Fatima: The Slave Princess-Chapter 83 - 82

"A well-known mage named Lindina crafted these spectacles."

Lindina? I feel like I've heard that name before.

"Its lenses are imbued with magic that can change its wearer's eye color. Would you like to try them on?"

I made the right call when I instructed Lindina to make them with a small feminine face in mind. Now that I'm standing so close to her, I can't help but notice just how small her face is. Everything about her seems so delicate that it feels like she'd break at the slightest amount of pressure. She looks frail and helpless, yet the gleam in those blood-red eyes of hers often makes me shudder. Contrary to the eerie feeling I experienced when I met her elder sister for the first time...

"Sir Leonardo? Is everything alright? You've been staring in space for a while now."

"My apologies, miss Lottie. My mind suddenly drifted elsewhere for a moment."

"Now where were we..." he said as he spread the glasses' temples and gently placed them on my face.

"Hm...it's a perfect fit!"

Her eye color changed instantaneously.

"What color did they change into?" she giggled cheerfully.

"There's a small mirror on your desk. Why don't you see for yourself?"

"Will it reflect in the mirror?"

I had these made as an extra precaution in case her sister were to visit again, but I didn't expect her response to be so positive. Especially after seeing her expression when we mentioned the eye altering potion and hair dye.

"*gasp* They turned violet! How beautiful!" she squealed in excitement.

Why does it feel like she'll be wearing those to sleep tonight?

"I'll cherish those for the rest of my life, I promise!"

She's holding them in the air like it's some precious treasure. Well, in hindsight, they are considered extremely rare, precious artifacts, seldom seen by the public eye. I'm sure mage Lindina would be thrilled to hear her unconventional inventions are proving to be rather useful.

"Ahem! According to Lindina, they are quite durable. Not only does the effect remain as long as you have them on, but it is also waterproof."

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"Amazing!"

She's twirling around with the mirror in front of her face like a child playing with a new toy. Did she even hear a word I just said?

"Ah! By the way, Miss Lottie. Are you feeling any discomfort in your eyes? You mentioned your dye allergies before, but..."

"This is fine. In fact, it's so comfortable I might forget to take them off before bed tonight. Haha!"

As I thought...

"What are the two of you doing in broad daylight?" the crown prince scowled while standing in the doorway.

+++

"With the fighting tournament fast approaching, we have arrived at the point of no return. I'm sure you all know by now that the man we're about to face...may go after our very lives. That being said, the time to put our plans in motion...is now, gentlemen."

Ever since the crown prince went off to war, we have held the same meeting, year after year, without interruption. Ever since the emperor made his announcement, an atmosphere of fear has enveloped us all, and we have been anxiously awaiting this dreaded day with much trepidation and apprehension.

"Aaah... look at your cowardly faces." He chuckled, puffing out a thick cloud of smoke from his cigar.

"What are you all so afraid of? It's not as though anything's changed. Crown prince or not, he is still the same wimp we threw down that hole years ago."

Ivan Wrotingthon, eldest son and prime heir of the ducal of Wrotingthon, as well as...my older brother.

"You make a fair point, my lord. However, the man we're talking about...ended a war that could have lasted over a decade in just four years."

"I agree with George here, my lord...we must take that into consideration before rushing into any decision we might regr-"

"Silence!" Ivan yelled angrily, slamming his glass of rum on the table, the droplets spraying across the surface.

"We need someone who can intimidate him."

"Someone like you, my lord?" George suggested with a smirk.

Despite his arrogant and superior demeanor, he is actually the most frightened among us. If only we knew better back then, we wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

"*sigh* Another boring play date with the crown prince. *tsk* How annoying." Ivan grumbled, kicking a rock in his path.

As the capital buzzed with the shocking news of the prince's illness, the whispers of uncertainty and doubt grew louder, threatening to topple his once-unquestioned right to the throne. The hushed murmurs turned to shouts, the averted gazes to sneering faces; those who once wouldn't have dared to breathe near him now reveled in harassing him at every turn. Among those people were the four of us who at first pretended to be on his side, only to treat him the same way as the rest of the students at the academy.

"Hold him down, lads. This won't take long."

Ivan's violent nature surpassed ours, his presence radiating a palpable aggression that made even us, his lackeys, wary of him. He would repeatedly strike the prince's torso with a towel-covered fist, focusing on areas where the resulting bruises would be almost undetectable. His animosity towards him was the most unnatural and disturbing thing I've ever seen.

"I'm getting tired of all this. How long must I continue to put up with this princely outcast? He's so weak I nearly felt sorry just now. *Tsk* Future emperor, my ass."

On that day, Ivan's already simmering irritation reached a fever pitch after princess Emilia rejected his heartfelt confession of love in front of us, leaving him humiliated and deeply wounded. A derisive snort escaped her lips as she turned and walked away from him, the quiet rustle of her dress a counterpoint to his silence.

"I have an idea." He said in a sinister tone, glaring at the prince in the distance.

"Follow my lead, boys."

Ivan led the prince into believing he wanted to go on a harmless stroll, and our destination somehow turned out to be a dried well tucked away in a secluded corner of the palace. As we looked around the desolate place Ivan had brought us to, confusion and curiosity filled the air.

"Did you know..." Ivan sneered while encroaching on the prince, who retreated cautiously.

"...that a corpse was discovered inside this well recently?"

"A c-corpse? That's quite the tall tale, my lord." McMillan giggled, cautiously glancing down at the well.

"Oh! It's all dried up." George exclaimed in amazement.

"That's right!" affirmed a familiar voice in the distance.

"P-princess Yuri." I stammered nervously, averting her gaze as usual.

"Apparently, some maid climbed down of her own accord to fetch a hairpin she received from her lover without realizing how deep it was and ended up drowning."

Princess Yuri's presence evoked a certain tension among us. Yet, we had no reason to distrust her, as she usually played by our rules. And each time her curiosity was piqued by our treatment of her older brother, we would consistently reassure her with the explanation that such behavior was typical of boys our age.

"What are you all doing here, anyway?" she asked cheekily.

"Ah! We're going to explore this well and discover what treasures lie in it depths. Isn't that right...your highness?" Ivan chuckled, firmly clutching the prince's shoulder, which caught the princess' eyes.

The crown prince's stoic demeanor remained the same, even in a situation like this. His face was a blank slate, betraying nothing of the turmoil or calm that might have been raging within him. Despite his awareness of what awaited him, he remained silent as Ivan bound the coarse rope around his waist, the rough fibers scratching against his skin, and lowered him into the echoing depths of the well; he didn't so much as flinch.

"How would we know when he reaches the bottom?"

"What if there's a monster down there?"

"Are you alright, brother? Should I have them pull you up?" princess Yuri shouted loudly, her voice echoed throughout the well.

"See? He's not responding."

"I-Ivan...I-I think we should pull him back up. It's too dangerous. What if something happens to him down there?"

"If you're going to keep yapping like this, you can leave, Alex."

Ivan listens to no one except our father. If only I had been more assertive and less timid in my approach, perhaps I could have prevented things from escalating to their current unfortunate state. In retrospect, it was a mistake to believe him when he promised to return and rescue the prince once he had gathered all the treasures. When I heard he was discovered two days later, my heart instantly plummeted, a cold dread washing over me like a tidal wave. I knew then...that this was certainly going to backfire in the most unexpected of ways.

"Happy Birthday, your highness."

On the third day of the twelfth month came the crown prince's birthday. A week-long celebration unfolded, filled with the sounds of music and laughter, as envoys and foreign dignitaries approached, bearing lavish gifts for the young prince. Mingling with us in a remarkably friendly manner, the crown prince projected a strange and captivating aura, leaving a lasting impression on all those present. His unexpected change in attitude completely shocked us, but it was Ivan's lack of foresight that ultimately led us to the impending peril that awaited us.

"I've pulled you all away from the crowd because I wanted to spend share a special toast with you, my closest friends." The prince chuckled before raising his glass of champagne to his lips.

"Drink up, gentlemen. It is a night of celebration, after all."

Everything about him was different. An ominous aura surrounded him; it was palpable in his speech, and even more so in the unsettling gleam in his eyes as the words left his lips. Everyone else, including me, could blatantly sense the foreboding chaos that was about to ensue as we fearfully gulped the possibly poisoned wine. In contrast, Ivan...

"That's more like it, your highness. Who knew a couple of days down a dried well was all it took to shape you up? I quite like this new persona of yours. Haha!" Ivan chuckled, glowering menacingly at the crown prince while swirling his wineglass.

"So do I, Ivan Wrotingthon. And I have all of you to think for that."

What followed that statement was something that would remain etched in our memories for as long as we live. Every moment we spent interacting with him felt like a prolonged, farcical performance designed solely for his amusement, with us playing the role of inept clowns for a single, unimpressed audience member. In our youthful folly, we were so completely absorbed in our own immaturity that we failed to consider a crucial element. The crown prince of Alkaraz displayed his divine powers from the moment of his birth, a unique event that set him apart from other Sants whose powers normally manifest later in life.

"*Argh* My arm! My arm! It hurts!"

"Help! Someone please... help us!"

"Save me, please!"

"Please forgive me, your highness. Have mercy-Argh!"

The unnerving ease with which he manipulated our limbs without spilling a single drop of our blood was horrifying. Our bones shifted and resettled beneath our skin, each movement accompanied by a sickening loud crack, as if we were nothing more than his playthings. We squirmed on the cold, grassy ground, the gruesome pain of our internal organs twisting and turning inside us as our shrieks echoed in the vastness of the air.

"Now that the shoe is on the other foot, you're all singing a different tune...literally. How very entertaining."

The crown prince, with a smile playing on his lips, remained seated atop the table, leisurely observing the unfolding events. I recall his eyes gleaming with malice, a peculiar glint flickering in his irises, before darkness consumed me, taking my consciousness with it.