Khalid's legs fidgeted, threatening to break the meditation pretzel he had formed. He wrinkled his nose and shut his eyes. All he had to do was take one breath in and another out.
In… and out.
His father always told him during their morning meditation hour that patience was a virtue. So, if he ever wanted to be Duke Riegan, or maybe even the king of Almyra so that he could laugh in Shahid's stupid face, he had to be patient. Mature. Poised…
He opened his eyes and gazed out the window. The dull gray clouds cast a dim aura on the city of Derdriu, his new home. But in truth, the weather could only do so much to smother the capital city's shine. The ocean waves crashed against the coastline of the town, which was lined with large docks, colorful beach parasols, and large, beautiful houses that formed a curve along the patterned, stone pavement.
A small white spec landed on his window sill. He stared at it curiously, for he had never seen such a thing before. In an instant, it melted into water. His eyes widened with excitement. "Ice…?"
He had heard of it before but never before had he seen it in the desert for himself. Other white specs gently descended from the sky, mesmerizing the young teenager. It was all but a legend up until this very moment: snow.
Khalid raced out of his room at once. Forget patience and care, who needed that when snow was around? "Hey, gramps! Have you seen this?!" he yelled. The maids' mouths dropped as he sprinted by and slid down the railing.
"Milord! The stairs !" one cried out, "You– you'll hurt yourself!"
He laughed. "No need to worry about that, but thanks! Know where my grandfather is?"
"U-um, he's in his study," she said meekly.
"Great, thanks! See you around!"
"E-er, okay! Take care…" she said, visibly bewildered at his nonchalance.
He dashed to his grandfather's room and knocked on the door, eagerly waiting to show him the weather. At this point, he'd have to go and build a snowman or go sledding… surely, his grandfather's old age wouldn't stop him now.
No response.
"Boy! In the name of Nemesis, what are you doing?"
At the young boy's side was an elderly man. He had a bushy mustache, a cane in his trembling hands, and a loose, brown suit draping over his hunched back. Wrinkles surrounded the old man's violet eyes, which matched Khalid's mother's exactly. His face grew red instantly.
"Uh… running to tell you about the snow?" he said.
The aging grandfather furrowed his bushy eyebrows. "Look down. Now."
It was only then that Khalid realized that all he had was a pair of boxers.
He clumsily swung his arms over his bare chest and nervously laughed before awkwardly waddling back upstairs.
Patience was a virtue indeed.
Any Almyran prince would be the enemy of the Fodlan people. So, Khalid couldn't be Khalid Rahman anymore for all intents and purposes. Now, he was Claude Von Riegan, a teenage boy who rose to fame when the ailing head of House Riegan required an heir. And in a few years, he'd be the new Duke Riegan: the man in charge of the Leicester Alliance, one of the three primary countries of Fodlan.
The name "Claude" was inspired by a book he found in his mother's old room: The Story of Claudia Von Riegan, which told the stories of an adventurous woman who ran away to marry her lover. Making such a romantic daydream a reality was reminiscent of his mother's actions, but it was also exactly what he needed to do.
He needed to dream.
" Stop dreaming, boy! " Duke Riegan hissed, waving his hands swiftly.
Violent trembles from the bouncing carriage threatened to toss Khalid not only out of his thoughts but also off his seat. He clutched the bottom of the creaking wood. The hand mirror on his seat threatened to slip off and shatter, lying dangerously close to the edge. Wrinkles formed on the aging man's sallow face.
"We're almost at Gloucester residence. Make sure you're ready." he said sternly, "You may be the future sovereign duke, but the Alliance isn't governed by you alone. The four other Great Lords will be judging you today. Duke Goneril and Count Ordelia might let you off easy, but I would not expect Margrave Edmund or Count Gloucester to be nearly as accommodating."
"Don't worry, gramps! I got this," Khalid said. A snug bowtie rested neatly on the snow-white shirt of his brand-new tuxedo. His hair was slick back, but it was only a matter of time before his curls would spring back to their place, flying above his head.
The grandfather and grandson duo stepped out of the carriage and marched in sync, with both having their hands rested in front. Eventually, when everyone was long familiar with him, Khalid would be able to relax. But for today, he had to be on his best behavior. Thankfully, he has charmed everyone in the room before, and he could do it again.
The mansion was a large one, with white, marble pillars and a vast garden filled with blooming, aromatic flowers of all shapes and colors. There was a fountain in the middle, accompanied by the calming sounds of the waves' gentle splashes. Khalid stared in awe at its extravagance, while the duke nodded at the servant rushing to greet them.
"G-greetings, Duke Riegan. The other nobles are already inside. They have been eagerly awaiting your arrival," he said quietly. He turned to Khalid. "And I see that the young Lord Riegan has finally joined us today. Welcome. The Gloucesters have been discussing you practically nonstop. The Countess tends to these flowers personally, so she was quite particular about how everything was to look today."
Khalid raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I didn't realize I was so popular," he said smugly. Duke Riegan shook his head.
"Shall we?" he muttered with his head down.
All of the servants froze when he entered the hall. Eyes followed him as he strode by, with whispers slinking around the corners of the room. When he reached the door, Duke Riegan nudged the door open quietly, gently urging his grandson inside.
Sunlight poured into the room from the stained glass windows, shedding light onto the large, rectangular table in the middle. Hung on the wall was a large map of the entirety of the Leicester Alliance. The region was highlighted in a bright yellow and somewhat resembled a triangle, hanging on the upper right of Fodlan. Almyra was just to the right, blocked off by mountains and a stone wall that was quite familiar to him already. On the opposite wall of the room was the Alliance's flag: an emblem of black and yellow, covered with silver patterning and a moon–a common symbol for the reigning Riegan dukedom.
Seated at the tables were four men and one teenage boy just around Khalid's age.
The boy had a silky, light purple shirt and a white cravat. Pinned on the left part of his chest was a large, flashy, red rose. His slanted, bluish-purple eyes matched his hair, which was molded into a bowl cut. Bizarrely enough, the bangs on his forehead were cut in a slant. It was a tragic mistake made by the barber, surely, yet the boy seemed hardly embarrassed. In fact, he only held his head high with pride like a pampered poodle. Yet his eyes were glued to the other men at the table, clearly ready to jump in at any time and prove his worth.
"Margrave Edmund… how could you possibly not have any troops to spare? This is the third time in a row that you've said such a thing," the purple-haired man beside the boy spoke sharply. He was a stern-looking man with a piercing gaze, and he looked hardly accommodating for his colleague on the opposite end of the room.
"Now, I think that we should all be empathetic here. Margrave Edmund has done a great deal of work for us on behalf of the Alliance. I'm sure he has his reasons," a third noble with faded, light Fuschia hair and a red robe said softly. He fiddled with his glasses and coughed harshly.
The margrave nodded fervently and folded his arms. His brown hair was quickly swept aside, while his shawl and attire tastefully matched his green eyes. "Count Ordelia is correct, I do have personal matters to attend to. As with any of us, my troops are only so finite. I've had to dispatch a few extra for some suspicious individuals in the area," he informed, "I'm not concerned. There's no imminent threat from Almyra, and it looks like the Goneril troops have things well handled. Isn't that right, Lord Holst?" he asked.
Everyone's attention turned to the largest man in the room sitting near the front door. Holst was a large man adorned with sharp, spiky gray armor. His short, rose-pink hair was hastily combed and swept out of the way of his tanned forehead. In his hand was a notebook Unable to resist the temptation sparked by curiosity, Khalid leaned curiously over him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the words hidden under the warrior's muscular forearms. Most of the words remained well hidden, though he did notice a drawing at the corner of the man's notebook: a small portrait sketch of a girl with long hair, a lacy dress, round eyes, and an irresistible smile. "Well, if I were you, I wouldn't let our guard down. I have received new intel from Almyra, after all. And it seems that we have cause for concern… a prince seems to have–"
Suddenly, he shut his book and stood up. Duke Riegan yanked Khalid back up straight and glared at him sternly. In the midst of it all, the boy caught a glimpse of Count Gloucester and the other young man both staring at him scornfully.
"I see we have a visitor!" said Holst with a glare, "One who doesn't keep his eyes on his own papers, apparently."
"I wasn't looking at anything confidential, don't worry!" Khalid insisted quickly. He had to come up with another excuse fast, but there was only so much he could point to at that very moment. What could he say? "I just noticed the girl in your book. Is she…"
The man's eyes lit up instantly. "Ah, so you saw the portrait of my dear baby sister, Hilda! Yes, for as long as she has been in this world, she has remained the most important person in my life."
"Is that so?" Khalid said with a smile, hoping to hone in on this point, "Seems like you care about her a lot. I admire that about you! She must consider herself lucky."
"It is my solemn duty to ensure her well-being at all times," he insisted emphatically. He dramatically placed his hand over his chest as if he was reciting a pledge. "Come what may, I will protect her from any unhappiness or harm."
Admittedly, Khalid couldn't help but find his attitude amusing, even when he cared greatly for his own sister at home. "Respectable!" he said happily, "And on that note, since I wasn't looking at anything else…"
"Ah, that? That was just a crossword!" Holst laughed. Count Gloucester audibly sighed in the background.
"Oh."
"I'm so happy that you noticed the most important person in my life!" he said gleefully, though his next words were not nearly as friendly, "As long as you don't notice her too much or cause her any trouble. Then, we'd have to have a word…"
Khalid tightened a smile as Holst loomed over him. "Of course! Don't worry about that, and uh… point taken," he said, "Should I introduce myself to everyone else?"
"Oh, right, of course! Everyone, meet Claude, the new heir of the Riegan house!" Holst said, yanking Khalid and plopping him at his side effortlessly. "You already know this, but I am Holst Sigiswald Goneril, heir to House Goneril and the man in charge of the Alliance's defenses. If you have any questions about military matters, just write me a letter!"
Margrave Edmund and Count Gloucester exchanged glances but said nothing. The young man beside Count Gloucester narrowed his eyes.
Count Ordelia spoke first. "Claude, was it? Welcome to the Roundtable. Please, do let me know if you need a hand. I also have a daughter at home who's just around your age, so I'm sure she'd love to meet you one of these days." he said quietly, "Her name is Lysithea. She's quite headstrong and intelligent if I do say so myself."
"Come to think of it… Margrave Edmund's daughter, Marianne, hasn't met anyone yet either," Count Gloucester said, "Just when are we going to meet the child? We're sure she's just lovely."
"I've been meaning to bring Marianne one of these days, but she has been rather occupied taking care of some personal matters. She's still young, so she has time to figure it out. I'll bring her when everything is sorted out at home," the margrave explains. Yet before anyone can respond, he continues talking, reluctant to dive into more details.
"That's enough about her for now. Claude, excuse my skepticism, but I still find it hard to believe that a relative of the duke could be found so far out in the village as you were. But your grandfather says you have a Crest found exclusively in the Riegan family, is that right? Are you able to show us?"
"Right. Of course." Khalid said. He held his hand out. In an instant, a warm, glowing light in the shape of a crescent moon appeared in his hand.
Khalid had received the Crest from his mother, who carried it even though she didn't have it herself. For years, though, he hadn't even known of its existence. It was only after he had fallen off a swing and had mysteriously healed his wounds that his mother quickly decided to see if the Crest had appeared in his blood.
It was a pity that such a power could not be activated all the time. If it had, he would've been able to hide all of his injuries from his sister.
"Is that enough proof for you?" he asked.
"It is, thank you," the margrave said with a small nod. "Hm… Marianne is your age, from what I gathered. I'll bring her to meet you if time permits."
"This leaves the best introduction for last!" the young man by Count Gloucester said proudly, his eyes sparkling, "Father, care to take it away? It is only fitting that you introduce yourself in all of your noble glory!"
"Right, Lorenz, thank you," the count said, lightly patting his son's hand, "Ahem! I am Erwin Fritz Gloucester, esteemed count of the Gloucester region and member of the Roundtable. You would do well to remember that. And this is–"
Lorenz practically jumped out of his seat. "His proud son Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! Proud heir to the Gloucester house, eligible bachelor for any interested, worthy noblewomen…" he announced, sneaking a smile at Holst, Count Ordelia, and Margrave Edmund, none of whom seemed amused, " And the future leader of the Alliance!"
Count Gloucester swatted his son's wrist.
"Uh… isn't that supposed to be my job?" Claude asked.
"It will be if you do it properly!" Lorenz confidently quipped, "But are you truly fit to be heir to the Alliance, what with your village background? I bet you haven't even the slightest idea of what happens in politics."
"Oh, I'm sure I know more than any of you think I do," Khalid hummed. After all, it was technically the truth. As a prince, he had seen his father at work countless times back in Almyra.
"What experience do you have, Claude?" Count Gloucester said.
"He doesn't have so much! Just the things I've taught him!" Duke Riegan jumped in with a quick laugh, squeezing his grandson's arm tighter than he thought possible. "But he will be learning everything at the Officers' Academy, won't you, boy?"
"I… yup!" Khalid agreed.
"You don't even know what that is, do you?" Lorenz groaned.
"Of course I do, Lorenz," he said, "It's an academy. With… students! Like you and me. It's a noble school where you and I will learn noble things."
"The Officers Academy is an academy where nobles and commoners alike go to learn the art of warfare and leadership," Holst explained, "It is a rite of passage all Roundtable nobles go through to be prepared for the future."
"He will most surely attend the academy," Duke Riegan quickly chimed in, "And once he does, he'll be ready to inherit my position."
Lorenz's mouth dropped. "What? So soon? Are you sure that is so wise?"
"Don't worry, Lorenz," Claude said, "I'll get the hang of things before you know it. Just wait."
Now, I've done the groundwork! Next time, we'll finally meet more characters who are far more familiar to us, so stay tuned!
Special thanks to my friend Elsem for beta reading. If you liked this chapter and/or have feedback, please feel free to give a kudos or leave a comment- I'd love to hear from you! :)