Chapter 36: Verdurous Are the Weeds of Hope

"Ah, Y-Your Highness, this is..." The middle-aged official took a few panicked steps back. "Uh, that woman, you see... she wasn't watching where she—"

"I'll say it one last time. Pick those up," Abel growled before taking a step forward. "Or should I take this to mean that the words of the emasculate Second Prince are not worthy of your ears?"

"N-No, of course not."

The official hastily picked up the scattered documents and held them out at Monica. He impatiently shook them a few times, and when she took them, he gave her a resentful glare. It did not escape Abel's notice.

"Also," the prince added, "let it be known that should I witness any further disrespect toward her, then I shall consider it to be a slight upon my own honor."

He glared pointedly at the official, his narrowed eyes exuding the same menacing air as a sword drawn on the battlefield. It was a look that could kill.

Oh how the prince has grown... I never thought I'd see a look like that on him.

Something stirred in Monica as she regarded the expression on Abel's face, and for a moment, she retreated into her thoughts. Ever since coming here, her impression of the young Second Prince hadn't been all that bad. Despite the prevailing notions in this kingdom, he'd always treated her well. It wasn't just her either. He was considerate toward not only his mother and sisters, but the maids who served him as well. It showed, she thought, that the boy had a kind heart. She'd come to see him almost as a younger brother and, as the days went on, he'd often brought a fond smile to her face.

However, it would be remiss of her to deny that she also deemed him ill-suited to rule. Indecisive and lacking in discipline, his personality left her no choice but to assume that he'd struggle to make the hard decisions so often required of those who wielded power. Until now, that is...

In a situation like this, the Abel I used to know would have put on that flippant smile of his and smoothed things over with a laugh. He probably would have helped me, but he definitely wouldn't have reprimanded anyone. And yet... He's changed.

Now, she saw in Abel a hint of the prince from her homeland, Sion. So profound was the change that she began to feel a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he was the one who could free Remno from the shackles of its brutal misogyny. At the same time, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that had brought about this transformation in him.

"Are you all right?"

Abel's voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find him peering down at her.

"Ah, my apologies, Your Highness."

"The apologies are all mine. I realize that it must be terribly difficult for all of you to work here. I'm aware of the need for change, but time and again, I discover that change does not come easily."

He smiled wryly and ran his hand through his hair.

"Um, at the risk of sounding rude, may I ask what it was that changed you so?"

"Hm? I've changed? Really?"

"Yes. You've grown... hardier, and more mature."

"Ahaha, maybe you're right. I guess it's because I can't afford to be making a fool of myself in front of her..."

Her...

Monica was intimately familiar with the person to whom he referred. She was, of course, Mia Luna Tearmoon, Princess of Tearmoon, Great Sage of the Empire, and the absolute bane of Graham's existence — the girl who took Abel's kindness... and gave it teeth. Gone was the cub who was tender but lacking, he'd been replaced by a young lion endowed with claw and mane. Just who was this mystical character she knew only from rumor and hearsay? Suddenly, she discovered within herself a burgeoning curiosity about the Great Sage of the Empire.

"What kind of person is this Princess Mia?"

"Hmm, good question..."

Abel silently mulled this over for a while. Then he looked up, causing Monica to follow his gaze, before answering with an embarrassed smile, "She's... like the moon. Breathtaking, but far beyond my reach. Her magnificence is such that I'll never be her match, yet she believes with all her heart that one day, I will. That's the kind of person she is... Someone who has faith in me and encourages me to go further. To do better."

His words were reverent, his tone tender and heartfelt. Then, his voice changed.

"That's why... I need to live up to that faith. I have to be better. I need to. But..."

As he trailed off, Monica looked at him closer. She discovered that his face was taut... And it suddenly occurred to her that he was wearing armor.

"Your Highness? You can't be..."

"Hm? Ah. Yes, I am. Things are apparently at a deadlock on the frontlines. Morale is probably slipping, so I've been told to head out there and give it a boost. To be honest, my brother is better suited to the task, but somebody had to go and slam a piece of metal down on his shoulder, so now I'm up." He shrugged. "You reap what you sow, I guess. Can't complain. Also, as a member of the royal family, I need to do my duty, lest the monarchy collapse and chaos engulfs the land..."

He straightened his back a little, but his expression didn't brighten.

"Is there something that worries you?" she asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, not really... It's just that..." His gaze grew distant, and he suddenly looked very lonely. "I don't think she'll ever forgive me for taking part in the suppression of my own people."

"Your Highness..."

"I'm off, then."

After watching Abel depart with his escort, Monica went to her messenger birds. She released one — a white crow — carrying the message for her homeland. Then she released another one, sending with it the truth. A black crow took to the skies. There was no guarantee that her ebony messenger would find its way to the intended recipient. But even so...

If it does, then that means... fate willed it so, right?

She watched it go, its dark form fading into the distance, fluttering in the wind, as it made its way toward its secret destination.

Thus, the seeds that an unwitting Mia had so diligently sowed began to sprout. Like weeds, they spread from place to place, verdurous and filled with hope.