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The Knight Serves the Little Princess – Part 06

Birds chirped in the distance. Their melodious cries brought a smile to Kazuya’s face.

Before them, arranged in a neat pyramid, were the sweet and delectable tropical fruits that Kazuya had painstakingly selected at the expense of his own well-being. Victorique grabbed them, eagerly stuffing herself like a child.

“So, Cordelia disappeared from Castle de Blois’s stone tower, and a newborn you were left behind.”

“…”

“You’re putting too much in your mouth. You should at least finish one before putting in another.”

Victorique munched on her food. “Shut up! That’s right.”

“I’m guessing the first one was a response to my very helpful advice, and the next one was the answer to my question.” Kazuya sighed.

*munch*

“So you’ve been with that maid for thirteen years until you were transferred to St. Marguerite Academy. What’s her name? What kind of person is she? Did you learn anything else?”

“No, nothing.”

“So you don’t even know her name?”

“…I don’t.”

Victorique’s green eyes suddenly turned cold, as if closing her heart tight to everything. She didn’t speak another word.

Kazuya looked up at the magnificent fresco on the ceiling, a huge painting depicting Cain and Abel. Next to it was an image of a black, terrifying half-man, half-beast and a boy with outstretched crimson wings approaching him from above.

Beside it was a depiction of a small young angel with dazzling silver wings. Its back was turned, as if hiding itself from the world, its small shoulders quivering. Its face was hidden, and its figure was only faintly visible through the clouds and wings, tucked away in an isolated pocket of the world. Shy and carrying a heavy burden of fear and mystery in its small heart, it seemed to dream of a day when it would find love and warmth.

Victorique stayed in that tower until she was twelve years old. Reminded of this fact, Kazuya became lost in his thoughts.

So she never chatted or shared snacks with someone like she does now. That maid doesn’t know the current Victorique.

Was she worried about the little Gray Wolf? Or was she relieved to finally be freed from a dreadful duty and now prayed to God that the evil creature would never return?

That is a story for another day, one that happens in a faraway forest, unbeknownst to Kazuya.

“What’s wrong, Kujou? Your stupid face is looking more stupid.”

“Huh?”

Victorique was staring at him suspiciously.

The pyramid of fruits had disappeared. Victorique was rubbing her belly, which was covered in satin laces and frills, as if indicating where all the food went. Her purple ring sparkled as it moved up and down.

“Did you eat all of them?” Kazuya asked, taken aback. “Is your stomach okay?”

“A stupid remark yet again from your stupid mouth,” Victorique swaggered. She seemed to be in pain. “I am the descendant of the proud Gray Wolves, renowned as the Furred Philosophers, the last and greatest intellect in Europe. Do you think a wild beast like me would get sick from overeating tasty fruits?”

“But you don’t look so good right now.” Kazuya cast her a doubtful, sideways glance. “Also, even if you’re a proud Gray Wolf, you’re not exactly the wild type. More like, domesticated. Did you just try to kick me? Let me guess, your stomach’s so full that you could only move a little. Your face is turning red and then blue. What’s wrong?”

“It’s from my anger towards you and the discomfort in my stomach.”

“Huh, so you’re rapidly changing colors from anger towards me and your stomach hurting? You can be such a dummy sometimes.” Kazuya laughed. “Look at you. You’re mad, but you can’t kick me ‘cause you can’t move! Ouch!”

Victorique struck him hard on the head with a large plate. Realizing that while she couldn’t move her feet, she could still use her arms, Kazuya stopped poking fun at her.

After that, they fell silent and sighed almost simultaneously, looking up at the ceiling.

Religious paintings depicted ancient men and women skirmishing, sowing hatred, engaging in battle, yet still desiring each other.

Humans recreate the same mythical and irreversible tragedies countless times across different eras, producing tears, goodbyes, and the occasional moments of love and reunion.

Both of them, too, were actors of this era’s tragic drama.

A gentle breeze blew.

“If your stomach is full, we should head back,” Kazuya said cheerfully.

“Not a bad suggestion for an idiotic prodigy like you.”

Nodding grandly, Victorique tried to stand up, but struggled to do so. Kazuya extended a hand and helped her up without teasing her this time. Victorique was no longer angry.

Holding hands, they started walking.

Birds chirped melodiously. Palm leaves rustled in the wind.

As the two descended to the world below separately, a large tropical bird with iridescent wings slowly circled the ceiling of the empty conservatory. The wind was sweet and warm.

The small and infinite paradise, rumored to have been built by a past king for trysts with his mistress, was unaffected by the seasons, conflicts in the outside world, and perilous fates.

The secret conservatory hidden on the top floor of St. Marguerite Academy’s library tower swayed gently in the sweet breeze, as if awaiting the visit of its small and beautiful master.

---

Two years ago, winter of 1922.

The pale blue moon rose in the western sky, casting an eerie light on the spires, windows, and entrance of Castle de Blois, which resembled a black and white woodblock print. Copper-colored branches of bare beech trees shivered.

As darkness crept in around the castle, uniformed servants—maids, cooks, manservants, butlers—stood trembling, gazing up at the stone tower.

Moonlight illuminated the gray structure. A beast howled, and everyone shuddered. Something was being carried down the tower.

The square cage, wrapped in a Persian cloth of cream and green fabric, shook eerily from side to side. Disgruntled growls seemed to accompany it to the ground.

It was not human. It couldn’t be. Something that emitted such a sinister and resentful howl that tore through the darkness of the night couldn’t possess human-like intellect, love, or self-respect.

She couldn’t possibly be an adorable little girl in her early teens.

The once young maid had grown considerably. Her younger siblings had also grown up, and she herself had promised to marry one of the young butlers soon. Her long-lasting care for the Gray Wolf cub born in the stone tower was finally coming to an end tonight. Marquis de Blois had decided to transfer it somewhere else.

It was a sudden decision, just like when Cordelia, the mother wolf, was transferred thirteen years ago.

The wolf inside the cage howled, its cries filled with terror, with resentment towards the cruel hands of fate. It longed to be saved.

The maid could now discern the slight differences in the cub’s cries. The other servants recoiled and retreated in fear, but the maid couldn’t help but think that it was merely scared.

Her legs staggered forward, but the big arm of an elderly cleaning maid blocked her path. The maid gasped.

“Stop. She’s no longer your problem.”

“But…”

“It’s over.”

“…”

“You’ve done enough. You took care of that creepy creature for so long. And for a paltry salary. It’s done, and that’s a good thing. Your job will become easier. You should think about your future family.” She glanced at the worried young butler.

The maid shivered.

“That thing isn’t human. It’s just an odd wolf. She bit you a bunch of times.”

“I…”

“That beast will be gone, and peace will return to this place.”

Bam!

The cage dropped onto the back of the black carriage parked below. Startled by the sound or perhaps fainting from the rough impact, the cub fell silent.

The coachman whipped the horse. Neighing, the animal took off along the winter road, away from Castle de Blois and into the woods, carrying the eerie cage.

The servants let out a collective sigh of relief and returned to the castle. The maid alone remained, standing stock still.

For thirteen years, the golden-haired cub hardly ever spoke, and on occasion, would even bite like its mother. But sometimes, she glimpsed glimmers of humanity deep in its eyes.

Sadness filled her heart. It seemed it was only yesterday when the maid first ascended the stone tower and peered into the cradle, where she found the baby sleeping peacefully, as adorable as her younger siblings when they were born.

Everyone said it was a terrifying wolf. Perhaps they were right.

“That Gray Wolf was human,” she mumbled.

A young butler came walking back. He peered into her teary-eyed face and gently embraced her.

Resting her head against his chest, the maid trembled like a small winter bird.

She was terrifying, but…

“She was human.”

“Why don’t you come inside? It’s getting cold. Everyone is having tea in the kitchen. Come, let’s join them.”

The maid held hands with the butler. She cast a sad glance back at the path leading to the forest and started walking.

There was no one left outside. The curtain of night descended, blanketing the surroundings in thick, eternal darkness.

Before I go to bed tonight, I will ask God to watch over that Gray Wolf, the maid thought as they passed through the door and returned to the castle.

Although all it could do right now was howl and bite people out of fear and sorrow, I hope that one day that little golden cub finds happiness.

I will pray for the cub’s lonely soul tonight.

Clack.

The castle’s door closed.