Chapter 3: Chapter 2: A Charming Outsider

The sky was a clear, endless blue—so wide and open it felt like you could fall into it.

A few clouds drifted slowly, lazy and soft, while birds wheeled high above the treetops, calling to each other in the morning air.

The road to Mermaid’s Cove wound gently through a stretch of green hills and scattered woodland. Wildflowers lined the edges of the path, nodding in the breeze. Trees swayed with a hush-hush sound, casting dappled shadows over the sun-warmed dirt.

It was quiet here.

Peaceful.

Only the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of gulls hinted that the sea lay just beyond the hills.

Then, the rhythm changed.

Hoofbeats. The sound of horses. Steady and smooth.

From beyond the hill came a fancy carriage, shining under the sun.

It was deep blue with golden edges—like something from a royal storybook. Four white horses pulled it without a single wrong step.

Even the wheels looked clean and enchanted—no mud, no noise, just smooth movement along the road.

On the door of the carriage was a crest: two lions and a sword.

Inside the carriage sat a young man.

He looked like he belonged in a painting. Soft golden hair, smooth skin, and eyes the color of gold coins. He wore a high-class navy coat with silver buttons, and his boots were polished so well they almost glowed.

He sat calmly, looking out the window with a faint smile.

“So...” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “This is Mermaid’s Cove…”

Across from him sat another man—completely different.

Black coat. White gloves. Round glasses that hid sharp, calculating eyes. His face looked like it had never smiled. He held a stack of papers and flipped through them like he was counting how many people owed him money.

“Arrival in thirty minutes,” the man said, voice flat. “Small town. Population: 817. Fishing-based economy. No known threats.”

“Sounds charming,” the young noble replied.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Charming is rarely efficient, Your Highness.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” the blond man grinned. “To add a little inefficiency to our lives.”

He looked back out the window. The ocean had come into view now—shimmering in the distance beyond the hills.

“The Saintess of the South,” he whispered. “I wonder what kind of girl she is.”

The older man said nothing, only turned the page with a crisp flick.

The carriage rolled steadily forward, its wheels gliding beneath the morning sun.

And somewhere ahead, by the sea, a quiet little town waited—still unaware that something new was coming.

Something that would change everything...

Meanwhile… in Mermaid’s Cove.

The door of the Adventurer’s Guild creaked open with a cheerful little ring of the bell overhead.

Mira stepped out into the sunlight, holding a small paper bag in one hand and a spring in her step. Her white dress swayed around her ankles, the red ribbon in her hair catching the morning breeze.

“Alright,” she said to herself with a satisfied smile, “let’s find a nice spot and try out the new gloves."

The cobblestone street was lively, as always.

Market stalls lined both sides, bursting with fish, fruit, herbs, and trinkets.

Children ran barefoot past the fountain, chasing a cat that clearly had no interest in being chased.

Mira walked calmly, waving at familiar faces.

“Mira-chan! Fresh peaches today!” a broad woman called from a distance.

“I’ll come back for them later!” she called back with a laugh.

People smiled as she passed. Some nodded politely, others waved with both hands like overexcited fans.

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Mira was used to it. She wasn’t a celebrity—not officially. But in Mermaid’s Cove, she may as well have been.

Every step down the street felt warm, safe, and familiar. She knew the names of everyone in this town. The smell of every bakery. The sound of every door hinge and seagull call.

“I could live like this forever,” she whispered, stopping for a moment near the edge of the harbor.

The sea sparkled, as if the water itself was celebrating her birthday.

Then… something tugged at her chest.

It wasn’t fear. Not quite magic either.

Just a small, curious feeling—like when you smell rain before it falls, or hear a new song you somehow already recognize.

She turned slightly and looked up the hill, toward the town gates.

“Hm…?” she murmured. “That’s strange.”

A breeze rolled through the streets, carrying the scent of salt and… something new.

Something unfamiliar.

The breeze picked up.

Mira’s hair fluttered gently around her shoulders as she stood at the edge of the harbor, eyes fixed on the road that led out of town.

Something’s coming.

She didn’t know how she knew—only that she did. Like the way birds feel a storm before it reaches the sky. Like how fish vanish before a wave.

The feeling wasn’t scary. Just… strange.

New.

And just then, the sound of hooves echoed through the gates.

People turned. Heads lifted from crates of oranges and armfuls of cloth. Even the kids paused their chase.

A carriage rolled into Mermaid’s Cove.

It was the most beautiful thing many of them had ever seen—deep blue with gold trim that sparkled in the light, pulled by four flawless white horses. The wheels didn’t even kick up dust.

Merchants stepped aside. Fishermen stood tall. Some of the older folk even removed their hats.

The carriage came to a smooth stop near the square fountain.

The door opened with a soft click.

Out stepped a young man, no older than twenty-five.

He was… dazzling. Too shiny for this town.

Mira blinked.

Then—a second man stepped down.

Sharp black coat. Crisp white gloves. Glasses that glinted like a blade. His gaze swept across the square like he was judging it—and finding most of it unworthy.

“Clean enough,” he muttered. “No visible pestilence.”

"I always love your sense of humor, Cassian,” the blond man said with a soft smile.

Mira took a few steps closer out of curiosity, though she stayed near the fountain.

The townsfolk were already whispering.

“Who is that…?”

“Is he a prince?”

“Did we win a festival or something?”

The murmurs grew louder as more villagers peeked around crates and carts. Even the baker leaned halfway out of his window, flour still dusting his hands.

The blond man took a few steps forward, taking in the sights, the sounds, the scent of salt and fresh bread.

He placed a hand over his chest and drew a deep breath—slow and deliberate, as if tasting the air of this seaside town was part of some royal ritual.

Cassian, his butler—or perhaps bodyguard, or maybe both—stood stiffly behind him, clearly unimpressed by the casual charm of Mermaid’s Cove.

“Population appears friendly,” Cassian noted, pulling a pen from his coat and scribbling something onto a folded document. “No security detail. No formal reception. No magic wards at the gates.”

“Just how I like it,” The blond man replied, eyes gleaming. “Unfiltered.”

A child with a seashell necklace stared openly at the pair of strangers, clutching his half-eaten apple. The blond man offered a gentle smile and a small wave.

The boy yelped and ran behind a cart.

The blond man laughed softly to himself.

"Still a better welcome than I got at the last border fort," he said.

Cassian sighed.

A few guards from the town—a pair of older men with spears more decorative than dangerous—hurried toward the carriage with uncertain expressions. One of them tipped his cap.

“Uh—Welcome, erm... sir,” he said. “Can we help you with anything?”

Lucien gave a slight bow, the kind that looked respectful but never lowered his eyes. “Thank you. I’m simply here for a visit.”

“A… noble visit?” the other guard asked slowly, eyeing the sword-and-lions crest.

Cassian stepped forward, producing a parchment with an official seal and no-nonsense lines of authorization. “By the royal decree, His Highness Lucien Aurelius Virelion is to be granted open access and cooperation for a personal inspection tour.”

“His... His Highness?” the guard echoed, as though the words themselves were too heavy to believe.

“It’s alright,” Lucien said smoothly, stepping between them. “We’ll be brief. I’m interested in the daily life of your town. Trade, magic usage, health, and... cultural atmosphere.”

He said it the way someone might ask about tea flavors.

The guards exchanged glances, then slowly nodded. “Of course, Your Highness. Please—make yourself at home.”

Lucien smiled. “I intend to.”

The crowd slowly relaxed, though many continued to watch from behind crates or market tents, whispering.

Mira tilted her head at the scene from across the plaza.

She didn’t need to hear every word to know what was happening. That carriage. That noble crest. The practiced smiles and stiff postures.

Someone important had just arrived.

“He looks like trouble,” she muttered under her breath, then turned back toward the harbor.

Whatever it was, it didn’t concern her.

Probably just another tax collector, or some bored noble checking off places on a map.

But even as she walked away, her fingers tightened slightly on the paper bag in her hand.

That strange tug in her chest hadn’t gone away.

And behind her, the noble prince turned his gaze across the square—just missing her retreating figure by a breath.

He tilted his head.

“…Odd,” he murmured. “I could’ve sworn…”

Cassian didn’t look up. “You’re imagining things. Your Highness.”

Lucien chuckled, brushing his golden hair away from his brow.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just missed someone interesting.”

He turned toward the inn with a light step.

The day was still young, and this quiet little town had secrets yet to show.

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