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Sanguine Prince | Chapter 24: Different but the Same (Second Draft)
🕑 Added 2026-01-05 13:55:31 +0000 UTCArcturus stepped out of the changing room with a mildly awkward gait, feeling more self-conscious than ever. When Maurice had come to him with the clothes—carefully wrapped in veiling silk—and told him to wear them without first showing Tylariel, Sumeko, or Jess, he’d become dubious to say the least.
When he’d actually seen what his eccentric relative had brought him, that wariness had erupted into full-blown dread at what the others might think.
Arcturus took a steadying breath and forced himself to look at his companions.
“So, what do you think?”
Sumeko and Jess stared at him in silence, standing mutely on either side of Tylariel, who—for the first time in Arcturus’ limited time with her—had nothing to say.
“I knew I was making something special when I tailored those clothes, my boy,” Maurice intoned from nearby. “Yet now I can say, for certain, that they may very well be my masterpiece.”
Arcturus turned to his grand-uncle as he slid into view next to Sumeko, the clothier’s piercing blue eyes observing Arcturus with an artisan’s approval.
“I want to say you look amazing, Arcturus, but I… the words just don’t seem like enough,” Jess said in a quiet voice. “I knew the right clothes could make a difference, but this is… I feel like I need to genuflect and ask forgiveness. For what crime, I couldn’t say. It sounds ludicrous, but… It’s true.”
“I want to both jump you and run away from you in equal measure,” Sumeko said more bluntly, her cheeks faintly reddened. “It’s a bewildering combination of emotions, and like Jess, I couldn’t tell you why I feel that way.”
That took him by surprise, and Arcturus gave her a baffled look before he turned first to Maurice—who winked—and then to Tylariel.
His Mentor, in comparison to the two mundane women, had a contemplative look on her aristocratic features; its intensity matched only by the near-palpable pressure of her gaze as she examined every inch of his new attire with her golden eyes.
“Have you looked at yourself yet?” the Archon finally asked.
“No,” Arcturus answered honestly.
“Maurice?” Tylariel called while turning to the tailor.
As if he’d been waiting for the request, the shopkeeper pulled a half-body mirror from seemingly out of nowhere and held it up for Arcturus to look at himself.
What he saw, when he did so, shocked him.
In place of his usual broody, somewhat uncertain self, there stood a Prince.
His unruly onyx and platinum hair had taken on a wild-but-elegant style on his head, falling in such a way as to allow the strands to catch the Aetherlights within the shop perfectly. His face appeared more elegantly cut, with sharper definition to his cheekbones and greater emphasis to his jawline. Where before his crimson eyes had been filled with uncertainty in his reflection, they now looked regal and imposing—bearing the authority of an ancient lineage within their depths.
The edges of his folded collar, the same ruby color as his eyes, were partially lost beneath the silky material of his black coat, undone to reveal an identical vest buttoned from belly to chest over a black tie with silver filigree, one that sat prominently against the eye-catching red of his shirt.
His coat’s two tails extended down to his calves in the back, and had a thickness and firmness to them that spoke of deceptively strong materials. It was layered and elegant at the same time, with carefully stitched patterns of silver inlay that would catch the light only if he moved at the right angles.
His belt, clasped with a silver buckle, held up a pair of matching breeches that fell easily over his newly-provided boots.
A pair of black leather gloves completed the outfit, finishing it off in a way that made the rest seem complete.
Okay, yeah, credit where it’s due: these clothes are something else.
“Whoa,” Arcturus said in a quiet voice, unsure of what else to offer beyond the single exclamation. Even his internal archenemy had nothing negative to say.
“I approve,” Tylariel said matter-of-factly. “That will be what he wears to the Masquerade. I take it the clothing is more than just well-crafted?”
“I should have known that you would not be so easily fooled, my dear,” Maurice said with a sly smile. “Yes, it is Enchanted. All our young Prince needs to do is take a shower before wearing them, and the clothes will do the rest.”
Intrigued by Maurice’s words, Arcturus cast [Inspect] on himself.
Name: Vestments of the Prodigal Heir
Slot(s): Chest, Arms, Hands, Legs, Feet
Type(s): Enchanted
Quality: Epic
Classification(s): Attire (Clothing)
Statistic(s): Charisma +8, Agility +3
Modification(s):
Maurice’s Legacy (Aetherweave Infusion): These vestments were hand-crafted with love and attention by the Mythic-ranked Tailor Maurice. When worn by the right person, they will bring out the most profound truth of their wearer’s disposition and inner beauty.
+8 to Charisma
Insulation (Enchantment): These vestments will protect the wearer from all but the most extreme cases of heat and cold, modulating their body temperature and ensuring they are neither too hot nor too cold, regardless of climate or exertion. They are a perfect choice for formal occasions.
Drachensilk Material (Crafting Reagent): These vestments were made from rare and powerful Drachensilk, harvested from the nightmare creatures of the Blighted Lands. Flexible and durable in equal measure, these vestments will allow a full and unimpeded range of movement, while also being capable of absorbing damage from most conventional melee and ranged weapons.
+3 to Agility
Description:
A set of unique, breathtaking clothing designed and crafted by Maurice for an unknown future patron. They are infused with his magic in every thread.
Soulbond(s): Arcturus Regis Valoura
Durability: 777/777
“I…” Arcturus struggled to articulate how he felt as he looked over the information and absorbed exactly how he appeared in the clothes, turning once again to look at his audience.
“You look like a Hero-Prince, my lord,” Jess said encouragingly. “You really do. Like one straight out of a fable.”
“You’re going to have to fight off the Highborn Ladies with your Aetherblade,” Sumeko said with a very nearly predatory smile. “Maybe some lowborn ones, as well, if they muster the courage.”
And the men. You’re pretty enough to catch their eyes, too, loverboy.
“Oh, I wager they will,” Tylariel said with a knowing smile.
Arcturus noted approval in his acerbic new mentor’s eyes as he turned to her, and that more than anything relaxed any lingering doubts he had. Tylariel was not one for false compliments, he’d learned quickly.
His eyes lowered to look at his gloved hands for a moment, and then he slid them into the pockets of his trousers. When he looked back at the mirror, the effect was immediate; as if he’d clicked the final piece into place. A casually powerful young monarch-in-waiting looked back at him, with a smile that promised safety for his allies—or grave consequences for his enemies.
It was bewildering that he could get all of that from a smile.
“Take a walk in them, my boy. See how they feel,” Maurice encouraged as he put down the mirror, motioning towards the front of the store with a jingle of his golden bracelets.
Arcturus nodded to the instruction and set off for the front of the store with experimental movements, marveling at how easy the clothes and boots were to walk in. There was absolutely no resistance to any of his motions, and even when he shrugged his shoulders or wiggled his leg oddly between steps, there was no difficulty. The material seemed to morph itself around his body in motion, expanding or contracting as required, before returning to its original shape and density.
It was incredible.
[Perception Check] unsuccessful!
So enraptured was Arcturus in his amazement that he didn’t notice the doors opening until a quartet of voices filled the store.
“...had to go and piss her off, didn’t you?” a tired male voice asked with a hint of irritation.
“Dude, it wasn’t my fault,” a second man protested in a strangely familiar manner. “I was just telling the truth. She was being way too sensitive.”
[Perception Check] unsuccessful!
[Intelligence Check] unsuccessful!
“You blasphemed her God!” a woman’s voice scolded. “How do you not see what’s wrong with that?”
“The ignorance of the Daeva rears its head again,” another female voice agreed.
“Don’t lump me in with him,” the first male voice said resolutely.
“Or me!” the original woman agreed.
Alarmed by the sudden appearance of other people, let alone other Secondborn, Arcturus came to a halt with his hands in his pockets and adopted a look of instinctive annoyance at being surprised so easily at the entrance. It was either that, or look like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar—which he was not willing to do. He had some pride.
His HUD hadn’t even alerted him of anyone approaching, though in fairness, he wasn’t sure that was even a real functionality.
The entering group similarly froze when they saw him, and upon seeing them properly, Arcturus felt the world fall out from under him in a mix of shock, hope, and relief—underscored by stunned disbelief.
Andy, Adam, and Danica were standing in front of him almost exactly as he remembered them, except for the fact that all of them were clothed in the Adventurer attire he’d come to associate with people like Jakob, Jess, Sumeko and others like them in the city: an eclectic mix of Victorian fashion, futuristic looking armor, and accessories that blended into a strangely satisfying hybrid of fantasy and science fiction.
Well, shit, boyo. Not even I expected this.
Joining the trio was a purple-haired woman with eyes like white ice, and it was she who reacted first: she squeaked, of all things, before abruptly dropping down to one knee in instinctive supplication, hands out before her in a finger-locked sign of deferential respect. “Forgive us, Archon! We did not mean to intrude upon your business!”
Arcturus broke out of his state of shock at her actions, and he turned to her with a look of bewilderment. “What? I’m not an Archon. Er, not yet?” he looked back at the still-frozen tableau of his friends and then back to whom he assumed was a native Terran. “Please stand. I’d rather not make a scene.”
“Arctur—” Danica started before being cut off.
“Your eyes are far too good for your own well-being, child,” Tylariel interjected coldly, drawing everyone’s attention as she stepped up beside Arcturus. Despite being very nearly a head shorter than him, his mentor was in full ‘Archon’ presentation, with her aura suddenly thick and tangible within the store. Judging from the sudden looks of trepidation on his friends’ faces, they’d been around more than long enough to not only be able to recognize her aura, but to understand that it was very bad she was projecting it.
“L-L-Lady Arch-ch-chon!” the purple-haired woman stammered as she dropped instantly back to her knee after being halfway to standing. “P-please f-forgive—!”
“Oh, I think we’re past all that,” Tylariel said with a clear threat in her tone.
Protective instinct erupted in Arcturus like a maelstrom, bringing with it the memories of his failure: his failure to stop the assassins who’d killed him; his failure to return to Earth to save his friends; his failure to convince Order to do it Himself—it compounded and built like a sudden and unexpected deluge of emotion until he could no longer contain the surge of obligation that raged within him.
They were here. In front of him. His friends. His family.
How could he call himself a Valoura if he couldn’t even protect those closest to him?
“Tylariel, stop,” Arcturus said with a voice that barely sounded like his own, rounding on his mentor with a feeling like molten heat roaring through his veins.
“Apprentice, you—”
“By the authority of my Blood, I command you to stand down, Tylariel Rubastra!”
The words left Arcturus’ mouth before he knew he was saying them, and the force of the command behind them stunned him after he finished.
[Charisma Check] successful!
“As you command, Your Highness.”
Tylariel’s eyes widened after the words left her lips as if she were compelled.
You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Arcturus?
A new blazing notification glared at him on his HUD after his words, but Arcturus dismissed it without reading as Tylariel’s aura retracted. The surprise on her features was mirrored on his friends’ faces, all of whom were now staring at him in even greater shock. Strangest of all was the sudden exhaustion that nipped at the edges of his awareness, and the keen absence of the power that had only a moment ago burned through his veins.
“I think, perhaps, that this situation calls for everyone to take a moment and gather themselves,” Maurice interjected, appearing between but slightly away from both the new arrivals and Arcturus’ Terran party. “I will close the store temporarily. I am acquainted with these four adventurers, and it appears that perhaps our young Prince is as well—at least, with his fellow Daeva.”
Arcturus stepped forward as Maurice spoke, barely hearing his grand-uncle while he stared once more at Adam, Andy, and Danica. His eyes searched them and spotted the subtle changes they’d undergone from their transition to Terra, including a clear difference in the cut of their features, and even the way they stood. His heightened Intelligence and Perception attributes gave him a perfect frame of reference for the changes and allowed him to pull up comparisons from memory alone.
“Are… are you guys okay?” he asked when nothing else came to mind.
His answer was Danica rushing forwards and slamming into him with a hug that very nearly crushed his bones, a mix between a laugh and a sob filling the air when she threw herself at him. Arcturus reacted by instinct and wrapped his arms around the shorter—but not as short, he realized—woman immediately. Something primal bubbled up inside of him, and he felt warmth on his cheeks before he realized he’d started crying.
Adam and Andy hesitated only a moment before they joined Danica, and the four of them embraced for the first time since their lives on Earth had ended.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the group embrace as they clung to each other. “I tried to come back, but He wouldn’t let me—”
“We know,” Adam said roughly as he stepped back and surreptitiously wiped his eyes. “He told us you’d done something reckless. Said you… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. We thought you were dead. As in dead with a capital ‘D’.”
“Where the fuck have you been anyway, idiot?” Andy asked from his other side, trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite his reddened eyes. “We’ve been wandering around Terra for, like, a year and a bit, and you’ve been what, partying it up with Nobles?”
“Wait. A year?” Arcturus clarified in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Danica sniffled as she stepped back, though she didn’t fully let go of his jacket, as if scared he’d go somewhere if she did. “Almost two, actually. All of us are above level twenty, too. We’ve been hitting dungeons like crazy with our party.”
“Dungeons? Party? What the hell?”
Arcturus rounded on Tylariel, who was watching him with a mix of anger, confusion, and mild trepidation of all things. “Mentor, why haven’t I been told about Dungeons or a Party system?”
“It wasn’t relevant to your immediate concerns,” she said without a hint of shame. “It still isn’t. What you need to focus on, Apprentice, is growing your strength in preparation for the Masquerade. We cannot afford for you to be as weak as you are when it comes time to confront…” she glanced at his friends analytically. “...our enemies.”
“You don’t need to—that is, these people are my friends from my source-shard, Mentor. They were all welcomed into my home by my Father.”
[Intelligence Check] successful!
“They’re my allies, Mentor. My family, in as much of a capacity as anyone unrelated could be. Can’t I claim them as part of my, I dunno, royal retinue or something?”
A notification popped up on his HUD as he finished speaking, and, based on the way Adam, Andy, and Danica all paused and stared into space, they’d received one as well. Curious, Arcturus read the new notification immediately.
Quest Name: The Uncrowned King
Difficulty: Epic
Status: Ongoing
Description: You have arrived on the Source bereft of your birthright or access to the resources that your bloodline should have granted you. Another stands to inherit all that should have been yours by right of birth and status, and you are very nearly powerless to stop him.
The only way to truly stand toe-to-toe with the schemers and nobles of the Empire is to have those in your corner whom you can trust absolutely. A leader is only as strong as the nation that supports them, after all.
Current Objective: Recruit 10 Oathsworn.
Progress: 0 / 10 Oathsworn Recruited.
“Apprentice?” Tylariel asked sharply. “What happened? All of you suddenly went silent, and two of your… friends… started muttering as if they were reading. Is this some Daeva magic?”
“Uh, sort of?” Arcturus answered warily. “I’m not really sure how to explain it, but I think I accidentally triggered something and Order is laughing His ass off in the Highest.”
Everyone had different reactions to what Arcturus belatedly realized was blasphemy.
Jess and Sumeko seemed to act as if he hadn’t said anything while discreetly edging away from him; Maurice’s smile turned wry; Tylariel narrowed her eyes in a way that promised punishment, and the Terran with his friends made a strange symbol with her hand and murmured a prayer to the ceiling—though Arcturus suspected it was more for the sky beyond it and the deity she assumed to be ‘up there’.
“The store is closed,” Maurice interjected with a soothing voice. “Perhaps we should all retire upstairs so that you may speak uninterrupted?”
“I think that would be wise,” Tylariel said after a moment more of consideration. “Thank you for being so understanding, Maurice.”
“Of course, Lady Archon. The boy is family, after all.”
Maurice ignored the looks of surprise from Adam, Andy, Danica, and their companion when he dropped that particular bombshell.
“You guys wanna…?” Arcturus gestured lamely towards Maurice, and his friends nodded almost in unison.
“Ah, shall I see myself out?”
Arcturus turned to the purple-haired woman who was watching them all with trepidation, and put on his most reassuring smile. “Any friend of theirs is a friend of mine, milady.”
Milady? Talk about layering it on thick.
Despite the snide commentary from his subconscious, his words seemed to be precisely what was needed, and the bronze-skinned Terran blushed visibly as she ducked her head in appreciation. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Oh, god,” Andy groaned from beside him.
“This is a thing now, isn’t it?” Adam asked in resignation.
“I told you both that I was right! Neither of you believed me, but I was right!”
Arcturus looked at them all with a smile until realization struck him. “Wait, what happened to Amélie and Alanna?”
His three friends and their companion all exchanged glances before Danica answered him. “We should really sit down and talk, Arc.”
“Yeah, lead the way, Maurice,” Adam agreed, looking to the clothier.
“But of course,” the clothier agreed.
A glance was given to Tylariel, and only when she assented with a shallow nod did the clothier set off along one of the pathways through the store. “If you’ll all follow me…”
As the group followed, Arcturus glanced at his HUD, where other blinking notifications appeared, and let them reveal themselves.
What he saw was not what he expected.
