rich-looking people who looked like they'd walked straight out of a comic con, with hair and eyes of all colours in the rainbow.
Two men passed by him, one's hair a bright purple and the other's a shiny blue. Their clothes were equally vibrant, a horrid mess of clashing colours. Nathan couldn't tell if they had no taste or if this was just how fashion worked over here.
Sweet roadkill, it hurt his eyes. Was this just his life now?
Where the hell was he supposed to find his family here? He was guessing they wouldn't have nametags on them. And even if they did, that wouldn't exactly be helpful, considering he didn't know their names. Hell, he didn't even know his own name.
"Stop moping," Cantis said, "It's that lot over there, the ones who look like a pigeon took a personal vendetta against them."
Nathan followed the direction she was pointing in and was immediately offended on their behalf.
An entire swarm of white-haired people stood by a corner of the room, looking to be discussing something among themselves. Nathan mentally counted five heads. The king had not died before birthing other heirs. Noted.
"Just because they have white hair, doesn't mean they look like pigeon shit." Nathan said, involuntarily picking at his own hair. He'd just assumed the hair he saw framing his own face was blonde, but he guessed not.
"Pigeon shit is white."
"Not the same shade."
"Do I fucking care?"
Nathan sighed. "I guess not."
He debated on how to make his way through the crowd. On one hand, he didn't want to bump into anyone and get into any unnecessary conversations. On the other hand, if he kept loitering around the doorway, someone would call out to him sooner or later, and he'd have to get into unnecessary conversations anyway.
Dilemmas, dilemmas.
"You're a fucking pussy."
Dilemmas, headaches.
"Damien!" A voice called out, and suddenly there was a hand on his arm, turning him around. Nathan stared at the empty space in front of him before tilting his head down.
Nathan couldn't tell if the girl who'd grabbed him was exorbitantly short, or if he was exorbitantly tall. She didn't even reach his chin. She was white-haired, like him. A relative?
"Kathryn Dorothea, the youngest royal sibling. Your little sister," Cantis provided.
Jeez. Clearly, the genes had not divided heights equally.
"Damien," Kathryn said, voice even, "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
Nathan blinked. Damien, huh?
He tested it in his head. Damien. Damien. Damien. It sounded wrong. Nothing like himself. Nathan. Damien. Like a turtleneck bought without considering measurements. Too many syllables, vowels, consonants. Ill-fitting, like everything else about this damned situation.
It was a pretty name, he supposed.
Nathan hated it already.
"Where were you? I haven't seen you since the banquet started."
Nathan tilted his head to get a better read on his (alleged) sister. She was smiling. It looked practiced, but genuine. Like she had taught herself exactly when and how to deliver that smile, but had grown into it over the years until it stopped being an act.
Her head was held high, and her shoulders were squared, but it seemed to come to her naturally. She was staring at him intently, like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Her warm, brown eyes shone with good-natured mirth, but Nathan sensed a tinge of concern behind them.
Hm. Probably not the best idea to tell her he'd been fighting.
"I was lost in the crowd," Nathan said instead. It was partially true. He had been lost. One could even argue that the garden was a crowd if they considered the flowers to be sentient. And who knew? Maybe they were.
Nathan hoped not, though. He didn't want to have the death of a sentient flower on his conscience. He had enough there already.
"I never spotted you," Kathryn said, "You need to work on your presence more. It's almost like you're invisible sometimes."
Nathan cracked a smile. "I like being invisible."
"And that is why you've never had a lover," Kathryn said dryly.
Nathan placed a hand over his heart. "Ouch."
"What? It's true." She squinted at him and furrowed her eyebrows. "Your lip is bleeding."
"...Is it?" Nathan had thought it had dried. Oh, well.
"This is why I keep telling you to moisturize," Kathryn said, shaking her head. "And no, before you start again, it does not make you vain. It's something everybody needs to do. Your skin will thank you for it, believe me."
Apparently, the tightness he'd been feeling in his face was not just a failure to run his body. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You always say that," Kathryn complained.
"For real, this time."
"You always say that, too." Kathryn sighed. She tugged at his sleeve, dragging him along to join their siblings. "If you don't start listening to me soon, I'll go around telling all the girls at school that you're available for marriage."
That sounded horrifying, actually. "Please tell me you're joking."
Kathryn shrugged. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, noblewomen swoon for princes."
"Evil."
Kathryn smiled. "No, just competent."
Nathan rolled his eyes. They came to a stop in front of his (alleged) siblings.
"Oh, look. Pigeon shit."
...Nathan would choose to ignore that.
Someone reached out to them. "Kathryn, did you find— Oh, there he is. Damien, where in the world do you keep running off to?"
It was a man in his mid-twenties. He was keeping up the white-haired tradition, and his eyes were brown like Kathryn's, although a lighter shade.
"Stefan Evander, one of your older brothers. Currently the best fighter in the country."
"He says he got lost in the crowd," Kathryn answered for him.
"I swear," Stefan said, exasperated, "The ceremony is about to start! Theodoric has already been summoned!"
"Theodoric Reign, the current monarch and your oldest brother."
Apparently, at some point, Cantis had turned into a character encyclopedia.
"Fuck you, I'm just doing my job."
And clearly, her job was the only thing she was doing.
A steadily growing drumming suddenly rang out in the banquet hall, drowning out the sounds of the crowd. Kathryn slipped to his side, linking their arms. "Here they come," she whispered.
The doors to the hall burst open, and Nathan was glad he hadn't stayed standing in front of them. He'd probably be smashed into the wall and gain a concussion.
In walked five figures, followed by a band of musicians and...priests? What kind of ceremony was this supposed to be?
The first person Nathan noticed was...another one of his own white-haired brethren. Seriously, they were everywhere. He assumed that was his...er, monarch brother? The one who'd been summoned?
"Theodoric Reign."
Right, Theodoric. He definitely looked like someone who could run a kingdom, all awash in his regal glory. And a massive crown. How was he even carrying that on his head?
Then there was a young man, probably in his early twenties. Black hair, dressed in what Nathan assumed was armour. Bright, golden, beautiful armour. It didn't look it would be very effective in a fight, but it wouldn't really have to. It was ceremonial for a reason.
Even from all the way across the room, Nathan saw the young man beaming with pride, a wide, effortless smile spread across his face.
"Abel Wencelas Beirne."
Sure. Abel Wencelas Beirne.
An older couple trailed behind him. Judging from the resemblance they shared, they were probably the guy's parents.
And then, finally…
Ah. Anger Issues Kid.
"Caleb Amadeus Beirne."
...Okay, this wasn't working out. Nathan was just going to give up on the names for now. He'd learn as he went.
"I thought humans had larger brains. What happened to yours?"
He couldn't remember names if they were just listed on and on like a grocery list. There needed to be substance behind them.
"Substance, like cocaine?"
No.
"Do you pledge yourself, and your loyalty, to the greater good of our holy Arvum Empire?"
Nathan's attention snapped back to the centre in an instant. It was his (alleged) brother, who had turned around and was now speaking to the people gathered.
"I do," said the man in the ceremonial armour, down on one knee.
"Then rise, and prove yourself."
A priest came between the two, holding a...cup? Goblet? Chalice? It was filled with a swirling red liquid that looked a lot like...well, that probably wasn't it. It was just a tinge too light and too thin.
The young man stood, an undercurrent of worry dimming his smile. He accepted the cup handed to him.
Kathryn's grip on Nathan's arm tightened. "This is never easy to watch," she whispered.
The priest mixed some sketchy-looking plant into the cup and backed away. Nathan's older brother gave the young man a look.
"Drink."
The young man nodded (and even from this distance, Nathan could make out that he was nervous), then downed the entire thing in one go. Someone gasped.
One moment passed, then another. Nothing happened.
Just when Nathan began to think that maybe everyone was overreacting, the young man dropped the cup and let out an agonized scream. He hunched over, one hand clutching his chest and the other on his mouth. Any hint of his smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed, shaking reverie, like he didn't have the capacity to think about anything, let alone his expression, over the pain.
To his side, Nathan heard Stefan mutter, "Come on, now."
Kathryn's grip on his arm hurt now, her nails digging into his skin through the fabric. Nathan risked a look and found her staring ahead blankly, face pale.
Nathan raised a hand to block her view of what was happening. "Don't look if you don't want to."
Kathryn blinked, trance broken. She hesitated for a second, then buried her face in Nathan's arm. "Tell me when it's over."
"I will," Nathan whispered back, wondering when, exactly, this whole ordeal would count as over. He still had no idea what the ceremony was about, but he sure hoped he wasn't about to witness a death. He'd been here for like, less than an hour. Seriously.
After a painfully long stretch of time, the young man's screams subsided, replaced by dry heaving. A formation of priests surrounded him, hands linked, and began chanting. One elderly priest stepped inside the formation, placed his hands on the man's back, and—
Nathan supposed he should've known that magic existed in this world, but it still took him by surprise. A glowing, golden orb began forming around the elderly priest and the man, shrouding them both from the crowd. For a moment, the cut on Nathan's lip tingled.
Then the glow subsided and the man came into view again. He looked dazed, looking at his hand in wonder. The elderly priest stood behind him, hands in sleeves, and nodded at the monarch.
"He has passed."
There was another beat of silence. Then a loud whoop rang out and Stefan pretty much ran to the front and tackled the young man in a bear hug. Murmurs in the hall started up again, slowly, before people began talking like normal again.
Nathan poked at Kathryn. "It's over."
Kathryn took a deep breath and looked up. "I always think they're going to die."
Nathan made a guess. "They're not."
Kathryn's shoulder sagged. "No, of course not. It's just...never mind."
Nathan didn't push it. "Stefan's really happy about this."
Immediately, Kathryn perked up, posture snapping back into confidence. "Of course. I believe Abel just broke his record for the youngest to have attempted the knighting ceremony. Not to mention, he succeeded on his first attempt."
"That's rare, right?" Nathan prodded, hoping he wasn't asking about something that might be common knowledge. Luckily, Kathryn didn't seem to notice.
"Not...rare, exactly. But people usually attempt twice or thrice. And at an age this young? Nothing short of commendable. Of course, I'd expect nothing less of the Golden Boy."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Golden Boy? That's a bit excessive."
Kathryn huffed out a laugh. "I know, right? I overheard it from one of our maids. He'd be horrified if he found out they were calling him that."
With nothing to say to that, Nathan hummed in response.
A stare burning into him made him look up. His gaze locked onto a pair of grey eyes, staring at him intently.
Anger Issues Kid (Caleb?) made a face when he realized Nathan was looking back. Nathan barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes.
"Your lip is bleeding again," Kathryn said. Nathan turned to find her frowning.
It had felt weird during the ceremony. Nathan swiped his thumb over where he remembered the cut to be and felt a surprising amount of blood come away. He checked again with his index finger, just to be sure, and that one came coated away with blood, too. Weird.
"Damien."
Nathan realized a beat late that he was being called. "Yes?"
Kathryn was scrutinizing him. "Is that really because of…"
"Dry lips? Who knows?"
Nathan looked back up at Caleb and grinned, faking as much brightness as he could, and waved at him, fingers still coated in blood. They were close enough that the color wouldn't go unnoticed.
Caleb's gaze snapped to his fingers. To his mouth. His expression didn't change, but something in his posture did.
A sharp exhale.
Then, without a word, he turned away.
"What is that supposed to— Did you just wave at Caleb?" Kathryn demanded.
"Nope," Nathan answered cheerily.