Albion was with Vesiculo, as they both were in the granden alone, as they looked at each other.
Vesiculo was still in her cute and innocent mode, as she spoke. "Um, Albion, why did you bring me here".
Albion looked at her as he spoke. "You can drop the act now we are alone".
The Moment she heard that, gone was the Shy Girl, and back was the Assassin who tried to kill him. "So, what's the Actual reason".
Albion sighed. "Since you are my Fiancé, my mother thought it would be a good idea for us to spend more time together".
She clicked her tongue as she spoke. "Oh sure, hang out with Assassin Princess Fiancé of your Son".
Vesiculo crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly, eyes narrowing with amusement. "And what exactly are we supposed to do? Stare at flowers and pretend we like each other?"
Albion gave a small smirk. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of… talk without trying to stab each other. You know, progress."
She chuckled darkly. "That's a tall order for me."
They walked further into the garden, the late morning sunlight spilling across rows of blooming roses. Albion stopped near a small pond where koi fish lazily swam in circles. He tossed a few crumbs into the water, watching the ripples spread.
"You know," he said casually, "for someone who was trained as an assassin, you're not very good at hiding when you're annoyed."
Vesiculo twirled the small dagger she always carried, catching it between her fingers with a casual flick. "And for a six-year-old prince, you're not very good at shutting up."
Albion chuckled. "Fair point."
For a moment, they stood in silence, just the sound of the koi splashing. Then Albion spoke again.
"I'm not asking you to like me right away," he said. "But if we're going to be stuck together in the future, I'd rather know the real you… not just the mask."
Vesiculo's gaze softened slightly — barely noticeable, but there. She looked away toward the roses. "Maybe… we'll see."
Albion smirked. "That's better than a dagger to the ribs, so I'll take it."
Meanwhile, the Bushes were Eria and Wynn, as they looked at Albion and Vesiculo.
Wynn looked at her sister a she spoke. "And, again, she is not gonna attack him".
Eria looked back at hee sister as she spoke. "And what if you're wrong? She already tried to kill the three of us, her and her two sisters".
Wynn rolled her eyes at her twin sister's actions. "Well, that's because she was ordered to, plus she was one of the things the Traptix Nation gave as Payback for trying to kill the Prince, plus look in the shadow".
Eria did, as she saw a few members of Dragoon Guard where they were hiding, just in case, Vesiculo was a Princess of the Traptix Nation, but she was still a trained Assassin.
Albion sat down on the marble bench, leaning back with his arms folded. "You know, it's not every day someone's future wife has a dossier longer than my father's war campaigns."
Vesiculo smirked, twirling the knife she had pulled out of nowhere. "You read it? I bet they left out the good parts."
"They didn't." Albion gave her a side glance. "Especially the part where you almost slit someone throat while smiling like a proper lady at a banquet."
Vesiculo's eyes narrowed, but then she laughed, slipping the blade back into her boot. "Fine. You caught me. No more masks when it's just us."
From the bushes, Wynn whispered to Eria, "See? She hasn't even tried stabbing him yet. That's progress."
Eria crossed her arms tightly. "You call this progress? She's flirting with him using murder attempts as examples!"
Wynn grinned. "For an assassin, that is flirting."
Eria opened her mouth to argue, but paused when she noticed one of the Dragoon Guards tighten their grip on their weapon at Vesiculo's laugh. Albion noticed too and subtly raised his hand behind his back in a "stand down" gesture. The Guard relaxed, though not happily.
Back on the bench, Vesiculo tilted her head. "You're calmer than I expected. Most people panic around me."
"I'm not most people," Albion replied simply. "And… my mother insists I make an effort to get to know you. So tell me—without the assassin façade, without the politics—who are you really?"
For the first time, Vesiculo didn't smirk or sneer. Her expression softened, though only slightly. "I'm someone who's been used as a weapon my whole life. A blade dressed in silks. That's all."
Albion leaned forward, his voice firm. "Then maybe it's time someone saw you as more than that. If you're going to be my fiancée, I won't treat you like a tool."
Vesiculo blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. She quickly looked away. "…Careful, Albion. Keep talking like that and I might actually start liking you."
From the bushes, Wynn nudged Eria with a wide grin. "See?! I told you she wasn't gonna stab him—she's gonna marry him instead."
Eria buried her face in her hands. "I don't know which is worse…"
Vesiculo moved her head as she spoke in her own Nation Leagues. "Jy, weet jy is n baie nuuskierige kind (You, know you're a very curious kid)"
Albion just blinked as he spoke in his mind. "Was that African, mixed with Brazilian, and who knows what?".
Albion just looked at her as he spoke. "Did you just speak in a different language?".
Vesiculo looked at him. "As the Native Tongue of the Traptix Nation".
Albion just looked at her as he spoke. "Ok, why does it sound like two different languages mixed together?".
Vesiculo just tilted her head as she spoke. "2 different languageses".
Vesiculo's lips curled slightly, the faintest smirk. "Our ancestors wandered… they carried many tongues, many bloods. They mixed, they fought, they… survived. That is why our Nation's tongue sounds broken to your ears. But to us, it is whole."
Albion rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process it. Different world, different history… they don't know what African or Brazilian is. Best not to poke too hard.
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. "So… every Nation has its own language, then?"
Vesiculo's eyes flickered, sharp like a knife testing for weakness. "Most. Some borrow. Some steal. Some forget. The Traptix do not forget."
From the bushes, Eria narrowed her eyes, whispering, "See? That tone—dagger under the silk. She's testing him."
Wynn folded her arms. "Or teaching him. Big difference."
Vesiculo leaned closer to Albion, her voice lowering. "You ask many questions, Prince. Questions open doors. Doors open both ways. Are you ready if something steps through?"
Albion stiffened. For a moment, the shadow of the wolf at her side rippled unnaturally, as if her words carried weight beyond sound. He forced himself to keep eye contact.
"Depends," he said slowly. "If what comes through the door is a friend or a blade."
Vesiculo paused… then laughed softly. Not mocking, but dangerous. "Good answer. Perhaps you'll live long in this world after all."
Albion looked at Vesiculo as he spoke. "So um... Can you teach me?".
Vesiculo was a bit taken aback, as she spoke. "Teach you?".
Albion nodded as he spoke. "Teach me your Tongue, I would like to learn your Language to understand you better".
Vesiculo's face flushed as she shook her head. "Yeah, as if, then I won't be able to say things behind your Back, that you don't understand".
Albion pointed at her as he spoke. "Ok, then I will have House DragonMaid teach me"
"You think a Maid can teach you better than a native?".
"She can and she will"
"Fine, then I will teach you"
"Ha! Got you".
Vesiculo's eyes went wide as she realized Albion had played her.
"You… tricked me?" she said, puffing her cheeks out, crossing her arms like a sulking child.
Albion grinned smugly. "Not tricked—persuaded. There's a difference. Besides, if you really didn't want to, you wouldn't have taken the bait."
Vesiculo narrowed her eyes, muttering in her tongue, "Jy is 'n slim klein duiwel…"
Albion tilted his head. "That sounded like an insult."
"It was," Vesiculo admitted bluntly, before turning away with a playful huff. "Fine. I'll teach you. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
Albion smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, I wouldn't have it any other way."
Vesiculo's heart skipped for a moment at the confidence in his voice, though she quickly covered it with a teasing smirk. "Then prepare yourself. The Traptix tongue isn't for the faint of heart. One wrong inflection and you could be saying 'I like soup' instead of 'I respect your ancestors.'"
Albion chuckled. "Sounds like a challenge. Let's start with something simple. How do I say… 'hello'?"
Vesiculo leaned forward, her face inches from his, and whispered softly, "Halo jy."
Albion repeated, "Halo jy."
She blinked. "Huh. That was… actually correct."
Albion smirked. "Told you. Quick learner."
Vesiculo rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Don't get cocky, dragon boy. That was the easy part. Next lesson might leave your tongue tied in knots."
Albion leaned back casually. "Then I guess you'll just have to untie it for me."
Her face instantly turned crimson, and she smacked his shoulder. "Y-you're impossible!"
Albion just laughed, enjoying the reaction.
Meanwhile, Eria and Wynn were still in the Bushes.
Eris looked at her sister as she spoke. "Ok, so he is gonna try and learn Jungling from her?".
Wynn chuckled as she spoke. "What other place to learn than from an Assassin Princess, right? She already knows the language, she has lived there her whole life, so who better to teach him?".
Eria tilted her head, raising a brow. "Still… doesn't it feel a little too convenient? He asks, she blushes, and suddenly she's all in? I'm smelling… something."
Wynn smirked, hugging her knees tighter as she kept peeking through the bush. "That's called chemistry, dear sister. You wouldn't know much about that, considering your idea of romance is hugging your pillow at night."
Eria pouted, her face heating up. "H-Hey! That's not— I was practicing warmth spells, thank you very much!"
Wynn snorted, nearly covering her mouth to muffle the laugh. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Eria."
The two of them froze when Vesiculo suddenly glanced in their direction, her sharp assassin senses clearly tingling. Albion, of course, didn't notice, too busy grinning like he'd just won a battle of wits.
Vesiculo narrowed her eyes at the bushes. "…Did you hear something?"
Albion blinked. "Hear what?"
The sisters stiffened. Wynn whispered, "Abort mission?"
Eria whispered back, "Stay still. Maybe she'll think it's a squirrel…"
Unfortunately, Wynn's stomach growled.
Vesiculo's expression turned deadly serious. "…That was no squirrel."
Eria's face went pale. "Wynn. You traitor."
Wynn grinned nervously. "Heh… dinner time?"
Vesiculo pulled out a dagger, already moving toward the bushes.
Albion tilted his head. "Wait, why are you—"
That's when the bush exploded as Eria and Wynn bolted out, tripping over each other in panic, shrieking as if they'd been caught red-handed spying—which, of course, they had.
Albion just blinked, staring blankly into the sky as he muttered,
"…So um… that happened?"
---
A few days passed after that strange encounter. Albion and Vesiculo had grown closer—not that close, but enough that he could now hold a full, if awkward, conversation with her. His grasp on her language had improved to the point where he could form sentences and joke around a little, though he still tripped over grammar like a toddler in oversized boots.
Meanwhile, his routine didn't let up. Training with his father was still brutal. He continued to wrestle with his Light Breath, trying to refine it into something precise instead of a wild beam of energy that scorched everything in front of him. Mistakes were common. Burnt rocks, collapsed dummies, and even one unfortunate tower toppling incident were all evidence of his progress.
For cardio, his father forced him to run the spiral stairs of the twin towers of their fortress. Albion swore his legs were turning into weapons themselves after all that climbing.
When he wasn't gasping for air, he had lessons with House Dragonmaid, who drilled noble etiquette and cultural studies into his head. Afterward, Spellcode handled his magic training. Albion learned three new glyphs during this period:
Light Shield
Dark Shield
Water Shield
All defensive. Boring. Foundational. Necessary. Spellcode was adamant that Albion master basics before even looking at offense. Albion didn't complain too much—he knew the value of survival spells—but that didn't stop Eria from rolling her eyes.
Which is why, in secret, she pulled him aside and taught him her personal Water Spell: "Water Blast."
Albion chuckled when he managed to fire the spell for the first time, drenching half the training field. He didn't really need combat spells yet, but it felt good to know Eria cared enough to help.
And then one afternoon, it finally clicked.
As he watched the Albaz warriors practicing, listened to their chants, and paid attention to the flourishes in their etiquette, the realization slammed into him like a divine hammer:
"Wait a second…" Albion whispered, eyes wide.
"This entire nation is just… FRENCH."
He screamed it in his head, clutching his temples like he'd just uncovered a cosmic truth.
The proud banners, the dramatic speeches, the dueling customs, the constant wine and cheese metaphors slipped into conversation—it was all too much.
Albion collapsed back onto the grass, muttering to himself.
"First, dragons. Then princess assassins. Now… baguettes. What's next, do they duel with breadsticks!?"
Later that evening, Vesiculo found Albion staring off into space at the edge of the balcony, arms folded, eyes burning with intensity.
"Albion? What's wrong?" she asked cautiously.
He turned slowly, like a man carrying the weight of prophecy, and whispered:
"…Vesiculo. I have to know something."
"…What?"
"…Do you people… eat frogs' legs?"
Vesiculo heard that and couldn't hold back her laughter as she spoke. "Oh my Exodia Albion, no, what brought that on?"
Albion just looked at her as he spoke. "Noting".
She was still trying to hold back her laughter as she spoke. "You're asking the Wrong person, I am from Traptix, what we eat are the Naturias, some are Food, others are war weapons or Transport, and the smaller ones are pets".
Albion spoke in his mind. "I am not getting into that conversation".
Then Albion spoke again, in his mind. "Looking back, it kinda makes sense why my Nation has a French Vibe, even do there is no Sus thing as a French in this world, Dragons especially in Media have always been Novel Blooded creatures, with high supurites, next to Elves that is, so it makes sense a Nation of Dragons will be French based the Multiverse is weird".
Vesiculo looked at Albion as she spoke. "Are you ok?"
Albion was caught off guard, as he spoke the first thing that came to his mind. "Why are the Naturias, so um... Versatile".
Vesiculo blinked at him, tilting her head like he'd just asked her why the sky was blue.
Vesiculo: "Because… that's what they are. The Naturias adapt to whatever the land and the flow of mana demand. Some grow strong shells, others sprout wings, some taste good roasted over a fire, others… well, you'd better not bite into those unless you want to cough out mushrooms for a week."
She gave a sly grin, her fangs flashing.
Vesiculo: "Besides, that's why Traptix thrives. We don't waste resources—we use them. Food, pets, weapons, tools… life is meant to serve purpose."
Albion's brow twitched. He felt like he was one step away from a lecture on predatory pragmatism.
Albion (thinking): Great. So her people basically invented the idea of 'everything is edible until proven otherwise.'
Trying to change the subject, he cleared his throat.
Albion: "Riiight… so, about that… adaptability. Doesn't it get confusing? I mean, one moment you're raising a Naturia like a pet, next moment you're eating its cousin at dinner."
Vesiculo's laughter rang out again, sharp and melodic.
Vesiculo: "Oh Albion, you really are too noble-blooded for your own good. Confusing? No. It's just the cycle. You raise, you nurture, you cull, you feast, you repurpose. The only confusing thing is why dragons would worry about such… sentimental attachments."
Albion froze. He wanted to argue, but part of him remembered that in some stories, dragons weren't exactly known for not eating other intelligent things.
Albion (thinking, grimacing): …And yet somehow, I still think she'd laugh herself into the grave if I told her dragons in my old world hoarded gold instead of farming mushroom-chickens.
Vesiculo noticed his silence, leaned closer, and whispered with a teasing lilt.
Vesiculo: "What's wrong, mon dragon doré? Don't tell me the thought of a cute fluffy Naturia turning into stew makes you squeamish~?"
Albion's wings twitched in irritation.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy