This story took place when Ligares was just a small child.
Queen Raviola and her two sons, Reminic and Ligares, were never well-received within the palace. Most of their days were spent confined to the Queen’s quarters, living under the wary eyes of the palace staff. Then, one day, a festival erupted outside the palace.
To young Ligares, the outside world was a place of endless fascination, contrasting sharply with the palace’s stifling confines, which felt more like a prison. For two days, he begged his mother and brother to let him see the festivities, even refusing to eat.
Though his mother firmly forbade it, his brother, soft-hearted as he was, eventually gave in.
Reminic promised to take Ligares to the festival. Since the Queen had strictly prohibited them from going, it had to be done in secret.
The young princes huddled under their covers, heads close together, devising their escape plan. Thus began their first adventure.
They were resourceful for their age. They hired one of the maids, a familiar face they’d seen often over the past six months, to help them. With two gold buttons slipped into her hand, she agreed to sneak them out of the palace and guide them to the festival.
Their plan succeeded.
The young princes trailed behind the maid, entranced by the sights of acrobatic performances, market goods, and cotton candy.
It was a time of pure joy.
A successful adventure, leaving them with treasured memories that they would look back on like a precious trove. It was a secret between the two, one that softened any quarrels and brought them to reconcile, thinking of those moments whenever they argued.
This would become a cherished story for the princes to share one day, boasting of their bond to noble ladies while sipping tea in the garden.
They would remember this first adventure fondly upon their return to the palace.
But, unfortunately, the two princes never made it back to the palace that day.
The darkened streets became a dangerous place for young children.
At some point, the maid who had brought them out vanished without a trace, and the two boys were abducted by strangers under the cover of the fireworks display.
The princes were taken to a secluded monastery controlled by fanatics.
In the dank cells beneath the monastery, Ligares and Reminic were separated from the other children who had been taken.
The dark, foul-smelling prison was enough to cow the princes.
Ligares trembled with fear, but Reminic reassured him, his voice calm and steady as always, bringing Ligares a measure of comfort.
For three days, they remained locked away, shivering as sinister rituals took place nearby.
Hunger soon became another pressing concern.
Brother, I’m so hungry.
Just hold on a little longer, Liga.
They were given only two meals a day: a thin porridge and a small piece of bread. It was barely enough to stave off Ligares’s constant hunger pangs.
Even though Reminic tried to ease his suffering by giving up his own share, it wasn’t enough.
Then, on the fourth day, something changed. Whether it was the terror wearing him down or some darker influence, Reminic’s gentle nature took a sudden turn.
Reminic, what’s wrong with you?!
…
Reminic began devouring Ligares’s food as well as his own.
When Ligares protested, punching his brother to claim his share, Reminic didn’t budge. He ate his brother’s food without a word, turning his back to him, shoving the food down even as he choked and gagged, like a man possessed by hunger.
After two days of this, Ligares lay weak and frail, barely able to move.
He lay there, staring listlessly at the ceiling, resigned to his fate, his mind swirling with bitter thoughts.
He hated his brother. Wished he would just die.
Then, one night, Reminic shook Ligares awake, forcing him to stand.
Thin and malnourished, Ligares struggled to keep his balance, his frail body barely able to stay upright.
Reminic pushed a piece of bread into his mouth, something he’d kept hidden.
Ligares felt an inexplicable resentment. Why now? He wanted to spit out the food his brother was giving him, but his body obediently chewed and swallowed.
With a visible sigh of relief, Reminic began moving stones from the corner of the cell.
Behind them lay a small hole, just large enough for two young children to squeeze through.
Surprised, Ligares listened as Reminic explained that he had been sneaking out every night, searching for an escape route.
So, his brother had eaten all his food to build the strength he needed to scout an escape route?
As the realization dawned, the bitterness in Ligares’s heart melted away. Still, he couldn’t resist one last complaint.
But I still hate you, brother.
…
I wish you would just disappear.
…I know.
Later, Ligares would remember this moment and feel grateful that his brother’s face in that memory had faded, blurred by time.
At least he wouldn’t have to recall the look of hurt on his brother’s face.
Only the ache in his heart remained, a scar left by the pain of seeing his brother’s wounded expression.
Ligares wanted to take back his words, but it was too late. His brother had already begun to move through the gap, urging Ligares to follow.
If he made it out, Ligares would apologize, he told himself. He would say that his brother was his favorite person in the world.
But just as these thoughts filled his mind, their escape was discovered. He saw the fanatics approaching, holding stones that glowed in the dark.
Reminic and Ligares ran for their lives, finally reaching the monastery’s outer wall.
There was a small gap in the thick, high stone wall, similar to the one in the cell.
In haste, Reminic pushed Ligares through first. His frail body barely fit through the opening.
I’m through! Brother, come on, you can do it too!
Ligares extended his hand through the gap, elated.
But—
I can’t make it, Liga.
…!
As if he’d known this would be the outcome, Reminic smiled.
In that moment, Ligares understood why his brother had kept him hungry all week.
He had never wanted to know.
Go. Get help. I’ll wait here.
Brother! Reminic!
Hurry, go!
When Ligares didn’t move, Reminic turned away and walked back toward their captors on his own.
That was the last image Ligares had of his brother.
After that, it was all a blur. Somehow, he stumbled upon a village, asked for help, and eventually returned to the palace.
The royal family immediately dispatched Marquis Lecandro to raid the monastery and rescue the Second Prince.
But by the time the marquis arrived, it was too late.
The fanatics had already relocated, leaving behind only traces of the horrific rituals they had performed.
When Ligares returned from his reverie, his hand was bruised, a deep purple stain marring his knuckles. Still, his grip was iron-tight, unyielding.
“Mother, I…”
The stubborn, defiant look in his eyes began to crumble.
“I… can never forgive myself.”
✠
That evening, First Prince Hadeil received a report on what had transpired in the Holy Vicar’s parlor, courtesy of one of Ligares’s informants.
“Are you saying that my younger brother proposed marriage to the Saintess, and she didn’t refuse?”
Hadeil chuckled, a derisive sound.
Crown Princess, indeed.
Ligares wasn’t the type to take the place of a brother’s wife just to be polite.
In other words, he intended to become the Crown Prince himself and make the Holy Vicar his consort.
Moreover, she had turned down his offer of a dress and escort yet seemed inclined toward the idea of becoming the Crown Princess.
How utterly audacious of them both.
“So, the Saintess intends to ally herself with the Queen and the Third Prince?”
Hadeil had the support of the people, in part due to his position as the royal family’s eldest son and his reputation for a gentler temperament compared to Ligares.
But should Ligares manage to sway public sentiment, the scales would inevitably tip against him.
With a look of irritation, Hadeil addressed his aide.
“Ridiculous. There’s no way the Queen and the Third Prince could genuinely offer the title of Crown Princess. How could the Saintess, a representative of the Theocracy, not see that?”
“A Saintess wouldn’t understand politics, would she? Her grasp of matters surely falls far short of someone like you, who has been forged in the crucible of royal intrigues.”
“That’s why I took it upon myself to give her advice. I doubt she has the wit to become the Crown Princess.”
“At best, they likely see her as a disposable pawn.”
Hadeil and his aide were well-aligned in their thinking.
Regardless of their motives, it wouldn’t do to let the Holy Vicar publicly ally herself with Ligares at tomorrow’s banquet.
He needed to sow some discord. Fortunately, Hadeil had a natural talent for this kind of manipulation.
After all, he’d eliminated one of his rivals quite skillfully back in his teenage years. This would be child’s play.
All he needed to do was press the Queen and Ligares on their most sensitive spot.
“Perhaps a reminder of my poor brother, abducted by fanatics and lost, will bring them back to their senses.”
“You intend to use Prince Reminic’s memory again, Your Highness?”
“Again?”
“…”
“Mind your words. It’s not ‘using’—I’m drawing strength from his memory.”
“My apologies, Your Highness.”
Hadeil’s eyes narrowed, his face a picture of icy rebuke.
“We should drop the news before the Saintess offers her prayer tomorrow. I’ve thought of something better than ‘peace for the royal family.'”
“What would that be?”
The prince, handsome as a painting, smiled cruelly.
“I’ll have her pray for my poor brother’s soul. Lately, I’ve been having unsettling dreams, after all.”
✠
The light from the chandelier refracted off the crystal decorations, casting a dizzying glow across the hall.
The grand ballroom was filled with nobles adorned like summer flowers, each dressed to impress.
Amidst them stood a group of four men: knights from the Theocracy and the royal guard.
“Ah, finally, drinks!”
“Keep it discreet, Ifail.”
“Ray, why do you keep glancing at the entrance? Are we expecting an ambush?”
“…Pay it no mind.”
In another corner, a noblewoman with dark hair in a captivating dress conversed with a pink-haired knight in formal attire.
“Sir Prince, you certainly live up to your reputation as top of the academy.”
“Pardon? Bianca, why the sudden praise…?”
“Your etiquette at court is impeccable.”
“I’m relieved I meet your standards, Bianca.”
“If only you weren’t the Grand Duke’s grandson…”
“Sorry? What was that?”
“Nothing of importance.”