That World of Otome Games is Tough for Us - Volume 4 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

WITHIN FANOSS’S ROYAL CASTLE, the two princesses found themselves alone together. They had already finished their early-morning breakfast and had a packed schedule of official duties and lessons with their tutor. This small interval was one of the precious few breaks they would have during the day.

Thick gray clouds hung outside their window, blotting out the sky. The fireplace crackled nearby, providing warmth. The contrast in temperature between the warm room and the chilly air outside fogged the windowpanes with thick condensation.

Hertrauda Sera Fanoss, the younger of the two sisters, shooed their maids from the room. Her elder sister, Hertrude Sera Fanoss, was startled by Hertrauda’s sudden and unusual orders to the servants.

“What’s the matter, Rauda?” she asked. “You don’t normally need to speak of anything so private that you usher out the help like that.”

Rauda inspected the door to ensure that no one would eavesdrop, nor step in and interrupt them, then turned back to her sister with a relieved breath. “Elder Sister, I wish to speak to you about something. Namely, our country’s history, which I fear we’ve been far too ignorant of.”

“History? What nonsense are you talking about?” Truda demanded with knitted brows. 

Summoning her courage, Rauda went on. “We have been deceived about it. No—perhaps it’d be more accurate to say that we weren’t taught the whole truth of it. There is history between our nation and Holfort Kingdom which was kept from us.”

Fanoss and Holfort had a bloody, inimical past. Tracing their lineage back far enough, Fanoss’s royal family had actually descended from the royal family of Holfort. However, their closeness in blood had done nothing to prevent the growing tensions between them that eventually led to Fanoss’s independence. As far as Rauda and Truda knew, it was Holfort’s fault that Fanoss had decided to split from the kingdom.

Ever since the two girls had lost their parents—the archduke and archduchess—to an accident, all the people around them had filled their heads with talk of how Holfort was a merciless, unfeeling enemy. Rauda and Truda had quickly developed a hatred for Holfort as well, partly over the evils they’d been told the country perpetrated when invading Fanoss twenty years earlier. Holfort had rampaged, leaving a trail of destruction behind them within Fanoss’s borders. That was a fact.

At least, that was what Rauda had believed until she learned otherwise. That day, when two intruders dressed entirely in black breached the palace and made off with their Magic Flutes, one of them had given Rauda a hint: If she wished to know the true history between their nations, she should seek the old archivist. She’d been skeptical, but she did as he bade and visited the archives, whereupon she learned the truth. Everything she and Truda had previously believed was complete propaganda. They’d never been told of their own nation’s misdoings.

Rauda slid the book she had borrowed from the archivist toward her sister, urging her to read it. “The truth is written within,” she explained. “This is what actually transpired. I inquired with people alive at the time, and they corroborated this volume’s contents. Some, of course, refused to answer my questions, but enough of them confirmed the truth. No one could honestly insist that all the blame lay on Holfort.”

What Rauda learned had shaken her to her core. The things she’d always believed to be true about their history had, for the most part, been propaganda rewritten to serve their own narrative. It was hard to think that so many had lied to her.

I didn’t want to believe that was true, she reflected. But we are royalty. It’s our duty to face the truth, however ugly it may be. Besides, people here at the royal castle have been pulling our strings as if we were their puppets. I can’t continue to sit idly by.

Though Rauda was still young, she felt the heavy weight of responsibility that came with her station. She wanted her sister, who shared that burden, to know the truth, too. She desired them to share it so that they could team up and rail against those who’d deceived them.

Truda kept a blank face as she thumbed through the book’s pages. At last, she heaved a small sigh. “How foolish,” she said coldly.

Rauda assumed that Truda meant the people who’d hidden the truth from them—that she resented their deception. So surely Truda would agree to work with her to rectify the situation. 

“Yes,” the younger princess agreed. “It was foolish indeed. We must stop them from—”

Truda shot a glare at her. “I was talking about you, Hertrauda.”

“What?” Rauda choked out, her throat strangely dry. Truda rarely addressed her by her full name.

“We are done speaking,” Truda said loudly, calling out to the servants outside the door. “You may reenter.”

“B-but, Elder Sister!” Rauda tried to protest. She had driven the servants out specifically so that they could have this private conversation. Truda denying her further discussion insinuated that the elder princess had no interest in the subject whatsoever.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” said Truda. “I can’t believe you were so childish as to believe all this nonsense.”

Before the servants could spill back in through the door, Truda snatched up the book and tossed it into the fireplace. Panicked, Rauda lurched toward it, arms outstretched, but Truda seized her arms. 

Rauda struggled. “You can’t do this!” she howled at her sister. “That book is important! It’s our real history!” She tried to shake her sister off, to launch herself into the flames to save the tome, but she couldn’t break free.

Truda regarded her coolly. “Enough of this,” she snapped.

When the servants finally entered, they stared at the two with shocked expressions. 

“Y-Your Highnesses?” blurted out the head maid worriedly.

Truda shoved Rauda aside, letting her younger sister land hard on her bottom.

The maids gathered around Rauda, trying to help her to her feet.

“The history we were taught is our real history,” Truda insisted. “If you intend to continue this farce and insist otherwise, I will no longer consider you part of my family.” She turned suddenly; her long, silken black hair swayed like a curtain behind her as she stomped out of the room. She never once paused to look back at Rauda.

Rauda’s heart was heavy after her sister’s physical repudiation. Although the maids tried to lift her, she stayed seated on the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why?” she rasped. “Why won’t you believe me?”

***

In Fanoss’s royal castle, Earl Gelatt had his own private quarters separate from his office. The chambers were more lavish and opulent than those of the royal family. The furnishings were of the highest quality, and the space was decorated with the hides of animals Gelatt had hunted himself.

At the moment, Earl Gelatt sat in front of a vanity, staring into the mirror as he carefully trimmed his mustache. This was a daily routine for him, one he never deviated from. Even when running a high fever that prevented him from attending to his duties, he still at least groomed his facial hair—or so he boasted to anyone who would listen.

“Meh heh heh!” he snickered gleefully. “My mustache looks as perfect as ever today.”

Gelatt had purchased a number of tools for the upkeep of his facial hair, each one carefully tucked into a small box which was in turn stowed safely inside the vanity drawer. The man spurned his duties as it suited him, but he never failed to attend to his beloved mustache.

Satisfied, Gelatt rose abruptly from his chair. “There,” he said. “I suppose I should attend to today’s work.” Atop the vanity was a report sent to him from spies he’d dispatched abroad. He pulled thoughtfully at the ends of his mustache as he held the report with his free hand, eyes scanning the text. “It’s really quite the blow to be divested of our strongest weapon. I had planned for us to sacrifice one of the princesses as necessary to achieve victory in war, should the need arise.”

He knew how the Magic Flutes worked. Before the thieves stole them, the heirlooms had been passed down through many generations. They were rather simple instruments capable of manipulating monsters. Their true power lay in the number of creatures they could control. A single flute could command thousands or even tens of thousands of monsters. At the cost of their life, the player could summon an enormous beast.

When Fanoss had first gained independence from Holfort, a foreign nation attempted to invade them. Fanoss had employed one of the flutes, and the summoned beast had attacked the enemy relentlessly until it destroyed their entire fleet. Said fleet had tried to concentrate fire on it to vanquish it. For a moment, it seemed that they’d succeeded, but the beast rejuvenated instantly and continued its rampage, according to records from the time. It only disappeared once it had fulfilled the command it was given. The royal who’d summoned it then passed away.

The materials documenting these events included a decree from the reigning archduke: “I hereby condemn the usage of this flute and prohibit its employment in battle unless our nation’s very survival hangs in the balance.”

Gelatt found that restriction ridiculous and didn’t apply it to himself. He had not even a trace of loyalty in him toward the royal family.

“One person’s life? It’s a small price to pay when we stand to gain so much,” he reasoned. “The flutes were invaluable weapons. Shame we lost them.”

What did he care if a flute’s use sacrificed a royal? In exchange, they would gain an unbeatable beast that would stop at nothing to fulfill the orders it was given. As far as Gelatt was concerned, the two princesses were expendable ammunition for that weapon. And since there were two of them, there was no harm in sacrificing one if it came down to it.

When the flutes were first stolen, Gelatt had been a nervous wreck.

“There’s no point in longing for what’s already been lost,” he said to himself. “Right now, I must face the facts.” His voice betrayed no emotion, but that was all bravado. The man had been a bundle of nerves, taking out his anger on those around him. He couldn’t hide how narrow-minded and petty he really was at his core.

Setting the report aside, Gelatt reached for the letter left on his vanity. This letter, which had come from Holfort Kingdom, was the reason he’d finally regained his composure. “Things seem to be getting interesting over there. Conflict is barely smoldering now, but it may eventually become a roaring flame. I can’t wait to see how the situation develops.” He pinched his beloved mustache between his fingers and pressed a kiss to the letter.