The silence that followed Seth's declaration lasted for exactly three heartbeats.
Then the hall erupted into chaos.
"Your Highness, you cannot be serious!" Roderick's voice cut through the initial shock, his face flushing red with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "This goes against every law of the kingdom! Every tradition we hold sacred!"
"The prince has lost his mind," someone shouted from the crowd, and the anonymity of the packed hall emboldened others to join in.
"We demand justice!"
"The witch must burn!"
"Protect us, Your Highness, not the monster!"
Wilhelm stepped forward, his aged face creased with concern that might have been genuine or might have been carefully performed. "Your Highness, please reconsider. The people are frightened. If we do not deal with this threat appropriately, there could be unrest. Panic. The stability of Fort Renly depends on maintaining order, and order demands that we follow the law."
The voices grew louder, overlapping and blending into a cacophony of fear and outrage. The guards who surrounded Eris looked uncertain, their hands tightening on their weapons but not moving to obey Seth's command. They looked instead toward Roderick and Wilhelm, seeking guidance from men they actually respected rather than the trash prince who had been foisted upon them.
Seth stood in the center of it all, silent and still.
He let them rage. Let them shout and argue and work themselves into a frenzy. His eyes moved slowly across the crowd, taking in every face, every expression of contempt and dismissal. These people did not respect him. They saw him as a failure, a disgrace to the Arannis name, someone who had been sent here to rot in obscurity because he was not worthy of anything better.
And they were not entirely wrong.
The old Seth, the one whose memories he now carried, had been exactly that. A prince in name only, with no power, no influence, no ability to command loyalty or inspire fear. He had accepted his exile meekly, had resigned himself to a life of insignificance in this forgotten corner of the kingdom.
But that Seth was gone.
'They think I'm weak,' Seth thought, his jaw tightening. 'They think they can ignore my orders because I've never given them reason to fear me. Because I've been content to let them run things while I hid away in my manor. But I'm not that person anymore. And it's time they learned that.'
He took a deep breath, feeling something shift inside him. It was not mana, he had no magical power and likely never would. But it was something else, something that came from the merging of his two lives. The determination of someone who had been given a second chance and refused to waste it. The knowledge that in this world, strength was the only thing that mattered, and strength came in many forms.
One of those forms was authority.
And Seth was still a prince of the Arannis bloodline, trash or not.
He raised his hand, a simple gesture, but something in the way he did it made several people near the front of the crowd fall silent. The effect rippled outward slowly, voices cutting off one by one as people noticed the change in his demeanor. Within seconds, the hall had quieted enough for his voice to carry clearly to every corner.
"Free that witch."
The words were identical to what he had said before, but this time they were different. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. His voice was cold, flat, carrying a weight that seemed to press down on everyone who heard it. It was the voice of someone who expected absolute obedience, who would not tolerate even the thought of refusal.
It was the voice of a prince.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. People shifted uncomfortably, their earlier bravado evaporating in the face of something they had not expected from the trash prince. This was not the meek, defeated Seth they knew. This was someone else entirely.
Seth let the silence stretch out, his blue eyes moving deliberately from person to person, meeting each gaze and holding it until the other looked away. When he was satisfied that he had their attention, he continued, his voice remaining perfectly level and utterly devoid of warmth.
"I will not repeat myself a third time. You seem to have forgotten who I am, so allow me to remind you." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I am Seth Arannis, fourth prince of the Arannis Kingdom, son of King Magnus Arannis, and the appointed ruler of this territory. My word is law here. Not yours. Mine."
He took a step forward, and the crowd instinctively drew back, creating more space around him and the chained witch.
"Every single person in this hall exists here by my grace. Your positions, your homes, your very lives are mine to dispose of as I see fit. That is the reality of your situation, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."
Roderick opened his mouth to speak, but Seth's gaze snapped to him with such intensity that the chamberlain actually flinched.
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. Roderick's mouth closed with an audible click, his face going pale. Beside him, Wilhelm had gone very still, his earlier confidence draining away as he realized that something fundamental had changed.
Seth turned his attention to the guards surrounding Eris. They stood frozen, uncertain whether to obey their nominal lord or maintain their current positions. He could see the conflict in their eyes, the way they glanced at each other and at Roderick, seeking some way out of the impossible situation they found themselves in.
"Release her," Seth said, his voice dropping even lower, becoming almost conversational in its quietness. But that very quietness made it more menacing, not less. "Release her now. And know that the next person to speak a word against my command will lose their head. I am not making a threat. I am stating a fact. Test me if you doubt my resolve."
The silence that followed was absolute. No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe. The entire hall had become a frozen tableau, everyone waiting to see what would happen next.
Then, slowly, one of the guards reached for the keys at his belt. His hands shook slightly as he inserted the key into the lock on Eris's chains, the metal making a soft click as the mechanism disengaged. The sound was unnaturally loud in the stillness.
Click. Click. Click.
One by one, the chains fell away. First the collar around her neck, then the manacles on her wrists, and finally the shackles on her ankles. They hit the floor with heavy thuds, and the mana nullifying stones within them lost their glow as they ceased to be in contact with her skin.
Eris remained where she was, kneeling on the floor, her eyes wide with shock. She stared up at Seth as if he were some kind of apparition, something her mind could not quite process as real.
Seth felt the weight of every eye in the hall on him. He could sense their fear now, the way it had replaced their earlier anger. Good. Fear he could work with. Fear meant respect, even if it was grudging. And respect was the first step toward actual authority.
He walked forward, his footsteps echoing in the silence, until he stood directly in front of Eris. She looked up at him, those striking blue eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, hope, and lingering despair. Her silver white hair fell around her face in tangled waves, and her hands, now free of the chains, trembled slightly where they rested on her knees.
Seth extended his hand toward her, palm up, offering. A simple gesture, but one heavy with meaning. In this world, in this moment, it represented a choice. She could take his hand and accept whatever came next, or she could refuse and face the mob alone.
For a moment, she just stared at his hand as if she did not quite believe it was real. Then her eyes lifted to his face, and she saw the smile there. It was not a wide smile, not the kind meant to charm or manipulate. It was small, barely more than a slight curve of his lips, but it was genuine. It said, without words, that she was not alone anymore. That someone had chosen to stand between her and the world that wanted her dead.
Her eyes widened, the shock registering across her delicate features. Then, slowly, something in her expression softened. The tension in her shoulders eased fractionally, and she lifted one trembling hand.
Her fingers touched his palm, hesitant at first, as if she expected him to pull away. When he did not, when his hand remained steady and waiting, she placed her hand fully in his.
Seth's fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. He pulled gently, helping her to her feet. She swayed slightly, her legs unsteady after however long she had been chained, but his grip kept her upright. For a moment, they stood there, prince and witch, joined by nothing more than clasped hands and a decision that defied everything this world expected of them.
Then Seth turned, still holding her hand, and began walking toward the door. The crowd parted before them like water, people stumbling over each other in their haste to get out of the way. No one spoke. No one dared.
Roderick and Wilhelm stood frozen as Seth passed them, their faces portraits of shock and barely suppressed outrage. Seth did not even glance at them. They were not worth his attention right now. They would need to be dealt with eventually, but that was a problem for later.
The sunlight outside the town hall was almost blinding after the dimness within. Seth squinted against it but did not slow his pace. He could feel Eris walking beside him, her hand still in his, her steps uncertain but gradually growing steadier. Behind them, the doors of the hall remained open, and he could imagine the chaos that would erupt the moment he was out of sight. The arguments, the accusations, the panicked discussions about what to do about their suddenly unpredictable prince.
Let them argue. Let them panic. It would keep them occupied while he figured out his next move.
The walk back to his manor was conducted in silence. The few people they passed on the streets took one look at the silver haired girl walking beside the prince and hurried away, their eyes wide with fear or curiosity or both. Word would spread quickly. By nightfall, everyone in Fort Renly would know that their trash prince had saved a witch.
'Good,' Seth thought. 'Let them know. Let them understand that things are going to be different from now on.'
Fort Renly. The name had come to him as they walked, pulled from the memories of the original Seth. This backwater territory at the eastern edge of the Arannis Kingdom, so far from the capital that it might as well have been another country entirely. The king had sent him here to die, or at least to be forgotten. A convenient place to dispose of an embarrassing son without the messiness of actual execution.
But that very isolation was also an opportunity. Here, far from the eyes of the court and the machinations of his more talented siblings, Seth could build something. He could experiment, take risks, make mistakes without immediate consequences. And most importantly, he could prepare.
Because if his knowledge of "Kill That Witch" was accurate, and if he truly was inside that story's world, then there were events coming. Terrible, world shaking events that would tear apart kingdoms and reshape the map of the known world. Wars, betrayals, the rise of demon kings and the fall of ancient dynasties.
The fact that Fort Renly still existed, that it had not yet been destroyed in whatever conflicts were to come, told Seth something important. The major plots had not yet begun. He still had time. Not much, perhaps, but enough to make preparations if he acted quickly and decisively.
And step one of those preparations was standing right beside him, her hand still held in his.
Eris. A witch. A majin who had awakened to mana and gained powers that could reshape reality itself. He did not know what her specific ability was yet, but that hardly mattered. The simple fact that she was a witch made her invaluable. In the novel, the protagonist's success had been built on the backs of the witches he had saved and recruited. Their powers had allowed him to accomplish the impossible, to build an empire from nothing and challenge the established order.
Seth intended to do the same. And it would start with this girl.
His manor came into view, a modest building by noble standards but palatial compared to everything else in Fort Renly. It was two stories tall, built of stone rather than wood, with actual glass in some of the windows and a small garden that had long since gone to seed. A low wall surrounded the property, more decorative than defensive, and a gate hung slightly crooked on its hinges.
At eighteen years old, Seth lived here alone save for a handful of servants. It was simultaneously too much space for one person and far too little for someone of royal blood. But it was his, and right now, that was what mattered.
Lyra appeared in the doorway as they approached, her eyes going wide when she saw Eris walking beside Seth. To her credit, she did not run or scream. She simply stood there, hands clasped in front of her, waiting for instructions.
"Lyra," Seth said as he climbed the steps to the entrance, finally releasing Eris's hand. "Prepare a bath for our guest. Then find her some clean clothes and prepare a meal. She looks like she has not eaten properly in days."
Lyra curtsied quickly, her gaze flickering between Seth and Eris with poorly concealed nervousness. "Yes, Your Highness. Right away."
"And Lyra?" Seth added, his voice softer now that they were away from the crowd. "She is under my protection. Anyone who treats her with anything less than courtesy will answer to me directly. Make sure the other servants understand that."
"Yes, Your Highness." Lyra curtsied again and hurried off, already calling for the other servants to help her carry out the prince's orders.
Seth turned to Eris, who was looking around the manor's entrance hall with an expression that was hard to read. "Go with her. Clean up, eat, rest. We will talk after you have had a chance to recover."
Eris nodded slowly, still seeming dazed by the rapid turn her fortunes had taken. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, apparently unable to find the words. Instead, she simply bowed her head in what might have been gratitude or respect or some combination of the two, then followed after Lyra's retreating form.
Seth watched her go, then made his way to his own chambers. He had preparations to make, plans to formulate. The next few hours would be crucial for determining how to proceed.
The bath and meal preparation took longer than Seth had anticipated. He spent the time in his study, such as it was, poring over maps of the territory and trying to reconcile his memories of the novel with the reality of his current situation. There was so much he did not know, so many gaps in his knowledge that could prove fatal if he was not careful.
But he was still alive. Still free to act. And that was more than many people in this world could say.
A soft knock at his door announced Lyra's return. "Your Highness? The young lady is ready. She is waiting in the dining hall."
Seth nodded and stood, smoothing down his tunic out of habit. "Thank you, Lyra. You may retire for the evening. I will call if I need anything."
The dining hall was hardly grand, just a room with a long wooden table and chairs that had seen better years. But it served its purpose. Eris sat at one end of the table, and Seth could not help but notice the transformation.
Gone were the filthy, tattered clothes she had worn in chains. Instead, she wore a maid's outfit, black and white with a skirt that had been modified to be notably shorter than standard. It was clearly the only women's clothing available in the manor, and some hasty alterations had been made to fit her smaller frame. Her silver white hair, now clean and brushed, caught the candlelight and seemed to glow softly. She looked younger like this, more vulnerable, and also strikingly beautiful in a way that the dirt and chains had hidden.
She was eating with an enthusiasm that bordered on desperation, her hands moving quickly to shovel food into her mouth. Bread, cheese, some kind of stew, it all disappeared at an alarming rate. She had clearly been starving, and the sight stirred something in Seth's chest. Pity, perhaps, or anger at how she had been treated. Maybe both.
He took his seat at the opposite end of the table, content to watch her eat in silence for a few moments. Let her fill her stomach first. The conversation could wait.
But eventually, he needed to speak. He cleared his throat gently, and Eris's head snapped up, her eyes meeting his. There was still wariness there, still fear, but also something else. Curiosity, maybe. Or hope.
"Eris," Seth said, letting her name hang in the air for a moment.
He paused, choosing his next words carefully. This was the crucial moment, the point where he would lay out his intentions and see how she responded. Everything he wanted to build, everything he hoped to accomplish, would depend on gaining her trust and cooperation.
"I want you to work for me."