Perhaps it was for the best that they ran into the Master Scholar. The older woman seemed caught unawares, her arms laden with scrolls as well as a few tomes. Confusion twisted her expression as she glanced between Radhildur and Frederich.

“Princess Radhildur,” she said. “Greetings. May I inquire as to what you are doing with one of my pupils?”

Frederich observed the visible disdain that furrowed Radhildur’s brow. 

“No one came for me when I arrived at the foyer. This young man was kind enough to lead me to the archives.” Their voice was monotone and bland. 

The Master Scholar nodded. “I understand. Many apologies for the delay, I hurried back to compile the records you requested, princess. We may head to the study area to discuss what other details you seek. Frederich, you are excused.”

“I’ll be working with Scholar Frederich henceforth,” Radhildur said quickly. “His insight on the extensive fictitious side of the Celestials is quite helpful.”

“Frederich has yet to complete his fellowship,” she protested gently. “Myself or another Master would be far more qualified.”

Radhildur gauged the two Scholars with a pensive glance before shaking their head. “I will promptly begin working with Scholar Frederich. I believe there will be valuable first-hand experience he will have to offer on the subject matter.”

Frederich’s brow twitched. Heavens, they were actually annoying. 

The Master Scholar also seemed at loss for words.

Radhildur waved and began their way in the direction the Master had come from. “Until then, little Scholar.”

The foul mood that followed Frederich after his encounter did not dissipate. Even as he made his way through the market square, to the knights’ familial housing—also known as the Commons—he found no joy in his usual evening stroll. Radhildur’s behavior was both contradictory and expected of a Royal irked him. They asked no questions and made plenty of demands. 

All of this nonsense of the Celestial plane and the interference of the Celestials in the Royal family was completely ludicrous too. They expected him to believe them? He wasn’t some starry eyed parishioner of the entities to take their legends as truth. But Radhildur had been completely serious throughout the entirety of their conversation. They asked him to trust their expertise and knowledge of Ku. Not only that, but should he fall asleep and find himself engulfed in the darkness again, they requested he call them. They would find him.

…and protect him?

Frederich would have been lying if he said he knew of any Royal who directly offered to protect a subject. That was technically supposed to be his responsibility as an oh-so-obligated pleb. Yet Radhildur made the offer all the same. 

They were perplexing. 

His home rose before him and surprised him. He hadn’t realized how long he had been walking. A depressed exhale escaped him at the sight of the rotten thatching on the rooftop, as well as the way the windows seemed cloudy and muddied—no matter how much they had been cleaned. If only the landlord actually addressed these issues instead of eating their money away like a pig. But it wasn’t like Frederich’s family could go anywhere. Not until he’d graduated his fellowship and became a Master Scholar. 

Soon, he told himself after a shake of his head. 

He walked into the home only to be greeted by a barrelling hug from his sister, Bea. Her wild curls flew everywhere as she tackled him in her excitement. “It’s your turn to make dinner! Get a move on, I’m starving!”

“Where’s Ma and Dah?” He asked, staring up at the ceiling, suddenly wishing he worked even later than he already did.

“Dah’s still at the training grounds, and Ma has a night shift.” Bea hopped away as quickly. “Dinner! Dinner! Dinner!”

“You’re getting too old for this, Bea,” Frederich said, rolling up his sleeves. “What would you like?”

She gave him a moment’s pause before emphatically pointing at the kitchen. “Egg bread!”

He chuckled. “Egg bread it is.”

It was a simple dish, one that didn’t require much energy from him. Heat the stove and insert a flat top stone, fry eggs just enough so they solidify and remain unbroken once retrieved. Hollow out bread rolls and drop the eggs in. Thus dinner was served quickly, much to both of their delight.

 
“Did you hear the news about what happened east of the Commons?” Bea asked, eagerly tearing into the bread.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Frederich said.

Bea ignored him, taking another large bite of food before continuing. “They say that early this morning there was a robbery at one of the tailor shops. But before the person could get far, Rognvaldur stopped him!”

Rognvaldur? Why did that name sound familiar, he wondered after a blank look to his sister.

“Uh, hello? Rognvaldur. The Rognvaldur.”

“Saying the name twice doesn’t make it any more apparent for me, Bea.”

His sister gave an exasperated sigh. “C’mon Freddie, think. The star pupil at the Commons, both Dah and Sir Dullahan rave on end about him. Young, mute, and wears a mask cause they think his tongue was cut out? His sense of fashion is unparalleled with his fancy hat and feather…oh! He’s ambidextrous, did I mention he’s absolutely handsome, and—”

“If he wears a mask, how do you know he’s handsome?” Frederich laughed. 

 “Clearly it’s the charisma and personality that makes him so attractive.” Bea flushed bright red. “Maybe that’s something you could learn instead of being so prickly all the time.”

“Uh-huh. Well disappointingly nothing rings a bell,” Frederich said with a lifted brow. “But he stopped a robbery, all by himself? He didn’t wait for the knights?”

“Rognvaldur is practically a knight. If he didn’t have such a tragic deformity, he probably would be one,” Bea huffed. “Martha from next door told me the robber was armed to the teeth! But that didn’t stop Rognvaldur, and the fiend was apprehended shortly after.”

“You and Martha could light up the town with all your gossip,” he said.

She stuck her tongue out, “We gather very important information all throughout Reyk to recommend to the daily chronicle, thank you very much.”

“You are the daily chronicle.”

“Might as well be since I actually keep myself informed with important stuff.”

She’s young, Frederich told himself with a wince. She doesn’t know how insulting that is. 

“Anyways, I think since Rognvaldur has been climbing the ranks at the Commons, there’s been less and less crimes. Gangs from both the south and east side of Reyk have all been disbanded.”

“Crime doesn’t just disappear, Bea. Where are these factions hiding if not their usual spots?” Frederich felt his patience wearing thin. “Besides, I doubt your local hero could take whole groups. If anything, he’s probably assisting the knights and letting them wipe out the locations.”

Bea smiled and rested her chin happily on her hand. “He’s so brave.”

Frederich decided to let the conversation die there. 

When they were done, Bea dutifully helped him clean the mess and tidied the kitchen. She yawned and he drew his pocket watch, noting the time. He helped her to her room and made sure she prepared herself for bed before tucking her in. A fond countenance wound its way onto his face as he patted her head. His sister really was getting far too old for this treatment. Her thirteenth winter soon approached, and it would be time to send her applications in for the boarding school he picked for her. No more nonsense swooning over a mute and penniless swordsman—with his own salary and connections, she would be well learned.

He’d assure that. 

Once Bea slept soundly, he peeked out into the living area to see if either of his parents had returned. Neither had. So it would be another day without seeing either of them. He returned to the kitchen and warmed the stove to make two more sets of egg bread, setting them aside for his mother and father once they returned. 

In the living area, he pulled down the attic entry way and clambered up the ladder to his room. It was chilly. The lofted area rarely received heat from the hearth or the stove. Mist and dew clung to the window overlooking the street at the far end of the room. Despite the stress of the day, Frederich found he was able to unwind and prepare for bed fairly easily. Only one question nagged him. 

Why? 

Back to the biggest bother of the day. Why out of everyone in the kingdom had he allegedly wound up in the land of Ku—not only that, but it had immediately led him to the encounter with the seventh heir. It was an odd coincidence. 

If he was fanciful, he would have called it fate. 

The later it became, the more he overprocessed what he already understood. Mystery and rumors shrouded the cursed heir—very few facts were confirmed. Radhildur was the youngest of the Royal family’s children, at the prime spinster age of twenty-nine. Since the age of twenty-four, their notoriety as someone volatile and belligerent had spread like a wildfire, known to carry a sword around and exhibit a surprising amount of skill to anyone who crossed them. They refused to marry and had even challenged several suitors of neighboring kingdoms. Some of the worst rumors said they’d nearly killed one of their suitors. That and as a child of Ku, they were prone to curse those who defiantly stood in their way. 

Closing his eyes, Frederich frowned. Just earlier that day, Radhildur had asked him to lead the way and walked beside him, listening to what he had to say. Both informative and, honestly, rude. But they listened, nodding as they strode confidently. 

He hated unfounded things.