“Foolishness? Let others call it that. But you must never concede so yourself.”

“…Your Highness?”

Fourier knew all too well the pain of misunderstanding and dismissals with words like foolishness or nonsense. It had caused him to give up in the past—but even if he had to admit as much, it was difficult to allow this. To see the woman who had grabbed his attention forsaking the very thing that had sparked his interest in her.

“I don’t know what desires you harbor or what you wish to do. But I am sure that the girl standing here before me today is the result of her efforts to achieve that goal. It seems you now regard that time as wasted, but…”

He had been utterly captivated by the sight of her standing there—her face, the sound of her voice, and the time they had spent together. And all these things he had fallen for had surely come about because of her constant striving to realize her wish, the wish she was now about to abandon. And so his pushback came from the fire of his own deeply seated passion.

—To let that wish go would be a grave mistake. This, Fourier knew with every fiber of his being.

“I’m convinced you are more intelligent than I. But intelligence has little to do with me. You are wrong! I know you are!”

“Your Highness…? You mean what I seek is wrong, as well?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what is wrong. But something is.”

Crusch looked taken aback by Fourier’s blunt pronouncement. Her ideas had been amply criticized in the past. She had been repeatedly told she was wrong, different from those around her, until she had finally begun to doubt her own thinking. At heart, Fourier’s outburst was not the same as those other rejections.

“Don’t give me that resigned smile! Perhaps your words are foolishness, but they belong to you. I will not laugh, and anyone who laughs does not have the vision to see where you are headed. You never know what might come of it—what flower might bloom. You are still just a bud! And who can say what wonderful blossom might emerge before it has fully come into itself?”

Fourier was rather proud of having come up with this metaphor. He turned to the flower bed and pointed to the immature bud in the corner.

“I do not know what you were seeing, but when you looked at that sprout I knew your heart. Because, I am sure, it is the same as mine!”

“—”

“S-so… So don’t blame yourself for being different from others. It means nothing, and it is unimportant. We may have our differences, but if we see the same beauty in the same things, then all will go well for us!”

Fourier thrust his fist into the air, exclaiming, “How about that?” in a show of excitement. Crusch was wide-eyed, overwhelmed by his ardor. Silently, as if drawn along, she looked at the flower bed, too.

Then she said, “I came here today to see if that had flowered yet.”

“I thought as much. You were observing it with such interest.”

Crusch was confused. “Is this not the first time Your Highness has seen me here?”

“Oh! Uh, no, it is the first time! I was just…speaking on intuition! Yes, that’s it!”

Crusch didn’t press Fourier about these strange remarks, only smiled. Quietly, she said, “If you think we see the same beauty in the same things…” Her face relaxed. “Then, my lord, when this bud blooms, may I view it with you? To find out if someone as unusual as myself shares your sensibilities?”

“Oh? Oh! You may! You certainly may. I would enjoy that!”

Fourier answered in a fit of ecstasy, turning red from the neck up at Crusch’s smiling invitation.

Only the flowers—and a single bud—bobbing in the wind stood witness to this odd but amusing exchange.

5

“So the source of young master Fourier’s heartsickness is Crusch Karsten, is that it?”

In a room of the Lugunica castle lined with bookshelves, Miklotov was receiving a report. Standing in front of the old sage was the tutor tasked with Fourier’s education. The prince had always been capricious, but lately he had been even less able to focus than usual. When the instructor told him what the problem was, Miklotov nodded and stroked his long beard.

“Mmm. I see. The daughter of the honorable Lord Meckart. I’ve heard that she’s quite an odd girl… Perhaps that is precisely what drew His Highness Fourier to her.”

“I am afraid I don’t know, sir. But it appears to be fact that the young lady and His Highness are on familiar terms. The other day, I gather they went to the garden to look at a flower together…”

“How sweet. But if this causes him to neglect his studies…”

“Er, ahem, on that note, sir.” The tutor interrupted Miklotov. The sage raised an eyebrow. “If anything, His Highness has been more focused on his studies than before. Perhaps his acquaintance with the young lady has…”

“…moved him to present himself as his best? Yes, how sweet, indeed.” Miklotov finished the tutor’s reluctant sentence.

The mood was somewhat awkward, but immediately after, Miklotov’s gaze sharpened, and he straightened up. Fixed by the old man’s stare, the tutor felt his throat go dry. Miklotov asked:

“And the young lord…? Has he shown any signs of the blood?”

“Ahem, he—no, he doesn’t appear to… At least, not that I have seen.”

Despondence crossed Miklotov’s eyes. The old sage let out a long sigh.

“Is that so? …Perhaps the second coming of the Lion King is only a dream…”

He could not hide his disappointment. The tutor, not quite able to sympathize with either the elder’s thought process or his wishes, could only remain silent.

The sage wished for the second coming of a wise ruler who had held sway in the days of the Lion Kings. But the tutor wondered what meaning there could be in that. The kingdom was secure under its pact with the dragon and the blessings it provided. The royal family needed only to carry on the bloodline; no more was asked of it.

Thus, the instructor did not report to Miklotov the more peculiar aspects of Fourier’s nature. Sometimes the boy would be seized by an unaccountable intuition. But the tutor had dismissed his flashes of insight into board games and arithmetic exercises as mere flukes. He was too much of a realist to consider these events as signs that Fourier was qualified to be the sage king.

And if he failed to sympathize with Miklotov’s reasoning, he was also unable to understand Fourier’s resourcefulness. This tutor was a gifted teacher, but no more than an ordinary citizen of the kingdom. He had reached these heights largely because there had not been enough officials to fill every vacant position.

“In that case, I hope His Highness will at least spend his days in good health. I shall exercise these old bones a little longer to be sure it is so…”

Sage though he was, Miklotov was not a mind reader. He could not know that, in his heart, the tutor actually possessed the account Miklotov longed to hear. And Fourier lived in ignorance of what others hoped of him.

It was a species of tragedy, but also one of the great ironies of destiny.

—But it would be far, far in the future before the true meaning of this would come to light.

6

After that, Fourier Lugunica found his days ever more fulfilling, never realizing that those who looked to him expectantly saw their hope slowly give way to despair.

Several days after he had made his promise to Crusch, they watched the bud bloom into a great flower. Her smile at the moment she laid eyes on the blossom was fixed clearly in Fourier’s mind.

“—It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

“Indeed, it certainly is! I believe I shall never forget this.” Fourier decided to keep to himself what exactly he would commit forever to memory.

Their garden rendezvous continued frequently after that day. Crusch would visit the garden whenever she arrived at the castle, and Fourier would always be there. But Crusch was different somehow, ever since they saw that flower blossom together. As they saw each other more and more, something about her began to change.

“You no longer tie your hair back,” he remarked one day.

When they had first met, her hair had been tied up, and she had worn a dress that was the very picture of girlishness. But lately, whenever he saw her, she let her long hair hang down, and the designs of her dresses grew more refined.

“I owe it to what Your Highness said,” Crusch replied with a slight smile. But Fourier couldn’t imagine what she meant. What had he said to her to inspire such change?

“You need not understand, my lord. But I thank you just the same.”

“Hrm! But how will I be at peace without knowing? It weighs on me so!”

Crusch said nothing in reply to Fourier’s outburst but only reached down to her hip. The dagger hung there, and Fourier realized she had developed a habit of touching the lion crest. He felt suddenly as though the Lion King had taken her from him, though she was standing right there.

“You’re quite enamored with the Lion King, aren’t you?” he said.

“You misunderstand, Your Highness. I’m simply proud of my ancestor, who diligently supported his country and was recognized as the greatest servant of the king…though I understand I do this quite often.”

Her flushed cheeks betrayed her attempted excuse after noticing the prince’s sullen demeanor. Less and less happy with the situation, Fourier eyed her dagger ruefully.

“But the Lion King is no more,” he said. “Think of him as highly as you like; no one else will ever…”

“—”

“Er—no! I mean—I was speaking figuratively! I didn’t—” His inadvertent words must have struck Crusch in the heart, for she retreated into oppressive and mournful silence while Fourier frantically tried to take back what he had said. Finally, he clapped his hands and said, “Very well! If that is what you wish for, then I shall make myself into the person you seek!”

“My lord?”

“Let us see whether your love for this kingdom approaches what the Lion King saw in your honored ancestor! Why not? The Lion’s blood flows in my veins, does it not? I have every right to be the judge of this!”

Crusch’s shock at these mental gymnastics gave way to a smile.

“Hmm! Do you laugh at me? I daresay, I’ve impressed even myself with my impeccable logic!”

“N-no, I…I apologize. It is simply… Your Highness is such an amazing person…”

“Ah-ha! You wonder, do you not, whether I am as worthy of a vow of loyalty as the Lion King? Very well. Watch me closely. I shall judge your loyalty as you shall judge my worthiness. Then, we resurrect once more the bond between the Lion King and his most devoted retainer!”

“Ah—ha-ha-ha!”

“Don’t laaaugh!”

But her amusement was like a flower blooming, and soon Fourier joined her.

No one knows whether the vow they exchanged was made in seriousness. But the two of them remained dear to each other long after, and in time another young man was added to their number. When that happened, Fourier would dream a dream, inspired by the bond this vow had started.

So this was merely the beginning of a dream—the dream of Fourier Lugunica.

<END>