How To Live As The Enemy Prince

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟽

Calian ascended onto the platform and smiled, waving his hands to the crowds. That was his role as a Prince required of him and Calian did not bother doing more than what was needed.

Rumein greeted the crowds and gave a long speech expressing his gratitude to the people gathered. The following proceedings involved the awarding of knighthoods to common soldiers, the promotion of several noble titles, and the bestowance of wealth and territory.

After the event at the square, Calian waved to the crowd again before returning to the palace. He knew that people were murmuring between themselves throughout the event and had been aware of the glances he had repeatedly received. He had expected as much, he was something fresh and unfamiliar to them with his black hair and red eyes.

What he hadn’t expected however, was that rather than curiosity or maybe wariness – people were staring at him because they were impressed by Calian’s perfect appearance and demeanour.

When he returned to his room, Calian ate the lunch that Yan had left for him. He had not once forgotten his promise to finish his meals, and afterwards he changed into a fresh set of clothes.

The next event was a tea party, not a banquet so Calian stubbornly chose to wear the simplest outfit, however he did concede to one decorative pin through Marilyn’s insistence.

‘How about the smallest one.’ – that was his compromise.

Calian fastened three rows of delicate chains that connected either side of his collar, with a small pendant in the middle of the shortest chain. Calian deemed the other ornaments too flashy for his tastes, so he decided he would stick to wearing only this pin with his other clothes too.

The aftermath brought about by the shirt ornaments  – Calian could not have anticipated it.

Having finished his preparations barely on time, Calian left Chermil Palace and stepped into the carriage again.

“There’s no time to catch one’s breath” he said, his face bleach-white.

“Yes, I think things seem to be unusually hectic this year,” Yan nodded, his face looking gaunt. Assisting Calian today was as chaotic as a day in battle. It was fortunate that the luncheon had been cancelled.

They were headed to the Senyu Pavilion, where Calian had dinner with Viscount Brissen not long ago. Today, however, the pavilion would be host to a tea party to greet the noble guests. Of course the three princes’ role was to just say hello, sit still – as long as they didn’t fall asleep it would be fine.

With the thought of meeting the nobles on his mind, Calian turned to Yan and asked,

“Yan, you said your family was also in Kyrisis?”

While most nobles in Secretia lived on their own territory,  Kyris nobles sometimes resided in the capital city for most of the year and had someone else manage their estates. Yan’s family seemed the same, and he once told Calian that his family lived in the city. The sudden mention of the attendant’s family caused his eyes to go round.

“Ah, you remembered, your highness? My sister and father are at home, and the rest of my family lives in the city.”

Calian smiled awkwardly, he remembered these particular details from the old Calian’s memories, not from his own.

“Then will they come to the palace today?” This time it was Yan who forced a smile.

“If they’re invited, they will come,” he replied shortly. He seemed reluctant to speak about them.

The servants who worked in the royal palace did not reveal their names, sometimes using false names or aliases instead.

When Yan first came to the palace, the internal affairs office would have checked his and his background strictly to determine whether he was trustworthy or not. After that, he chose to never reveal his true name.

Many of the highborn who worked as servants or maids do not want to mention where they came from, because they were bastards or too distant relatives to be really called nobles – some were even children from forgotten or fallen families. Knowing that Yan might be in such a situation, Calian nodded and didn’t pursue the topic further.

At last the carriage arrived at the Senyu Pavilion. Calian descended from the carriage and Yan tidied up his appearance with quick meticulous hands.

He straightened his posture once again and walked towards the banquet hall where the nobles were gathered. Calian nodded to the knight standing by the entrance, who opened the door and heralded his arrival.

“His Highness, Prince Calian Rain Kyris, has arrived!”

These nobles did not have to struggle among the crowds of the plaza to see the King and thus attended this 2 o’clock tea at the pavilion. Their eyes turned to one place, and all at once the same thought entered their minds.

‘The rumour was true.’

The Central Nobility consisted of the highest ranking and most powerful people of the kingdom – and that meant acquiring information was that much faster for them.

There were two stories they had heard: that Franz had come to the venue under the influence of alcohol – and that as though everyone had previously agreed to it, they all agreed to turn a blind eye to this.

And that with his black hair and red eyes, the Third Prince resembled Sispanian.

These were the other words that came out of the people’s mouths after the event at the plaza. When the rumour was passed along, the other nobles laughed. After all, one could not make such grandiose statements simply because of hair and eye colour and a mere haircut.

The nobles could not have imagined the changed Calian that stood before them.

When Calian walked into the room after the knight announced his arrival, it was like the sky had turned upside down. The nobles all began to examine with astounded eyes every minor detail in his appearance and behaviour.

His face, that had still not shed its childish glow, he was so handsome it was hard to tear one’s eyes away. His bright red eyes were crystal clear and his gaze was strong. A regal smile graced his lips, and every footstep was taken with a dignified bearing. They could not help the genuine admiration they felt, even through their shock.

There was an inherent stateliness to him that could not be brought about with simple practice – the people gathered, watching him were the ones who knew that the best.

‘When the hell did that happen…’