"Chase, you really have changed overnight… dragging your beloved sister to such a dirty, desolate part of the city," Deanna muttered, her voice flat yet edged with amusement as she gazed out the carriage window. Posters clung to the leaning walls of old buildings, half-torn and fluttering in the wind. "I can't even imagine what sorry outings you subject your dates to."

The carriage creaked to a halt in East Genise. Usually, Chase would have come here in his cat form. It was quick, discreet, entertaining, and an excellent form of exercise. But today he had opted for the slower, more proper route, if only for his sister's comfort.

"Worry not; I'm not courting anyone," Chase said lightly, offering his hand as she stepped down from the carriage. "Nor do I have any interest in doing so."

Deanna clicked her tongue and slipped on a pair of oversized black shades. "Those priests have really done a number on you—more than I thought. What an utter waste with that face of yours."

"Hardly." His tone cooled, cutting cleanly through the banter. "Romance is a messy, painful business. I've no interest in it."

The words carried the weight of several lifetimes. He had lived too long. Chase had found two relationships of value in that time, but both were eventually lost to the loops, impossible to replicate, no matter how often he tried. And try he had, again and again, until he accepted defeat before the harsh reality of the never-ending loops.

Of course, Deanna knew none of this, so he didn't blame her for her ignorance.

She sighed, then her voice sharpened like a blade. "Who was it? Who dared break your heart? Tell me, and I'll make them regret they ever—" She launched into an explicit litany of threats, each more violent and creative than the last.

Chase smiled.

His sister was just as he remembered her—teasing, sharp, and caring in her own crooked way. None of the Daylan royals went unscathed from their mother's unique upbringing.

Deanna raised a broad dark umbrella against the summer glare. Her long, black hair, gleaming with a shine usually reserved for oil, contrasted against her pale, white skin, which threatened to burn under even a brief moment of sun. She wore an olive-green linen suit and leather loafers, a practical yet elegant choice.

As for Chase, he wore a mustard-yellow shirt and linen white pants. Covering his eyes were his usual round, reflective shades, tinted in light blue for this loop.

His sister paused mid-stride, drawn toward a pair of posters plastered haphazardly across a building wall. She tilted her head, studying the rough sketch of a thin young man with black hair. The bold script beneath warned citizens of a "serpent god" in human guise—an omen to be avoided at all costs.

Yet directly beside it, another poster declared the opposite: praises to the serpent god, urging all to bow and pray before his greatness. The message promised forgiveness if one repented from a life of crime, but wrath beyond imagination if one did not.

"What is the world coming to…?" She muttered, shaking her head.

Curious, Chase walked up beside her. He scanned it once before erupting into unrestrained laughter.

"Oh, Luca…" His laugh echoed down the empty street.

He glanced at his reflection in the window beside the poster, shades glinting in the sunlight. "As expected. They already crown him in both fear and worship."

As is proper; any idol worth their salt is never adored without being hated in equal measure.

Deanna arched a brow at Chase, raising above the frames, the rest of her expression unreadable. "You know this supposed serpent god?"

"Yes," Chase answered cheerfully. He peeled the poster free with a tug, along with the second contrasting poster, and folded both with care before slipping them into the inner pocket of his jacket. They were souvenirs, or perhaps even akin to a collector's item. "He's the friend I mentioned to you before."

Deanna stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a dismissive flick of her hair, she turned away. "Of course he is. I don't know why I even bother being surprised anymore."

Her umbrella twirled as she pivoted back toward him. "Now, Chase, where is this incredible place you told me about where we can get my artifact translated?"

Chase's grin spread wider. He gestured grandly down the crooked street, as if unveiling a stage. "We're already here."

He pointed toward the building in front of them with a modest wooden sign: Lisa's Tea and Books.

The heavy wooden door creaked as the pair entered the shop. The air was thick with the scent of paper, ink, and fresh-brewed tea.

Lisa was sitting in her usual spot at the counter, boots propped up and a book balanced in her hands.

"Welcome," Lisa said without moving her head, her voice calm and unhurried. "Would you like a cup of tea and a book?"

However, she wasn't alone. Four kids were sprawled around the space, reading books. Chase recognized two of them instantly—Luca's younger siblings, Elda and Jarvis. The other pair he recalled seeing at the Frey Manor, though he was not familiar with their names.

Chase whistled, sliding into a seat at the counter. "This is more company than I've ever seen here, Grams. I haven't spotted that homeless fellow in a while, though. Or is it too early for him to make his rounds?"

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Lisa gave no response. She never did when the subject wasn't regarding books.

"Her tea is superb, just so you know," Chase whispered as an aside to his sister.

Deanna folded her umbrella, setting it neatly against the wooden counter before taking a seat on the stool beside him. "Then I'll accept a cup. And please forgive my brother's rudeness."

"Don't worry." Chase chuckled, tipping his shades down just enough to flash her a look. "Grams and I go way back—or forward." His laugh crackled at the private joke that his sister wouldn't understand.

He snapped his fingers, and the artifact that Deanna pulled from underwater six days back appeared on the table. It was in the form of a large glimmersteel cube, with illegible hieroglyphics covering all six surfaces.

"My sister needs a book to translate this language," Chase explained as he tapped the cube. "Do you have something that could help?"

At last, Lisa shifted, lowering her boots to the floor. Her black bangs veiled half her face as she leaned forward to study the cube. "Yes. I have several texts in this script. None that help with translations… but they might help to build context."

"That's all I need," Deanna replied quickly. "Give me enough references, and I'll do the rest. It's more than I had to work off of before, anyhow."

"Very well." Lisa gave a slow nod, then vanished into the labyrinth of shelves behind her without another word.

Chase drummed his fingers on the counter as they waited for her to return.

It would have been quicker with Luca.

Luca had immediately translated the lone line Chase managed to burn into memory from Saga Duex's underground fortress. The glyphs carved in the floating air of the hidden chamber matched the script etched across Deanna's artifact. There were the same looping strokes and sharp geometry. But Luca wasn't here, and patience was never one of Chase's virtues.

His gaze shifted toward the four children scattered around the shop. They had taken note of him too. The red-haired twins were whispering behind open books.

Chase offered a smile that was equal parts charm and mischief. "Hello, I am Prince Chase Daylan. I visited Frey Manor a few days ago to collect Jasper. I'm a friend of Luca's. Would any of you know when he'll be back? Or where might I find him?"

He laced his truth-pulling skill into his inquiries.

Chase had asked the same when he dropped off Jasper, but the Frey Manor's staff had no insight. He hoped Luca's family was more attuned to the movements of his friend.

"No, we don't know either," Elda replied, honestly. She was well within the required distance for the skill to work. "But hopefully he'll return in time for the festival."

Chase inclined his head, accepting the reply with a light nod.

"Oh my," Deanna gasped.

Lisa had reappeared, balancing a short stack of books. She set them before Deanna. "Here you are, young lady. These include children's stories and more advanced texts."

"Incredible." Deanna leafed through one, her pale fingers tracing the spine. "They're in far better condition than I expected. This is an ancient language, so I expected stone tablets or faded scrolls."

Lisa's lips curved into a faint smile. "I pride myself on preserving my collection. But note that they are not to leave this shop. They are not for sale. But you are free to read them."

Deanna nodded. "I understand. Thank you."

"Anything for you, young man?" Lisa inquired, turning to Chase.

He tapped his chin, theatrically thoughtful. "Something amusing. The language doesn't matter, as long as it exists somewhere on the two continents and is in current use."

All Daylan princes and princesses were drilled in the seventeen common tongues. It was part of their extensive training as heirs. Even though Chase was the youngest and had the lowest likelihood of obtaining a seat on the throne, he had endured the same rigorous lessons as his older siblings.

And it was not for naught.

His oldest brother, Enon, was considered the perfect heir. With his thick crown of dark hair, sharp bone structure inherited from Queen Yadana, victories on the battlefield, and the backing of two of the most powerful Daylan noble houses, he was the golden standard the Dynasty paraded before its people. Charismatic and eloquent, Enon could entice men and women alike to stand for hours to hear him speak.

Enon was so perfect, in fact, that many believed there was no need for the rest of the siblings at all.

But Queen Yadana was unmoved by the chorus of criticism surrounding her succession rules. She preferred her children to claw at one another with wits, alliances, and blades until a lone victor emerged.

And then Enon died. An untimely end on the sun-drenched and palm-filled Soslan Islands.

"This might amuse you," Lisa said, cutting through his reminiscence. She slid a slim leather-bound book and a steaming cup of black tea across the counter.

"Thank you." Chase accepted both and made his way toward his usual spot by the fireplace that was purely decorative, never once being lit during his many visits.

Deanna was already buried in her texts, too intent on scribbling notes to notice him slip away.

Chase set his tea on the side table and sank into the armchair, cracking open the book. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the Frey children across the room. Then his focus shifted inward, toward a memory.

Ah, Enon.

Chase's lips curved faintly at the recollection of his oldest brother.

The crown prince's death was ultimately discovered to have been an ordered assassination carried out by Titus, the second-oldest brother, whose ambition had long shadowed the throne like the rest of the siblings. But from Chase's own quiet snooping, he knew the truth ran deeper. Titus had been only a layer in the tale. Another hand had guided the blade.

Despite Enon's seemingly perfect credentials, he was not without his faults. His death was ultimately a just result of his bad habits. He happened to get on the bad side of the wrong person is all.

Then again, hadn't they all? Every one of Chase's siblings had perished by crossing someone's wrath. Usually each other's.

His eyes slid back to Deanna, who was bent over parchment, her expression unusually serious as she worked through the foreign script.

He smiled. Of all his siblings, Deanna was the one he favored. Chase didn't mind her twin brother—he had even ensured that Desmond ultimately wore the crown—but Deanna was the one who deserved it. Apart from being kind to Chase, her accomplishments had continued to stack up higher and higher.

And her meteoric rise was precisely why she had been struck down. She was too much of a threat.

Deanna had been murdered. A drowning, dressed up as an accident.

Chase's smile thinned into a frown.

He tilted his head toward the small mirror on the far wall. His own reflection gazed back, its frown a shade sharper than his own.

I ought to eliminate all the threats to her.

His grin returned, sudden and bright. "Yes, I'll see to it she obtains the throne—bow tie and all."

But his reflection didn't smile back. Its mouth tugged down in disapproval.

Ah, but with Mother dearest dead so much earlier than the previous timeline, the infighting amongst the Daylan royals has already started. The Dynasty is in chaos. And without her shield, it is ripe for Kobar's hand to shape.

Chase tapped against the novel's page in thought. His grin flickered, wavered, then returned in full brilliance.

"Ah," he mumbled to himself. "Why am I overthinking it?"

He shook his head at his own folly, chuckling softly. "All I need to do is sweep away the obstacles. As quickly as possible."

His smile widened, delighted by such a simple and elegant solution.

Yes… I'll move first, before the infighting can even run its course. Then Deanna can unite the Dynasty before Kobar extends its reach.

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