43 Heart Of A Child.

Stiles sat lazily on Kynburgh's wall edge, overseeing the beach-like appearance of the land outside the northern wall. He would at times peek at the sea that spanned kilometers with no clear end in sight.

'Sigh… I was right after all. Though the Mist Sea is dangerous, it does not start from the coast, offering civilizations that share the sea boundary to easily voyage using well-crafted ships…' Stiles sighed, appreciating his intellect for noticing such small details—at least, others didn't notice it.

'Still, I hope the other battlefronts are doing well. After all, I can't make a mistake if I want to fulfill the first condition.'

While Stiles was busy thinking of fulfilling the conditions to become the true ruler of Kynburgh, Alexia stared at his back in a daze.

Stiles had given strange orders that smoke bombs should be made in such a way that they would not easily diffuse into the air. After that, he had ordered that they be buried over the northern outskirts of Kynburgh, while some should be placed in shooting weapons.

'What is he planning?' She thought in silence, not disturbing Stiles as he lazily surveyed the surroundings.

'My caretaker seems to be in deep thought. I guess it's related to my orders… I should explain it to her…' Stiles contemplated, before making a decision.

"Are you interested in my plans?" Stiles inquired, indirectly giving Alexia the go-ahead to ask any question that was on her mind.

Alexia was startled by Stiles' sudden inquiry before forming a smile on her alluring face. "Honestly, I'm interested, My Lord."

Alexia replied honestly, not failing to add the required honorifics.

Stiles was about to shun her method of addressing him, only stopping after recalling his title as a 'King'.

'Ha… it seems I'll have to make a decision—do I wish for even my caretaker, Alexia, to address me with such honorifics?

No! There is nothing wrong with her addressing me as 'Lord'. We can still have a friendly relationship despite these honorifics.'

Stiles did not dwell on the matter for long since he found the answer to his question—it didn't matter how she addressed him, all that mattered was the bond that he planned to cherish, subconsciously.

"The Mist Sea is known for its dense fog so I plan on creating a similar atmosphere in this region. That's why I ordered for the smoke bombs to be placed everywhere, including the sea coast.

The smoke bombs in the ranged weapons would be used to increase the smoke density in places where there are fewer. Especially the sky."

Stiles used his hand to elaborate his idea, simultaneously feeling smug—'I'm sure you are shocked by my genius…'

"Then… what next?"

From Alexia's bemused expression, it was ear she didn't understand the main idea of the plot.

'Why waste time doing all these, when we can just blow their ships up the moment it gets in sight…' Alexia lampooned, not daring to state her view so as not to damage her master's imagination and reputation.

'Twitch. So I was speaking to myself all along… How rude of you, Alexia. You could have at least pretended to be interested…'

Stiles felt his fragile heart break into pieces at his failed attempt to appear smart.

"Uh, I plan on battling against their forces, using the smoke to hinder their sight," Stiles honestly said. He was interested in the thrills of battle, after all.

Using the environment, or rather, the arena he created, he could easily pick his target, not caring about ranged weapons like guns and the rest.

"Won't your sense of sight be obstructed, My Lord?" Alexia was a bit worried by Stiles' plan.

Though she had seen him defeat those assassins easily, this situation was different. Involving weapons and individuals on a higher scale.

'I don't think the smoke can hinder my sense of sight, but won't it be interesting to fight with one of my important senses gone…?'

Stiles received her comment in a different light, anticipating the fight even more. But since he could not brazenly say that to Alexia, he decided to go for a roundabout.

"You are here, right?" Stiles gave his caretaker a foxy smile. "I'm sure you won't let anything go wrong."

'I truly appreciate your trust in me, but can you make it less obvious that you are scheming something in that small head of yours…?' Alexia revealed a cranky smile. 'At last, you are still a kid with poor acting skills.'

"I will, My Lord," Alexia bowed slightly to show her will. "I'll immediately get glasses that can see through the smoke."

Saying this, Alexia turned to leave, holding her knee-length, gothic, maid dress by its edge as she hopped gently across the wall.

Although her gown was slightly raised, she wore stockings that extended to her thigh, protecting against the male soldiers' prying eyes.

'I'm sure only a few ladies existing can compare to Alexia's beauty and charm. Hence, I wonder why she chose to become a caretaker. If her origins are as I suspect, it would be even weirder…'

Stiles silently organized his thoughts.

He could have directly asked his caretaker, but decided not to pry, giving her the choice to willingly tell her story—it was a privilege he was willing to provide for the first individual, excluding his parents, that won his affection.

'I'm becoming more sentimental by the day. Sometimes I wonder where I'm headed with this new perspective of mine.'

Stiles did not forget his wish to overturn his parents' idea of saving him, but he could still not help growing these emotions—his heart was still young and open for warmth despite all the hardships.

'At least, I had deleted the plan of dying for now. Instead, focusing on researching myself and the ornaments that adorn me…. I can at least gain a better view of why I'm this way…'

Stiles felt his heart heat up, recalling why he had to suffer and why his family had to suffer.

In a sense, it was all on him.

But was it truly his fault?—why did people have to hate and target his head the moment he was born?

"You can't go out! They will kill you!"

He recalled his mom's pained voice after one of his episodes. It was clear she wished to protect him, even at the expense of his hatred.

'Why am I thinking of all these…!' Stiles roared in his head, his eyes sunken deep.

From the aura that emanated off his body, it was clear the incoming alliance forces would see hell on Archon. Precisely, hell on Alcelia's northern outskirts.