Prologue: Part 1

The Unwanted Child

The sun shone with a gentle warmth, and a soft breeze stirred the air. Birds sang from every bough, and flowers of every imaginable hue were beginning to bloom.

It was spring, the season long-awaited.

In the Istella Kingdom, situated in the northeast of the continent, the winter was long and unforgiving. The earth would freeze, locked deep beneath a heavy shroud of snow. Regardless of status, whether noble or commoner, everyone yearned for and celebrated the coming of spring. The faces of those passing on the roads were bright with joy.

Yet, the master and servant traveling along that same road wore heavy, clouded expressions. Under normal circumstances, Reynart, mounted on his horse, would have been delighted by the change of the season. But his heart remained overcast. He rode with his shoulders hunched, his head bowed, occasionally letting out a heavy sigh.

His reddish-gold hair and grey eyes, features that often drew lingering, fervent gazes from young women of his age—were now cast in shadow, reflecting a deep, inner gloom.

Another winter has passed, and still, I have not been granted my coming-of-age ceremony…

Hearing his master’s sigh, Reck, the attendant holding the bridle, felt his own spirit sink. Having served as Reynart’s personal aide since he was six, Reck understood his master’s pain as if it were his own, yet he could find no words to offer. No, it was precisely because he understood it too well that he could not speak.

Prince Alexander, his younger brother, is already fourteen this year. He will surely have his ceremony and be named the Crown Prince…

Reynart, meanwhile, was already seventeen. It would be entirely natural for him to have come of age years ago.

There’s no way the King would hold the ceremony for an illegitimate son like Reynart-sama at the same time as Prince Alexander… Damn it, I wish I could say something clever to cheer him up.

Reck glanced at Reynart from time to time, his heart aching at the sight of his master’s somber expression.

In Istella, where the land was buried in snow throughout the winter, the coming-of-age ceremonies for children, unless they belonged to the royal family, the Five Great Duke houses, or prestigious noble lineages, were often concluded during the winter months, simply because there was little else to do besides the social round of balls and soirées.

Reynart knew that, as a mere illegitimate child of the current King, he would never be granted the grand “Rite of the Sword Selection”—the ceremony of coming of age. He understood this, and yet, this winter, he had secretly held onto a sliver of hope. But his father, King Arrendel, had never spoken about it.

Even if he were to come of age, he would remain an illegitimate son. He would never inherit the throne. He would merely be granted a nominal title—a “Knight-Bachelor”—and a meager stipend, forbidden from marriage, left to wither away as a permanent ward of the kingdom.

But to remain without a coming-of-age ceremony meant he was not even recognized as a full-grown man. It was a miserable, hollow feeling.

Was I, in the end, truly an unwanted child?

The thought swelled within him, a tide he could not hold back no matter how much those around him denied it.

Then why does Father keep me in the palace?

Why did he not entrust me to the care of my grandparents?

Did he think a child who lost his mother would be too great a burden for the old ones?

Why? Why?

Even as he tried to push these questions away, he fell into a vortex of circular thoughts, knowing full well there was no answer to be found.

Suddenly, a gust of wind tore through the trees, startling the horses. Reck pulled firmly on the bridle, calming his mount, while Reynart tightened the reins to steady his own.

Reynart finally lifted his head, realizing where he was. He had been riding down the road stretching west from the royal capital. He remembered now that Reck had brought him out on a long ride to pull him out of his funk.

There’s no use dwelling on it. Things will unfold as they must…

Reynart raised his head once more and looked around. Patches of snow still lingered here and there, but colorful spring flowers were peeking out from between the withered grass.

“Reck, is it still too early for wild strawberries?”

“Wild strawberries, you say? Well, it’s hard to tell. We might find some in the western forest… but even if we do, I doubt we’ll find a bountiful harvest, wouldn’t you agree?”

Reck answered, barely suppressing a softening of his expression. He could sense that his master’s mood had shifted.

“The western forest, then… It will be a bit of a detour, but let’s go. If we find even a few, they would make a fine gift for Grandmother…”

“Indeed. I’m sure both your grandparents would be delighted.”

“Very well. Let’s go, Reck!”

With that, Reynart spurred his horse into a brisk trot. Reck let go of the bridle and began to run; a man known for his swiftness, he followed with ease.

The western forest was, true to its name, a deep, sprawling woodland west of the capital. Being somewhat removed from the main roads, travelers rarely stumbled into it, and in the peace of Istella, there was no fear of bandits lurking in the shadows. It was a rich forest, filled with natural springs, wildlife, and an abundance of nuts and berries.

Reynart dismounted and walked into the forest with Reck. They tethered their horses along the way and pushed through the narrow animal trails until they heard the gentle sound of water flowing from a spring ahead.

Reynart and Reck exchanged glances, then crept forward, treading softly.

When they reached the edge of the clearing where the spring lay, they both froze, their breath catching in their throats.

“Nn!?”

“…!?”

There, bathing in the water, was a beauty, unadorned by a single thread of clothing.