Kevin’s brows drew together sharply as he saw the bed cabinet.

  “This is a bed? It looks like a coffin.”

  Ferir cast him a sidelong glance, then studied the recessed frames more carefully. A faint memory surfaced from something he had once read.

  “The Fifteenth Sovereign once slept in a bed like this to avoid a foretold assassination attempt. Perhaps this is modeled after that incident?”

  Kevin also seemed to have remembered something.

  “I know the story. He did it for one week. We have to endure this for an entire year.”

  Ferir gave a light shrug.

  “Once you get used to it, a week and a year probably feel the same.”

  Inside the bed cabinet were two sets of blankets and pillows, also covered in dust. Ferir covered his nose, dragged the bundles out, and tossed them onto the floor with a dull thud.

  “I think we should take these outside and beat the dust out of them.”

  He glanced at Kevin. As a prince, the chances that he had ever performed such a task were approximately equal to snow falling in midsummer.

  He considered himself extremely generous to allow the young prince the options:

  “You can either take these out and shake them clean, or stay here and handle the rest of the cleaning.”

  Kevin visibly swallowed whatever protest had risen to his lips. After a brief internal war, he rummaged through his luggage, produced a handkerchief, and tied it over his face with visible reluctance. He drew a deep breath, then carried the bedding outside.

  Moments later, rhythmic thumping echoed through the courtyard as if someone was venting their anger on the blankets.

  By the time Ferir had conquered more than half the room, a shrill bell tore through the air to announce lunch.

  The sound stabbed straight through the skull, loud enough to wake the ancestors.

  Ferir and Kevin were coated in dust, neither of them wanted to leave the mid-cleaning, so they reached a silent agreement without a word. Finish first, eat later.

  That was a miscalculation.

  When they finally arrived at the so called dining hall, servants were already clearing away stacks of empty plates. They said the meal had concluded.

  Now, not only Kevin but also Ferir began to get irritated at the thought of having to go hungry until evening.

  The only consolation for them was knowing they wouldn't have to wash the dishes themselves after eating.

  Just as they turned to leave, footsteps echoed softly behind one of the pillars. A girl stepped out, holding two meat sandwiches wrapped in cloth.

  Ferir recognized her immediately. She had shared the carriage with him during the final trial.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “When I didn’t see you two at the dining hall, I guessed something like this would happen. One of the cooks asked me to bring these to you.”

  She handed each of them a sandwich.

  “I’m Amillya Gwendy. You can call me Ami.”

  Ferir accepted his portion with genuine gratitude.

  “Thank you. We didn’t realize lunch had… an expiration time. I’m Ferir Hakken, and this is… Prince-”

  Kevin cut in smoothly.

  “Kevin Alaskark.”

  Ami smiled.

  “I know who you both are. Nice to meet you.”

  The three of them moved to a wooden bench beneath a tree and sat down. The bread was soft, the meat still warm. It tasted like a royal meal to the hungry two young man.

  Ferir swallow a bite of bread, searched for conversation.

  “So how’s the girls’ dormitory? Have you finished cleaning out the bed cabinets yet?”

  “Bed cabinets?”

  “The beds hidden inside the wall?”

  Ami blinked.

  “You have beds inside the wall? That’s so cool! We just have normal beds. Four legs, on the ground. You know, boring ones.”

  Ferir might have suspected she was trying to comfort them, if not for the unmistakable sparkle in her eyes when she said the word “cool”.

  Kevin, meanwhile, looked like he was considering trading the title Prince for a simple, four legged bed on the spot.

  “Well, I should go.” Ami said, brushing crumbs from her hands. “Our room still needs some work. Next time, try arriving before the bell becomes an obituary.”

  She stood and left just as abruptly as she had appeared, vanishing around the corner.

  “She’s nice, huh?” Ferir said through a mouthful of crumbs.

  Kevin shot him a look sharp enough to slice bread.

  “I think she’s slightly unhinged.”

  After finishing the last bite, they returned to their room… only to be confronted by a rather existential problem.

  There was nowhere to nap.

  Ferir picked up one of the blankets, gave it an investigative sniff, and immediately recoiled. The scent was like an entire civilization of fungi has claimed sovereignty inside that cabinet.

  “We have to wash these.”

  “Wash…?” Kevin repeated, like the word had arrived from a foreign kingdom.

  “Put it in water. Add soap. Scrub. Agitate.”

  “Of course I know what washing is,” Kevin snapped. “It’s just that—”

  Ferir promptly shoved the blanket toward his face. Kevin stiffened for a second, then he nodded and insisted they needed washing.

  Luckily, when they reached the bathroom area, they saw another pile of blankets and pillows in a huge basin painted with the words “Items to be washed.” Another small relief; they wouldn’t have to do their laundry every day.

  Since there were no beds to lie down on, Ferir and Kevin decided to use the rest of their break time to sort through their belongings.

  Ferir’s belongings consisted of a few sets of clothes and basic necessities that “organizing” felt like an exaggerated term. He opened the wardrobe, tossed everything inside in one clean motion, and his job is done.

  In contrast, Kevin struggled with two large bags of things. He said they were prepared by the servants, so he couldn't keep track of them. In the end, he gave Ferir a few workout outfits that seemed like they'd never been worn before and threw the rest away.

  “You’re keeping those?”

  Ferir pointed to a tea set on the table and some tea-making utensils on the bookshelf.

  “I need tea to think.” Kevin replied coldly.

  Ferir wondered how this same person had refused to drink two perfectly presented cups during the last trial, but that was replaced by a bigger question.

  "There's no hot water that served everyday here like in the palace, you know?"

  Kevin immediately produced a cylindrical container the size of a forearm, capped with a screw lid. The inside was silver lined and still radiating warmth. It was filled to the brim with hot water.

  He called it a thermal flask, a gift from another country. Quickly, he brewed himself a pot of tea.

  “Tomorrow I’ll find somewhere to boil water.”