Sanguine Prince | Chapter 23: Maurice's Secret (Second Draft)

“Is that the lovely Archon Tylariel Rubastra gracing my humble store?” a cultured male voice asked silkily.

Arcturus came to a halt as a middle-aged bronze-skinned man, roughly six feet in height, stepped out from the middle of the walkways, flashing a warm smile to the redheaded Archon. Tylariel hardly seemed to mind, stepping forward to exchange air kisses on each cheek with the man Arcturus presumed to be the famous Maurice. His clothing was cut in the same Victorian style as many others, with gold-trimmed charcoal material that matched the theme of his storefront.

His eyes were a vibrant blue, and when he laughed at something she said, Arcturus spotted pristine white teeth.

Arcturus almost used [Inspect] to investigate him, but thought better of it.

After what had happened with Tylariel, he was going to err on the side of caution when it came to inspecting Terrans. He wasn’t sure if it was an isolated incident, but he didn’t want to risk damaging his interface just in case it was something more. That wasn’t usually how it worked in games or in the Isekai and LitRPG novels he’d read, but it was better safe than sorry.

“And what brings you here, my dear?” Maurice asked warmly. “I daresay you purchased enough clothes to last you every ball and formal event for the next three months, the last time.”

Tylariel laughed warmly at Maurice’s words, and Arcturus looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. When she waved him off with a companionable smile, he barely had time to suppress his bewilderment before she directed Maurice’s attention his way.

“I have a new project for you, Maurice. One, I think, you will find most… interesting.

The shopkeeper’s expression showed curiosity when he turned to Arcturus, and then froze.

“It can’t be,” Maurice whispered in quiet disbelief, gliding forwards with far more grace than Arcturus could manage on his best day. Despite the size difference and his newfound musculature, he found something intimidating about the sheer intensity in the clothier’s blue eyes as they fixated on his own.

“Hello,” Arcturus said more confidently than he felt, while struggling not to edge away from the shorter man’s intense examination.

“No, not Titus,” Maurice murmured. “The cheekbones are too sharp, and he’s too easy to read. Titus had eyes like iron.”

“His name is Arcturus Regis,” Tylariel said with a surprisingly evident amount of pride. “He is my Apprentice.”

“I thought Titus died without an heir,” Maurice said with a glance back to Tylariel, and then returned his gaze to Arcturus intently. “Tell me, child, how is it that a miracle such as you exists?”

“I’m a Daeva,” Arcturus said after a glance at Tylariel and the approving nod she gave. He wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to say that, for fear of attracting trouble. Thankfully, his new Mentor seemed to trust the clothier.

“The prodigal prince is a Daeva?” Maurice said with palpable incredulity as he scanned Arcturus’ features. “This will shake the Dominion to its core. Perhaps the Empire as well. Do you have any idea what your existence means, my boy? When Leon Valoris learns that a son of Titus lives and is a Secondborn, let alone when Fortunis learns of it…”

“We are hoping we will be able to control when that information reaches both,” Tylariel interjected calmly.

“Yet you bring him here so brazenly?” Maurice questioned, without looking away from Arcturus.

“My aura dissuaded any undue observation,” Tylariel said confidently.

“You put too much faith in such things, Lady Archon. A persistent soul could end this game before it begins, should you not take proper steps.”

“Is that not all the more reason to bring him to you, Maurice?”

“Perhaps,” the shopkeeper conceded. “Though I am curious about how you plan on obfuscating his identity when you take him to be registered as your apprentice.”

“I won’t need to,” Tylariel said with a sly smile.

“You are plotting something,” Maurice accused with a smile in return.

“The King’s Masquerade,” Tylariel said with a hint of triumphant glee.

Maurice’s eyes widened, and he looked back at Arcturus, who remained cautiously silent. “Highest above, Lady Archon, you are daring. If you could reveal him there during the unmasking…”

“Then neither Valoris nor Fortunis can intercede with King Honoris seeing him for himself,” Tylariel said as if in agreement. “Besides, I have a secret weapon to ensure he is recognized.”

“Only a blind man would miss the Valouran blood in his veins. However, that can’t be all you’re banking on,” Maurice murmured. “It would have to be something truly—”

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Tylariel in surprise before turning back to Arcturus intently. “Pardon my impudence, young Regis, but would you mind smiling for me?”

Arcturus blinked in confusion at the request, and after a glance at Tylariel and a nod of approval, he mentally shrugged and did as requested.

The shopkeeper’s eyes misted a moment later, but he smiled nonetheless. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Tylariel admitted readily.

“You knew it would hook me.”

“I did,” She confirmed again.

“Damn you, Tylariel,” Maurice whispered. “Damn you… and thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She responded warmly, which only deepened Arcuturus’ confusion.

“I’m sorry, but can I ask what just happened? All I did was smile, and not a very convincing one at that.”

Maurice looked at him in silence for a moment before answering. “No one has ever told you that you inherited your father’s smile, did they?”

Arcturus blinked, then realized after a moment that it was true. “No, they didn’t. But why…?”

“Because you inherited someone else’s, my boy.”

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in question.

“Your grandmother’s,” Maurice said with a strangely sad smile of his own. “You inherited your grandmother’s smile. I would recognize it anywhere.”

Recognizing a smile you barely managed to make? This man is either a genius or an idiot.

“How do you recognize it, though?” Arcturus asked impulsively. “I heard just before that she favored you, but that doesn’t really explain that level of familiarity.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Maurice asked with a glance at Tylariel.

“It wasn’t my place,” she said simply. “No one knew other than Titus, the King, and a handful of others, including my father.”

“Excuse me,” Arcturus said with mild annoyance. “Tell me what?”

“Queen Ekaterina wasn’t just a patron of mine, dear boy.”

Your life is so ludicrously melodramatic.

“Oh, God, were you involved with my grandmother?”

Maurice laughed abruptly at his words, and even Tylariel snorted in amusement.

“Nothing nearly so sordid, my boy, I assure you,” Maurice said reassuringly.

“Oh. Okay, because that would be—”

“She was my sister.”

“—weird,” Arcturus finished lamely.

There was an awkward silence as his brain raced to catch up. 

This would barely be believable in a bad story, let alone your actual life.

“So that makes you my, what, grand-uncle?”

[Charisma Check] successful!

“Something like that,” Maurice said with another smile.

“Alright then,” Arcturus said with a pointed glance at Tylariel to highlight his annoyance at her secret-keeping, Mentor or not. “What happens now? My Mentor said I needed new clothes, and that you were the best person to buy them from, uh… Gruncle?”

“Call me Maurice,” his newly-discovered relative said soothingly.

“Maurice, then,” Arcturus agreed.

“As for your clothes, that is a far simpler matter! You need accouterments that will allow you to blend in with your future peers, grant you a broad range of movement for your swordplay, and allow you to remain incognito until the proper hour. Luckily, I happen to have some items I recently produced which fit those very requirements.”

“The usual price?” Tylariel interjected as the far-older-than-he-appeared shopkeeper moved away towards the back of the store.

“Heavens, no,” Maurice chided. “The boy is family!”

He threw Tylariel a dazzling smile.

“Thirty percent off.”

Arcturus snorted despite himself, earning a recriminating look from Tylariel, a giggle from both Jess and Sumeko, and a sly smile from Maurice himself before the clothier vanished behind a door at the back of his spacious store.

“You could have told me,” Arcturus said afterward, and approached Tylariel. “You didn’t need to make a production out of it, er, Mentor.”

“It was not my secret to tell, as I stated,” the Archon answered without concern. “Archons live by a strict code of honor, Regis. Or at least, they should. I could not break Maurice’s confidence that way.”

“Regis?” he asked quizzically.

“First names are often an overlap amongst Archons, especially those of great lineages. It is traditional to use the middle identifier to distinguish between the scions of ancient lines that practice lineal naming conventions. Your father is Titus, and your Grandfather is Honoris,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Thus, you are Regis.”

“I see,” Arcturus said with another quiet note about how mental Terra was, and then nodded toward where Maurice had vanished. “What, uh—what sort of clothes do you think he’s going to bring me?” he asked with mild trepidation.

“Whatever he brings, it’s sure to make you stand out in exactly the right ways.”

“I thought we wanted to keep the attention off of me, Mentor?” Arcturus asked while eyeing Tylariel speculatively. “You know, given the Church, that Leon jackass, and a dozen other possible ways it could result in me croaking not even a year into my Secondborn life?”

“You worry far too much, Regis,” Tylariel said with a dismissive wave of her hand and turned to eye some of the lingerie that Maurice had on display, her golden eyes gleaming with interest. “While you are under my auspices, I will not allow anyone to harm you—certainly not those toothless lions in House Honorum. You are my responsibility, and besides, you are my future King. It would be downright irresponsible to permit you to come to harm,” she said, and prowled over to the nearby displays showing off a plethora of fanciful Victorian nightwear. “Oh, these are lovely.”

Arcturus stared at her when she demonstrated the odd combination of steely will and girlish excitement, and found himself wondering exactly how old Tylariel was. She barely looked a day over twenty-five, but the way she spoke, at times, implied a far greater span of life experience than what her appearance and now-evident cooing over lace implied.

He was beginning to suspect he was missing something.

[Intelligence Check] unsuccessful!

“If I may, Mentor,” he began with careful courtesy, “what, exactly, is the plan? You obviously want me to be ready for some big reveal, which is fine, I suppose, since I’d actually like to meet my grandfather—my father only ever spoke about him in the abstract, but he made him sound like I’d enjoy meeting him. What about keeping a low profile, though?”

“You will need to remain discreet for a short while longer, yes,” Tylariel conceded from where she was carefully examining a green-lace bustier.

“So I won’t be walking around in ‘look at the reborn Prince’ clothes?”

Tylariel smiled at him with a cunning gleam in her golden eyes.

“For the next few days, certainly not. After that, though, Apprentice, we’re going to make you the most prominent face in the Valarian Dominion,” she declared and nodded towards where Maurice had vanished. “And it is Maurice’s clothes that will achieve just such a feat.”

[Willpower Check] successful!

Arcturus sighed.

“Yeah,” he grumbled as the voice in his head laughed hysterically. “That’s what I was afraid of.”