345: Weak And Miserable

Weak And Miserable

Unaware of Oriana's discreet observation, Arlan continued his solitary walk, stumbling along the way, relying on the support of the pillars between each step. His demeanor suggested a strong desire to distance himself from his current surroundings.1

Oriana's heart ached as she witnessed this, her eyes welling up with tears, a glistening film forming over her vision.

'If I were to approach him now, whoever did this to him might spot me. I cannot afford to be discovered and potentially implicate His Highness further. Besides, he might not like to get caught by me in such a vulnerable staten. It might hurt his pride.'

She kept her watchful eye on Arlan as he gradually departed from the dimly lit, abandoned section of the Queen's mansion, reaching the spot where his horse patiently awaited him. He attempted to mount the horse, but...

Slip!

Suddenly, his foot slipped. He nearly tumbled to the ground, but his weakened hands clung to the reins with determination, preventing his fall. His condition was worse than that of any intoxicated person.

The man who could mount a horse in the blink of an eye now struggled with such a simple task.

Tears streamed down Oriana's cheeks as she observed him. Witnessing someone as strong as him reduced to this state filled her with anguish. How could anyone be so malevolent as to employ such dark magic to harm another?

Despite the odds, Arlan managed to mount his horse and departed from the premise of the Queen's residence.

"I must return and ensure his well-being," Oriana resolved with urgency.

She hastened on foot, lacking the advantage of a horse. All she could do was run, even though fatigue gnawed at her.

"Why didn't I ever learn teleportation or any swiftness-enhancing magic from Rosetta?" Regret welled up within her as she fervently wished for the ability to travel with such rapidity.

Fortunately, Oriana possessed a knack for simplifying her life, and she had long ago discovered a shortcut from the Palace of Thistle to the Palace of Oak, a route she had frequently taken when collaborating with Erich. 

She had developed this habit during her days of working in the forest, where she was constantly on the move. She had cultivated this practice to ensure she could swiftly return home without causing her grandfather any undue concern and always make it back on time. This principle governed her approach everywhere she ventured. Once she grew accustomed to a location, her perceptive eyes instinctively identified multiple pathways leading to and from that place.

Without a moment's hesitation, Oriana sprinted along her well-known shortcut route.

Meanwhile, the Prince's horse didn't move fast pace either, given that he struggled to stay alert while in the saddle. Nonetheless, he maintained a strong posture atop the horse, ensuring that no passersby along the way would detect anything amiss. He appeared as though he was leisurely riding through the midnight hour.

To the vigilant patrolling guards on their regular patrol, this was nothing out of the ordinary. They were accustomed to their Prince embarking on such nocturnal escapades from time to time, oblivious to the suffering their Prince was going through. To them, it was simply a peaceful nighttime stroll.

As the Prince passed by, the guards respectfully bowed and continued their watchful patrol duties, not knowing the Prince was not even aware of their existence around him.

Midway through her sprint, exhaustion began to take its toll on Oriana, but she refused to give up.  Her body was at the brink of losing its entire strength yet her determination pushed her forward.

'I can't stop. I have to go back to him.'

Along her path, she occasionally paused when encountering patrolling guards. When questioned, she explained that she was running late to return to the Prince's palace. By now everyone was aware of the presence of this pretty boy-servant from the palace of Thistle and no one dared mess with him knowing their Crown Prince really well.

As Oriana drew nearer to the Palace of Thistle, she gasped audibly for air. She observed the Prince, still atop his white horse, passed through the imposing iron gate of the palace.

Relief washed over her. "He made it back," she whispered, her breath still ragged.

With weary, leaden steps, she made her way toward the iron gate. There, she watched as the Prince had already dismount the hoses and knight Kerry took the horse away. When she finally reached the gate, she grasped a nearby pillar for support and, through her tired eyes, she gazed toward the palace entrance.

Unlike every other day, where long rows of servants lined up to welcome the Prince, this time Arlan received no such reception. Only Imbert and Rafal were present along with Roman. The three maintaining a respectful silence, offering the weak-looking Prince a clear path to walk into the palace on his own.

As Arlan ascended the few steps leading to the door, his leg slipped, and he nearly tumbled backward.

"Your Highness?"

The three of them exclaimed, immediately moving forward to assist him. However, the Prince swiftly raised his hand, signaling them to halt. He was wary of anyone touching him, aware of the malevolent black magic that had taken hold of him.

As always, the three loyal attendants obeyed the Prince's wishes, refraining from intervening despite their deep-seated concern and desire to help him.

Oriana, who had been observing from a distance, felt a sense of relief. "It's good that he didn't allow anyone to touch him. That black magic could harm them," she thought, her worry for him ever-present.

She struggled to regain the last vestiges of her strength so she could approach him immediately. Her entire body was drenched in sweat, and she gasped for breath.

Meanwhile, she observed the two knights and Roman and noticed their calmness.

'It seems like It's nothing new for them to witness His Highness in such situation and they were just conducting the orders given to them. No one panicked seeing the Prince like this. That means it happens often. How often? Since How long?'

With a multitude of questions swirling in her mind, she took determined steps forward, despite the challenge it posed to her exhausted body. She had run for what felt like an eternity, driven by the single-minded desire to reach him.

As she drew nearer to the Prince, her gaze never leaving him, her heart ached. Memories of the last time she had seen him so weak and miserable flooded back into her mind.

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