It might seem like a dream. But Ivan knew for sure it was possible he had died and gotten reborn as a baby. Nothing in the Cloud Kingdom was new under the sky.
The days flew by, and more and more, Ivan's hatred for the Windsor royal family only deepened. He had seen different people shower him with love, the queen singing lullabies for him at night... And even the king always came by the queen's chamber to play with him at night.
Above all, Ivan – Eric – was edgy about not having control over his own body.
The Song of the Winter lullaby gets him to sleep quickly more than anything else, even when he doesn't feel sleepy. He poops when he doesn't know one is coming. And wets himself out of free will.
But, was this disgusting? No – he had seen and done many horrible things as a slave.
For whoever his father could be, how greedy he had been, Ivan heard that man had sold him off to a slave merchant years back. This trader then gave a number of slaves, including Ivan, to the king to become a duke on the kingdom's outskirts. From then on, Ivan had never had a time for himself. Not only him, but every other slave in the royal family.
No one wanted to be friends with another, as slacking off work brings punishment such as starving or overworking… The cruel slave warders did that, but the royals didn't have time to worry about mere tools.
Every morning, every night, when these same people held him in their hands, Ivan wished he could do something. Something to show them he never murdered the princess.
Now that he was even born the prince, things would get tougher and more difficult for him. The first wife whose daughter died wouldn't show him much love because she knew that one day, he would be the one to claim the throne. In short, Ivan's rebirth was a double-edged sword – a chance to seek revenge and also thrown into a hot game of thrones.
***
A year later…
The sky was beautifully blue, but the cries of civilians were a bitter song to listen to. One that makes the chest tighten in sympathy. The queen tried to tug open the window, holding the young Eric in her hand, who was wrapped in blue silk, but a man stepped in right away.
Tall. Healthy. Strong. One of the few who favored the slaves back then.
"My queen, opening the window will be dangerous," the young man warned.
"Don't worry," the queen replied in a dismissive tone, and she did what she wanted. The smell of decay, poverty, and hardship gushed in. Yet, the queen didn't close the window.
She actually held her breath and took a look at her people.
Men, women, and children in rugged, dirty clothes made her heart grow sour. Most especially, a young girl standing alone in the far corner, pale-skinned and chapped-lipped, watched her with teary yet hopeful eyes as though she had found her savior.
But not long afterwards, the royal escorts began to run them down. They hit them with cudgels and threw them off the carriage as they clung to it, screaming please, help us, your highness. The guards were brutal, but the queen didn't intervene. Because leaving the civilians be would end up toppling the carriage over.
But she told the young guard, who was the leader of the Escort Team, "Tell them not to hit the people. Driving them off the carriage should be enough."
The guard bowed. "Yes, your Highness. We'll make sure you and our prince have a safe trip to the Church."
The woman nodded before looking away. Eric could see it in her eyes – she feared for the people. First, looking back at everything she had shown him over the years, he told himself she might be a good person. But thinking it through with what she did now, she actually was one.
Eric sighed deep inside – he wasn't able to see the people due to his current state, but he knew very well the kind of life they were living.
Life outside the palace walls wasn't either paradise or hell. Some live well, while others live a life of hardship. Those whose crops stopped growing due to witchcraft, cows unable to produce milk, and even parents falling victim to the Cloud Kingdom's Witch Hunt… they were the ones living life the most horribly. Because one way or another, they had lost their most helpful hand.
Moments later, the carriage stopped at the front of a tall, opulent building made of both wood and brick. The Pope welcomed them in, a man with a broad mastery of defensive magic. Through prayers, potions, or incantations, he could fight against witchcraft.
They received Eric inside for an Ointment Bath. It was a kind of cleansing for everyone in the first year of their lives, in a pool where thousands of prayers had been recited, songs, incantations, and even the Protective Potion.
All this to make sure Eric wasn't affected by evil eyes. Witches are far more dangerous than one could imagine, indeed. And it would not be good to have the heir to the throne get caught in the long run, too.
After the queen attended a prayer service for a few hours, she got back into the carriage and set the wheels rolling. The queen won't stop whining with her lullabies and constant cheek tugging. This was one of the things Eric hated about her.
What was she on about? Lullaby in the day?
At the exact moment when the carriage plied a col—a high gap in a mountain range—a voice streaked through Eric's mind.
Long time no see, dear friend. Surprises me we both didn't die.
Eric's chest tightened. He moved his eyes here and there in panic and confusion, also a chance for the frustrating queen to do her thing again.
Eric said it in his mind before she even did it… don't tug at my cheek. But, well, she did.
"Awwn, what a sweetheart you are, Eric. Do you want to play with Mother?"
A knot tugged in Eric's stomach. But that aside, he thought, 'Whose voice did I hear in my mind earlier?'
Then, the voice came again, deeper and more maniacal than any human could have.
You don't remember me? Tch… I am the only one generous enough to accompany you to death. We were set ablaze together; you don't remember?
That moment, Eric held his breath. Set ablaze together? That was none other than…
Yes, you are right. I am the Grade Earth spirit invoked into your body that night. Nice meeting you again, Ivan Belsmouth. Ah, my bad… Eric Windsor.