“It seems I just can’t get used to this.”

“You must endure it, Your Highness.”

Though it was only half a month, a span some might consider long, for the First Prince, Louis Loire, this past month had flown by even quicker than that. Each day, the training with Arsène brought new developments in his swordsmanship, and their conversations on martial arts and life itself had broadened his knowledge and perspectives.

“…It feels like it’s time to stop now.”

“Just hold on for thirty more seconds, Your Highness.”

The relentless training was grueling as it progressed, but Louis persevered. It seemed that as he spent more time with Arsène, the knight had become accustomed enough to him to impose such harsh training. He hadn’t expected that a hobby he started out of curiosity would lead to this.

“Ugh…”

As a result, Louis was drenched in sweat, straining muscles he rarely used. He was currently in a plank position, supporting himself with only his elbows and toes. He wanted to punch his past self for thinking this exercise would be easy when Arsène first demonstrated it.

It feels like thirty seconds have passed.

Louis shot a glance at Maxime, as if to protest. His abs and back trembled with strain. His jaw clenched on its own, and sweat trickled down his forehead and cheeks, dripping onto the ground. Arsène’s expression remained unchanged. He wasn’t just standing there, but was in the same position as Louis, so there was no way Louis could complain.

“Just five more seconds.”

“Damn it.”

Louis rarely let out a curse, but one escaped his lips. The knight calmly counted down the five seconds, giving him a sliver of hope.

“Five, four, three…”

“Those are some slow seconds.”

Louis muttered with a shaky voice, unsure if it was just his perception or if Arsène was actually counting slowly.

“Two…”

It took three seconds to go from two to one before the word “one” finally left Arsène’s lips. Before Maxime could congratulate him, Louis dropped to his knees, exhaling heavily.

“You… really… know how… to make me suffer.”

“You did well, Your Highness.”

Arsène—Maxime—replied casually, already standing and stretching. Hearing footsteps approach the inner courtyard, he furrowed his brow and looked toward the sound.

“Isn’t this a bit extreme?”

“Both of us trained like this, didn’t we?”

“What I mean, Dennis, is that it’s extreme to train His Highness in the same way we trained ourselves.”

As they exchanged words, the newcomers revealed themselves to be Dennis and Charlotte, Maxime’s seniors. When Louis stood, they placed a hand on their chests and bowed deeply. It was the formal salute performed only by the knights of the First Guard, who served directly under the King.

“Your Highness, we hope you have been well.”

Louis inwardly scoffed, wondering if he really looked well. He accepted their greeting with a respectful nod.

“So, what brings you here today? I doubt you’ve come to check if I’m still enjoying my swordsmanship training.”

Dennis smiled and shook his head.

“Though I am glad to see it for myself, we’re actually here to borrow Arsène Vern for a moment, Your Highness. Would you mind if we took your instructor away for a while?”

“Feel free. Arsène’s true allegiance lies with you, the King’s Guard, after all.”

“Actually, it might be best if you hear this as well, Your Highness.”

Following Louis’s nod, Maxime approached Dennis and Charlotte. Dennis turned to Maxime with a more serious expression than usual as he began to speak.

“A senior council meeting has been called at the palace, with Count Benning and a few select senior members. It wasn’t a regular meeting, which means there was likely an urgent matter to address. Given how quickly they moved, I’d say they’re making swift maneuvers.”

Maxime frowned, and Louis’s expression grew tense.

“I assume this wasn’t at the King’s behest. Was it called at the request of certain nobles?”

Maxime’s gaze asked if this was a pressure tactic from the Bennings to counter the King’s recent moves.

“Most likely. However, it seems His Majesty had some preparations of his own this time,” Dennis said, smiling as if there was no need to worry. The First Prince, however, listened with a hardened expression.

“Your Highness?”

Dennis’s voice held a note of concern as he addressed the still-tense First Prince.

“Is there no way to know what they discussed during the meeting?”

“There was one motion that Count Benning and His Majesty both agreed upon, surprisingly. That’s all I could find out.”

Louis and Maxime exchanged puzzled looks. Dennis added, as if in apology:

“That’s all I know. Honestly.”

“There must be another reason for your visit today. Delivering this news alone doesn’t seem to be it.”

Louis’s cautious inquiry drew a nod from Dennis.

“His Majesty wishes to see Arsène Vern. That’s why I’m here to escort him now.”

Maxime’s expression grew tense.

“Is it an order for the King’s Guard as a whole, or an assignment directed at me specifically?”

“Most likely the latter. I haven’t heard of any directives for our entire unit.”

Dennis frowned slightly as he looked at Maxime.

“There might be specific instructions waiting for us…”

Other orders?

Maxime’s eyebrows knitted as he recalled the King’s ominous words about trimming their branches.

“Understood.”

Maxime looked to Louis for permission, which was granted with a nod. Charlotte glanced over Maxime’s dust-covered, disheveled attire and sighed.

“Get into your uniform. We’ll meet in the corridor leading to the study.”

With that, Dennis and Charlotte left the courtyard. Silence filled the space like the calm after a storm.

“We’ll end here for today. Ensure you attend to His Majesty’s summons promptly.”

There was none of Louis’s usual warmth in his voice as he instructed Maxime. Maxime bowed without asking further questions.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Louis watched Maxime’s retreating figure, exhaling deeply. The fragile balance within the palace was beginning to crack. The storm of bloodshed loomed on the horizon. Whether it would break upon the throne room, the Princess’s quarters, or the Second Prince’s residence was yet to be seen.

He glanced towards the area where Princess Michelle’s quarters lay. Would she remain untouched by the coming chaos? Could she be safe from the rising tide?

He bore no resentment toward the King for involving Michelle. The King was too distant a figure for resentment. Louis knew too little of him.

For that reason, he had to stand firm. He had to be there for Michelle, without regret or blame.

Louis’s hand still gripped the wooden sword. A month of training had left his once-soft hands rough and calloused. He closed his eyes, then opened them, attempting the posture his instructor had taught him.

‘Shoulders, arms, legs.’

It was difficult to hold the stance without guidance. His blade wavered. Everything within his sight began to shake along with it.

Steady.

Repeating the mantra to himself, Louis slashed downward. His crude, unsteady strike left a long trace in the air. Again. He drew a path through the empty space. Again. Until his sword followed a proper trajectory, Louis gritted his teeth and swung.

Michelle.

Thinking of his sister’s forlorn eyes, Louis clenched his jaw.

==

“You looked like you were having fun. Meanwhile, we’ve been running around with our feet on fire, carrying out His Majesty’s missions and secret orders.”

The first thing Maxime heard after rejoining his seniors was Dennis’s complaint, tinged with envy. Charlotte looked at him with her usual disdain, now a regular occurrence.

“I think it’s better suited to have Arsène instructing His Highness than you.”

“Don’t compare based on skill. It’s about experience in these matters.”

“You’d think you were the most senior knight from the way you talk.”

The King had summoned them to the central office of the palace, not the private study usually reserved for the knights. As they entered the corridor leading to the office, Dennis and Charlotte, who had been chatting animatedly, fell silent.

“The atmosphere is quite chilling.”

Despite the tense setting, Dennis managed a casual remark. The guards stationed at the entrance jumped aside at the sight of their red uniforms.

“His Majesty instructed that if any knights from the Guard arrived, they should be allowed in immediately.”

The oldest-looking guard opened the door as he spoke, almost as if they had threatened him with a sword. Dennis muttered under his breath, only to be met with Charlotte’s reprimanding glare and a quick stomp on his foot.

The grand doors of the study opened soundlessly. The sight beyond them made Maxime’s face harden, Dennis’s customary smile turn cold, and Charlotte’s mouth twist.

The King sat at the desk as usual, with the Captain of the Guard standing behind him. Facing them was a man who had no business being there.

León Benning.

The man who stood at the center of the kingdom’s chaos—no, the chaos itself—sat across from the King, an armored knight by his side. There was no visible hostility, but the tension in the air was stifling.

“Let the knights enter without delay.”

The King’s voice stirred the three men, moving their legs as they knelt and bowed.

“We greet His Majesty.”

Their voices blended into a single echo within the study. Normally, the King would dismiss formalities, but today he maintained his regal bearing as he received them.

“Rise.”

The King said no more. The knights rose. Maxime could feel a sticky, lifeless gaze fixated on him. León Benning’s stare. Maxime knew that unsettling look all too well.

Until he stood, the Count’s eyes seemed to dissect every movement.

“Now that everyone is here, let’s discuss the main topic. Arsène Vern, Dennis Roy, Charlotte Lavin—you will carry out a covert mission. Count Benning will explain the details, so listen carefully. Count?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

León Benning responded calmly, seemingly unaffected by the intimidating aura of the surrounding knights. He could almost laugh in their faces.

“The Tower.”

At the mention of the Tower, Maxime’s shoulder twitched.

“There have been disturbing rumors circulating lately—secret experiments, embezzling funds, and doctoring records.”

The Count spoke with a detached air, as if carving his own flesh. Maxime fought to keep his expression neutral, wondering what schemes the Count had concocted to involve him in such plans.

“It was discussed at the senior council meeting. I see this as an opportunity to conduct a thorough investigation into the Tower.”

“Wouldn’t there be backlash if we acted on mere suspicion?” Dennis asked, and León Benning shook his head.

“We’ve secured ledgers.”

“The doctored records from the Tower?”

“With that in hand, they won’t be able to resist. And if they do, we’ll simply push through by force.”

A heavy silence fell. Each knight seemed to be trying to understand the Count’s intentions. Breaking the silence, León Benning resumed, scanning the room.

“The audit of the Tower was already decided during the council meeting, so there’s no need for further discussion. Your duty is simply to follow His Majesty’s orders.”

The knights frowned at the Count’s presumptive tone. This time, Charlotte asked a question.

“Count, do you not plan to deploy additional personnel for this investigation?”

“Why would you think that? I’ve brought someone with me.”

The Count gestured to the knight standing behind him.

“The necessary force for the audit can be handled by this one knight. Given it’s a joint investigation, you’ll also need to be involved.”

His dismissive tone irritated the knights, but Maxime was different. His eyes locked onto the knight behind Benning, a look of shock in his eyes. Despite the presence of two guards, the knight stood his ground.

Maxime couldn’t take his eyes off him. Though his face was hidden beneath his helmet, Maxime could sense that he must remain vigilant.

Unarmed, relaxed breathing, poised stance, and muscles ready for action.

Maxime knew, without a doubt, that for once, León Benning’s words were not to be taken lightly.