King of Bers. Red Stone. And Father.
To the kingdom’s people, he was called by many titles and rightfully ruled as one above all, but to his children, he was merely a father.
Yet the father Anabella remembered was closer to a merchant appraising a product’s value than a father.
Not someone approachable, trustworthy, willing to share his inner self and all that could be weaknesses.
For that reason, Anabella was shocked. But as always, she tried not to show it outwardly.
Yes, tried. As always, unsuccessfully…
When she heard from Kedmos Yager, the kingdom’s guardian swordmaster, that he was seeking her first, not the first prince, her heart sank.
Had he misspoken? Stammering, she barely managed to ask Kedmos again, but the response was only an incomprehensible, smiling swordmaster’s grin.
“His Majesty has summoned Princess Anabella.”
That was his answer.
Hadn’t Father already forgotten her? Anabella recalled the black rose blood flowing half within her—her mother’s family.
After it became known they were involved in treasonous plots, hadn’t Anabella already been severed from the great Stone lineage…?
Yet the King of Bers said nothing about his daughter. Thus Anabella lived. Survived.
For over ten years. Anabella lived in the most rundown mansion in the palace’s remotest corner. Like a dead person. Without even breathing loudly.
Only on her yearly birthday could Anabella meet her father.
Even then, no proper conversation—just a very short meal, then departure. An uncomfortable, awkward occasion merely to show duty and responsibility.
Even that abruptly ceased at some point.
“What should I do…!”
Even if Anabella begged time’s gears to stop, the carriage moved toward the king’s palace. Still bearing the “black rose.”
Each time it passed, each time she saw people outside the window, Anabella felt they were speaking to her.
Though mouths shut and hurrying steps, Anabella felt they were cursing her family—precisely her mother’s family.
“Well, Anabella. It’s your time now. His Majesty may seem heartless, but he’s not without affection for blood. You know that, right? No need to be too scared… Stop shaking. You’re making me anxious.”
“Y-Yes… I-I under—understood, Br-Brother…”
The first prince, trying to instill courage by saying not to fear, covered his face with his palm and immediately regretted his actions.
Of course… Facing Anabella’s extreme personality and severe flaw of being unable to converse without stammering, Redron grew deeply worried.
At first, it was to appear different from the past—now older, with a hairpin, wanting to impress Jasmine—but after several days together, genuine concern arose.
Half-sister or not, a sister is a sister.
As the brother who clearly knew how Anabella’s remaining life would unfold, how could he not worry?
Redron subtly checked around the carriage, confirming Kedmos hadn’t vanished silently to hide on the roof or floor.
Tap tap, tok tok. Straining his ears, he sensed no trace of Sir Kedmos.
“Jasmine, does Anabella act like this even when I’m not around?”
“No. When the princess is with me…”
“It’s fine. Just say it.”
“…She was alright. She stammers the same, but not this severely.”
“Please. Help Anabella somehow. Right, Anabella, shall this brother hug you? No strange meaning—”
“I-It’s f-fine. Really. F-Fine, fine…”
“…Alright. I wish it were so.”
Sighing with unmistakable deep worry, Redron fretted over what might happen between his sister and father in the audience chamber.
Surely… they wouldn’t expel her from the palace for stammering…?
***
“Come in. My son, and my beloved daughter.”
Red rose from his seat, arms wide, alternately embracing the first prince and rose princess.
Redron wore an awkward expression; Anabella maintained the indifferent look she had upon entering.
Yet when embraced by her father, her momentary flinch and tremble did not escape the King of Bers. How could it?
Who had intentionally sent Anabella to the palace’s remotest mansion, raising her without others’ love or the joy of being loved?
Red looked at Anabella with the face of a most excellent father.
“Well grown. Looks exactly like her mother… Though she doesn’t carry my blood.”
He had never held her hand, called her name, or used endearments like “beloved.” No reason or need.
Now was different. The rose princess abandoned in the palace’s remotest corner had found her place.
Anabella would wed a most excellent, perfect husband.
“What is the reason for summoning us, Your Majesty?”
In Anabella’s stead—tension fully revealed—Redron asked politely.
“‘Your Majesty’? No onlookers here. In private, Father is fine.”
“…Father, is something the matter?”
“Must there be a matter for a parent to meet children? Well… there is one. But not only that. Sit. Anabella too.”
Redron’s eyes widened in shock.
The king—pride sky-high, never bowing to anyone—was personally pulling out a chair for Anabella to sit.
If that gentle appearance seemed less consideration and more luring prey into its den, was it paranoia?
Whenever the King of Bers showed consideration or softened the mood with gentle tone, the most terrifying events followed. Not immediately, perhaps. Like prophecy, someone or some family suffered calamity.
Redron almost wished Anabella would lose self-control. Scream in terror, lash out.
But his half-sister, calming herself and standing firm, wore an unreadable, indifferent expression.
Then, like her mother, she straightened her back and sat neatly in the chair.
“The wind is chilly. How about tea?”
“Thank you, Father.”
Clang… King and prince nearly dropped their teacups.
“…Such a lovely voice. You truly take after your mother. Seeing you like this, I remember as if yesterday how beautiful she was. Ah, yes. Anabella, your birthday is soon, right? Speak your wishes. I’ll grant anything. This father has been… a bit neglectful due to state affairs.”
“It’s alright, Father.”
“Alright indeed… Redron, do you know what your sister might want? If so, tell Father privately later.”
“Bullshit, you black-hearted old snake,” Redron wanted to blurt, but endured.
He wasn’t yet heir to the throne. Even non-family knew Father had ignored Anabella.
The last time Anabella dined at the same table with Father? Her tenth birthday.
Now sixteen, her father had fulfilled no fatherly duties in the interim.
Merely confirming via maids’ regular reports that she lived, hadn’t died.
“The man who only thought of selling Anabella off… now pretending to be a father? Makes me want to vomit. To think I’m this bastard’s son… Even spitting while lying down would be better.”
Found a suitable buyer to sell her to? Sipping tea Father personally brewed, Redron thought.
At least no poison in this tea.
Redron somewhat knew how Father ran the palace. Not perfectly, but growing up close, he had seen and heard how decisions were made.
Poisoning a target before his eyes wasn’t his style.
Quiet “accidents” in unseen places, or false treason charges engraving fear and terror into souls—that was his way.
Like the black rose family’s disappearance.
“What matter brings us here, Father? Just say it. Some national crisis?”
“Hm… not entirely wrong. Redron. Best congratulate your sister early. I found a groom fitting Anabella. A fine, splendid fellow. Congratulations, my daughter! Your lifelong companion is a prince. Perhaps the heavenly gods favor you!”
“Pardon? Anabella’s groom? You mean Anabella is marrying? …I must have shouted without realizing.”
The king laughed heartily at his son leaping from his seat in shock.
“Yes. As I said, a solid, handsome, excellent husband. Anabella, this father failed proper fatherhood… but found a fine groom. I can proudly say this much. Yes indeed. From far away, Mosul—Prince Garland Hamilton. Mosul’s next king. Currently our most important ally. You’ll fall for him at first sight, I guarantee. Well, not quite as much as my youth, but still.”
Red Stone said. He smiled brightly; Anabella, like her dead mother, showed a gentle smile and accepted Father’s will.
“Yes, Father. I’m happy too.”
The first prince felt unprecedented chills watching Anabella nod without protest to marrying a man she had never seen.
This, this… wasn’t the Anabella he knew.
“What… the hell is going on?”
The cozy father-children time ended quickly. Red Stone had to return to busy state affairs.
***
Jasmine remained in the carriage. No need for the King of Bers to see a filthy tail-bearer when summoning prince and princess.
Redron worried about leaving Jasmine even briefly, but it was the princess’s carriage, so less concern.
Still insufficient, he summoned soldiers to guard it—no noble or other could approach Jasmine with ill intent.
…Except a swordmaster unbound by any law or rule.
“S-Sir Kedmos! This carriage belongs to His Highness the First Prince and Her High—”
“Ah, ah. Loyal soldier. Do you think I, of all people, would harm the precious carriage of precious persons? The soldier nodded frantically in fear. Of course. Am I not the great sword of His Majesty Red Stone, great King of Bers? Don’t worry too much, soldier.”
“Y-Yes… Of course…”
The soldier couldn’t invoke king or prince before the kingdom’s guardian staring him down.
Even if Kedmos damaged the carriage or rode it, no fitting punishment would come.
No matter what horrific act.
The two guarding soldiers turned backs and moved far from the carriage. Kedmos opened the door without interference.
“Hello? Pretty? We meet again?”
Jasmine turned her head while seated, looking at Kedmos. The kingdom’s guardian deity. The swordmaster smiled. A deep scar no makeup could hide marked his unblinking left eye.