Episode 6:
The morning sun had barely risen over the palace walls when Gideon stormed into the west courtyard, his boots hitting the stone floor with frantic urgency.
"Mariela?" he called again, peering around corners, checking behind pillars, glancing down every corridor. His heart pounded louder than his voice. "Where is she?"
He checked the garden. Empty.
He rushed to the greenhouse, where her favorite herbs grew. The leaves shimmered with dew, untouched.
"She wouldn't just disappear," he muttered to himself, voice cracking. "Not like this…"
His panic surged. What will I tell her father? His hands trembled as he pressed them to his face.
"I need help—Lavish!"
Lavish appeared moments later, calm as ever, adjusting his cuffs as if summoned for tea.
"She's gone," Gideon blurted out. "I checked everywhere. She's not in her room, not in the greenhouse, not even the library! I can't find her!"
Lavish arched a brow. "Perhaps she's in the study wing or speaking with the maids?"
"I've looked, Lavish!" Gideon snapped, then quickly lowered his voice. "If Lord Marriott hears she's missing, I'm done. We're done."
Lavish sighed and straightened his coat. "Alright. Then we search again. But this time—quietly."
The two split up, moving through the palace in measured steps, checking all the quiet places Mariela might go—her usual spots, her hiding places. The kitchen staff had seen nothing. The maids offered only confused glances. Her bedroom remained untouched.
"Keep it quiet," Lavish reminded the few guards they passed. "No need to cause alarm."
But every hallway Gideon turned down, every room he pushed into and found empty, only added to the weight in his chest.
Where did she go? Why would she leave without telling me?
He returned to Lavish in the main corridor, pale and breathless.
"She's not here," he said. "She's not anywhere in this palace."
Lavish's expression finally shifted—just slightly.
"We may need to inform her father."
"No," Gideon snapped. "Not yet. Just give me a little more time."
Just then, a young maid approached them, wringing her hands nervously.
"Um… forgive me," she said, voice low. "I don't want to cause trouble, but I… I think I saw something."
Gideon spun toward her. "What did you see?"
"Well… I passed by the eastern gates this morning. I saw a girl—looked like Lady Mariela—but I'm not sure… She was stepping into a merchant's chariot. I didn't get a good look, and I didn't think much of it until now…"
Gideon's breath caught. "What merchant?"
"I don't know… they were unloading goods. She climbed in quietly. I thought… maybe it wasn't her."
Lavish frowned thoughtfully.
Then, another voice chimed in. A guard in Lavish ear, stepped forward, clearing his throat. "I also opened the outer gate this morning… for the prince."
Lavish's head turned sharply. "You did what?"
"Yes, sir. He said nothing—just left early. I assumed you knew."
Lavish blinked. "He told me nothing."
A strange silence settled between them.
"Should I tell her father now?" Gideon asked, hesitating.
Lavish looked toward the grand hallway leading to Peter Marriott's chambers.
"Not yet," he said coolly. "Let's find her first."
He turned to Gideon. "Come with me. Let's ask the guards who entered the palace this morning. We'll trace which merchant came."
Minutes later, they found the name of the merchant whose chariot had entered the palace at dawn. Lavish pressed the paper into Gideon's hand.
"You go," he said. "Take a palace guard. Find her."
Gideon nodded with determination. "I'll bring her back."
Meanwhile, in the capital…
Mariela's boots crunched against the cobblestones as she wandered deeper into the heart of the capital. The cheerful noise of the marketplace had faded, replaced by a hollow silence.
She turned a corner—and stopped.
The street was still. Shadows stretched long along the walls. Children, thin and barefoot, lay huddled in doorways. A woman with tangled hair clutched a bundle of rags to her chest. The scent of rot and dust filled the air.
Mariela's heart ached. "How… how is this even part of the same kingdom?"
She took cautious steps forward, eyes wide.
The people stared back—silent, hollow, guarded.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind. A thin man in torn clothes, eyes wild with desperation, pressed a knife against her side.
"Give me what you've got! Shoes, necklace, everything!" he hissed.
Mariela froze, trembling. "O-okay, just… don't hurt me…"
A flicker of movement.
A shadow leapt from the alley.
In a blink, the thief was thrown back. The blade clattered to the ground. The man fled into the fog, leaving Mariela shaking.
She turned to the cloaked figure who stood motionless under the dim sunlight.
"I-I don't know what to say…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "If… if you want something too, I'll give it to you… I-I have this necklace… and this hairpin—please just let me go—"
The figure lifted a hand and pulled back his hood.
The hair. Familiar red eyes.
"It's me," he said simply.
Mariela gasped. "You?!"
The prince—no longer a mystery—stood before her, watching her with the same quiet intensity he always did.
"I saw you leave," he said. "So I followed you. Just in case."
Mariela dropped to her knees, her breath catching in her throat as tears welled in her eyes—not from fear anymore, but from the sheer emotional weight that had just passed.
"It's you…" she breathed, shoulders trembling.
The prince knelt down beside her.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said softly. "I was just… trying to watch over you."
She looked up at him, frustration flickering in her eyes. "Couldn't you have just told me it was you? I was terrified…"
"I thought you'd enjoy the city. I didn't expect you to go this far. I'm sorry, Mariela."
She wiped her tears and stood slowly, still a little shaken. "Don't ever do that again."
He gave a faint smile. "Noted."
"Let's get out of here first," he said, offering his hand. "I'll take you somewhere safer."
They climbed a narrow staircase at the edge of the city, rising toward a tall, quiet watchtower overlooking the kingdom. The capital stretched beneath them—vibrant in the distance, but dull and shadowed on the side they had come from.
They sat together on the stone ledge.
"That part of the city…" Mariela murmured. "Why is it like that? It's so different from everything else."
The prince leaned his arms on his knees, gazing outward. "It wasn't always like that. Years ago, the outer capital was home to craftsmen, healers, and small trades. But then… a plague swept through. It destroyed families, closed businesses. People became fearful, superstitious. And the city's heart broke in two."
Mariela stayed quiet, listening.
"They don't trust the palace," he continued. "Some think we abandoned them. I've tried sending aid—food, medicine—but it never lasts. They sell it off. They want quick change, not slow healing."
"And the illness?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Still lingering in my pockets. We've tried to quarantine, find cures. But it's not just disease. It's hopelessness that keeps them stuck."
Mariela gazed down, her voice soft. "I see…"
Prince Richard offered a gentle smile. "Let's not talk about that now. After seeing the kingdom for yourself, what do you think?"
Her eyes lit up. "It's amazing. The people, the energy—you can feel it all around you. I love it."
"I'm glad," he said with a touch of pride. "Of course, not everything is perfect. There are other provinces with different struggles, but since this is the capital, we try our best to let it represent the kingdom's heart. I love this land and the people in it. Their smiles… that's what I'm here for."
"That's very noble of you, Your Majesty," Mariela replied. She rose to her feet, brushed the dust from her dress, and flashed him a bright smile. "Not all princes care about more than the title. I'm happy I got to meet you, Prince Richard."
He stood up as well, pausing for a moment as he caught sight of her radiant expression. He couldn't help smiling himself. "The pleasure is mine, Mariela. Though I suppose this means you're declining my offer?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly, turning toward the golden horizon where the sun was beginning to set. "I want to be a part of this change. But… I'm an orphan. I've been blessed with an incredible family, and I don't really lack anything. Still, because they've given me so much, there's one thing I can't do—even if I want to: go against their wishes. If Father says it's time to go home, then I must."
Richard said nothing. He watched her speak, her voice laced with quiet pride and a hint of sorrow. He understood.
"I believe it's time we return," he said softly.
She nodded. "Right. Gideon is probably already looking for me, and I haven't even told Father yet. It was nice while it lasted." She dipped into a graceful bow. "I believe this will be our final private farewell. It was an honor to make your acquaintance. Words alone cannot express how deeply it hurts to walk away from your noble vision for this kingdom. But with someone as talented as you, I'm sure nothing will stop you."
As soon as the last word left her lips, she turned and ran.
"See you at the palace!" she called over her shoulder.
Prince Richard laughed, charmed by her blend of elegance and spontaneity. "Wait, we can just go together!"
"No, that would be weird!" she called back. "Better to return separately. Bye!"
He watched her go, her figure silhouetted against the setting sun, and smiled to himself. She's so strange sometimes. One moment she's full of grace and eloquence, and the next she says 'bye'
like we're childhood friends. I don't know why… but I keep getting soft whenever she's around.