The carriage carrying the two princes started traversing back towards the palace. Or rather, the place where they will ascend to the palace.

The carriage was bare and nondescript. Not only were the wooden features of the carriage bland, but its work was poor craftsmanship. It practically trembled despite moving at walking speed. It was barely stable as if the planks used were fixed together with gum instead of nails. It was impossible to believe it transported royalty with such execrable hospitality.

Therein lay quiet and disquiet in cacophony. The Empress found her method of dragging them back a painfully obvious way to convey her thoughts. She had not felt it a necessity for her to reprimand her children in public furthermore.

Not much later, the carriage stopped. The Empress instructed them to follow her and they listened with their heads facing the ground. 

It was an anomalous scene that unravelled. Mages from the Royal Army conjured a circle to function as a ring. This circle was akin to pentagrams used in rituals. The engravings inside this sphere were not geometrical, however; the engraving on this platform was identical to the one in the Empress’ dress.

In the Empress’ lead walked eight Demons. The Empress was in the front, the two princes behind her and five knights from the military behind the princes. The princes were not wearing formal clothing: The High Prince had worn a baggy shirt and pants with extensive interior space which provided mobility, but in return, made him look coarse. The Little Prince had worn somewhat more graceful clothing: a sweater of single colour and trousers of matching appearance. Being in the same presence of such high-class Demons had made them look like plebes at the bottom of the hierarchy. 

The steady march until the throne room echoed across the palace. The criminally treated quasi-fugitives were forced to adapt to the soldiers’ strict parade tempo. Upon arrival at the Throne Room, the knights were dismissed. They saluted the Queen with the Jesfixia salute and left forthwith.

“You two were grounded,” she spoke.

No response.

“I am talking to you two. Answer.”

“I'm sorry,” they pleaded.

The Empress raised her eyebrow.

The princes coughed in unison. “We're sorry,” they blurted at the same time.

“That is not enough,” the Empress rebuked, “what you have done is unacceptable.”

“We're sorry,” they repeated.

The Empress pointed at the High Prince. “Come forward.” Once the High Prince had stepped forward, she kicked him in the knees and forced him to kneel. She stepped on his back and applied pressure until she concluded he was kneeling correctly. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you never learn? You cannot have secrets. It is physically impossible for you to have secrets. Why are you still trying?”

With an expressionless face, she leaned down and grabbed him by the hair. “Speak,” she commanded, “and I do not say that lightly.” 

She stared directly into his eyes with a glare colder than the utmost peak of even the highest mountains in Suverän. The High Prince, however, settled with shifting his eye to the side. 

He knew where this was going.

There was nothing he could do.

The Empress clicked her tongue and turned towards the Little Prince. “And what about you? For what purpose have you thought it would be fit to defy my will?”

The Little Prince kneeled by his own volition as soon as he was addressed. He kneeled faster than his brain could detect and process the words of the Empress. “I…I’m sorry…” he answered when he came to.

“I didn't tell you to apologise. Tell me why you have gone with him.”

“Sor—”

The Empress grasped the face of the Little Prince. She applied intense pressure with her nail rings. “Why did you follow him?”

“...I thought… it would be fun…”

The Empress let go. The Little Prince's breathing had stayed erratic for some time. He had his heart ripped out of his chest with shame as he saw his older brother staring at him with disapproval. He would have called him a narc if they were alone, no doubt. But it hurt. He would rather just do as his mother said than suffer.

“And what about the realm?” she asked. “Why did you not only be his accomplice but use magic, an artificial realm at that, to aid his idiocy?”

“I don't know…”

“I do.” the Empress cut him off. “Your… ‘friend’ is not as cunning as you two. I already learned what happened,” she bluffed.

The both of them instinctually eyed each other, fazed by the idea of Bobathan ‘ratting them out’. 

It wasn't a strange thing that a Demon would deliver the information the Empress had requested from them. From a strictly logical standpoint, it was not abnormal.

Although, illogically…

“Surprised your friend snitched on you?” the Empress smirked, quite literally looking down towards the Little Prince. “Cat got your tongue? Hmm?”

The High Prince grit his teeth while the Little Prince groaned in discomfort. She had acknowledged this and pressured him further.

“Say, Johnathan,” she said, “why do you think I am asking you these questions despite knowing what happened?”

The Little Prince lifted his head to look his mother in the eye. He had no words to reply.

“It is because I want to learn your perspective,” she spoke gently and stared back at him. “Now is your time to speak. To defend yourself. But if you waste my time with those empty eyes, I would have no choice but to assume the worst-case scenario. Are you really fine with that?”

The Little Prince vacillated patently. His stuttering had not lasted long. Although the swither in his mind had not ceased.

“Tell me, Johnathan. Why was it that you helped your brother batter your friend?”

“I-It was supposed to be a wrestling match!!” he blurted. The Empress looked at him expectantly, and so he felt obligated to speak:

“I… I don't think… He didn't mean to do… what he did… N-none of us knew how to wrestle, so…”

“And do you think that's a suitable excuse for a prince acting like a peasant?”

“N-no, it would be out of order…”

“And what about you? What were you doing there?”

“I… I was a referee! I tried to stop them, but…”

“Don't lie to me. You just became a referee because it'd hurt to fight, didn't you?”

“...I did not want to participate, because… it would be… out of order… that's… the only reason.” His voice got more pitiful as he spoke. Not because he was regretting what he had done, but because he was scared.

“This is going nowhere. Let's look at it from a different perspective.” The Empress turned towards the throne above the stairs. She turned around, and, momentarily thereafter, the spears of wrath had awakened behind the throne. 

The idle transfiguration of the spears followed the exact course as they had when the Empress had used them against the previous Headeconomist. The skulls impaled into the skulls ascended heavenward, and at a certain height, they stood there, levitating. A body of armour pulled itself up. The floor, whence the bodies had been created, had become tranquil once the armoured undead had successfully surfaced. They grabbed the skulls levitating above them, took their helmet off and placed the skulls on top of their torso, then replaced the helmets on top of all pulled their respective spears from the ground and waited on standby.

The Empress then turned to the Little Prince. “You may inspect them. They will not harm you,” she said.

“Inspect…?”

“Go ahead.”

The Little Prince had not sought interest in admiring undead, although he was not sure those were zombies, either. But Demons do not leave corpses when they die, so what could those even be? 

He did not want to find the answer. But alas, he was reasonably dubious about his mother's actions. It was not far-fetched to assume this was an order and not a meagre recommendation.

He ascended the stairs, walked past the throne and stood in front of one of the knights. He gently grazed the outlines of the armour and dragged his finger across.

Huh? escaped his lips. It looked exactly like armour. Iron armour of knights. The appearance, the exterior, the design… It was hard to touch, too. He could not dent it with his hand (although he did not punch it, he conducted experiments of his own, such as poking and scratching).

What was strange was that he did not feel the coldness of iron in his fingertips. It was as if his hands ceased to function when he touched the knight. Not ceasing function as in he couldn't move his hand, but he did not feel anything. His hand went numb. 

He tried pinching his cheeks. He had felt it. Thereafter, he stuck his right index finger's nail in his left hand's palm. It bled slightly, and it certainly hurt as well.

He rubbed the wound on the armour. The armour had gotten blood stains but his finger hadn't hurt at all. In no time, his wound had healed already, and it still didn't hurt. He was befuddled.

“Impressive, isn't it?” the Empress spoke proudly. “This is what magic is capable of. What's foreseen and unforeseen, both possible with enough training.”

The Little Prince was to face his mother. That was the moment when he felt a long object pierce his heart. He shuddered and screamed in terror. 

He placed his hand on top of the strange object piercing his heart. It was surprisingly numb.

It was one of the knights’ spears.

“It is a shame. You do not truly understand how massive power magic yields. How such power brings tremendous responsibility.”

The Little Prince walked forward, but before he could save himself from the spear, the knight pulled the spear out and waited on standby. The Little Prince, on the other hand, had fallen victim to vertigo due to blood loss. He tumbled down the stairs and fell in front of his older brother who was still kneeling.

“No need to be dramatic, you'll be fine. Your body should repair itself in a while. Just try not to run out of Essence.”

“Wh…” the Little Prince bellowed. He crawled towards the door, although due to his wound, he could move barely above the speed of a snail. “…y…”

“Do not speak,” the Empress commanded, “just focus on enduring the pain, for that is your punishment.”

As they say. The best kind of devotee is one that does not think.

It was as they say. 

Not even Demons can think when they're unconscious after all.