Cenric’s feet keep moving faster and faster, as if he is being chased by death itself. At this point, his worry surpasses his hate towards the Queen. Never in his life has he been worried about her as he is now. Her presence is no more than a formality to him – His father is the King, she is the Queen, making him the prince, their supposedly beloved child. 

Why am I running?

Cenric keeps repeating that one question. Is being the prince and the Queen being the Queen is the only reason that makes him run like a madman? Or is it simply because he is the child and she is the mother? 

For his entire life, Cenric has always been confused. His role, his capability, his competence – he always feels he is unsuited to be born as a prince. He loves drawing and painting, he has his psychic dreams. Therefore, he would have been better suited to become a shaman who draws what he foresees in his dreams. Yet, he is forced to wear the crown he always hates, studies things that never pleases him, and prepares for the future he never desires.

Suddenly, a hand emerges from behind a big tree. Cenric’s attempt to dodge it only causes him to fall, but the hand manages to capture his mantle just in time. Before Cenric can open his mouth to speak, the owner of the hand pulls him behind the tree and covers his mouth, whispering, “It’s me.”

Another voice Cenric knows.

Cenric glances at the man. The man lifts his dim lamp to show his face. There is no way Cenric would mistake the owner of the familiar voice, the super tall man with pale white hair, for anyone else. It is his second best person he knows at the castle after Nicola – Erhard. He is the one who counts the stars as stated in the official job description. Specifically, he forecasts things such as auspicious days for celebration, or gives warning when the stars indicate ominous days for Valria. It is said that he was the one who predicted and strategized for the legendary day when Valria was finally liberated, which was then celebrated as the independence day.

“Please drink this quietly. We’re in danger.”

Cenric shakes his head. He is almost dead from running, and maybe he is going to collapse if he manages to reach the capital gate, but he decides it is for the best that he does not consume anything given to him as he remembers his dream about Nicola. Erhard is not in a particularly good nor bad relationship with Nicola, but being sceptical is what Cenric decides to be at the moment.

As they wait for Cenric to recover his breath, the sound of footsteps echoes from nearby, prompting Erhard to shut his lamp off. Two knights are passing by, their voice audible as they converse.

“Politics are sure dangerous. I know the prince’s a brat, but killing the Queen is too far.”

“Ssh, not so loud.”

“Why? He is a top fugitive now, a murderer. A little mock is nothing. It’s lucky for us to not have him as the king.”

“You don’t see anything?”

“No, I don’t see– wait, isn’t that Lord Atreus?”

‘His redhead is sure something,’ Cenric thinks to himself.

Both knights start to run, getting further away from Cenric and Erhard. When the knights are finally at a safe distance from them, Cenric begins to ask, “What happened?”

Erhard takes a long breath before explaining, “A few things. First, the Queen, found dead in her ro–”

“While seated by the window?”

Erhard nods then asks, “Did you foresee this?”

Cenric shakes his head, replying, “Foreseeing is not the right word. I just dreamt about this. After I woke up, I ran back as fast as I could. It seems… my dream is not that useful this time.”

Erhard nods a few times, holding both of Cenric’s shoulders and tapping them gently to reassure Cenric that the Queen’s death is not Cenric’s fault. He gives him a tender look, allowing Cenric time to process the fact, before Cenric asks again, “Then, how am I considered a murderer?”

“That’s the second thing. The cause is the perfume from you. His Majesty became enraged and demanded your public execution. In his announcement, he declared that whoever brings you back to the castle will be rewarded accordingly.”

Cenric drops to his knees, trying to hold back his tears. He asks where he went wrong. The perfume was not his choice, he only gave it to the Queen. Suddenly, he remembers the dream that has been disturbing him since yesterday, where Nicola stabbed him in the back. 

Is this what it means? Nicola betrayed me? Since when?

Cenric wipes his tears. Trying not to cry, he then whispers, “Then… are you here to capture me?” 

His voice fools no one, though. Erhard kneels down to Cenric. Shaking his head, he strokes Cenric’s back reassuringly, speaking in a really gentle voice, “If that’s been my aim, I’d have given you to the knights, no?”

“Then what are you doing here? …If you protect me, you’d be dead too.”

Erhard looks up at the sky, followed by Cenric who has forgotten about the red sky for a moment. He then realizes another thing about the sky. It should be morning, or perhaps noon, but no light is to be seen, as if the sun is never there to begin with. Only darkness blends in with dark red color, as dark as thick blood. When Cenric realizes what makes the sky terrifying to him, he turns to Erhard with big, red eyes.

“Erhard, the sky…”

“Right. Valria is in danger once more.”

Erhard turns to Cenric, his voice and expression now stern, a stark contrast to the gentleness he previously showed. 

“This land needs you alive. Hear me out.”