After enduring the tedious yet necessary lessons for his role as king, Sol was finally free to do what he truly enjoyed — as he had been for as long as he could remember. Nearly running to the stables while still maintaining his princely composure, he struggled to hide his excitement until he encountered his next instructor.
"Prince Sol, I'm honored you spared time for this old man today. I trust your day has been pleasant?"
Sol smiled at the white-haired elder bowing before him but restrained himself from replying too casually. Though outside the tower, he remained close by; until his awakening granted him the power to defend himself, he had to stay cautious.
"Do not worry, Lord Gerald. You are someone I deeply respect, and learning under you is always a pleasure."
With graceful steps, he moved toward the office, Gerald following half a step behind.
Once inside, the old man chuckled.
"Pfft, hahaha. Little Sol, you're starting to act more like a true prince each day. I still remember the snot-nosed boy who stared at my horses with stars in his eyes."
Relaxing at Gerald's teasing, Sol smiled warmly.
"Uncle, I told you before, I don't mind if you treat me more casually, even outside."
Gerald shook his head firmly.
"You know I cannot. I represent the old regime. In public, I must show you full respect, or others will think I seek to claim influence beyond my station."
Sol sighed, weary of politics. Gerald wasn't truly his uncle, but a retainer of the previous king, Neptune. Still, Sol respected him greatly and disliked seeing someone so old bow to him. Especially since Gerald didn't technically need to — he was from the Highland family, one of the four ducal houses, and Sol's crown prince status wasn't absolute over them. A certain noblewoman had reminded him of that long ago.
Even so, Gerald admired Sol's humility. Unlike many arrogant young nobles, Sol respected elders and never let his title inflate his ego.
"Enough talk," Gerald said. "You must be tired, so let's begin quickly. Who will you pick this time?"
"My usual: Black and White."
"Haha! Those two are practically yours now. They never let anyone else ride them."
Sol grinned. White was his nightmare horse, a D-rank beast. Black was his wyvern, a C-rank from the dragon lineage. Wyverns were considered degraded dragons — dragons viewed them as humans viewed apes — but they still obeyed Sol's half-dragon blood without question.
"You're right, uncle. Let's go."
Riding was his favorite lesson — partly for the thrill, partly for the chance to spend time with Gerald, who was like the father he never had.
"Oh, where are Athena and Ares today?"
Gerald's face darkened.
"The border is tense. Wratharis is stirring trouble again. Just probing for weaknesses, but it doesn't bode well."
Wratharis, the beastkin nation, was Lustburg's most persistent foe. Its current leader was particularly aggressive, a constant thorn in humanity's side. Unlike Sol, Athena and Ares had long since awakened and were serving in the army, Athena especially shining thanks to her unique contracts.
"Well, here we are," Gerald said. "Take your wyvern."
The rest of the lesson passed with Sol soaring through the skies, carefree for a moment. Afterwards, he returned to prepare for the evening.
---
Standing before a crystal mirror, Sol inspected his attire: a white suit with golden buttons, fingerless gloves bearing the insignias of both church and crown, white trousers, and regal shoes. Combined with his golden hair and vivid blue eyes, he looked every inch the prince.
"I always feel strange in these clothes," he muttered.
"Your Highness, it's necessary," Milia replied gently while adjusting his outfit. "Meeting the Supreme Daughter in casual wear might be acceptable, but since Duchess Milaris heard and decided to attend, appearances matter."
Sol scowled. "Ugh, that woman..."
Milia smiled faintly at his distaste but stayed silent. She had no place to speak ill of a duchess. When she finished her adjustments, Sol surprised her with a kiss — sudden, tender, and lingering. Flustered yet delighted, she melted into it, cheeks flushed when it ended.
"Thanks for everything you do for me," he said warmly before leaving for his destination.
The chamber he entered was heavily guarded, its center marked with a teleportation circle. Beside it stood an old robed woman with a crow on her shoulder — a Nightmare Crow, a C-rank beast specializing in spatial travel.
"Good evening, Your Highness," the hunchbacked gatekeeper greeted with a shallow bow.
"Don't strain yourself for formality," Sol said. "Your health is more important."
She waved his concern aside. "Protecting the heir is worth any effort. Now, step onto the circle with your knight, and you'll be transported."
Sol obeyed, standing with Setsuna — his blue-haired childhood friend and stoic protector, clad like a samurai.
Moments later, nausea and headache hit him hard as the world shifted. He barely avoided vomiting.
"Take your medicine, Your Highness," Setsuna urged.
"Thanks," he said, swallowing the pills. "Ugh, dimensional travel without magic is brutal."
At her teasing reminder of when he once vomited on holy robes, Sol flushed, especially at the quiet giggles of nearby nuns.
The Church of Castitas had always felt like a second home, full of memories, some embarrassing, others precious. But the peace was broken by a mocking voice.
"How improper to shame His Highness publicly. Or is this how he raises his slave?"
A dark-haired woman approached, flanked by retainers and a raven-haired demon of high rank. Sol inwardly groaned.
Duchess Arachne Milaris. Beautiful, dangerous, and thorny as a rose. Once betrothed to his father, her broken engagement left a lingering bitterness between her family and the crown.
'Sigh… today will be long.'
---
Meanwhile, within the church, a nun announced the guests' arrival. The Supreme Daughter, Camelia Castitas, however, was lost in excitement.
"Hehe~! My little Sol is finally visiting. I thought he had forgotten me. It must be that woman's fault, always keeping him to herself!"
The nun remained silent, used to her superior's eccentricity. Truthfully, many in the church adored Sol; he was practically their mascot. Still, the nun couldn't help but pray quietly:
'I hope the church's future isn't doomed…'