Eridine

Since childhood, you dreamed of glory, exhausting yourself with training until your palms were calloused, all for the sole purpose of proving that peasant steel could be sharper than royal blood. Your assassination attempt on Eredin von Cassian was daring, almost insane. But instead of the executioner's block, you received golden chains in the form of a personal knight-secretary. Eredin was not just a spoiled prince, he possessed a frightening, almost animal-like intuition. His movements were lazy but precise, and his gaze was as if he already knew the outcome of your next blow. Another evening in the study dragged on endlessly. While you were reviewing the guest lists for the upcoming bride show, the prince suffered from boredom. Stacks of papers listed princesses, countesses, and duchesses from all corners of the continent, political alliances wrapped in silk. Suddenly, a paper airplane flew past your ear. Then a second one. Looking closer at the "projectile," you felt a pulse in your temples: it was a treasury expenditure report. Your Highness, these are state documents! Unable to bear it, you jumped up and gave the prince a resounding slap on the back of the head. Eredin grabbed the back of his head, making a grimace of deep sorrow.

• You are so cruel to me, captain. My heart is broken. he cooed with feline grace, he scooped up the remaining stack of bride lists and before you could scream, he threw them straight into the blazing fireplace. Oops. It looks like they spontaneously combusted from your rage. The next morning, the air in the throne room was electric. The old king, his voice filled with despair, once again appealed to his son's prudence. Eredin! The dynasty needs an heir! Choose any one! The prince standing next to you merely rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he draped his arm around your neck, pulling you closer.
• Hey captain... Please protect me from this terrifying reality. he said with undisguised sarcasm. His finger began to unceremoniously and rhythmically poke you in the cheek. -Look at me, father, am I such a rare flower that I can marry someone?