As Alfred opened the carriage door, Lucien and Tristan stepped down into the lively plaza. Gilbert and Kyle swiftly moved to their sides, eyes sweeping over the crowd.
A sea of colorful stalls stretched across the square, brimming with chatter and the rich aroma of roasted delicacies. Merchants called out their wares, laughter mingling with the clink of coins. Yet what caught Lucien's attention was the striking contrast between the nobles in fine silks and commoners in worn linen, blending within the restless throng.
"Since you haven't decided on a birthday gift," Tristan's voice cut through the noise, "you're free to pick out anything you like today. My treat."
Lucien arched a brow. "Anything?"
How much money did Tristan have to make such a bold offer?
"Anything within reason," Tristan amended quickly. "Don't expect me to buy you a Destrier like Father did, or a merchant ship, for that matter."
A faint curve touched his lips. "A shame. I was thinking of getting a second warhorse."
After Cyrus's visit that night, a white-maned stallion, three gyrfalcons, five greyhounds, and a full set of armor had been delivered to his quarters by morning—his birthday gift.
Tristan's mouth twitched. "Greedy, aren't you?" Sighing, he gestured toward the row of stalls. "Come on. Let's find something before I start regretting this decision."
Well, Tristan seemed just as broke as he was. Their pockets were only as deep as their allowances. That got him thinking: was there something he could invent? Something that might earn him money?
With Tristan destined to be named Crown Prince, it wouldn't hurt to start a business early. That way, by the time he left the palace, he could already stand on his own.
Making their way through the bustling plaza, they sampled dishes and drinks from various vendors, even trying a few mini-games. To his surprise, Lucien had to admit: he was having fun.
"Not bad," Lucien said, savoring the sweet-savory glaze on a tender octopus.
"Told you," Tristan replied with a smug grin. "This place is a hidden gem. We should come here more often."
Before he could respond, Gilbert suddenly leaned in and whispered something into Tristan's ear, drawing a sharp change in his expression.
"Something urgent came up. I need to step away for a bit," Tristan said, nodding across the street toward a black-robed man waiting by the side road. "Want to come along?"
Lucien shook his head. "No, I'll wait here." He had no intention of getting entangled in whatever the protagonist's business was.
"Alright, wait here a moment." With that, Tristan and Gilbert approached the man.
Scanning the surroundings, a nearby bookstall caught Lucien's attention. Trailed by Kyle and Alfred, he wandered over.
Lucien browsed the display—worn covers, weathered spines, secondhand books stacked haphazardly. But one stood out: a deep purple volume with gold-embossed lettering, Apocrypha of Solairé.
Just as he reached out to pick it up, Alfred seized his hand. "Your High—I mean Young Master, that book is banned."
Lucien met his tense gaze. No wonder I've never seen it before.
Alfred's head snapped toward the merchant. "How dare you sell a banned book?!"
"I-I didn't know!" The merchant raised his hands defensively. "It was mixed in with the rest—I swear!"
Lucien sighed and gently withdrew his hand. "Enough, Alfred. No need to make a scene." He turned back to the vendor. "It's alright. Pay him no mind."
"I-I understand," the man stammered.
"But, Young Master," Alfred lowered his voice, leaning closer, "that book is dangerous. It's linked to a group suspected of inciting rebellion under the guise of enlightenment. The Empire shut them down years ago… for good reason."
Lucien hummed, his fingers brushing over the embossed title. "Is that so?"
Who cared if it was banned? Maybe this was exactly what he needed to get home.
"How much is it?" he asked.
"Y-you can have it," the man blurted. "Take it."
Oh? Lucien arched a brow. What a lucky day.
"Young Master, what will I tell your mother?" Alfred whispered in desperation, as though the sky were crumbling.
"Simple," Lucien slipped the book into his magical ring. "Don't."
Alfred's expression turned morbid. "I'll be skinned alive—"
"What happened?" Tristan's voice cut in from behind.
"Nothing." Lucien shrugged nonchalantly. "Finished your business?"
"Yes." Tristan nodded. "Want to walk around a bit more? There's still time before sunset, or would you prefer to return?"
Lucien glanced back at the stalls. "Let's walk a bit more. I want to pick up some souvenirs."
"Alright."
They wandered until they reached a stall lined with necklaces and trinkets that sparkled in the late-afternoon sun. Lucien's gaze drifted across the display before settling on a necklace strung with a sapphire gemstone, imitating Roseanne's eyes. He reached for it, only for another hand to touch it at the same moment.
Lucien drew his hand back, looking up at a pink-haired girl standing beside him. Her morganite eyes widened with surprise, warm sunlight catching on her fair skin.
She took a small step back, visibly flustered. "I'm so sorry."
Judging by her finely tailored dress and embroidered gloves, she was of noble birth.
"Is something wrong?" Tristan stepped up beside him.
Lucien shook his head. "Nothing." His gaze returned to the girl. "I'd be grateful if I could purchase this necklace for my mother."
Her knight suddenly stepped forward, placing himself between them in a guarded stance. "Forgive me, young man, but my lady saw it first."
The air thickened with tension. Gilbert and Kyle instinctively moved in, but Alfred slipped between the two parties. He let out a fake cough and subtly lifted his cloak.
The knight's eyes widened before he dropped into a bow. "My sincerest apologies. We did not realize…"
The girl curtseyed, dipping her head. "Please forgive the misunderstanding. It's yours, Your—Young Master."
Clever. She caught on quickly and avoided saying his title aloud. But from their abrupt change in demeanor, Lucien could guess they'd noticed something, likely the Empress's sigil.
"If you truly wanted the necklace," Lucien said evenly. "I won't insist."
She straightened, waving her hands in mild panic. "No, please. I insist—you take it. For your mother."
Their eyes locked, but neither spoke.
"Why not let the lady choose a second one, on me?" Tristan chimed in, a smile playing at his lips. "Consider it a token of goodwill."
She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't dare."
"Oh, please. I insist." Tristan gestured toward the display. "Go ahead. I'm sure there's something else just as lovely."
Her eyes flickered to Lucien, hesitant, before lowering to the trinkets. "Then… I'll just take a quick look."
While Tristan kept the conversation amiable, Lucien's gaze returned to the display. A brooch with a deep emerald gemstone caught his eye. He picked it up and handed both items to the merchant.
By the time she made her final choice, Tristan had already paid. After a courteous exchange of farewells, they made their way back to the carriage.