Slowly and Painfully ー ✓

Chapter 20: The Selection

My heels clicked with every throbbing step, although it wasn't as painful as when I first wore them at the palace. From way back, I imagine Rosette wouldn't be the type to gather this much audacity. All she ever wanted was to get out of this century before the day of the Revolution. All she ever wanted was to complete her tasks and disregard unnecessary feelings.

Now, however...

What the heck am I doing?

I fear that one day, I'll become less of a Briar Rosette and more of a Khaleesi Dulcina. That one day, I'll become too attached to this timeline and would think about actually staying here for good.

I do not know what to do by then.

With a deep breath, I entered the Training Field despite the evening sky looming above the Kingdom of Grand. Torches are lit and their flames flickered with the wind. I couldn't make out of any knights wandering around the proximity.

The only sound I could hear was the fast flight of arrows finding their mark.

"Jacob..." I exclaimed to myself, moving forward.

Third Person's POV

His soldiers were supposed to continue their drill, but the High Constable made them leave early. He craved for some time alone, for some time to cool his head and relax his muscles. His body was aching but the emotional drive was much worse. Acting upon instinct, he picked up Parcival.

You're just a coward pretending to be all high and mighty! But I am fully aware, Jacob! I am fully aware that you, you are just scared like the coward you were back then!

The resonance of his brother's voice cascaded from his memories.

"Tch, stop playing Mister-Know-It-All." Prince Jacob grumbled, his mouth forming a duck-like pout.

Another batch of sorrowful recollection flowed as if it begged to never be forgotten.

His flashback of the incident was blurry, but he could still vividly recall how frightened he was as he trembled behind his younger brother Nathaniel, how the ceilings crashed and burned, how their favorite piano got devoured in the heated blaze, how their mother dashed towards the sealed off gates.

All of you, stay here. I'll be back soon. That was what she said.

Alas, she never did.

He wanted to go after her, to be as courageous as Vante, to prove that he wasn't a mere weakling, to be of help, even if it was just for that moment.

But his feet remained planted on the damp soil.

If only he were a bit braver, maybe their mother would've had a chance to live. If only he were a bit stronger, maybe things would've been different.

That was what he regretted the most.

Which is why he forced himself to change. He doesn't plan on making the same mistakes ever again.

He had to control fear, or else fear would control him.

The third prince of Grand closed his eyes, felt the tugging string of his weapon—

And shot the center point.

Flashback

"Welcome to the Selection!"

"I am pleased to glorify each and every one of you with these gifts," the Captain of the Guards, Sir Parcival, announced in his proudest voice, "The weapons are meant to honor you since you seven have passed the basics of your training, and as such, they were crafted with extreme delicacy from precious resources by the best blacksmiths of various kingdoms."