LMJO 11

#11. Thirteen (1)
2023.12.11.

The Duke seemed to immediately realize where his own dark stain originated.

That day, thrown into the cold hall, Idren had overheard the Duke confessing to the Queen that about five years ago, while on the border, he had committed an illicit act with a courtesan.

The Queen sent the others away, leaving only the knights brought from her homeland, then slapped her husband’s cheek. The sharp smack cut through the cold air.

Due to northern tradition, which could not ignore illegitimate children, the Duke had no choice but to bring him into the castle.

No one welcomed his existence, but there was no other way. His eye color was so unique that he could not be cast outside.

Of course, being brought inside did not mean he was recognized as the Duke’s child.

Idren stayed in the servants’ quarters, and whenever any of the Duke’s sons sought him, he had to run like a servant’s aide. Otherwise, he would be beaten mercilessly.

Seven years passed that way.

It was shortly after he turned eleven years old. Because his exact birthday was unknown, Idren always counted his age from the first day of the new year.

Before even the first month of that year ended, the Duke called him to the lord’s dining table.

Unlike the memory of being abandoned at the Sigrasil castle gate, Idren clearly remembered that day.

The ceiling of the hall was far above, dazzling and oppressive, and the table was magnificent. The King and Queen wore stiff collars, and their three princes were present.

Before them all, sat the boy — thin and gaunt.

That day, the Duke seated him at the very end of the table.

The man, full of contempt and discomfort, spat out the words as if spitting.

“Your place will always be there.”

From that day onward, his position within the castle subtly changed.

He still served as the princes’ attendant, but no longer had to do menial chores. He was given weather-appropriate clothes and a modest education sufficient to be considered a person.

Idren did not know why his situation had changed.

At first, he thought he might be hated a little less. But that was not true. The Duke still looked at him as if he were filth, and the Queen was no different.

The three princes were worse. It was a miracle his bones hadn’t broken despite being beaten every other day.

Two years passed. When he turned thirteen, the Duke summoned him separately.

“Prepare to attend the upcoming conference.”

The conference was a gathering of ruling families from three countries — Reden, Egelbamoth, and Aglante — who all possessed magic stones. They met during good weather to spend time together.

Since this symbolic event had existed since the founding of each country, anyone who had never attended, even if the king’s child, was not recognized as legitimate.

Therefore, the Duke had taken his sons to the conference many times before, but Idren had never been included.

So when he heard those words, Idren nearly fooled himself into thinking the Duke now considered him a true son.

What stopped him from such foolishness was the contempt in the Duke’s eyes when he looked up.

The three princes were displeased that he was included in the conference, which had been their exclusive privilege.

They expressed their displeasure physically, so by the time they arrived at the summer palace of Egelbamoth, the conference venue, Idren was bruised all over except his face.

At the summer palace, he was treated “equally” to the three princes. They were given adjoining rooms and equal seating at the table.

Even someone uneducated could tell this was mockery. Wearing rags, having nothing, even the way he spoke and acted were like those of a servant, yet he was treated like a prince — it looked ridiculous to everyone.

Idren knew everyone was mocking him. But he had no one to defend him, nor the strength to defend himself.

All he could do was stay hidden in his room to avoid attention.

The only consolation was there were many distractions elsewhere.

Of course, Idren had no share of the amusements prepared at the summer palace, but he was satisfied that the princes were so engrossed in their new toys and games that they forgot about him.

Hiding from everyone’s eyes, Idren counted the days until the conference ended. He had thought nothing worse than Edegrun existed, but the longer he stayed at the summer palace, the more he thought Sigrasil Castle was better.

At least there, aside from the three princes, no one mocked him. Not out of affection, but because they were used to his existence — and Idren longed for that familiar indifference.

But things didn’t go as he hoped.

One night, the eldest prince Remetel entered his room.

“Idren, the banquet is just about to start and you’re still asleep?”

Before Idren could answer, Remetel pulled him off the bed. Now that Idren had grown taller and even thinner, he was thrown straight to the floor.

As he was dazed from the sudden pain, two others entered the room — Sineron and Rosel, Remetel’s younger brothers, two and three years older than Idren respectively.

Idren, fumbling on the floor by the only light of a lamp, said,

“Wait, Remetel. What do you mean banquet…?”

“Remetel? You should call him Your Highness, Prince!” Sineron laughed loudly.

Remetel waved him off. “Shh, Sineron.”

“We’re not here to bother Idren.”

Remetel smiled brightly, resembling their father, standing with the light behind him.

“We’re here to help you attend the banquet.”

The three brothers dragged him outside. The noise and bright lights really made it seem like a banquet was happening.

Knowing how terrible he looked and that no one would welcome him, Idren desperately tried to return to his room.

The adults’ banquet hall was separate; the place they were going was for children, but he knew he was unwelcome everywhere.

But he had no right to refuse.

Remetel, gripping the back of his collar to prevent escape, opened the banquet hall door and pushed him inside.

Idren staggered under the strong grip. He almost fell but barely caught his balance. Laughter erupted somewhere.

Bright lights flashed overhead, with jeers and music close by. Idren shrank back, a chill running down his spine.

He tried to back away to escape but Remetel blocked him.

“Well, Idren, are you going to leave without dancing?”

“L-Let me go, I…”

Remetel grabbed his chin and hissed.

“Where do you think you’re going? You came to the conference without knowing your place and didn’t expect this?”

Idren tried to protest to his much bigger half-brother — it was the Duke, not him, who had brought him here.

But Remetel was faster and threw him back to the center of the banquet hall.

The boys and girls inside burst into laughter as if it were an amusing spectacle.

Giggles echoed everywhere. Idren felt his breath quicken. His head spun and his eyes blurred.

Remetel stood behind him, blocking escape, and shouted,

“Who will dance with this poor wretch? Though uneducated, showing some pity would be the greatest honor of your life for this filthy bastard!”

Then he grabbed Idren’s shoulders tightly and whispered,

“If even one of those noble ladies dances with you, I’ll let you go.”

That meant he was to be toyed with until the banquet ended. Idren went pale.

Other boys were noble from birth and dancing was nothing to them, but he was different.

He never learned to dance, and above all, was illegitimate.

Reden’s Mebasa, Aglante’s Sigrasil, and Egelbamoth’s Runtalis valued marriage vows more than other royal families. Illegitimate children were treated like demons.

Which girl would dance with him?

Shivering at the grim reality of being mocked for hours, Idren curled inward. Remetel chuckled and shouted again,

“Any lady willing to show mercy to this filthy wretch? If none, he’ll just have to stand here all night!”

Laughter erupted again. Idren squeezed his eyes shut. His face flushed, his nose stung. It felt like his throat was being strangled by rough hands.

Suddenly, it got quiet.

Realizing they were whispering and not laughing, Idren cautiously opened his eyes.

His head bowed, the first thing he saw was a pair of small shoes embroidered on white deer leather.

Surprised, Idren looked up a little. Above them was the hem of a blue dress.

Above that, a wave of silver curls.

And above that, a small chin.

He realized a girl was standing before him and raised his head quickly.

Their wide, bright blue eyes met.