Despite all of Azel’s encounters with the Royals of the Empire... this was his first time actually meeting Varen Starbloom in person.
The Second Prince.
Up close, Varen looked almost like a mirror copy of Aegon, the First Prince.
The same blond hair, the same sharp noble features, the same unmistakable air of authority that seemed to follow all of Starbloom’s direct heirs.
The only difference were his eyes... a cold blue instead of Aegon’s crimson and his demeanor was far sterner than the self proclaimed prodigy.
"Ah... my prince. Welcome," Lorraine said quickly, bowing slightly alongside Nari.
Varen didn’t acknowledge either of them.
His gaze stayed locked on Azel, as if he were the only person in the room.
Azel stood from the table calmly, returning the stare.
"Sure," he said evenly, turning to the girls. "I’ll be back in a minute."
...
They moved through the silent hallways of the Academy.
The sunlight from the enchanted windows painted long reflections across the marble floor as they walked side by side.
Neither spoke.
Finally, they stopped outside an empty classroom.
Varen opened the door, stepped in, and gestured silently for Azel to follow.
The moment the door closed behind them, the prince exhaled and adjusted his tie.
"So," Azel said, leaning against a nearby desk. "What did you want to talk about?"
Varen’s tone was very formal. "I’d like to trade information... for a favor."
"Information?" Azel asked. "What sort of information could you possibly have that I’d—"
"The true identity of the new threat," Varen interrupted. "The one you and the professors have been trying to suppress."
His gaze sharpened. "Skinbutcher."
Azel’s brow twitched slightly.
’He knows about Skinbutcher?’ he thought. ’And he knows that much?’
Varen continued before he could respond. "I’m aware the Academy’s staff believes they’ve contained the situation... but from what I’ve gathered, containment is impossible. You may have survived your encounter, but that thing is still out there. And I intend to help you deal with it."
"So you know about Skinbutcher," Azel said slowly, he didn’t even want to deny it... It would be meaningless at this point.
Rather he was more surprised, if the prince had known in the original, why hadn’t he said anything to Reinhardt?
"But how can I trust you? You could just be fishing for information."
The prince smiled confidently. "Oh, but I do have proof."
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small pouch.
The metallic clink of glass sounded through the room as he withdrew what looked like a thin, translucent piece of flesh sealed inside a crystal vial.
He put on a pair of black gloves before unsealing it. "Take a whiff."
Azel frowned. "You want me to smell it?"
"Yes," Varen said simply.
Against his better judgment, Azel leaned slightly closer.
The moment the scent reached him, his eyes widened.
’That smell... it’s the same.’ His heart thudded once. ’It’s really it.’
There was no mistaking that rotten smell... and he could slso feel the same sickening aura that he had smelled from the skinner.
He straightened immediately. "Where did you get this?"
Varen smiled thinly. "Ah, ah, ah... my offer first."
Azel folded his arms. "Fine. Let’s hear it then."
The prince took a step closer. "I want you to support me in the Royal Selection."
Azel blinked once, then twice. "...That’s it?"
"That’s it," Varen said firmly. "A public endorsement from the Sword Saint’s son carries weight. And in return, I’ll share everything I know about where I got the skin and how I got it."
The Royal Selection.
Azel remembered it clearly from the game.
It was a political contest among the princes of Starbloom to determine who would become the next Crown Prince.
The princesses never participated.... they were meant for diplomatic marriages so only the sons could compete.
He also remembered that the Empire never made it to the end of the contest.
The world had fallen long before a new heir could even be crowned.
"Alright," Azel said casually. "You’ve got my support."
Varen blinked. "Huh?"
He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.
He’d prepared for resistance, suspicion, negotiation... literally anything but immediate compliance.
After all Azel was an asset that anyone would kill to have his support.
’He agreed this easily?’ Varen thought, hiding his confusion behind a stoic mask.
"...Good," the prince said finally. "Then let’s begin."
"Begin?" Azel asked.
Varen turned toward the door. "You’ll have to forgo lunch. There’s something I need to show you."
...
They left the cafeteria building entirely, heading toward the newly established first year training wing where there were rows of student lockers.
Except this time, they weren’t in the men’s section.
The two stopped in front of a polished silver door labeled [Female Locker Room]
Azel stared at it blankly. "...You’re joking."
Varen didn’t answer.
He pressed his watch against the lock, and a blue enchantment flickered to life. The door opened and they entered before closing it behind them.
"What exactly were you looking for in here?" Azel asked suspiciously.
"I took the matter into my own hands," Varen said calmly. "I searched through the boys’ lockers before. Then I continued my investigation with the girls’ locker room.."
Azel crossed his arms. "You realize that’s basically breaking and entering, right?"
"This is an emergency," the prince said, his tone perfectly serious. "As an Empire royal, I possess an override code for every security lock in this academy. It’s only meant for extreme situations..."
He glanced at Azel briefly. "I’d say this qualifies."
"You’re unbelievable," Azel muttered. "I’m convinced this is ninety percent curiosity and ten percent heroism."
Varen ignored him.
He knelt by one of the bottom lockers, pressed his watch against the black identification panel, and murmured a few words.
The lock flashed gold then clicked open with a mechanical chime.
The door creaked slightly as it swung out.
A stench immediately flooded the room.
Azel gagged and pressed a hand to his nose.
"What the hell—?! That smell—"
Varen didn’t even flinch.
He crouched lower, his face illuminated by the violet glow inside the locker.
Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, but his expression remained grim.
"You see," Varen said sternly despite the tears. "I’ve held up my end of the deal."
He reached into the locker, his gloved hands pulling out something that looked like... a sheet.
But not cloth.
It was skin.
Dried, leathery, pale as paper... stretched unnaturally thin, and covered in scars.
"I present you," Varen said while standing slowly, "with Skinbutcher’s skin."