Who!?

As days passed, Orien recovered slowly but steadily—his appetite was coming back, and so was his energy. As he grew stronger, he began joining me in my sword training, and much to my dismay, reminded me that deep down, I was still Rintarou Kawashima the loser, for he, even while recovering, managed to outshine me like it was a piece of cake. Still, that did not change the fact that we had grown attached to each other and truly started to feel like brothers. The only concern that remained for me and my parents was that Orien’s memories had still not returned.

“How are you so good?” I asked Orien after losing another mock battle.

“I don’t know. Maybe I used to train even before I came here?” Orien replied.

“Well, that and also the fact that beastkin are a bit stronger physically than most humans,” my father interjected. “That being said, the fact that you’re still recovering and yet besting Alex means you’re actually quite skilled with the sword. Wanna be my son instead?”

“Father, don’t disown me, please!” I cried in mock panic, throwing myself to the ground dramatically.

Orien chuckled, and father smirked. “Then quit whining and get up. If you want to keep your place as my son, you’d better practice harder!”

-----X-----X-----X-----

Years passed, and both Orien and I were now ten. Orien had far surpassed me in sword fighting. It was frustrating, but not unexpected, considering I was never much into swordsmanship anyway. I had asked my parents for permission and confided in Orien about my ability to compound magic. While it was risky to share such a secret with an outsider, it was also proof of the trust I placed in my brother. He responded in kind by helping me explore something I hadn’t thought of yet—whether I could actually teach others how to compound magic.

One day, on our way to help around town, we were discussing something important.
“It’s been three years, and your memory still hasn’t returned?” I asked, concerned for Orien. “Not that I mind you staying with us longer, but your father must be worried sick.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied, “but that doesn’t mean I can just walk into the Beast Realm and expect to find my home. You know how settlements there aren’t exactly at peace with each other. If I end up in the wrong place, I could get captured all over again. So, bear with me a little longer, please.”

That evening as we were returning home after helping around town, I felt a gaze lingering on us but did not think much of it. Not that it would matter until a week from then.

-----X-----X-----X-----

A week had passed since I had sensed that gaze lingering on us, but I kept quiet about it, telling neither my parents nor Orien. Honestly, I had almost forgotten about it myself—the only reason I remembered at all was that it was the most piercing gaze I had ever felt. Today, we were working in town at Mrs. Mckenzie’s restaurant, helping her deal with a mice problem.

“Hey, Mrs. Mckenzie, we’re here!” I called out.

“Oh! My little lord, thank you for coming to help, as always,” she said as she ran out the front door to greet us.

“No need to thank us, Mrs. Mckenzie. I’m only doing this because I can, and there are plenty of things, like sword fighting, that others can definitely do better than me,” I replied.

“As humble as always, aren’t you?” she whispered as she led us inside.

Once inside, I began layering a new compound magic to catch the mice. This time, I combined two different spells. The first was the Human Magic spell BAIT, normally used for fishing, though here I was baiting mice instead. The second was another Human Magic spell, TRAP, originally meant for hunters to set snares. On its own, TRAP had a success rate that belonged in the garbage bin—but with BAIT, it worked perfectly. Within twenty minutes, the task was done.

-----X-----X-----X-----

That evening, as we were returning from town, Orien asked me something peculiar.
“Alex, why do you help around town like this? As the son of the Lord, shouldn’t you conserve your status a bit?” he asked—a fair question, to be honest.

I answered him by telling him about my grandfather’s deeds and teachings.
“...So you see, that is why I help around town like this. For the Redcliffe family, trust between the Lord and his people is everything. I mean, yes, in almost every other domain the Lords worry more about their status than trust—very unlike what you see in this town.”

“I see. And I am very impressed that there are actually nobles like the Redcliffes,” Orien said, sounding almost relieved.

As we returned home, however, we were shocked to find three masked figures holding my parents hostage—my parents just as confused as we were. The intruders noticed us, and one of them immediately accused us.

“You scoundrels, what did you do to him? Did you brainwash him?” he shouted, then lunged at us.

That was when I heard a stern warning:

“Stop right there, Fenrik! No one has brainwashed anyone here.”
Hearing that commanding voice, the masked man froze. I turned and saw Orien—the one commanding him.
“Liora, Ashryn, free my brother’s parents this instant,” Orien ordered the other two in a firm, unwavering tone. “I owe my life to them.”

“Uh…Orien, mind if I ask what’s happening?” I asked, bewildered.

“I will explain. First, you three—off with your masks.”

The intruders obeyed, revealing themselves: one was a well-built man in his mid-twenties, while the other two were girls, likely in their late teens. All three bore the traits of wolf beastkin.

“That man is Fenrik, Captain of Beastalia’s Wolf Brigade,” Orien explained. “The one with the glasses is Liora, and the other is Ashryn. They both serve as Vice-Captains of the Wolf Brigade. They must have come to bring me back.”

Then, turning to the wolf beastkin, he added sharply, “You three did not need to attack them. They are the ones who saved my life. The reason you thought I was brainwashed is because I pretended to have memory loss—to figure out whether I could trust them or not.”

The three immediately realized their mistake and dropped to one knee.
“We are extremely sorry for misunderstanding the situation,” Fenrik said earnestly. “We have been searching for the Young Master for three years and lost our composure the moment we found him.”

“It’s alright. It was just a misunderstanding, and no one was actually hurt, so it doesn’t matter,” my father said before turning to Orien. “I can understand why a beastkin would want to hide his true identity because of the long-standing conflicts between humans and beastkin. But why would Beastalia send the Captain and Vice-Captains of its Wolf Brigade to retrieve you?”

“Just who are you, Orien?” I added.

Orien gave us a gentle smile.
“I am your adoptive son, the one you’ve been taking care of until now. More importantly, I am Alex’s adoptive brother, Orien. But let me introduce myself properly.”

He took a deep breath, then continued:
“Greetings to you, nobles of the Redcliffe House of Candoria. I am Tiberon Leonarth Beastalia, the First Prince of Beastalia, and I cannot thank you enough for saving me when I was running away from the slavers.”

When we heard that revelation, our jaws dropped. The Orien we had looked after for the past three years… was the prince of Beastalia.