As a Fae, Mephisto's consciousness drifted freely beyond the celestial vault.
So long as a set of coordinates had been inscribed, he could observe the mortal world from anywhere at any time, and Faust knew that the vast majority of Mephisto's attention was directed toward him.
But occasionally, that attention wandered elsewhere, off to attend to other matters.
Faust was well aware of this, and he never bothered asking what Mephisto had been up to. Whatever it was, it was generally for the good, and that was enough.
Whether it was tricking Mistoria into becoming his teacher, or brokering the alliance with the Second Empire, both had been Mephisto's doing. These were good things. Whether one called it pimping or patronage, more was always better.
Nothing wrong with it, really. At least things stay lively.
But in all the time Faust had spent with Mephisto, he had never once heard the Fae erupt in profanity. What in this world could stir such agitation in a primordial Fae of absolute seniority?
"Nothing much. Only ran into an ingrate. Ah, the faithlessness of the human heart, these days worse than ever."
Mephisto heaved a long sigh and addressed Faust with a mournful air:
"I believe the most important virtue a person can possess is gratitude. Knowing how to honor the generosity of those who came before you. Don't you agree?"
"That's certainly true."
This time Faust did not deploy his contrarian instincts. He nodded in genuine agreement.
He had always been a person who kept clear accounts of debts and grievances. Had he not valued kindness, he would never have come to hold such deep respect for the old king who took him in, nor developed the feeling of belonging he carried for the Kingdom of Aurum.
Truth be told, Faust was not truly of Aurum by origin. When he first crossed over, he had arrived outside the kingdom's borders, with no particular reason to feel any attachment to it.
But his adoptive father had loved this land with everything he had, and Faust harbored his own need to make something of himself. The two impulses met and merged into a shared dream: to bring the Kingdom of Aurum onto the world stage, and reign supreme.
"Yes, yes, yes... you really are the most delightful one, Faust."
Mephisto offered praise without pause, thoroughly satisfied with Faust's response.
The prince kept his expression blank.
"Call me delightful one more time and I'll actually get angry. Unless you happen to be a tall, full-figured, black-haired, red-eyed, mature and coldly alluring big sister type in a form-fitting black dress with thigh-highs, dripping in contradictions and barely contained maternal energy.
Only then would I grudgingly accept you calling me that."
"Is that... a wish you're making? A pity, I'm afraid. The spiritual projection of one such as myself was fixed long ago. Not even a fallen dragon could alter it. I am nothing so vulgarly seductive as that."
"Damn, then don't even bring it up! That particular flavor of vulgar is exactly my taste."
"Ah, Faust. Be clear-eyed about one thing: no human being can simultaneously be your therapist, your mother, your lover, your favorite plaything, your closest friend, and your worst enemy."
"But a Fae can."
"Ha. You won't even show me what you look like. Don't make me laugh."
The prince of Aurum laughed despite himself and shook his head. Conversations with Mephisto were sometimes genuinely illuminating, but far more often they were exactly this: entirely substanceless, mutually needling, free-flowing nonsense.
He redirected his attention to the matter at hand, selecting a mount for his journey into the wider world, and promptly found himself paralyzed by indecision.
Faust had owned mounts before, of course. The royal stables housed hundreds of thoroughbreds, each one tall and powerfully built.
The Kingdom of Aurum was simply too small for them to serve much purpose. A carriage sufficed for everyday travel, and the horses only came out during hunts.
But Faust found them lacking. However fine the breeding of a royal horse, it remained an ordinary creature of the mortal world.
Truly exceptional mounts were things like spirit warhorses carrying unicorn bloodlines, or great beasts descended from griffins, fully broken and loyal to the rider. And in this world of fairy tales, if you were bold enough and fortunate enough, stranger and rarer mounts than those were not out of reach.
Faust had genuinely wanted a griffin. He had even picked out a name for it: "Deathclaw."
But the conditions weren't right, so he settled instead for the purest-coated horse among the stable's many whites, took it out riding and hunting through the wilderness for a few days, and let the two of them grow familiar with each other.
The reply Faust had been waiting for arrived at the Kingdom of Aurum not long after.
The silver-haired princess delivered it to him personally. Faust tore it open without ceremony.
After a quick scan of the contents, the expression on that godlike face of his shifted into one of wounded outrage.
"I wrote to the Kingdom of Wintertide requesting the hand of one of their princesses. Their reply has arrived."
Faust raised his head and looked around at Viviana, Mistoria, and Eleanor, who had gathered nearby, and announced in a carrying voice:
"They refused outright!"
Eleanor's elegant brows drew together slightly. "Wouldn't an approval be the strange part? You've never even met. You'd barely heard her name existed before you sent a proposal."
Faust ignored his royal sister entirely and went on beating his chest in theatrical anguish.
"Wintertide must be threatened by Aurum's growing strength and refused my request out of spite! No, this won't do. I have to go in person. To show them my sincerity."
The silver-haired princess crossed her arms and said, cool as ever, "If you want to go and improve your romantic prospects, just say so. No need for the performance."
Others might have thought Faust was simply indulging his theatrical streak, but the prince of Aurum had his reasons. This process was necessary. It had to be followed.
In principle, the Wheel of Fate would not permit a figure of the Prince's narrative importance to step off the stage.
Looking back, he had never once left Aurum in all these years. It was not impossible that something unseen had been keeping him in place.
Any other pretext would meet with friction and resistance. But "setting off in pursuit of love's destined encounter" was a different matter entirely.
A prince seeking the beautiful princess who had captured his heart: what could be more natural than that? Not even the sky falling could justify standing in his way.
The only will capable of obstructing this would be that of Viviana herself, as the Witch who bore the role of Cinderella, but she had long since given her tacit blessing to everything Faust got up to, and raised no objection here either.
Indeed, the moment the prince received his reply, Viviana had already begun helping him change into traveling clothes.
Unlike the light, unburdened attire most wandering adventurers favored, the prince of Aurum took rare care with his appearance this time, asking Cinderella to design him a proper set of traveling garments.
Tailored from a modified hunting coat, the fitted jacket was charcoal grey with clean lines, its deep gold trim deceptively simple yet every bit as striking as a formal evening coat. A single-shouldered cape embroidered with the crest of Aurum fell from one shoulder.
Over the riding trousers, a brown leather belt held his sword, dagger, and crossbow in place. Faust astride his snow-white stallion gave the notion of a "prince on a white horse" a form more definitive than any description could.
Faust spread his arms wide. "Well? How do I look?"
"Not bad. Focus on accumulating experience out there, and make your breakthrough soon."
Mistoria's reaction was the most measured. The Elven Martial Saint held her scabbard loosely and gave Faust a brief nod.
"With the understanding of the Martial Saint's path that you've built up by now, going out into the world shouldn't be a problem."
"Clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse... this actually looks the part."
Even Eleanor, who habitually greeted Faust with cold words and cooler glances, couldn't help but take a second look, and gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
The prince finally turned to Viviana, waiting with some expectation to see what kind of reaction his childhood companion would offer.
Viviana said, "I regret this already."