The prince opened his profile.
[Name: IcarusAge: 10Attributes: Prince (Lv.3), Advisor (Lv.5)Skills: Charisma (Lv.3), Strategy (Lv.6), Leadership (Lv.4), Swordsmanship (Lv.1)]
The prince sighed.
Despite his success in matters of the mind, his swordsmanship remained poor.
It simply wasn't his path.
He closed the window of his profile and turned his gaze outward.
Beyond the palace stretched a vast garden—
A masterpiece of color and design.
Flowers of every kind bloomed in careful harmony, their fragrance carried gently by the wind.
Icarus breathed it in.
It was a beautiful day.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Icarus said calmly.
A boy, a few years older, entered and knelt before him.
"Dear Prince, His Majesty requests your presence in the council chamber."
Icarus nodded. "Rise, Aletheis."
The boy obeyed.
"I will attend to him at once."
The King awaited him.
The court stood empty—save for the King and a man clad in priestly robes.
Icarus stepped into the grand hall, its marble floors gleaming, its pillars draped in velvet.
He bowed.
The great doors shut behind him with a heavy echo.
The King sat upon his golden throne, his expression grave.
Though only in his early thirties, strands of silver had already begun to creep into his hair.
"Rise, Prince," he said, his tone firm and austere.
Icarus obeyed and stepped forward.
His gaze shifted—drawn to the man beside the throne.
Curiosity flickered in his eyes.
The King noticed.
"This is Priest Caelum," he said. "He has come from the outskirts with urgent news."
Icarus inclined his head respectfully.
The Priest was… unusual.
His long black hair fell freely over his shoulders, and his robes—black, traced with white—seemed almost ceremonial.
But it was his face that stood out.
A strip of dark cloth covered his eyes completely.
And yet—
He seemed to see.
The Priest turned toward Icarus and smiled.
["The Blind Prophet" is gazing at you.]
A chill ran down Icarus' spine.
"Sit," the King commanded.
Icarus took his place.
The King gestured toward the Priest.
"Speak."
Priest Caelum cleared his throat.
"A disease has begun to spread in the countryside."
Icarus leaned forward immediately. "What kind of disease?"
"I was just getting to that," the Priest replied dryly.
The King shifted, slightly irritated.
"Continue."
The Priest inclined his head.
"It begins with the skin."
The King straightened. "Is it contagious?"
The Priest's lips thinned. "As I was about to explain."
Icarus shot the King a brief, reproachful glance.
The King coughed lightly. "Go on."
The Priest continued.
"We have named it… The Corruption."
A faint unease settled in the room.
Icarus felt it too.
The name alone was wrong.
"It begins as red patches upon the skin," the Priest said. "Irritation. Minor at first."
"Then it spreads."
"Slowly. Inevitably."
"The skin dries."
"It cracks."
"It peels."
He paused.
The silence stretched.
"And we discovered," he said quietly,"That what was falling away…"
"…was not skin."
The King's grip tightened on the arm of his throne.
Icarus didn't move.
The Priest's smile returned.
Thin.
Unsettling.
"It was mould."