Carlos felt it before he heard it- the presence looming behind him.

The supervising panel sat mounted on their horses, a dark, unmoving line at his back. Leather creaked softly, reins held tight, hooves shifting against stone. Above all of it, Sir Hopkins’s stare burned into him, unwavering, as if he could pin Carlos in place through sheer force of will.

And Carlos had just announced- clearly, shamelessly- before the entire town that he was going gambling.

The reaction was immediate.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, heads turning, eyes darting between Carlos and the mounted figures behind him. Some looked amused, others scandalized, and a few openly disapproving.

Carlos didn’t turn around.

He kept riding, spine straight, refusing to acknowledge the weight at his back. He knew how it sounded- reckless, irresponsible, almost mocking. The exact opposite of what a Prince under supervision was meant to be doing during the Trials.

But Ruel had a plan.

Carlos didn’t.

And that meant he had to commit fully.

He just hoped it didn’t blow over in his face.

After a few more minutes of riding, Carlos and his small entourage arrived before Earl Robert Kirkland’s mansion.

Lush gardens stretched wide around the estate, meticulously maintained and unnaturally vibrant. Flowering hedges framed marble pathways, and fountains murmured softly as several servants moved about with practiced efficiency, trimming, polishing, bowing- every motion rehearsed to perfection.

The mansion itself loomed behind them, opulent to the point of excess.

It dwarfed the Valmest mansion without subtlety, its façade layered in ornate stonework, gold-trimmed balconies, and towering windows that reflected the afternoon light like polished mirrors. Wealth radiated from it shamelessly, as if the building itself wished to be admired.

Carlos dismounted his horse.

The moment his boots touched the ground, the front doors flew open.

The Head Butler hurried out first, followed closely by the Earl himself, moving with surprising haste for a man of his age and build.

Earl Robert Kirkland was round- soft in a way that spoke of indulgence rather than comfort. He was well into his late fifties, dressed in layers of expensive fabric that strained around his form. Rings glinted on his fingers, jeweled buttons pulled tight across his chest, and yet his excess spilled past every attempt at refinement, swelling and wobbling as he moved.

His smile was wide.

Too wide.

It curled upward like a Cheshire cat’s, eyes glittering with something that made Carlos’s skin crawl.

"Your Highness," the Earl said breathlessly, bowing low. "My Prince. It’s an honor."

Carlos looked down at him.

For a brief, dangerous second, the image of flaying the man alive flickered through his mind- vivid and unwanted. The thought of the Earl’s gaze lingering where it didn’t belong, of his appetite turned toward a girl young enough to still believe in safety, made Carlos’s fingers twitch at his side.

He crushed the impulse without letting it reach his face.

"It indeed is your honor," Carlos replied coolly.

The Earl lifted his head at once, clearly pleased, his grin stretching even further as if the words were praise rather than warning. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Carlos didn’t return the smile.

"M–may I ask why Your Highness is here?" Earl Kirkland ventured, his tone careful, almost oily.

Carlos shifted.

It was subtle, but deliberate, the straightening of his spine, the slight lift of his chin. The careless arrogance slid back into place like a well-worn coat. The spoiled Prince, the one everyone expected.

"Well," Carlos drawled, waving a hand dismissively, "you must already know why I’m in Valmest. But the Baron’s mansion?" He scoffed lightly. "Not quite comfortable."

His gaze drifted around the estate with open appraisal, lingering on the marble columns, the gilded accents, the sheer excess of it all. A satisfied smile curved his lips.

"It’s not bad."

Kirkland’s grin widened instantly. "It’s still very humble compared to Your Highness’s standards."

"It is," Carlos agreed without hesitation.

He didn’t wait for a response. He simply walked past the Earl, brushing by him as though the man were little more than furniture.

"Let’s head inside."

Kirkland fumbled as he turned to follow. "Ah- Your Highness... if only you had sent word ahead of your arrival, I would have prepared the finest room at once."

Carlos hummed, not slowing his stride as he crossed the threshold.

"Ah, right," he said lazily. "But I assumed you were smart enough to know that a man of my position wouldn’t stay in that barn for long."

The Earl laughed nervously, quickening his steps as the rest of the household hurried in behind them.

Carlos came to a stop in the center of the grand hall. Above him, a sweeping staircase curved upward, its banister polished to a shine, servants already hovering at the edges like shadows awaiting command.

"I-I apologise, Your Highness," Kirkland said quickly. "This subject of yours is still lacking. I couldn’t prepare everything beforehand."

Carlos turned.

He smiled.

It was pleasant. Polite. Empty.

"Well," he said smoothly, meeting the Earl’s eyes, "you know now."

The smile didn’t fade.

"Have a room prepared for me immediately," Carlos continued. "I’ll be staying here."

The silence that followed was brief, but heavy.

Kirkland bowed at once, far too deeply. "O-Of course, Your Highness. At once."

Hopkins and the supervising panel stiffened almost in unison.

The shock was immediate and poorly hidden.

"I apologise for my rudeness, Your Highness," Sir Hopkins said, stepping forward, his brows drawn into a hard frown. "But you must stay at Baron Valmest’s mansion. They were the ones who formally requested the aide. You must not alter the arrangement like this."

Carlos tilted his head.

The smile slipped from his face, replaced by something colder, something openly disdainful.

"And who," Carlos asked calmly, "are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?"

Hopkins faltered just a fraction.

"They requested an aide," Carlos continued, voice sharpening, "but nowhere does it state that I am forbidden from temporarily residing in a place that is capable of accommodating me."

He gestured vaguely around him.

"And if you wish to live there," Carlos added lazily, "you’re welcome to stay at the Valmest mansion. I’ll stay here."

A murmur rippled through the panel.

One of the men from the civilian panel stepped forward, forcing composure into his voice. "With all due respect, Your Highness- what you’re doing will not reflect well in the reports."

Carlos’s gaze snapped to him.

"Be quiet."

The word cracked through the hall like a whip.

"You are here to supervise me," Carlos went on coolly, "not warn me, not lecture me, and certainly not tell me what to do." His lips curved faintly. "As supervisors, you will keep your mouths shut and follow me around like obedient dogs. Do you understand?"

Disgust flickered openly across the panel’s faces, and across Hopkins’s as well. This was exactly what they had feared. Exactly why they had dreaded being assigned to Carlos’s entourage.

Carlos didn’t care.

He turned away from them entirely.

"Now, Earl," Carlos said, facing Kirkland, "did I say anything wrong?"

Kirkland’s smile was immediate and indulgent. "Not at all, Your Highness. As a Prince, it is your birthright to stand above all of us. How dare some simpleton beneath you presume to dictate your actions?"

Carlos smiled, genuinely this time.

"I like you," he said. "Get a room prepared for me."

Kirkland bowed deeply. "As you wish, my Prince."

Behind them, the supervising panel stood rigid, forced to swallow their outrage.

Carlos had made his position clear.

Kirkland gestured sharply, ordering his Head Butler to make the necessary arrangements at once. Servants scattered, moving with the urgency reserved for sudden royal whims.

Left to himself, Carlos allowed his gaze to roam.

The hall was drenched in wealth, almost obscene in its display. Gold vases stood along the walls, polished to a blinding shine. Paintings from renowned artists hung in ornate frames, their value unmistakable even at a glance. Sculptures of marble, bronze, rare stone were placed with deliberate intent, each one meant to impress.

It wasn’t refinement.

It was acquisition.

"You have quite the taste, Earl," Carlos remarked mildly.

Kirkland beamed. "With time, one gathers insight, Your Highness."

Carlos resisted the urge to sneer. The Earl was transparent, desperate to curry favor, yet beneath that eagerness lurked something else. A glint in his eyes, sharp and assessing, carrying a faint note of condescension as though he believed himself cleverer than he let on.

It made Carlos’s skin crawl.

"And while my room is being prepared," Carlos said casually, "shall we play a hand?"

Kirkland blinked. "Pardon?"

Carlos’s lips curved into a slow smirk. "I’ve heard about your... entertainments. That you host games for young noblemen." His gaze flicked back to the hall. "I thought I’d try my luck as well. You don’t mind, do you?"

The Earl hesitated.

Just long enough to calculate.

Then a sugary smile spread across his face, his eyes lighting with naked greed. "I am but a small nobleman who provides a little amusement for the youth, Your Highness. But if my humble pastimes can ease your boredom..." He bowed slightly. "I would be honored."

Carlos’s eyes gleamed.

The trap had been laid.

And the Earl had walked straight into it, eager and smiling.

A few minutes later, Carlos found himself seated in the parlor alongside Earl Kirkland.

The room was intimate in design- rich carpets muffled sound beneath their feet, velvet drapes filtered the light into something warm and deceptive, and a polished table sat between them like an altar. A steward stood nearby, quietly shuffling the cards with practiced efficiency.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, posture loose, expression easy- as though this were nothing more than a passing indulgence. Across from him, Kirkland mirrored the composure, fingers folded, smile pleasant, eyes watchful.

Just as the steward reached forward to deal, the doors burst open.

"What do you mean I can’t go in? I’m Lord Robert’s soon to be brother-in-law! How dare you try to-"

The voice cut off abruptly.

Matthis stood frozen in the doorway, shock plain on his face as his eyes landed on Carlos.

"Good noon, Lord Matthis," Carlos said smoothly. "I was looking for you in morning."

Matthis blinked, clearly thrown off balance. "P–pardon? You were looking for me?"

"Yes," Carlos replied lightly. "Your place was... lacking, and I found myself bored. Since you were unavailable, I took the liberty of coming here on my own."

Matthis’s surprise melted quickly into relief. He smiled, straightening as he stepped further inside. "Ah- my apologies, Your Highness."

He cast a questioning glance at Kirkland, clearly expecting an explanation, but Carlos leaned forward slightly before either of them could speak.

"Why don’t you join us?" Carlos suggested. "It would be terribly dull with just myself and the Earl."

"Ah-Your Highness, I-"

"I’ve heard you’re quite the player," Carlos cut in pleasantly. "I’d like to see that for myself."

Matthis blinked again, caught off guard by the compliment.

Carlos didn’t give him time to recover.

"What do you say, Earl?" Carlos continued, turning slightly. "I’m not particularly skilled myself. Perhaps I could learn something from the both of you."

The two men exchanged a glance- brief, loaded, assessing.

Carlos reached into his vest pocket and drew out a small leather pouch. He loosened the drawstring and tipped it over the table.

Gold spilled out in a soft, ringing cascade.

At least fifty coins.

Matthis and Kirkland stared.

"That’s the starting amount," Carlos said casually. "As you know, I wasn’t allowed to bring much with me. But I can always wager assets."

He leaned back again, humming thoughtfully as if taking stock of something trivial.

"Let’s see... there’s more gold and jewels set aside elsewhere. Two mansions in Leiden. A few establishments in Esmertia. The port I own, of course. And some other properties here and there."

The effect was immediate.

Greed flared openly in their eyes, bright and unrestrained. Any lingering caution vanished, replaced by a singular, shared thought.

Bleed the foolish Prince dry.

Kirkland’s smile widened. Matthis’s fingers twitched with anticipation.

The steward waited silently, cards poised.

Carlos merely watched them, relaxed and patient.

As the trap closed.