Nika Ispron, the Second Princess

I shouldn't have come...

Since I couldn't simply withdraw in front of the princess, I reluctantly stepped inside the small library. I say "small" because there is actually another one within the property, a whole two-story building beyond the garden behind the castle. And the reason I chose to visit this one so often was both because it's closer to my room, and because I cannot concentrate in much wider spaces.

Thinking of ways to politely refuse any interaction with her, I bowed my head and remained like that as I sped up towards the back of the room.

But a moment later, and as I had lowered my guard, I suddenly felt a presence sort of appear beside me.

"Good day to you sir Hero~"

"W-whoah, where do you come from ?!"

"Whatever could you mean ? You clearly saw me when you entered the library."

She put on a mischievous smirk which she then hid behind her oversized sleeve, and giggled at me.

There it goes...

Though I found her cute when she did that, it did little to allievate the tiredness I felt since my earlier interaction with my master. So naturally I found myself scowling back at her in annoyance.

"Oh my, perhaps you are not in the mood today, my apologies."

Damn right, so could you please leave ?

As I tried to make my discontent obvious with my gaze, I suddenly found myself entranced by her peculiar outfit. 

"Would you happen to be off-duty today ?"

"?!" Feigning shock, she put a hand over her mouth and recoiled a few centimeters in her chair.

"...Whatever."

"Hehe, sorry, it was simply too tempting."

Ignoring her, I got up to look for a book to borrow.

After finding a book on the fire attribute for magic, the only one I had managed to manifest
thus far, I gave it my undivided attention. Or at least tried to.

Glance

At some point, thinking it strange that the princess had been silent for a while, I stole a glance at my side. And to my surprise I found her reading a picture book.
She wore such a soft and warm expression on her face that before I knew it, my head had followed the movement of my eyes.

"Hm ?"

Crap I stared again!

"No, it's nothing."

"..." Don't stare at me so expectantly...

"I guess I was just curious about your outfit is all. It has a striking resemblance to a style that's typical of the place I come from, so I wondered if that was only a coincidence."

With an appreciative hmm, she put the pen she had been playing around with to her cheek in a thinking gesture and faced forward.

"I know that my mother came from a 'faraway land' because this is what she and Father always told me, but I certainly doubt that she came from your world."

"Did she perhaps, pass away ?"

"Yes that is right."

"Sorry."

"No it's fine. You see she–

As she began to say something, she turned her head back in my direction and...

Oh.

"Are you listening ? And why are you facing away suddenly, did I say something strange ? Hey!"

"Pfft, hahaha !"

"Wha–?

Ahh that felt good.. I must have been really stressed out if something so trivial was able to make me laugh so much.

"Sorry, sorry. Would you happen to carry a mirror in your pouch ?"

"..Yes ?"

"Then you probably should use it."

Grumbling under her breath all the while, she did as advised and pulled out a pocket-sized mirror from her small bag and began inspecting her face.

That exasperated expression reflected in the glass is cute in its own right but coupled with the mark she left on her cheek with her pen, it's just too much..

She didn't notice it since she was lost in thoughts earlier, but the pen she had been using to softly tap on her cheek while she wrestled with her memories had had its tip in the wrong direction, and so she had ended up marking her cheek with multiple little black dots.

It might be cruel to say when she was talking about her dear, deceased mother moments prior. But the contrast between that calm, yet pained expression and the marks of her clumsiness visible at the same time, made it so I couldn't keep a poker face. 

"Ah–!"

After getting what I meant for her to see, she froze for a moment before silently getting up from her seat. I could tell she was doing her best to keep her facial expression in check which made me smile again. But then as she took place behind me, making a shiver run down my spine she–

"Wait what are you doing ?! Are you trying to blindfold me ?! Stop, hey !" Taken by surprise and unwilling to be rough with her, I ended up only flailing my arms and legs around in protest as she tied a piece of fabric the length of a belt around my head to obstruct my vision...Or at least that certainly was what had she meant to do.

It's totally see-through... It's almost as clouded as if I had just woken up from a nap but I can still clearly make out her face and everything...

Looking satisfied with herself, she sat back down beside me.. and put her head in her hands to let out a voiceless scream.
Her cheeks were red, her ears too and her eyes were dewy with tears. I felt a little bad but ultimately I figured that she had earned it, especially after all the teasing.

The embarassement coupled with the memory of her mom is probably what makes her tear up, I went too far.

Thinking I should give her some space until she collected herself, I ended up not saying anything for a while.

But I can't exactly return to reading either, otherwise she'll know I saw her.

Considering what to do as she was frantically trying to wipe away the scribbles on her cheek, a question suddenly hit me.

"Hm, you were reading a picture book earlier, and it seemed like you really enjoyed it so..would you mind telling me about it ?"

My question made her frown for a moment, but then, without stopping her practiced movements while she reapplied a bit of makeup to her face, she sighed softly and answered me.

"I read this material as reference." Though it is true that I do enjoy them too. She added quietly as an afterthought.

'Reference"? Oh maybe she is an artist.

"Do you draw ?"

"Sometimes, but usually I simply write stories. Fairy tales especially, and I read them to the children of nobility on my days off."

You don't say...

"You look surprised." With a clap she closed her folding mirror and made to stand up.

"Well, I would not have expected a princess to have this kind of pastime. Or to have any spare time at all for that matter."

As she finally elected to remove the lace she had used to "blindfold" me and returned to her chair, her expression turned warm. It was the same look she had had earlier while reading. And I was once again captivated.

"The truth is, I have relinquished my right to the throne."

"!" Is it okay to tell me that ?

"Oh you don't need to be so wary, this happened quite a while ago. Over ten years ago now that I think about it."

Wait then how old are you ? I almost asked, but I figured that would have been rude so I desperately tried to cast away my curiosity while I waited for her to continue.

"I will be thirty-three years old this year by the way." The way she smiled at me when she said that must have meant she had caught my intent, which made me scratch the back of my head in embarassement. And I gave her a little bow as a mute apology.

"I do not mind. So yes, since I gave up the pursuit of queenship I had to find something to put my mind into. Oh and I was already in the process of studying to become treasurer at the time, so what I was looking for was no more than a hobby, plain and simple."

After that she told me about how in search of inspiration she had one day visited the castle-town and made the rounds of all the shops and stalls to ask their owners about why and how they had found their vocations. 

This experience had broadened her horizons dramatically. She had heard about people taking over their familiy's business –happy or not to have done so– , lovers opening a shop to earn a stable income in order to settle down and have kids; others finding passion in something they would have never expected to enjoy, and so on. And ultimately, she had met a minstrel.

She then spoke of how his stories had felt so incredibly down to earth that she had wondered if he was simply a poor storyteller or if, for some reason, that had been on purpose.

Still, she had felt intrigued. So the next day, and the day after that she had come down from the castle to attend the bard's show. It had continued like this for two weeks.
At some point, she found out that she no longer felt conflicted about his formerly strange way of relating his stories. She had finally understood, it wasn't that he had been monotonous or unmotivated or that his topics were poorly chosen. He simply chose to only tell stories featuring "everyday heroes".

The young baker who not only woke up every day even before the cock did, but also prepared a bunch of bread and sweets which he left atop the empty stalls of the fellow merchants and craftsmen lining up the avenue of a small town.
The fallen prince who enrolled at a school for orphans to teach them basic mathematics and an introduction in swordplay.
The old songstress who performed at the taverns where weary manual labor workers and adventurers gathered, to help them relax and forget about their gruelling everyday life if only in the span of those few hours.
The banished head maid of a high standing family who created a woman-only establishment featuring many activities such as billard, bowling –this one being clearly less polished than that from earth– or a hostess bar. All in the hopes of offering a place of respite for fellow women, outside of the males influence, looks, and overall presence.

But beyond that, the minstrel also talked about the cold hard truths of the world. Hunger, war, betrayals, adultery, murder, hatred, pain, diseases and so on. Which unsurprisingly did little to bolster his popularity, especially among the kids. And yet he continued, as if it was his mission.
The sound of his phorminx was filled with both melancholy and determination, or at least that was how Nika Ispron had chosen to selfishly interpret it.

"That being said, even when I decided to try to write my own stories based on legends or people's lives, I found that it pained me when I tried to be as crude and factual as that man had been. So I gave up."

Admittedly he must have had balls of steel to go around killing the mood like that, and day after day too. And I doubt she, as a princess, would have been able to get away with producing a similar kind of material.

"I remember feeling quite conflicted for a while because of that. On the one hand I admired that minstrel's ability to deliver his stories the way he did. Because I found it very educational. But on the other hand, knowing about some of those truths through my occupation already, I felt miserable writing about it and trying to turn it into stories to tell. Oh and of course it would have caused a ruckus too, had I gone through with this idea. I mean, would you imagine a princess spreading valorizing tales about regular villagers and craftsmen ? If would be too daring. And I do not yet have the audacity; though perhaps I should. So by that logic, talking about misery would have been even less valid, obviously. But that is also about that time that I heard news of my dear younger sister and brother's birth."

From then, she decided to throw away her memories of the bard's endeavor.
She picked up her favorite fairy tales and elected to use them to entertain her younger siblings. Only for a while though. Before long she started feeling like she was being dishonest, to herself mainly, but to the growing kids too. Hypocritical even.
Why would she spread beautiful but unreal stories to the kids when the world outside was this cold and difficult ? 

So she faced that blank page again. Armed with her favorite pen, the one her father the king had bought her, she confronted her feelings, her values, and common sense once more. 

"I decided that I would write beautiful stories, or at least ones that ended in happiness or relief.
That being said, I would not hide misfortune and misery behind plots or miracles, and I would also never attribute somebody's success to anything other than that person or character's own efforts either. And this, has been my philosophy since then."

It reminded me of the Rakugo from my birthplace. With only her words and her body as tools, she told stories. All alone before an audiance, every fabrication was another shackle weighing heavily at her lips. But bearing this weight was a small price to pay to see the children smile. Because she hoped that, though unknowingly, they had learnt something that would help and, or, guide them somewhere down the line.

It was like how the butcher, with a smile, sold the product of his trade to happy families whose children knew nothing of the process that came before the meat was put on sale. He wore a smile because he had to sell to be able to live off his activity, and had peace of mind because while it was true that he ultimately killed to do so, he never exceeded the amount needed to run his business. And at the end of the day, this, was also a life lesson for those children who one day would come to decide what to do with their own lives. 

Would they choose to stand proudly before the product of their rearing, would they rather sell dreams and reality in a bittersweet concoction bearing the looks and words of their audiance all the while, or would they rather hide behind a blason or a chairperson and shed all responsibility for their words and action ? Only time will tell. 

But this storyteller at least, hoped that those children would strive to keep their feet firmly planted on the ground while they allowed their heads to remain in the clouds, as they made their choice.

"This ended up taking way longer than I anticipated and it is actually quite embarassing for me, so now it's your turn ! I want you to tell me about you, and about the worries that brought you to this place today."

I guess it's only fair at this point..

So I talked to her about my family, my fulfilling job, my heartbreak, the summoning, and lastly of my recent woes. To which she listened to quietly for the most part.
Sometimes she would giggle in her usual manner, sometimes her face would contort into sadness from empathy, or frown in frustration. And though she never touched me, I felt like her gaze and her emotions had wrapped me in a warm embrace. It felt comforting to talk to her.
Maybe that was because she was the second eldest sister in her family, I couldn't tell.
But one thing is certain, I'm glad I opened up to her.