Humans Make Errors (1)

It was dark and very cold.

Once again, I was trapped in this dark dimension where emptiness dominates. No matter how far I walked, the scenery remained unchanged.

Escape was futile.

Realizing this, I fell to my knees. I was simply going to die here because there was no way out. Just darkness, more darkness, and not a glimmer of hope.

A barely perceptible breath tickled my ear.

I warned you.

Edwoyn ~ Friday night, 11:28 PM – Headquarters Basement.

I shot up, drenched in sweat. I was dressed in pajamas. In front of me was a wall covered in soot, with a jumble of clutter piled up randomly.

What is this? Why am I in the mercenaries' basement?

It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts. The smell of horses brought back memories of the past few days. The stables were under renovation, and we had been on a mission in Cerem.

The mission...

De Ritella had turned into a monster, and we were in danger! My heart raced like a galloping horse, and sharp pains erupted all over my body. It felt as if I had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

Instinctively, my hands gripped the fabric beneath me. It was both stiff and elastic. I looked down to find a mattress. My attention was entirely consumed by it. It had no blanket or pillow, and judging by its condition, it was very old.

How long have I slept on this? Does that mean we defeated the Marquis?

As crazy as it sounded, I was happy to find myself in this basement. Far from the rest of the world, far from monsters, far from Auro–

“Well, well, good morning, Your Majesty! I hope you had a restful sleep…”

I froze at the sound of her hypocritical voice.

“This is not funny, Aurora,” I snapped.

I'm not the spoiled prince you kidnapped that day. Now, I know what you truly are.

I turned to glare at her as she placed a glass of water on the small table. I was parched, but I decided not to touch it. It could be poisoned, like the Fauvir soup, like each of her words.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist...”

“Why didn’t you let me sleep in my bed?”

“Do you remember what happened?”

As I dug through my memory, the last thing I recalled was the knife Aurora had placed in my hands. After that… nothing.

Aurora stepped closer. My first reflex was to step back, a move I regretted immediately. A long silence fell between us

I had given myself away, and it was exactly what she had been waiting for. The more I yielded to her provocations, the more she'd wring information from me to use against me. But since she had already gotten her answer, there was no point in hiding it any longer, “What happened to the smuggler?”

Her gaze sharpened. I couldn’t tell if she enjoyed seeing me disoriented or if she had something else in mind. Who knew what she had been up to during my absence?

If I had learned anything from my new life, it was that this viper was capable of anything. That’s why I braced for the worst, holding my breath so as not to miss her revelations: would she dare to lie, or would she wield the truth like a weapon?

“I killed him. What else did you expect me to do? You collapsed, fainted like a softie!”

The pressure on my shoulders vanished completely. Aurora wasn’t lying. I hadn’t done anything. Her irritation and crudeness were too spontaneous to be faked.

“Wait! You are the one who expect too much! I’m not cut out to kill...”

My voice faded as I realized she was fully aware of that fact. Aurora kept smiling at me without saying anything. That only deepened my suspicions. She had deliberately pushed me to the edge. It was yet another twisted test. My expression hardened with a surge of anger. That insincere smile was unbearable. This time, it was too much.

If you’re looking for a fight, you’ll get one.

I locked eyes with her blood-red irises, still as emotionless as ever. No pretense, no empathy. Just my most honest thoughts, “You disgust me. Do you really think you can make me your pet to pass your dull days? Whatever deal we made before, I’m done playing your little game.”

I crossed my arms, determined not to cooperate any further. Her silence confirmed that she had received the message loud and clear. If she wanted to win me over, she’d have to try harder.

Her impatience had gotten the best of her, not to mention she was never particularly subtle… Though our conversation had ended, the assassin wouldn’t leave me alone. She tried to read me, or perhaps prolong the discomfort purely out of spite.

After a minute, she noticed my attention was focused on what served as my bed, “Don’t get the wrong idea, it was Justine who insisted on leaving you a mattress. You remember, last time you protested to sleep here in, I quote, ‘better conditions’...”

That still didn’t answer my first question. What had I done to be locked up here like a caged dragon? Was it too much to ask to put an injured man in his room?

All the more reason to ignore her.

It seemed a war had just been declared between us: I wasn’t going to utter another word to her. Let alone give her my trust. Getting no reaction from me, the viper abandoned her schemes, “Fine, sulk all you want. I’m leaving. If you go up, change your clothes or at least take a shower.”

At the top of the stairs, the heavy door opened after Aurora authenticated her fingerprints on a small screen. It stayed open though no one else appeared.

I was left alone, relieved not to have become a murderer. My shoulders slumped as I uncrossed my arms. Standing on my legs was more difficult than I expected. Nap or not, I was as exhausted and sore as if I had pulled an all-nighter. How long had I been unconscious?

I didn’t bother guessing; I’d soon find out.

I dragged myself to the living room, passing through the empty kitchen. Nothing had changed in this house, yet its layout seemed different. What had changed wasn’t the building, but its inhabitants... I no longer saw this place as much of a prison, if not a kind of refuge.

The prison was the one in my mind, and Aurora was the jailer. There was no longer any doubt: this imaginary cage would follow me wherever I went. The image of the dark dimension came back to me. I pushed it aside to focus on the magical food storage. I was starving, but the handle refused to budge.

After a rather ridiculous struggle, the door finally opened. As I expected, Justine’s pantry was overflowing with all sorts of cooked dishes. I grabbed a roasted leg, whatever animal it belonged to. After a few tasteless bites, I wasn’t so hungry anymore.

I want to eat something else.

I tossed the barely eaten piece into the magical disintegrator and helped myself to some vegetables, then cheese on a slice of bread... Nothing satisfied me.

I tried to quell my hunger with a good liter of fresh water. It helped, but the problem remained unresolved. No matter what I did, I still had this strange feeling of hunger that nothing could satisfy.

I noticed the date displayed on the magic oven: “Friday the 21st, Cantakion, 11:43 PM.” I had only slept for a few hours, unsurprisingly... Too tired to think further, I headed to my room to change into more comfortable clothes. Over the past few days, new furniture had slowly appeared in the small room. It now evoked a more rustic and, above all, more personal atmosphere.

Did this room really belong to me?

I missed so much my large suite, the art gallery, the game room, the walks in the orangery, and everything that made life comfortable at Hiven Palace…!

Still no one in sight, I locked myself in the small bathroom for a moment. In the mirror, I couldn’t help but stare at the color of my eyes. The “two little apples,” as Mother used to call them, had lost their sparkle. They were rimmed with dark circles, as if hollowed out by despair. Ever since my hair had turned completely white, the exhaustion showed even more.

Everything I had, I inherited from Mother. Father hadn’t passed down anything to me, as if he feared losing his own traits by producing offspring. Then again, that was absurd since genetics was a matter of chance.

Father was tall, with jet-black hair and eyes so dark you couldn’t tell the difference between iris and pupil. He was always thoughtful, with the commanding presence of a warlord, no matter what he did.

Beside him, Mother was quiet, frail, and clumsy. She only stood out because of her platinum blonde hair and her crystal-clear voice. She needed only to speak a word to bring absolute silence to a room, as if by magic. A true nightingale.

Sadly, no one had heard her voice for years, and even less so respected it. That silence had walled her off in solitude, an invisible pain that only showed through emptiness. Something suddenly piqued my curiosity in the mirror’s reflection. Without realizing it, I reached out to the glass with my fingers.

Had my eyes always been green?

Why was I even asking myself? Of course they’ve always been!

Strangely, I wasn’t so sure anymore… Feeling confused, I washed my face. The hot water helped me forget who I was, if only for the length of a shower. My thoughts had just... evaporated into the air.

~~~~

The next morning, I got up at the crack of dawn. As usual, Justine was stationed behind the counter, serving me breakfast while I turned on the magical terminal.

"Yesterday, a fire broke out in Cerem, in one of the residences of the illustrious merchant and Marquis, De Ritella. A body was found in the rubble, and after identification, we have confirmed that it was the Marquis himself. Authorities are favoring the criminal route despite the lack of clues. We now turn to Mr. Le Caffieri, Asyria's best investigator, who has been appointed to lead the investigation. It's a great honor to have you on the show."

"Good morning, and thank you for having invited me," a small man in a high-end vest responded. "Our initial analysis of the crime scene reveals that the fire was set off from the basement using a seal of prohibited magic. This was, therefore, a premeditated crime. We suspect a settling of scores between commercial rivals because, as you know, Cerem is a central point in the magic market."

"Have you already apprehended any suspects?"

"We're first focusing on the Marquis' close circle, as procedure dictates. The alarms of the magical protections only went off after the crime had been committed. That means the victim must have let the culprit in beforehand. The late De Ritella, therefore, knew his killer..."

"Bullshit," Justine grumbled.

Having been on-site myself, I had to admit the blonde had a point. The investigator had never mentioned the Killer Wind or, even less, the secret warehouse… Was it to protect the De Ritella family’s reputation, or had the flames consumed everything? I felt particularly bad for whoever would be accused in our place.

"Are you going to let them arrest an innocent person instead of you?"

"They can pin the crime on us for all I care, it’s what they’ve always done. It’s not our fault they’re incompetent... But right now, they're just trying to bury the case."

"What do you mean?"

“They must have come across our signature. If they dug a little deeper, they probably discovered his artifact trafficking and fraud. The whole city wanted his head, so it's not like they’re short on evidence! But exposing such truths would put a stain on the nobility—do you see the problem?"

It was clear we couldn’t lump all nobles together. A person’s social class didn’t define their nature. To believe otherwise would be pure discrimination!

"You have a signature?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course! You have to market yourself if you want to renew your clientele, after all."

“Oh.”

The Killer Wind used the media to advertise? The nonchalant way Justine mentioned it left me speechless. How could anyone think that was normal?!

With each crime the media reported, the national news channel unwittingly helped criminals gain popularity. In this case, I understood why the government would resort to censorship. But for the Marquis’ crimes...?

That was a debate worth having: was it the government's role to filter information? Should we lie to protect the people?

If the authorities had stumbled upon the nightmarish creature De Ritella had become, I fully understood why they would censor that to avoid causing panic. But didn’t we have the right to be informed if there was real danger?

My thoughts naturally drifted to the Dragon Egg Project. The government had successfully made the entire country believe that women held no power in Ocayo. What was their excuse for censoring this time...?

Justine’s hair was so voluminous it almost entirely covered her lavender turtleneck. My eyes remained fixed on the flat screen, detached from the present moment. A comfortable silence had settled in the kitchen, yet it was disturbed by my inner turmoil.

Dozens of questions overrun my mind. I didn’t have time to answer one before three more doubts arose out of nowhere: how many investigations had never been solved because the truth would have been damaging? How many innocents had never obtained justice? How many scapegoats had perished just to save face?

I couldn’t take a stance with so little information. The mercenaries, on the other hand, had all the perspective they needed, and judging by their opinion, the facts didn’t seem to favor the royalty…

Was Father’s policy so flawed it had become detestable? Aurora constantly accused leaders of being hypocrites who lied as naturally as they breathed. She exaggerated a little, but we both knew that criticisms were always built on a grain of truth.