Black hair. Arms and legs long like a horse’s.
Even a neck so elongated it gave off a bizarre atmosphere, as if not human.
That was Annabella Stone.
Redron utterly despised this gloomy half-sister born from his father’s concubine.
No, he had despised her.
It wasn’t for any special reason. Just an instinctive repulsion rising from within.
That was how it was in childhood… but now, it was more accurate to say he rarely encountered his half-sister, let alone thought of her.
People wouldn’t understand, but the position of first prince had more duties scattered everywhere than one might think.
Not only was she not a potential ‘rival,’ but his half-sister—born from a concubine chosen merely for her face, with no family power—quickly fell out of the King of Bers’ interest.
Recognized as a member of royalty, but without the support befitting it, she was almost neglected—a princess.
As time passed and she reached the age for marriage talks, she was quietly growing in the palace to be sold off to a suitably named, plausible family.
Nothing more, nothing less—that was Annabella.
‘O, oppa…’
‘Disgusting. Black hair and black eyes. She resembles neither Father nor Mother. Your mother must have been loose with her body.’
On the way back to the annex where Jasmine was. Redron encountered his half-sister, whom he hadn’t seen in years.
Her body had grown like other women, but she remained an insecure, half-witted, ugly princess who couldn’t even speak properly in front of Redron.
“O, ora… ora, verni…”
Redron said nothing as he watched Annabella fidget before him.
For the first time, he recalled his past actions.
And for the first time, he realized those actions were utterly shameful and should never have been done.
The first prince sighed as he looked at his half-sister, who had received far too much indifference and disdain despite being royalty, unable to even speak properly.
Haa… He no longer expected to form a proper relationship now, a normal ‘family’ bond with his half-sister.
Redron decided to greet first on behalf of Annabella, who wouldn’t say a word unless he spoke and would forever remain stuck.
“Annabella. What brings you here.”
He did his best to speak in a ‘kind tone.’ But Annabella didn’t seem to think so.
“Th, th, th… that is… i-it’s an h-honor… honor to m-meet… y-your Highness, the f-first prince…”
“…I am your brother. No need for such formality. You there. Tell me why Annabella came all this way. Don’t say she got lost.”
He had no expectation from the start that Annabella would speak normally, so Redron pointedly asked the attendant maid staying by his half-sister’s side.
The maid whispered briefly with Annabella, heads together, then straightened her posture and explained the reason for visiting the first prince’s annex in an elegant voice.
“Your Highness, Princess Annabella simply came to meet a newly made friend.”
“Fri…end?”
Was she the kind of child who could make friends? No, before that, had there even been anyone worthy of being called a ‘friend’ until now?
…The thought flashed through his mind, but Redron didn’t voice it needlessly.
He was no longer the immature self from childish times, the foolish and dull Redron of the past.
Hadn’t he sworn before her? That he would not repeat past mistakes.
He had no intention now of living like a proper family with his half-sister, but neither did he plan to bully or discomfort her.
Glancing over, her chest had swelled and hips grown—she was a woman after all. Soon, she would take a suitable husband and leave the palace.
There was no need to leave terrible memories for the palace and blood relative (though whether Annabella was truly the king’s daughter remained doubtful) until the day she left.
Redron conversed with his half-sister through the maid.
“A friend… well, fine. I don’t know how you made a friend in my annex, but having a friend is something I should be glad about as your brother. Tell her that, maid.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He wanted to ask himself what kind of idiotic behavior this was, speaking with her right in front of him, but he couldn’t complain since he had a significant share in her growing up so passive.
“So, I’m curious what kind, benevolent, angelic person became friends with my beloved (he knew it was lip service) sister. And it’s surprising she’s in my annex… well, fine. You can visit often. I’ll tell the attendants. Come anytime you want.”
“Th, th, thank… thank you… ora, ver, verni…”
…Someday, you’ll change that personality too.
Still, he thought it would be good if it happened a bit sooner.
Redron led the way into the annex. Far behind the first prince, keeping even their shadows from touching, Annabella followed cautiously like a frightened kitten.
Turning back, Redron could only sigh in exasperation at the sight and strode toward the room where Jasmine was.
He was curious if Jasmine was doing well today, but no less curious about who his half-sister’s first friend in life was.
…How on earth did someone with that personality make a friend?
***
The manager in charge of slave gladiators, Billy, was confident I’d like it, but I was indifferent.
In the huge square, there were only slave gladiators slumped listlessly among themselves, like the female beastman slaves I’d seen on the way.
They showed no reaction even upon confirming a stranger human like me had entered.
It felt like they were merely alive without dying. My intuition was probably accurate.
They had no ‘tomorrow.’ No future, no hope.
A life without hope of improvement… that makes a person alive yet dead at the same time. Hope must always exist. Even if it’s a rotten rope.
“Pathetic.”
There was no need to act the arrogant knight. I expressed my honest feelings.
Here, the slave gladiators owned by the King of Bers were no different from the dead.
I even thought it would be mercy to end their breaths, but I didn’t draw the sword at my waist.
I hadn’t yet confirmed where the captain was staying.
On the way to the palace, the captain’s carriage had gone together toward where other ‘living sacrifices’ were headed.
It would be troublesome to slip away pretending a ‘mistake.’
The captain had to appear in the colosseum, unfolding slaughter according to our plan.
He already knew he had to kill his own kind.
I did, the captain did, Garland did.
We all came to save Jasmine. Even if our actions weren’t completely ‘good,’ we could no longer retreat or yield.
“I had some expectations since there are gladiator matches where they slaughter each other… but the disappointment is great. Have these guys even fought before? I don’t think the audience would like throwing such corpses into the arena?”
“That is… recently, His Grace the Archduke’s champion is quite formidable…!!”
“Archduke?”
“Ah.”
Billy shook his head and waved his hands, realizing he had said something he shouldn’t, but it was far too late.
Regret is late no matter how early, and with a bit of threat and a gauntlet made of iron (scary), the manager obediently spilled his situation.
“That is…”
Billy was poor at holding his tongue.
Still, I patiently listened, cutting out the deviations and picking only the important parts.
To summarize:
Recently, the King of Bers’ excellent(?) slave gladiators had been dying one after another.
This was because the champion of Archduke Greenwood, said to have power second only to the King of Bers, was overwhelmingly strong.
Originally in the colosseum, various nobles sent out gladiators owned by their families, and though called slaughter matches, they didn’t truly tenaciously take lives.
They only ended lives when pre-arranged to dispose of those no longer useful.
Using even human death calculatedly… No, to them, they’re not ‘people.’
Usually, colosseum gladiators had a slight script prepared in advance and performed coordinated fights before noble audiences, like plausible plays or performances.
However, Archduke Greenwood’s champion ignored mercy for kin and all unspoken rules among slave gladiators, ending the breath of every opponent.
As a result, the dead slave gladiators were not just one or two.
Among the over dozens of victims already, there were even the King of Bers’ champions, according to Billy’s explanation.
“So that’s how it was…”
I nodded and looked past Billy at the tiger beastman confined in the iron cage. Billy begged and pleaded with me not to tell anyone else what he had just said. His near-tearful pleading was quite pitiful.
I nodded. Well, there was no need to tell the people of the Kingdom of Bers anyway.
Surabar, the captain, was lying prone on a crude mattress made of straw bundles.
I distanced Billy, who had to manage the prince’s exclusive slave, and the dark-circled maid still lingering nearby. Confirming they were far away, I opened my mouth.
“I’ve thought of a good method, Captain.”
“What a coincidence. I just had a similar idea.”
Grrr… Billy, terrified by the ferocious beast’s growl, acted as if he might foam at the mouth and faint. Even the maid pretending otherwise had trembling fingertips.
I shared the idea I had just thought of with the captain.
And I entrusted Billy to provide what the captain needed (proper meals, plenty of water, and complete freedom within these quarters), then went to find Sir Garland, who had returned from meeting the King of Bers.
“Your Highness. I learned something in the quarters.”
“What is it? Pamir.”
I smiled at Sir Garland.
Imagining the ‘legendary’ duel to be held in a few days, gathering Bers’ main guests, I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
***
“The ‘friend’ you mentioned was Jasmine…?”
“Y-yes… s-surely… y-you d-didn’t… kn-know…? O-oppa…? I, I… th-thought… y-you… kn-knew…”
“…Khm.”
Redron quickly turned away upon seeing Annabella acting like a gentle lamb or frightened kid goat right beside Jasmine.
He didn’t want to show Jasmine a frowning face.
Moreover, he knew that if the clear coward saw his grimaced face, she would gasp in fear and shed tears.
Redron was curious how this cowardly half-sister had become ‘friends’ with Jasmine behind his back.
At the same time, a strange relief washed over him that the person she could make friends with was her, mixed with slight irritation.
The woman was a beautiful, dazzling being with crimson fox ears and tail— a ‘gift’ his father had given him. Yes, a gift… not anyone else’s…
“Redron? Is something wrong?”
“Ah, nothing… Ahem, ahem…! Nothing, at all.”
What gift!
At Jasmine’s voice—not anyone else’s, a worried question directed at ‘him’—Redron tried hard to feign calm.
Saying he had a brief matter (though there was none), telling his sister to stay with her a moment, he went out to the garden outside the annex, faced the cold wind to cool his heat, and only then could the first prince barely return to the room.
Jasmine greeted him with her usual soft smile. Then the young prince’s heart melted like butter losing shape and flowing on a pan.
“Redron.”
“Ahem, ahem… Yes, yes!”
“Fufu, doing it again. You’re a bit late today. Was there something busy?”
“Th-that is…”
Redron swallowed his words and glanced aside at Annabella, who was using Jasmine as a shield from behind, minimizing exposure as much as possible.
Originally, he had planned to boast about achieving the ten thousand slashes he had aimed for.
But Annabella caught his eye.
No matter what she usually thought of him, he didn’t want to show the embarrassing sight of bragging about such trivial things to Jasmine in front of his sister.
Moreover, ten thousand slashes were, as Jasmine said, ‘ordinary’ self-discipline that any mercenary or knight did daily.
To think he was going to boast about this, it was truly foolish and stupid, even to himself…
“…? Redron. Are you really okay?”
“I-I’m fine…”
Startled by Jasmine’s face suddenly close, Redron retreated hastily and scurried out of the annex like fleeing from a fierce enemy.
Th-this is… because I need to sleep early to prepare for tomorrow’s training… That’s it! That’s all…!
“…?”
“Ah, g-goodbye… h-he left…”
Annabella’s greeting, which couldn’t be conveyed, vanished emptily.