Rise of the Fallen Kingdom’s Third Prince

*Warning: This is a strange and horror story experienced by Yuri Briol, hero who saved the world, husband of the Empress, savior of the Ameria continent and ruler of the United States of Ameria, during his second escape.

In the world, there are invisible beings. To resolve this strange story, even Yuri Briol had to resort to the power of one of those invisible beings.

It was summer.

Escaping from work overload, Yuri set out on his second escape. He disguised himself with a slime mask and took a regular ship that crossed the continent to the Empire, enjoying wandering through unknown regions he had never visited before.

In the midst of this, he arrived at a city lashed by a gloomy wind.

“Name?”

“Yuri.”

“Surname?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Purpose of visit?”

Yuri stared into the dark hollows of the black helmet of the guard and replied calmly.

“Travel.”

“Show me your identification.”

Yuri took from his backpack a fake plaque he had prepared in advance. The guard alternated between looking at the plaque and Yuri’s face, then stepped aside.

“Confirmed. Before entering the city, sign here.”

What he pointed to was an oath, commonly required of outsiders, committing to not cause trouble within the city. However, there was a clause Yuri had not seen elsewhere.

“As a visitor to the city of art, I will respect its artistic expressions and not disturb its artists.”

While Yuri examined it, the guard added.

“It has been added because some come to cause disturbances with the city’s artists.”

“Understood. That won’t be difficult.”

After signing and crossing the gate, he heard the guard’s voice from behind. That voice, strangely, sounded as if it came from a very distant place.

“Traveler, welcome to the city of art.”

Boom.

Yuri turned around. The huge wooden door, blackened by years as if it were iron, had closed with force. Although with his power he could have destroyed it with a simple gesture, at that moment it seemed so firmly embedded that there was no way to open it.

Perhaps it was just a sudden déjà vu.

He turned his gaze away from the door and lifted his head toward the city. And he was surprised.

Everything was gray.

The buildings, the streets, even the trees were faded, as if the color had been torn away. Everything was silent, so much so that Yuri felt he had fallen into a black-and-white engraving. A gust of wind shook the scene, but the only thing that moved were a few leaves that bent for an instant.

Yuri looked left and right. No matter how much he looked, the city remained still. He blinked, wondering if he was dreaming, when something red moved quickly at the edge of his vision.

It was a girl with a red hat.

Except for that hat, her whole body was also in black and white. She moved energetically in black shoes, but upon seeing Yuri, she stopped dead and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Who are you?”

The girl came closer right away. Her red hat bounced up and down with every step.

Yuri smiled at the freckled face of the girl, who looked up at him from chest height.

“I’m a traveler.”

“Travelers don’t come to this city.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since one appeared.”

The girl looked toward the gate and suddenly clapped, as if remembering something.

“Ah! There’s someone who needs a traveler.”

“Someone who needs a traveler?”

“Yes. That person always told me that if I ever found a traveler, I should bring him to him. Do you want to go, mister?”

“I see. But I’m not ‘mister.’”

“Then how should I call you?”

“Just call me traveler.”

“Yes, traveler.”

“It seems important, so let’s go.”

Yuri followed the girl through the twisted streets. For a city of that size, it must have been built according to a plan, but the streets seemed intentionally tangled. The few residents they met all wore black or gray. The girl’s red hat was the only spot of color in Yuri’s sight.

The girl led him to a large mansion in a corner of the city. There was a wide garden, but it was neglected — the plants were withered, most a dull gray. Some windows on the upper floor were broken and the glass hung precariously.

Yuri asked slowly.

“Who lives here?”

“A painter.”

“A painter?”

“Yes. He’s looking for someone to see his paintings.”

“Ah, I see.”

He could imagine it. In such a gray city with people lacking aesthetic sensibility, an eccentric painter would have no one to talk to about his art. He probably wanted to show his works to any outsider who happened to appear.

The guard had called this the city of art, but it must have been a thing of the past. Yuri felt that painter was even endearing.

“Let’s go see him.”

He entered the mansion with the girl. The high ceiling was covered in cobwebs and the floor in dust, though overlapping footprints created a path where people passed.

They climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor. As they approached the end of the hallway, a creaking sound began. The further they went, the louder it became, until the girl stopped in front of a half-open door and knocked.

“Mister, I’ve brought the traveler.”

The creaking ceased.

The girl spoke again.

“This traveler also knows that you are a painter.”

Then, the creaking sounded once more, long. Yuri approached the girl and greeted inside.

“Nice to meet you.”

Inside was a middle-aged man, disheveled, standing next to a rocking chair.

His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his expression was kind.

“I didn’t think she’d actually bring me a traveler.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no. It’s fine. Welcome.”

Yuri glanced around the room. The old rocking chair was placed in front of a large window. On the floor, the legs had carved two deep grooves from rocking in the same spot. In front of the rocking chair was an easel with a canvas. The strong light coming in through the window put the painting in backlight, but it was clear it had many colors mixed in.

A cloud passed and cast a shadow. For an instant, the colors regained their true tone.

Just before Yuri could make out the shape of the painting, the man covered it with a red cloth.

“Weren’t you going to show it to me?”

“Ah…”

The man smiled bitterly, stroked the easel, and approached limping. Only then did Yuri notice he dragged one leg.

“Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Hodle, a painter.”

As soon as Yuri heard the name “Hodle,” a strange premonition enveloped him.

His life had been full of adventures and wonders, and he knew that the world, from time to time, hid omens that heralded what was to come. Among those omens, names were often the most direct sign.

Hodle.

Didn’t it sound like the onomatopoeia “to tremble, to shiver”?

Yuri swallowed as he looked at the red cloth covering the canvas. It was midsummer, and he felt that this strange city, into which he had stumbled by chance, hid something destined to make him tremble in fear.

To dispel his unease, he adopted a deliberately cheerful tone.

“A pleasure, Mr. Hodle. I am Yuri. I am traveling.”

“You have the same name as the Emperor’s consort. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Yuri.”

“Mr. Hodle, why were you looking for a traveler? I thought you wanted me to see your painting, but you’ve covered it.”

“The truth is…”

Hodle observed him with his arms crossed.

“I have the impression you’re not an ordinary traveler. You seem more like an adventurer. I’m sure you’re strong, aren’t you?”

“You could say so.”

“Are you brave?”

“Well, I don’t know in what sense you mean…”

Yuri shrugged.

“If you were looking for someone without fear, I’m the right one.”

“Excellent. That’s very good…”

With a sigh, Hodle showed a bitter smile of uncertain origin.

“Very well, Mr. Yuri. Then, would you see my painting and give me your opinion? If you don’t wish to, you may leave.”

Yuri hesitated for a moment. A hunch told him that if he didn’t leave at that moment, he would become involved in an unpleasant matter. But another part of him mocked those fears — he could face anything. After all, he was Yuri Briol. And Yuri Briol never ran away.

After a brief hesitation, he straightened up and spoke firmly.

“I want to see Mr. Hodle’s painting. I have some knowledge of art. In fact, I know quite a lot about the subject. Please, let me see it.”

He approached the canvas, briefly exchanged glances with Hodle, nodded, and in one motion pulled away the red cloth.

At that precise moment, a gust of wind lifted the cloth, which unfurled as if alive and covered the window. The sunlight filtered through the cloth dyed the painting with a scarlet glow.

It was red.

Indescribably horrible monsters twisted together, like tangled cephalopods. The effect of the reddish light made them seem to move. The monstrous image, the grotesque imagination that had conceived it, and the precision of the brush that had captured it — all together took his breath away. Just by looking at them, he felt those horrid things crawling into his skull and boiling inside it.

Astonished, Yuri turned his head toward Hodle. He was watching him with an ambiguous expression.

“What do you think?”

“Did you paint this?”

“Yes.”

Hodle nodded.

“What is your opinion?”

“It’s… strange.”

Yuri looked at the canvas again. After the initial shock, he was able to examine it more calmly.

“It is truly masterful. There aren’t many painters capable of depicting in such detail something that doesn’t even exist. Your imagination is astounding.”

He fixed his eyes on the painted creatures.

“As you may know, the ways of evaluating art have diversified, especially these days. In the imperial capital, artists try everything. Opinions may vary, but the truth is your work has value. That monstrous imagination in itself is an art. An art no one else can imitate.”

“To be able to praise me even after seeing this… Mr. Yuri, you are quite unique.”

“Art must be unique.”

“Exactly. Exactly. Hahaha…”

Hodle laughed, and his face lit up far more than before.

“Thank you for your words. I’m glad to meet someone who understands art. I’d like to keep talking. How about I host you tonight? I’ll prepare dinner, you can stay here. It will be dark soon.”

Yuri looked out the window. Darkness already covered the gray city, which seemed even duller under the twilight.

“Alright,” he said, suppressing the feeling that he should refuse.

***

Hodle treated him to a well-served dinner and valuable wine. Despite his grotesque art, he turned out to be a courteous and cultured gentleman, knowledgeable in many topics that interested Yuri.

While talking, Yuri learned that Hodle had been a sailor. He inherited the mansion and a fortune from a distant relative, which allowed him to devote himself to painting.

“Some say I’m not a painter, but a lucky idler.”

“That’s the best kind of compliment.”

“Don’t you think?”

“I even ran away from my duties because I don’t like to work.”

“You have a good sense of humor, Mr. Yuri.”

Both laughed, and so did the girl, now without the red hat. Hodle explained that she was a distant niece who had been orphaned and whom he had taken in.

“You seem to have good taste in art, Mr. Yuri. Since when have you been interested?”

“I lived a long time in the imperial capital. We are in an era of cultural and artistic revolution. Living in the center, one ends up absorbing it all.”

“Impressive. The capital… incomparable to this small, gray city.”

“However, there are no paintings like yours there, Mr. Hodle. They are truly astonishing. The critics of the capital would appreciate them greatly. If your work becomes known, I’m sure you’ll end up exhibiting there. It’s only a matter of time.”

“You flatter me too much.”

“I mean it.”

Then Yuri noticed the wine bottle was empty.

“Oh, it’s gone. I think the conversation got too lively.”

“I’ll bring more.”

Hodle tried to get up on his lame leg, but Yuri stopped him.

“Let me do it.”

“Thank you. The cellar is in the next room. Choose whichever you like, there are some very valuable ones.”

“Thanks.”

Yuri stepped into the hallway. It was dark, except for the light escaping from the dining room, and he had to feel along the wall to find the doorknob. Then he heard something.

At first he took it for the noises of mice or birds, common in large, old houses. But just as he was about to open the door, the sound became clearer.

Hi, hi, hi…

A laugh.

Yuri looked toward the dining room. The half-open door let out the voices of Hodle and the girl, who were chatting calmly. Neither was laughing.

He put his ear to the door.

Hi, hi, hi…

It was right on the other side. A chill ran down his back, but he forced himself not to move.

Hi, hi, hi…

The sound was getting closer.

He looked again toward the dining room, and suddenly it seemed to be very far away, even though it was only the next room. Something was wrong.

The nape of his neck bristled, cold sweat ran down his forehead. He clenched his fists.

He was Yuri Briol. He wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated by such a strangeness. He gripped the doorknob tightly and pushed the door.

…Nothing.

Only the moon, hanging behind the window, looked at him with indifference.

He stepped in cautiously. The wine bottles were lined up on a shelf. Dust rose under his feet: no one had entered here in a long time.

“Hoo…”

He exhaled on purpose to break the silence and approached the shelf. They were valuable wines, some impossible to obtain now. When he picked up a bottle, the sound returned.

Hi, hi, hi…

Yuri looked toward the corner where the door joined the wall. There was something there. He couldn’t see it. Not even the moonlight reached that spot, where the darkness stirred.

He swallowed, and the sound of his gulp echoed in his ears like thunder.

Hi, hi, hi…

The laugh also echoed inside his ears. It was too close. It wasn’t traveling through the air, but like the echo of his own swallow.

Hi, hi, hi…

Then he understood. It wasn’t someone else’s laugh.

“Hi, hi, hi…”

It was him who was laughing.