Ratwomen, ratmen,
And here comes the end of a year, and the beginning of a new one. I hope that 2022 has been for you as rich in changes, improvements, good surprises and progressions as it has been for me.
Even though I don't have many messages, I know that my story still interests you. Do not hesitate to tell me about your feelings, your expectations, and your desires concerning the Rat Kingdom.
I now wish you a very, very happy new year 2023, under the sign of the Horned Rat!
A fine and delicate hand, with long and agile fingers, placed the last figurine.
- And here is the situation right now, your Majesty.
Prince Steiner nodded without saying a word. Sat behind his desk, he looked at the large map of the region of Pourseille unrolled on the table. Several small wooden figurines arranged here and there on the paper represented the forces of Vaucanson and his allies in the vicinity.
The person who had just made his presentation to the monarch was called Gilgalad Goldilock. She was an Elf, dressed like the huntresses of the people of Athel Loren. She was one of the few citizens of Vereinbarung who were neither Human nor Skaven. Mistress Goldilock had been recommended by the priests of Taal who knew her, and by Nedland Barnrooster who had taken the time to measure her abilities.
She was unanimously appreciated by the people who had met her in Steinerburg. First, for those who appreciated feminine beauty, she was very attractive: athletic, slender, light eyes shining under long blond locks, she used to wear a leather huntress outfit, practical, solid and comfortable. Ordinarily, she never moved without her bow, nor her short sword forged in the manner of the craftsmen of Athel Loren, but of course, for this interview, the guards at the entrance had kept her weapons. This did not prevent her from defending herself, if necessary, she knew how to fight with her bare hands as well.
- The bulk of Vaucanson's troops are assembled within the walls of the de Beyle's castle. He can nevertheless count on a few additional troops scattered in the surrounding villages.
- Are these troops numerous?
- Oh, not especially. To contain the peasants and take away their desire to revolt, these numbers are sufficient, but against our army, they won't count for much.
- I see.
Prince Steiner ventured to ask:
- By chance… didn't you see an extraordinary convoy on the way back?
- Not especially, your Majesty. What are you thinking about?
- Horace de Vaucanson most likely kidnapped one of my friends. I don't know for sure, but I have good reason to believe so. Perhaps you met the convoy carrying him?
- Negative, your Highness. We scouts are used to avoiding open roads. We prefer to go through the woods, especially when we are in enemy territory.
Ludwig Steiner felt his face glow at those words.
- "In enemy territory"… You are talking about our Kingdom, Mistress Goldilock!
- Oh… I beg your pardon, your Majesty.
- Forget it, I'm not angry against you. It is Horace de Vaucanson who's crossing the line!
The Prince stood up, and cracked his fingers.
- Now it's getting to be a pain. It's time to show this Bretonnian who Vereinbarung belongs to! Thanks to you, we know precisely the general extent of his forces, and what will be needed to counter them. Thank you, Mistress Goldilock, dismiss.
- At your service, your Majesty.
The Elf bowed, but as she was about to leave the room, the Prince raised his hand.
- Wait! Before leaving, please ask Captain Klingmann to join me here right now.
- I will, your Highness.
Half an hour later, the spotted Skaven entered the Steiner domain. He was welcomed by his friend Kristofferson.
- How is Bianka?
- The disease gives her a bad temper, but it passes little by little, thank you for her. And you?
- I've come to see your grandfather, he summoned me.
Without saying a word, the eldest of the Steiner siblings led the captain to the room where the Prince was waiting, then he returned to his sister – they had apologized to each other, and their relationship had fixed, and that had been great relief for their mother.
Walter Klingmann got sick. The tall Human exhaled a mixture of odours that conveyed so many unpleasant feelings.
- Ah, Captain, come in.
The spotted Skaven saluted the monarch.
- How are you, Captain?
- I keep my feet on the ground, your Highness. Kristofferson told me your granddaughter is better?
- Yes, indeed, but she still needs a rest. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Captain.
- I care about Bianka, your Majesty. If I could do anything for her, I would.
- You still can add a few guards at the district sewer tunnels, to make sure the area is protected. This will reassure the youngest of the family. Besides, were there any problems there?
- Negative, your Highness. If there are Feral Skaven in Steinerburg, they didn't dare to approach the Libra Quarter. Not yet.
- Perfect. Today, Captain, we are going to take action. I've had my fill of seeing the citizens of Vereinbarung suffer again and again. It's time to strike back. Mistress Goldilock and her scouts have reported to me. We will be able to take care of the Bretonnians before they decide to add problems to us.
- Excellent news, my Prince. But why tell me? Commander Renata is more likely to lead the battalion to resolve this issue, isn't she?
- I will ask Commander Renata to deal with the Feral Skaven who kidnap our children and massacre their parents. The troops leaving for Pourseille today will be commanded by someone else.
- Were you thinking of me, your Majesty?
- No, not you, Captain Klingmann. Your place is in Steinerburg. With the Purple Hand, you already have enough to do. I will have to call...
The Prince stopped talking. The spotted Skaven smelled the typical fragrance of the person who had something difficult to announce. He dared not rush his sovereign, and waited.
Steiner felt bitterness fill his heart. But was there a better solution? Finally, he articulated in a weak voice:
- Release my grandson. It is he who will leave for Pourseille.
- Sigmund? Is it reasonable?
- I don't know, Captain. I wish it had been otherwise, but right now I think he's in the best position to take care of this lord. Take him out of his cell and tell him to meet me in this room.
Klingmann bowed, and approached the door. Before crossing it, he turned around and asked again:
- Are you afraid of seeing him fail, your Highness?
- No, Captain. Go on!
The spotted Skaven left the room. Once alone, the Prince lowered his head, and sighed. He whispered painfully:
- I fear to send him to his loss…
He hadn't moved for a few days.
Since his grandfather had left him in that cell, he had behaved in an exemplary manner: no scandal, no insult, not the slightest act of rebellion whatsoever.
His family members came to visit him regularly. During these moments, he had shown them a relieved and happy face. But once the visitors left, he returned to that state of apathy.
It was neither sadness nor despair; Sigmund knew very well that his release was only a matter of days. No, if he remained seated on the bunk, motionless, staring into space, it was only to avoid the slightest overflow. Between these four walls, his brain had thought without stopping on the best course of action to leave this prison as soon as possible.
He understood that his wish was about to be granted when he heard the footsteps of a Skaven whose smell he knew well. A moment later, Walter Klingmann opened the door to his cell. In one hand, he held the keys, and clutched Heart of Unicorn stored in its sheath in the other.
- Hi, Siggy.
The Black Skaven didn't answer. He just lifted his head and glared at his friend.
- Look, I just followed the Prince's orders. Just as I do again by releasing you. Your grandfather thinks your prison term has gone on long enough, he's requiring your presence at his office. You may as well know now: he shall ask you to settle the score with Vaucanson. Personally, I don't approve, but I have no say.
No, you don't, Sigmund thought.
The Steiner cadet got up without a word, and walked out of the cell with a measured step. On the way, he took Heart of Unicorn from the spotted Skaven and fixed the scabbard on his belt. Before leaving the corridor, his ear swivelled at the sound of Klingmann's voice, which almost begged him:
- Siggy, watch your ass!
Without answering, or even a look over his shoulder, Sigmund left the cell wing, then walked out of the barracks.
When he was in the street, he took a few steps away, took a deep breath. He did his best to lighten his heart, reduce the degree of pure hatred that heated his body at the mere thought of this stranger who had had the audacity to defy his grandfather, he failed. He clenched his fists and whispered:
- Horace de Vaucanson is dead.
The Prince didn't seem in a very happy mood. The events of the past few weeks had shaken him badly. But he had not lost his fighting spirit.
- My child, I must admit, you were right about the intentions of these Bretonnians. Since the "courtesy visit" of this Guillaume de Lombard, several villages have been violently subjected to the self-proclaimed authority of Pourseille. They even imprisoned Skaven citizens. I know your courage and your pugnacity, they won't be too many to stop Horace de Vaucanson.
Steiner repeated to his grandson the directions given by the Elven scout.
- Thanks to the observation work of Mistress Goldilock, we know exactly how many soldiers he has, and the configuration of the premises. You're going to take half our army there.
- Half? Is it necessary? Since there aren't very many of them, isn't it in our interest to squander our troops too much?
- I would agree with you if we did not have the Purple Hand and the Under-Empire in the balance, but we must settle this question as soon as possible in order to be able to concentrate on our hidden enemies. When he sees that your army will be twice as large as his, Vaucanson will perhaps listen to the voice of reason, and agree to lay down his arms.
- Right. What if he persists in resisting? If I believe this map, Pourseille remains a fortified place. They have walls, can they withstand a siege for a few days, maybe weeks?
- That's why you shall use boom-boom moles.
Sigmund raised his eyebrows.
- Are they functional?
- They are, Gabriel confirmed it to me. At my request, he was careful not to talk about it around him, so that our enemies wouldn't know about it.
- Is he able to work? Since the disappearance of Father, he is so nervous that he no longer has the ability to do anything.
- Indeed. Fortunately, it has already been over a month since they were completed. He even wrote a manual. Two boom-boom moles are ready and stored in a secure hangar in the Hammer Quarter.
- Hmm… Let's hope they weren't sabotaged.
- You will have all the time on the way to check them. With Gabriel's notes, it should be easy.
The Prince took his nib, dipped it in an inkwell, and drew two crosses on the map.
- The best is to use them here and there. The two places on the sides are diametrically opposed, and directly overlook the courtyard, which will leave the field open to the soldiers. The stairs of the walkway will be close enough to allow you to neutralize the crossbowmen as quickly as possible. What do you think about it?
- Sounds like a good strategy. Too bad we don't have a third mole to use on the dungeon itself.
- We shouldn't destroy everything, don't forget that Lord de Beyle is one of ours.
Sigmund lifted his head.
- Opa Ludwig, what do you intend to do with this lord? He fraternized with an invader!
- That's true, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did it under duress. De Beyle is not a very courageous person. Vaucanson probably had convinced him to help him by threatening, and stuffing him with fine speeches about loyalty to the Bretonnian homeland, that kind of thing. But I'm keeping an eye on this element. When we're done with the Feral Skaven and the Purple Hand, we'll take care of him.
- If he has not run away or hung himself in the meantime!
- In the first case, I will declare it anathema. In the second, he will have had only what he deserves. Now, my boy, it's time for you to go. You have my blessing, and Verena's.
Sigmund nodded, but he didn't get up.
- Opa, I would like to ask you...
- I'm listening to you?
- I've heard rumours about Romulus.
- Ah… I was afraid you to broach this subject, but after all, it is legitimate. And so?
- What did he do to that Bretonnian to make him mad so much?
The Prince hesitated. After a few seconds of reflection, he articulated in a tired voice:
- I cannot answer you precisely for the moment, it could distract you. All I can tell you is that he did Horace de Vaucanson immense harm twenty years ago.
- So Vaucanson hasn't forgotten after all this time?
- No, my boy. Romulus is guilty for a crime too serious to be forgotten. This crime had such consequences that he thought of ending his life or giving himself up to the authorities. Fortunately, instead, he had the idea to devote himself to Shallya, which was by far the best decision to make.
The Black Skaven shook his head, unable to imagine the brave prior of Shallya responsible for any villainy.
- What could Romulus have done that was so horrible?
- I'll tell you once all of this affair over, if Vaucanson doesn't tell you himself. In my opinion, he will, if only to destabilize you.
- So, as far as I know right away what it's all about!
- No, I don't want to cloud your judgement. I want you to save Romulus.
- Alright, Opa, I will.
- Good.
Steiner felt that the Black Skaven was willing to hear his most important supplication.
- Sigmund, I am well aware of your feelings towards this lord. I just hope they won't cause you to make a mistake. Please, by Sigmar's Hammer, stay focused.
- I'll stay focused, Opa.
- Remember that we have no proof that he's Steadyhand's employer. De Lombard taunted us about it the other day, it's true, but he didn't clearly claim that Vaucanson was behind this poisoning.
- He seemed quite sure of himself.
- He was, in order to provoke you better, and it worked. It is very likely that Vaucanson will do the same when you are in front of him. Don't fall into his trap, Siggy. If it is, he is perfectly innocent of the assassination of Psody. We can't prove anything! This hatred you're feeding towards him may not even be justified! It will only blind you! So, remember he's only a common adversary, not your sworn enemy that must absolutely be exterminated. If you keep that in mind, if you resist his provocations, your arm will remain stable.
The Prince then perceived a small subtlety. His grandson was already breathing less heavily.
- You're right, Opa. I don't know how well he knows how to fight or not, so I have to keep my cool. I will do my best for that.
- Good. But I would like to ask you one last thing.
- I'm listening to you.
The Prince thought for a brief moment before explaining:
- I will stay here to defend Steinerburg against the Purple Hand. There is nothing I can do for you except pray to Verena and Sigmar to grant you victory. I wish you to find yourself face to face with Horace de Vaucanson and to defeat him in form. However, please, in the name of the education you received, of the values that your father and your mother transmitted to you: do not kill Horace de Vaucanson to get revenge. You can force him to surrender, then bring him back to Steinerburg alive, so we can keep him in prison until the Grail Knights come for him. But if you really have to kill him, then it's only because he left you no choice. I don't want you to cut his life short except to defend your own, or that of an ally, if necessary. Of course, you might be tempted to finish him off if he throws down his weapons. If there are no witnesses, it will be easy to lie. But I know that's not in your character at all. You are too honest for that. That's why I trust you, Siggy. But I ask you once again: do everything you can to keep Horace de Vaucanson alive. And if it can help you to do so, remember that a defeat and a judgment will be a far more humiliating punishment for him than a glorious death in battle against a designated opponent.
The Black Skaven bowed his head. Steiner couldn't take it anymore. He stood up, awkwardly walked over to his grandson, and hugged him. He was almost crying.
- I implore you, Siggy: think of yourself above all else. Do everything to stay alive, even if you have to run away like a coward. I order you to come back in one piece, with or without Vaucanson. If he escapes you, there will always be time to catch him. So spoke the Prince.
- Alright, Opa. Take care of yourself and the others.
A few minutes later, Sigmund was at the stable. Okapia, his faithful mare, did not hide her joy when she saw him approaching her box. He applied himself to groom her carefully. For this occasion, he had planned to take all the paraphernalia of war: the complete barding to her measurements, the caparison with the colours of Vereinbarung, the protections for the reins. The brave Okapia had not often had the opportunity to use the full kit, but Mistress Goldilock had spoken of crossbows.
At his command, a valet loaded the equipment onto a cart to take it to the barracks.
Satisfied, Sigmund whispered:
- We go to war, honey. I don't like it, but we have to defend those who are dear to us.
The mare stampeded, and shook her head. The Black Skaven couldn't help thinking:
I do this for him, too...
He then felt his ear swivel as he heard the sound of a hoarse, laden with disease breath. He hardly recognized the broken voice that called him.
- Siggy! Sig...gy!
He left the box, and came face to face with his twin sister. Bianka, in her nightgown, her gaze feverish, trembling, stood with difficulty in front of him. The Black Skaven, very embarrassed, did not dare to move. He just whispered:
- I wouldn't leave without seeing you, you can be sure.
- That is... that is not...
Bianka couldn't finish, shaken by a fit of coughing. She doubled over and spat out some mucus. She held her ribs, and moaned in pain, tears in her eyes. The big Black Skaven took her in his arms, and carried her to her bed.
In contact with the mattress and the sheets, the young blonde Skaven opened her eyes. Sigmund tucked her in, and put his hand on her forehead.
- You really need to rest, Bianka.
- It's not up to you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, Sigmund! I'm not your precious little thing to protect! In any case, I am not anymore!
- That's true. You really impressed me. Everything you did to catch Steadyhand was great art. Now it's my turn to take action.
- Stop strutting around, and don't die on the other side of the Kingdom, Siggy! Not for a foreigner who won't resist two hours against our soldiers!
- I don't want to "strut around". What I want is justice.
- Nope! What you really want is the life of this lord! Don't deny it, I know you by heart! I see it in your eyes, Siggy. This stare is the one that calls for blood!
The Black Skaven's face twisted in bitterness. The sobs of the young ratgirl redoubled when she understood that his silence was an affirmative answer. Sigmund didn't feel like talking any longer. He was about to cross the bedroom door, but Bianka yelped again:
- I forbid you to go there!
Sigmund turned to his sister. Bianka's heart sank as she saw his in the doorframe. The hallway lighting left his face in dim light, and his eyes twinkled with a very disturbing glow. His soft voice articulated:
- The only person capable of forbidding me anything is dead, Bianka. Now it's between me and his murderer.
The young girl burned her last strength to raise her head.
- And Mother? Have you thought about Mother?
- Mother is too sensitive. If Vellux had raped her, she would have forgiven him twenty times if he had asked her twenty times. Either way, I have to go. So spoke the Prince.
- The… the Prince?
- You think I've escaped from prison and become a fugitive? It was he who ordered me to arrest Vaucanson, and that's what I shall do.
He came back to the bed, and gently took his sister's hand between his own fingers.
- I will come back alive, I promise you, Bianka.
She didn't answer. Her eyes were so flooded with tears that she couldn't even make out his features.
The farewells to the other members of his family weren't easier. Sigmund had first looked for Gabriel, but he had mysteriously disappeared. He found Kristofferson and their mother in the greenhouse, safe from prying eyes.
The poor ratmother was as tired as she was terrified. Alas, she knew it, there was no question of disobeying her father. She could only encourage her son. But she didn't have the heart to.
- I wish I would see you stay at home! Alas, your grandfather exercised his power as a Prince.
- It is not possible to contest his power, Mother.
Heike barely suppressed her sobs.
- I beg you, I beg you, my darling: don't let anger make you do stupid things! Your father…your father wouldn't want you to lose your mind for him. And me neither!
- I promise you, Mother.
He turned to Kristofferson.
- I won't drink a drop of alcohol. For the virtue of our Unicorn.
- I know that, Siggy. Mother is right: don't play dumb with this Bretonnian, he doesn't deserve it. Give him hell, and bring him back as soon as possible. Don't waste time.
- I won't get around. You keep your eyes open.
A last hug, and the big Black Skaven managed to leave the place. He returned to the mansion, and went upstairs to the apartments. He crept quietly into his mother's room where, he knew, Isolde was sleeping – her nights were getting harder and harder, she was making up for the hours of sleep lost during the day.
At the sight of his sleeping little sister, his heart sank. Especially since she didn't seem to be enjoying a peaceful and restorative rest. Her face was strained, her breathing wheezing and irregular. Tears in his eyes, he gave her a little kiss, and quickly left the bedroom.
Half an hour later he was at the barracks. It was time to choose the troops that would accompany him. He conferred with Commander Renata and Captain Klingmann. He asked to take six of the Black Guard members including Van Habron, Ickert and Himmelstoss.
Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized the box containing the protections for Okapia placed on one of the chariots ready to leave.
- Ickert! Van Habron! Come over here.
The two Black Guards stood to attention in front of Sigmund. The latter handed a paper to the first one, and a key to the second.
- Go to this address, and search the building. We have a cargo to pick up. But it is better to avoid unpleasant surprises. Make sure no one is hanging around, and be careful not to fall into a booby-trap.
The two Black Guards took their horses and left the barracks.
Departure was only a matter of minutes. Before leaving, he wanted to evacuate the negative moods that weighed down his guts. He climbed to the highest tower of the barracks. Arrived at the top, he unsheathed Heart of Unicorn, brandished it towards the sky, and shouted with all his might in the direction of Pourseille:
- BRACE YOUSELF, HORACE DE VAUCANSON! YOU'LL BE TAUGHT WHAT TRUE FEAR IS!
The atmosphere of the small chapel was suffocating. The stained glass image looked scarier than ever. The two warpstone eyes twinkled even brighter than in his memories. But that no longer mattered to Gabriel, who had come to settle accounts with the one he considered responsible for all his misfortunes.
He stood up to his full height, and pointed an angry finger at the stained glass window.
- You did nothing but mistakes! I asked you to make Emil one of your favourites! You got it all wrong, and because of you, my father died, and Emil was kidnapped by a White Skaven who will brutalize him and use him as a slave!
Anger prevailed over terror. He gritted his teeth and spat:
- False God!
That didn't seem enough to him. So he looked around, and spotted a candelabrum on the altar. He seized it, and stood in front of the image of the Horned Rat. He took a deep breath, raised the candelabrum, and shouted with all his might:
- EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT!
He threw his improvised weapon towards the ornate window, which exploded in a multi-coloured crash. Immediately, a whirlwind of green flames sucked Gabriel in. He found himself tossed about with infernal force in a spiral of clouds in the middle of which lightning zigzagged.
A terrible, abnormally high-pitched cry lacerated his eardrums. He lowered his head, and howled in terror when he saw, in the middle of the cyclone, the huge head of the Horned Rat which looked at him with disproportionate wickedness.
Gabriel fell out of his bed, and awoke with a start. He was sweating so much that the fabric of his nightgown was soaked, and stuck to his coat. Even more embarrassing, the characteristic smell and the dark stain on the gown confirmed that the fear had been too strong for his bladder. He yelped, squirmed on the carpet, and ripped his clothes off. He jumped to his feet, shook himself vigorously, then fell to his knees.
He remained motionless on the floor for long minutes, shaking and moaning. But contrary to his expectations, there was not the slightest reaction from the side of Kristofferson's bed.
So what? Are his ears clogged, or...
He opened his eyes, and rolled onto his back to see the long bed.
To his dismay, it was empty.
Kristofferson was still awake, no doubt absorbed in his pursuit of the Purple Hand agents.
No one to reassure him, or to reprimand him, when he had once again behaved like a hysteric.
I am alone... alone with my sadness... alone with my crime...
The pain was so strong that he felt dizzy. For a moment, he hoped to pass out.
Kit will find me on the ground, he will have to do something for me!
But nothing happened. He remained conscious, and lucid. His stomach, lungs, throat, and intestines were tighter than ever. There was nothing left but this throbbing pain that made it hard to breathe. He wrapped his arms around his head and rolled back onto the floor.
This is no longer possible! I cannot bear it anymore!
He remained in this state for long seconds, when an idea suddenly germinated in his tortured mind. An extreme, definitive idea. Something he couldn't pinpoint. An idea that was perhaps the worst, but could also be the best.
In any case, with this idea, he would never have a problem again.
Gabriel stopped fidgeting. He calmly unrolled his arms, then stood up. He pivoted step by step towards the bedroom window, then moved forward, inch by inch. When he found himself facing the glass panels, he slowly reached for the handle. Strangely, his hand was no longer shaking.
Once the shutters opened, Gabriel found himself facing the starry night sky.
For a brief moment, he remembered that he was naked at the window. He gave a nervous little smile.
At that time, many people were in bed. Who could see him, in the darkness of the room? The guards? They had enough to worry about, watching for Purple Hand killers who had come to spawn more monsters, and watching the sewer drains, and all the latrines in the house.
Either way, nothing else mattered.
Stoic, he leaned on the windowsill, and hoisted himself. Standing on the wooden beam, he gazed dreamily at the horizon.
He was only one step away from the end of his suffering.
All he had to do was be brave enough to leap forward. Careful, he had to stay upside down. If he fell badly, he risked staying alive, but being paralyzed forever. At this height, there was little chance of surviving, but no risk should be taken. Headfirst, it was a guaranteed one-way trip past Morr. Quick and painless. Not even need to look, on the contrary, it was necessary to keep the eyes well closed, to avoid panicking.
A little song then came to mind. He found himself humming:
I wish I was mad
Fucked up and done
I wish I was bad
And completely wrong
I wish I was made
Rebuilt-up and fake
I wish I could lie
And never could fail
And live some beautiful days
In a magical place
Beautiful loves
Perfect and straight
Beautiful days
In a magical place
A new dream is born
The new freaks have come
A quiet little smile relaxed her face. He closed his eyes and lifted his foot...
Suddenly, something snapped him back to reality.
A high-pitched cry tore through the night. Then squeals and cries caused by fear.
Gabriel's eyes opened widely when he recognized Isolde's voice. His little sister had probably also been the victim of a nightmare.
It was then that he realized what he was about to do. His blood congealed in his veins.
Quickly, he went back down to the bedroom, closed the shutters, then the window, and felt himself, looked furiously at his hands, his legs, his tail, as if reviewing every part of his body.
I'm becoming crazy! If I do that, they'll be so sad they'll die of grief, as surely as if I stab them!
The tears made his cheeks itchy. He inhaled and exhaled deeply. Within moments, he was completely out of his trance. He slapped himself once, twice, three times, and continued, punctuating each gesture with a reproach.
- You… selfish… moron… only… Feral… Skaven… act… also… cowardly!
He stopped, fell on his bed, his cheeks burning, his tongue hanging out, his breath panting.
It couldn't go on any longer.
There were only two ways out: run away from his family or confront them.
Running away is not a solution! Where would I go? How would I subsist?
He knew it well, he was not mature enough to be able to live on his own. First, legally, he was still a child, and couldn't hope to work legally in an orderly setting, where his intellectual skills could be useful. So what? Become one of those many kids from the slums, on the lookout for a passerby to rob, a shoplifting to do? Him, a skinny and pusillanimous grandson of a Prince? Of course, there was still the ultimate escape, the most miserable of all, but the experience he had just lived had definitely disgusted him.
No, he would no longer be scared, he would no longer want to run away.
He would face the consequences of his actions.
He would confess everything to a trusted adult.
Romulus said we could talk to him about anything to relieve himself!
Yes, but Romulus was in prison. No, worse, he had escaped, and was now considered a criminal on the run! Even if he had been there, he probably no longer had the slightest legitimacy to collect his confession on behalf of Shallya!
There remained his grandfather, his mother, and his brother Kristofferson. But if he loved them all deeply, he was still very afraid: what would be their reaction? And the Finstons? They were bound to learn one day or another what he had wished in the master mage's small private chapel. Were they just going to let the Prince decide his fate, or were they going to want to beat him up themselves?
So many questions that quickly found an answer.
Ah, screw it! Done for done, better me who decides!
Yes, he was not going to do things by halves. And the best part is that he would be the one to choose when and how!