For A Princess

Lesaric looked around. The conversation with the princess hadn’t helped, and he still didn’t know where he was. It was just a plain room. There was a large wooden desk cluttered with papers and with stuffed drawers. Behind it, there was a huge window that let sunlight into the room. Getting up cautiously, Lessaric walked over to the desk. It smelled of dust and sun and stale paper.

He rummaged through the documents on the desk hoping for answers of some kind. One document held the seal of the National Research Institute of Terrosa at the bottom: a pen with leaves from the hornbeam tree encircling it.

He remembered bits and pieces of things he’d heard in the past. The fourth princess of Terrosa was the first royal graduate of the Continental Academy. When she completed her studies, she was appointed as the Director of the National Research Institute.

He found the documents useless, just different findings from the institute that didn’t tell him much more than he already knew. Lesaric, still weary, crawled back into his bed and slept for as long as he could.

When he woke, he found that he was still tired, but feeling much better than he had been feeling earlier. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about things that were probably better left alone. Being by himself in a quiet room called for useless thoughts.

He thought about the war with Istonia and about how it was over. It meant that there was no longer a war being fought under the king’s reign. Perhaps they wouldn’t even have one during the reign of the next king. Osos, Istonia, and Sakaro had all been defeated and the non-aggression pacts they signed would last decades.

They must not have known what to do with him after all that. He had been at the forefront of the most recent fight, but he was just a Soul and nothing more. He could have died. They could have killed him. So why did she save him?

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door that stopped when they were near enough. The door swung open to reveal two pairs of curiously black eyes.

The two that stood before him looked so similar that Lesaric didn’t know how he could tell them apart. They grinned as they looked up at him.

“Vachen makes an appearance!” said one.

“Vichen makes an appearance!” said the other.

They both struck a strange pose when they shouted out their names. Lesaric simply watched them, analyzing them as if they were an opponent that he needed to understand in order to defeat. He didn’t care much for their behavior, he simply cared about the magic that flowed in their blood.

When he didn’t respond to their antics, the twins straightened themselves up. They both looked embarrassed.

“It’s from a popular play,” explained Vachen. Or Vichen. Lesaric didn’t care much to tell the difference between the two. “The poses we were doing, they’re from a popular play.”

“We have a terrible sense of humor,” said Vichen.

Vachen looked at Lesaric intently. “Your face is… okay, I guess.”

Vichen nudged him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to compliment him,” he said, then turned to Lesaric. “You look amazing.”

“Marie will like him,” Vachen added. “She’s crazy about eyes and jawlines like that.”

“But we haven’t seen the height and body yet.”

The twins talked endlessly as they walked closer to Lesaric and studied every part of him that they could see. When Lesaric tried to turn his body, Vachen struck him right beside his ribs. Lesaric tried, and failed, to swallow his groan.

“Your ribs were broken rather neatly,” said Vachen. “I just put them in place. I think they’re already better, you seem to be resilient enough. They should still be weak, though, so be careful—oh! I just hit it!”

“Why am I here?” Lesaric asked, interrupting them before they burst into conversation again.

The twins shared a look then burst out laughing. Their laughter was both mocking and yet they seemed terribly unaware of how they sounded.

“To use you as a subject for an experiment, of course,” Vachen finally said.

Lesaric stared at him, unblinking.

“Fine, I’m lying,” Vichen sighed. “You aren’t that interested in your body, are you? You know, if something went wrong, you might’ve lost an entire limb. Even if you’re a Soul with great self-healing powers, your wounds were terrible.”

Lesaric looked away. He knew that what Vichen said was true, but he didn’t know how he could agree with him at this moment.

Sighing, Vichen sat down on the bed and said, “I heard you were demoted from Libron. Miss Delmore tells us that you must have been a hard man to take down. You achieved so many great things despite having the blood of a soul.” He looked away. “Baliha, the king who made the knights into Souls, would weep if he saw you,” he murmured. “To trample the direct line of Lemsa Horn is a disgrace.”

Vachen hushed his twin and shot him a warning look. Clearing his throat, he smiled and spoke lightly as he said, “Miss Delmore brought you here all messed up.” He gave a sympathetic look. “She said that you were a direct descendant of Lemsa Horn, so she claimed it would be worth studying you. The other royals agreed to the notion eventually.”

“Of course, that wasn’t the truth.” Vichen offered a sly smile. “Our lab doesn’t dissect living people. Since Miss Delmore took charge, that is.”

Lesaric frowned. He looked at the Vichen and asked again, “Why am I here?”

Vichen laughed at that. “I’m sure Miss Delmore already told you.” He grinned. “There’s no reason, Lesaric. There’s no reason why you’re here.”