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TRAS Chapter 112: The Crown Prince Arrives
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 17:17:00 +0000 UTCCamille arrived at the ark-Chelon estate not long after Ailn—by way of a Gren carriage, insisted upon by her father. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of dissonance after leaving his household.
In Varant, her noble blood felt almost incidental—she was a knight, first and foremost, who happened to be Ennieux eum-Creid’s child. But here, she was a viscount’s daughter. Lady Gren. The life she led protecting the northern wall was nothing more than a polite curiosity to the denizens of Calum.
The maids of House Gren in particular, always treated her with the kind of fondness bereft of actual expectation—sweet words and constant praise, as if Camille were a child that had done something very big and brave.
“Mother’s endless grievances are vastly preferable,” Camille sighed, fingers brushing her temple before she ran them back through her hair. “Hm?”
Stepping out of the carriage, Camille noticed that Ailn had returned. The knights were all gathered at the estate’s gate, likely having just received him.
There was muttering among them, a strange tension in the air.
“Is Sigurd known to go on vacation?” Ailn asked the knights, holding a letter.
“As acting duke, he was often at the capital,” Kylian replied. He grimaced. “Yet, something like this…”
Camille approached, surprised and unsettled by what she was hearing. “What is this about His Grace, Sigurd?”
Rather than explain, Ailn simply handed Camille the letter.
‘Dear Ani,
I hope your travels have been safe. Everyone here in Varant misses you, and we count the days until your return.
Something strange has happened, however. Our brother Sigurd departed Varant in the night a few days ago, without a word. I know he is more than capable of handling himself, but still, it makes me anxious. With any luck, my writing to you will reveal itself as needless worrying. Perhaps he’s already returned by the time you receive this letter. Pray tell if you know anything more than I do.
And as always, please make sure to take care of yourself, Ani.
Love,
Renea
_____________________
Sigurd vanishing like that was definitely odd. But Ailn didn’t exactly have the mental space to worry about it.
He had other issues. The negotiations began tomorrow, and he’d prefer to enter them with a clear, rested mind. He fully intended to.
That was the great thing about Calum. He could get some good rest. As he walked through the corridors of the ark-Chelon estate to return to his suite he thought about the bed.
For sure, it was the nicest mattress he’d slept on in this world. It was so nice, he was almost beginning to regret it. He’d just gotten used to Varant’s subpar mattresses, where the down occasionally poke through into his back. There was something cruel about rediscovering luxury right before having to abandon it again.
“I really did reincarnate into the crummiest place in the empire,” Ailn muttered to himself. He could speak a little more freely than usual without Renea around. “Guess it was a matter of noble corpse availability. Why couldn’t someone have stabbed Ashton?”
As he considered this, the teen god who’d brought him into this world in the first place popped out of a room—once again, in uniform and lugging a room service cart.
“...How are you ‘looking into things’ if you spend all day playing bellboy?” Ailn asked. It was an honest question.
“Well, you know what they say in your world: the devil’s in the details,” the teen god said.
“So?” Ailn’s eyes narrowed impatiently. “Did you find out what you needed to?”
“Oh, right. I promised you info…” the teen god crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you this. You gotta be real careful who you give the ring to.”
“...Yeah, no kidding,” Ailn pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Is that seriously all—”
“But that ring’s proper place is the empire,” the teen god said. “You can’t just go throwing it into a volcano like you’re thinking. That would be bad.”
He placed his fist in his palm encouragingly. “The good news is, things aren’t as bad as I was afraid of!”
“And what does that mean?” Ailn asked.
“...I can’t really tell you!” the teen god said. He scratched his cheek. “Make sure it doesn’t end up in the masked woman’s hands though.”
“What? Is she coming—” Ailn started.
Suddenly, the door to the room he’d just left swung open, and a muscular man with an outfit more filigree than cloth came traipsing out. “My companion specifically ordered her salad without vinaigrette.”
“...My mistake, haha...” the teen god gave an embarrassed bow. “I’ll return with a fresh salad from the kitchen.”
“Good. See to it,” the man replied. Then he caught sight of Ailn, giving him a disinterested glance. “The new Duke eum-Creid is it?”
The man had red eyes.
Was this the crown prince? Ailn realized with a start he wasn’t even certain of the decorum between the ducal houses and the imperial family. Since he’d become duke, he simply outranked everyone. And he had expected a single envoy to come—not all the imperial princes and princesses themselves.
Surely if he was expected to show excessive deference Kylian would have warned him. If Ailn did something wrong, it would be Kylian’s fault.
“That’s right,” Ailn said, warily. “The crown prince is it?”
It suddenly occurred to Ailn that, despite the numerous conversations he’d had about this man all day, no one had mentioned his name.
“Sigurd always struck me as an insufferable prig,” the crown prince said dryly. His unimpressed gaze lingered on Ailn’s trench coat, settling on his deerstalker hat. “I had been forewarned of your odd sartorial tastes.”
Finding Ailn’s clothes very funny, apparently, the crown prince scoffed. Then, deciding that their conversation was done, he addressed the teen god, who’d been standing around awkwardly. “Did you not intimate that you were procuring a salad unblemished by vinaigrette?”
“Duke eum-Creid actually had a word with me,” the teen god said, all nervous smile as he threw Ailn under the bus.
Could the teen god not just smite this man if he wanted? How powerful was he really? Ailn wondered if he could literally just grab the kid by the scruff and noogie answers out of him.
Moments later, the same door from earlier opened softly. A woman in a pale blue dress stepped out, hands clasped demurely in front of her—drawing attention to the massive diamond on her ring finger.
It almost distracted from her ornate ruby necklace.
“Excuse me,” she called out in a tone that was almost waifish. “I don’t mean to bother…”
“While you indulge the duke’s whims, Millie continues to starve,” the prince said, severely.
“Severus, please! He’s doing his best!” Millie implored, tears in her eyes. “Even if he’s just standing here talking, I’m sure he has circumstances we don’t understand. His own trials…”
She smiled weakly. “Besides, I’m used to going without food…” she said softly, escalating her hypothetical sacrifice.
Ailn and the teen god stared at her blankly.
“Ahem,” the teen god cleared his throat lightly, having no other response for her woebegone attitude. “We can talk later Duke eum-Creid,” he said. Then he addressed Millie. “I’ll… be back with your salad soon.”
He smiled placatingly, then nodded at Ailn as he wheeled his cart around and walked off into the corridor.
And just like that, Ailn was abandoned.
“Duke eum-Creid…?” Millie uttered, a subtle glint entering her eyes. “My goodness! How rude of me… I’m the daughter of Baron Moonlace. My name is Millie. I would love to make your acquaintance.”
She flashed him a shy, fluttering smile and wrapped both of her arms around his—but Ailn simply brushed them off and, avoiding her eyes, walked past her. “A pleasure, Millie. Good night, then.”
Ailn could hear the crown prince growling behind him.
“That cur…” Severus snarled. But almost as swiftly as the fury had come, it faded into an almost simpering tone. “Millie, it wounds me to see you so easily beguiled. Tell me—what must I conquer to prove I alone am worthy of you?”
“Severus… when will you learn that love is not something to be proved?” Millie asked, her voice lilting between sorrowful and whimsical. “Even these tender feelings I feel… would crush me if I knew I stood in the way of your destiny.”
In other words: make sure you become the emperor or I’m dumping you. Ailn nearly halted in his tracks listening to their not-so-whispered sweet nothings.
And he couldn’t help but pity the crown prince.
_____________________
Bea woke up, feeling a little better than she did yesterday. A bit of a slow starter after waking up, she climbed out of bed yawning and stretching. She had an important day ahead of her.
“It’s good Nitty’s not here…” Bea mused to herself, as she pulled out her stuffed animals. “He’s too hard to wake up…”
Of course, Bea had slept an entire day away, all tuckered out from her adventure the day before.
Not yet privy to the world of adults—with their backaches, dread of the week’s start, and general desire to stay lounging—she was diligent, if still dozy in setting up her morning meeting.
Though in this case, it was actually nearly evening.
“It needs to be a little more orange, Aristurtle…” Bea said. “If I go out before… I might get caught.”
She had been very precise. If anyone else found her, at any other time, then she would’ve simply been sent back home.
The problem was she wasn’t sure what to say.
“I don’t know if he’ll believe me…” Bea said. Then she tilted her head. “But he has to. But I wouldn’t believe me…”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “I told you I can’t always see well, Bent Ham… You never listen.” Then she addressed him with an authoritative pout. “You should be more like Cant.”
Still, her face scrunched up in thought. “When it’s fuzzy… I can only do a little bit. That’s why I have to… fallafel-size.” Bea gave the unruly Bent Ham a troubled look. “Sometimes you make things too simple, Bent Ham.”
After giving Bent Ham one last light admonition, Bea yawned, having already been exhausted by her toys’ critical inquiries. “I think it’s orange enough now…” She gathered up her toys and hugged them to her chest. “Don’t be nervous, okay…?”
With that, Bea opened the door and walked out of the room.
_____________________
“Hopefully the rest of the imperial family’s just as bone-headed,” Ailn said, scratching his cheek once he was out of earshot. Sighing, he continued making his way back to his room.
He considered for a moment if he needed to seize some sort of initiative, now that he knew what the crown prince was like. Having expected a Machiavellian mastermind who stayed one step and one day ahead of his siblings, Ailn instead encountered exactly what he’d been told: an extremely capricious individual who happened to be vacationing nearby when the news broke.
“Does that mean imperial family members all carry an echo stone on hand?” Ailn wondered aloud, feeling his pocket for one he’d received from The Company of Deft Hands.
Could be. Things were probably going to get messier tomorrow. He could be paranoid, but his gut told him that Severus was the exception instead of the rule—and that the other siblings wouldn’t be quite so easygoing.
The problem was that Severus wasn’t even the biggest threat in his own room.
Ailn was willing to bet anything that Millie was a reincarnator. Likely one with powers similar to Dahlia—but in this case, powerful enough to ensnare an imperial prince.
Otherwise his smitten, defanged attitude just made no sense.
And that wasn’t all. If Millie really was a reincarnator, then she’d have ruby eyes. That made her a strong candidate for being the masked woman. The way Dahlia and Tuckerson spoke, they’d been bowled over mentally, too. How many ruby shards powerful enough to do that could there be?
He hadn’t failed to notice her ruby necklace, either. It could be a coincidence. The Dragon’s Promise had a ruby centerstone, but sometimes a necklace was just a necklace. Ailn wouldn’t have given it a second thought if the teen god hadn’t personally visited that room.
Surely he hadn’t come just to screw up a salad order.
Severus—and then Millie—came out at precisely the moment the teen god mentioned the masked woman. Was it a hint? If the teen god couldn’t give him answers directly, could he instead nudge the right person out of the right room at the right moment and let ‘coincidence’ do the talking?
“...No,” Ailn shook his head. “I should never trust him to be that helpful.”
Coincidence or not, it served as an important reminder. There could only be so many rooms appropriate for the imperial family and the highest of nobility—even in ark-Chelon. If the negotiations took multiple days, this might not be the only time he came face to face with a prince or princess in some random hallway.
Just when Ailn thought he’d prepared himself for unexpected figures popping out of random rooms, however, he was once again stunned. Because out of the room he stood right next to right next to came a girl, yawning and stretching, carrying an armful of stuffed animals.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes. There were few things that could make Ailn doubt his own vision. Then he glanced up and down the hallway, as if someone might walk through and helpfully break the illusion.
But she was still there, peering up at him through bleary eyes.
“Uh…?” Ailn started, then trailed off.
He was completely lost for words.
