"Let's come to an agreement between you and His Royal Highness, through me—his representative."
"I see," Fargus said, calculating. "Alright, let's hear it."
Wynn took another three steps, throwing measured glances around the room at the three powerhouses on the lower floor.
Her eyes darted upward, briefly settling on the dapper man beside the Don.
'...That one is the most dangerous of them all.' She felt a chill run through her. 'I may have overextended myself here.'
As though he had seen through her thoughts, the man smiled pleasantly in her direction.
"It's as simple as I said before," Wynn started. "Support the third prince."
Her words hung in the air as they all stared at her expectantly.
"And?" Fargus finally asked, impatience creeping into his voice.
"And what?"
"What's the actual deal you're proposing?"
Wynn frowned.
"…That was the deal."
Silence.
Then the ravenette snorted.
The blond outright burst into laughter, while a few of the women surrounding him covered their mouths, shoulders shaking.
Even the man beside the Don looked momentarily surprised, sparing him a glance.
Fargus blinked once.
Then Twice.
"You came all the way here…" he said with a sigh. "Waltzed into my establishment, damaged my property, demanded an audience…" He fixed a pointed stare at her. "And you don't actually have anything to offer?"
He shook his head.
"I suggest you stop joking now."
The princess's brows furrowed.
"You have wealth. Influence. Men willing to follow your orders," she explained. "In return, you would gain the favour of the future king."
The room's laughter died as they realised she was serious.
Dirdric leaned forward, his earlier mirth replaced by incredulous irritation.
"Has anyone told you that you suck at this?" he said, pushing the women away.
The shorter blond appeared behind him faster than the princess could follow, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head.
Fargus covered his face and laughed.
"Okay... according to you, this 'deal'," he said mockingly. "How would it work?"
Wynn's jaw tightened at the dismissive tone, but she kept her composure in the face of the underlying tension.
"I will act as the liaison between you and His Highness..." She replied evenly. "To prevent unsavoury rumours from spreading. In whatever way is necessary, you will serve his purposes and aid his ascension to the throne."
The atmosphere shattered.
Roars of outrage and calls for violence erupted throughout the establishment. It was as though she had severed the last thread of goodwill they had been extending to her and insulted them in the process.
"I tried," Fargus muttered, swiping a finger through the air.
Immediately, like rabid dogs released from their leashes, his men descended upon her from all sides.
It all happened so fast, but in Wynn's eyes, everything slowed down as she clicked her tongue, already recognising the need to maintain distance.
Indigo symbols materialised around her hands, and the metal scattered across the thugs' bodies snapped backwards all at once, yanking them off balance while their swords and axes tore free from their grips and shot toward her.
Before the frontline could recover, she hurled two axes in rigid, controlled arcs, each unable to account for height differences—striking necks and heads depending on their targets.
She watched them come to a messy halt, embedded in their seventh and ninth victims, respectively.
"Tch." Wynn turned her attribute spell control to the edges of the room.
Without pause, she pulled scattered coins from every corner of the room, the metal responding instantly to her call, gathering into a dense ball above her head.
Fargus stared at the phenomenon with minimal concern.
"Barran."
The reddish-violet-haired man stepped forward without a sound, placing himself in front of the Don.
The princess clasped her fingers into a hand seal as white mana danced around her with miniature indigo formulas forming.
"Repel," she muttered, and the cluster of coins burst in every direction like countless buckshots.
The aftermath left a trail of bodies in such horrific condition that it looked as though a storm had torn straight through.
To her shock and displeasure, their numbers remained absurdly skewed against her, as injured as most of them were.
Some of them stopped. Whether it was from an unwillingness to trample over their fallen comrades or in response to her violent onslaught, she didn't know.
Either way, their momentum had now stalled.
'They're completely fine...' Wynn observed, her gaze flicking over the five she was most wary of. 'I need to get out of here.'
Sending the remnant of weapons she'd attracted earlier into whatever random targets were closest, she ran down the few steps she'd ascended and made for the door.
But the entrance was already clogged.
A wall of men had collapsed into the doorway, still forcing themselves forward despite broken limbs and mortal injuries, as if sheer will alone was keeping them upright.
Some were crawling.
Some were dragging themselves by their hands.
All of them were intent on blocking her escape.
Wynn slowed slightly.
"…They're like undead."
Suddenly, she felt a sharp edge tear through her side.
Wynn jerked backwards, stumbling away from a pale man riddled with holes. He dropped the knife from his hand a moment later, collapsing forward as life left him.
But the damage was already done.
'What the—' Wynn fell to her knees. 'Poison?!'
The world around her blurred, and the enemies she had once seen clearly were now little more than silhouettes stretching far above her like warped shadows.
She forced herself to breathe, but even that felt uneven, heavy.
The realisation settled in slowly, and it was worse than the pain. She had misjudged them. Badly at that. The grunts were not strong individually—far from it—but they didn't fight like individuals.
They moved like a single intent given hundreds of bodies. They took their losses and turned them into fuel. Treated wounds as disguises to get one last hit in before falling. And kept marching forward single-mindedly for the cause they stood for.
The picture it painted of the man who had built such an army inspired awe in the teenager.
'Is this what it means to be an excellent ruler...?'
The swarm that didn't care how many pieces of itself it lost advanced toward her, concluding she was already done.
"What your brother needs most isn't power. It's a force capable of making the calls he cannot."
The Countess' words echoed through her poison-clouded mind. It was precisely because of those words that she had even considered converting criminals into Cale's personal faction despite knowing he wouldn't approve.
'Attain that, and power will follow,' Wynn mused tiredly. 'Was she trying to tell me that the ability to make cold judgments is competence... and that people naturally flock to it?'
She was tired.
And she felt regret... or maybe something else she didn't understand.
What ifs scoured her mind, like a chorus drowning out everything else.
What if she had been born earlier?
What if she had been with Tristan when everything went wrong?
What if she were just a little more talented?
What if she had never spoken to Cale that day?
What if Lara hadn't overheard them?
What if… what if… what if…
"What if I had just killed her in her sleep that same night?"
The soldiers froze.
The cold words carried an edge that didn't belong in the voice of a collapsing girl.
"That's right…" Wynn muttered, pushing herself back to her feet with visible strain. "Cold judgments are usually followed by proper execution. Hesitation is a waste."
All the metal in the building surged upward in a violent frenzy, slamming into the ceiling as if it had become magnetised.
"I'll just kill all of you and deal with the aftermath later."
The weapons all shakily realigned themselves, their edges pointing downward in preparation for descent, while Wynn visibly struggled to maintain control over the wide-range effect with any precision.
And just as she brought her hand down—
Sand condensed around her form, tightening violently and squeezing the air from her lungs.
"I don't care anymore," Dirdric muttered as he walked toward her. "This is all so stupid! Wasting our resources on a single ant!"
Wynn was hurled upward and slammed against a pillar with such force that her consciousness wavered—her control over the suspended metal breaking instantly.
Panic soon erupted as scores of sharp, dangerous objects began to fall.
Only for wind to sweep through at the last moment, slowing each one with precise, controlled interference.
"Sho!" the men called out, voices bright with excitement as they swarmed toward the short blond.
He ignored them entirely, instead levelling a cold glance at his sand-manipulating peer.
"Think before you act," Sho said flatly. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
Despite his childlike appearance, his voice came out so deep it caught the princess off guard. She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as she found herself suspended mid-air by sand tightly wrapped around her hands and feet.
"One annoyance at a time," Dirdric grumbled. "If you want a fight, you can have one... as soon as I'm done!"
As if to punctuate the words, he flicked his hand.
A condensed ball of sand shot forward, striking Wynn's face instantly. Following the sharp impact, blood trailed from her lip as a red mark bloomed across her cheek.
He repeated the motion, hitting her again and again, alternating between head and body shots until he felt a disapproving stare from above and froze mid-motion.
"Everyone's a loser today..." he muttered, releasing her.
Dirdric watched as Wynn hit the ground hard, but instantly forced herself upright. He couldn't help frowning at the sight of the bloodied stranger still attempting to maintain her defiance.
"Oi, are you serious?" he asked, scowling. "You came in with all that pompous bullshit, and this is all you've got?"
His sand now lay across the floor, trembling and rising with a matching eagerness to his growing agitation.
"Dirdric," Fargus called calmly.
The blond spat to the side and stepped back, kicking a stray sword on the floor in annoyance.
"Now, as you can see, we're not pushovers you can order around as you please. Let's restart the negotiations properly."
Wynn could tell from their gazes that she was still in danger—more so because they all looked willing to step in this time around.
She glared from under her hood, coughing through her first few attempts to speak.
"So?" Fargus continued. "What will the terms be?"
Wynn exhaled shakily, blood still warm on her face, and met Fargus' gaze as she forced her voice steady.
"...You get nothing," she mumbled, smiling weakly. "The future of the crown has no need for garbage like you."
The Don's fist clenched. 'What a waste of time.'
"Okay," he chimed, nodding at Dirdric, who smiled all too eagerly. "I'll sell your corpse to a lab to recoup my losses."
Moving faster than the blond's sand could react, the pierced ravenette appeared in front of Wynn, studying her covered face with mild amusement.
Barran smiled. "Deidra... what are you up to?"
"…The boss's plan wouldn't work," she drawled, words slow and sultry. "The moment they see her face and report it, the royals will be knocking down our walls… maybe the Alonbrights too…"
"What?!" Fargus barked, standing abruptly. "Who would push both those factions into motion?"
Deidra gently uncovered Wynn's pure white hair and pulled down her scarf.
"The third Princess of Lindis," she sang lightly.
Eyes across the entire building widened in unison.
Fargus stared for a moment—then slapped a hand over his face and slumped back into his chair.
"…Fucking hell," he muttered, apprehension flickering in his gaze. "Hey."
Wynn looked up weakly.
"If we let you go," Fargus said slowly, eyes narrowing. "You'll keep this whole interaction to yourself, won't you? It's not exactly a great look for you either."
She knew he was right.
Not only would this fiasco be weaponised by her and Cale's opponents to make them look desperate, but even if it were reframed as a campaign to eliminate one of the kingdom's three major criminal pillars, it would still remain a stain on their name—because it would be their first notable act, and it had ended in failure.
Wynn had to admit, all this wounded a pride she hadn't even realised she possessed, but she couldn't afford to let Cale be set back by her actions.
"I swear by the founding Emperor this matter won't leave this place."
Fargus nodded once, understanding the weight and significance behind her words.
"Good."
She turned sharply and hobbled toward the door, only to be stopped as Deidra casually patted her head.
Wynn blinked in confusion.
"Ah, sorry," the woman said, smiling disarmingly. "I just thought I'd help a bit."
Wynn's confusion only deepened, but she didn't ask.
Slowly, and in complete defeat, she left.
---
- Outside the Temple of Amelphas -
Somehow, someway, her feet had carried her out of the slums and all the way to the very temple she had been consciously trying to block out the whole day.
'It was meant to be a last resort,' Wynn thought tiredly. 'But is there even a point...? I'm not even presentable...'
The clergymen—and especially the high priests—of the kingdom's principal faith.
Due to her siblings' natures, they had avoided any meaningful contact with all three royal factions. Amelphas was a deity of light and hope, after all. Drunkenness, lust, and cruelty were fundamentally incompatible with her followers.
If she could win these people over, it wouldn't overturn the board, but it would be a humble beginning.
"Miss?"
She turned toward the familiar voice and would have been surprised at the strange coincidence if she weren't completely exhausted.
"Boy, why are you here?" she asked, looking down at the child from earlier. "The sun has set already."
"They didn't have the medicine my mom needs at the drug store, so I came to buy a cure-all potion from the temple…" he said, before hesitating as he took in her condition. "Is all this because I asked you for help…?"
"Don't be stupid," Wynn replied immediately. "This is because of my own business. I never told you I would help you."
The boy looked unconvinced, so the princess changed the topic.
"Since you just bought the potion, that means there are people still around, right?"
He blinked, temporarily forgetting his guilt.
"Um... the priests left earlier on their nightly purge runs," he muttered nervously. "But the apprentices are still here."
Wynn's heart sank as her entire purpose effectively collapsed until she could return, possibly tomorrow.
'Isn't it the holy day tomorrow?' she thought, her expression dimming further. 'That means that and the day after are out of the question…'
Her gaze drifted weakly up to the cloudy night sky.
'Not a single star shines down on me...' She glanced at the statue at the top of the building. 'Is it because of you... because I don't follow you?'
"Miss?"
"Hm? Yeah... I heard you," Wynn said flatly. "You should get going. It's dangerous where you're headed."
The boy hesitated, then forced a small, uncertain smile and started walking away.
"Oh, those guys won't bother you... for today, at least," she added after a moment.
His expression brightened, and he skipped forward, pausing at the gate to wave enthusiastically.
Wynn didn't even notice the faint smile that formed on her face.
She turned back toward the temple.
There was no longer any real need to be here, but something—maybe desperation—made her feel compelled to step inside anyway.
Above her, the clouds shifted.
A single star broke through, shining faintly but unmistakably.
With laboured breaths, she pushed open the heavy doors and froze at the sight before her.
An unusually dressed boy about her age sat in the front row, casually leaning back, feet resting on the sacred stone where Amelphas's sacrifices were supposed to be offered.
"Telepathy," the boy's voice carried across the temple's walls. "My stats went up a decent amount. Now should be a good time to start with that."
He then froze, turning to her slowly before he visibly relaxed as recognition replaced tension.
"Oh, it's just you," he said, exhaling. "What a surprise. I wasn't going to seek you out until tomorrow. Such luck must mean things will go wrong soon..."
Wynn stared at him in confusion.
He seemed to know her, but she didn't know him. And the words he was saying didn't make any sense either.
Which was why it was even stranger to her that she felt as if everything had just fallen into place in this moment.