Auther was a bit proud of himself, he was eating some derivative of wheat and milk, and most of all sugar, sugar was something that did not exist in the palace before he came there, one of the perks of being from a technological society.
Weirdly, I can't definitely say which world is better, Earth or this one.
This one is better.
Auther jumped from his seat, glancing around the empty room, looking for a voice that bore no resemblance to familiarity. Suddenly, he felt his breath hasten as he assumed a stance so crooked that he looked worse than a novice.
If you are here to assassinate me, know that you won't leave in peace... He instinctively paused as he eased up and silently went back to the table, holding his head steady.
It's probably just a hallucination, even if it wasn't, who would actually try to avenge me? Maybe Earth is better, people care there. He said as he ate the oddly shaped, sweet sludge of wheat and milk.
Run, please, run!
This time, he was sure he wasn't hearing his figments of imagination. Those voices were real, but why was he hearing them? There was nobody else in the room. It was the first time he had heard them, so he was fairly sure he was not hallucinating.
What the hell is happening? Besides that, what should I run from? That question was repeated so many times that the wheat turned into a toy, much like how a child uses plasticine when bored.
As he pondered his own possible madness, his mind wandered back to the time he approached Neon Gold, the head of the alchemy wing of the castle, with the idea of creating sugar.
He wasn't as confused as Auther thought he would be. The complicated processes of the modern world and this one were nearly identical; the only major difference was magic. Magic severely affected large-scale production. He noticed that in industries where magic was not even remotely useful, they could produce goods that the average consumer could afford, such as candles.
Magic had a way of making people unable to think, like simply turning on a light switch. Now he wondered whether long-term exposure to magic made his mind unable to ward off these strange hallucinations of voices he could have sworn to have never heard.
Maybe magic caused the room to close him in ways he didn't think possible, as the massive dinner table shrunk from its ridiculous thirty seats to just five as he saw figures materializing on them, closely resembling something or someone he had seen, yet if asked to identify, would say he had never even dreamt them.
He unfortunately found himself having spent three hours silently gazing at his bowl, thinking about myriad thoughts, mostly trying to rationalize the madness he thought he was going through. He sometimes tried asking the people sitting with him, but each time they wanted to talk, it came out as only one word.
Run.
He was only pulled out of his reverie by a cold touch from the head maid, who looked at him with a complicated look. He was sweating while eating, and he had not even touched his food.
"Your highness, you are about to miss your training session."
Auther's skin crawled; something about her words or the way she said them made him uncomfortable. The same crushing feeling of the room flooded his dulled senses.
"Training?" He said, as if he wasn't himself, his lips dry from hours spent thinking in deep hysteria about those strange voices.
Is he running mad, or is the pressure of awakening too much? Hopefully, it isn't permanent. Too much is riding on him. She silently thought.
"Miss Marla, can I ask you a question?" Auther had weary, haggard eyes, utterly unrecognizable.
"Y-y-yes, anything, your highness."
Auther pointed to the empty walls, a subtle smile on his face as he pulled his subtle frisky hair behind his neck.
"Can you hear them?"
"What, hear what my prince?" Marla looked concerned, which made him pause, his manic look hidden by shame, as he looked away from her judgmental eye, pulling himself together as he slowly got up, leaving her looking at his retreating image.
Later, when she was sure he was gone, she silently breathed under her breath.
Something strange is going on with that boy, from creating weirdly addictive spices to mixing wood ash and animal fat, now this is the prince... She didn't want to complete the thought.
Auther himself was walking slowly, leaning into the walls, trying to find those voices he had convinced himself were not figments of his madness.
To the maids and other servants who met him afterward, he seemed possessed, so they ignored him. It was easier to do that.
By the time he reached the training yard, Viola was there looking at him with piercing glares that threatened to gouge out his innards. Upon seeing his disheveled appearance, a deep annoyance bloomed in her heart.
"What happened to you? Why do you look that way?" Viola said, stopping him in his unsteady steps as he cupped his hands to his ears, trying to catch the voices he had heard in the dining room.
To Auther, the voices intensified when he came to the training yard
Run, friend, please run, run, run, run, run...
"RUN FROM WHAT! ALL YOU DO IS TELL ME TO RUN! WHAT SHOULD I RUN AWAY FROM?" Auther angrily shouted in response to the intensity of the voices.
Viola stood there with a half-confused, half-caring, and fully embarrassed look.
Everyone in the palace might have seen him this way, a disgrace to the family name. Viola inwardly thought.
"Have you finally run wild from living like the pig you are?" Viola snickered, thrown back when Auther glanced at her with an evil eye that made his emerald eyes look ominous.
"IS THIS THE BITCH YOU WANT ME TO RUN AWAY FROM?" He shouted at the top of his lungs, looking at the sky with a manic clarity that honestly gave Viola chills.
The screams from Auther sounded just like the bear; however, unlike the two, the manic unnaturalness was still there, blazing deep in his blazing eyes.
Unconsciously, she found herself in a battle stance against a boy who had no weapon, no experience, and whom she could send to the afterlife with one blow.
"Auther, your highness, are you okay?" No answer, just him looking at the sun, his vision collapsing the same way.
"Auther, can you hear me?" This time, a response came, but not in the form of words; he just walked away from the arena, maybe towards the palace, but judging from his trajectory towards the weapons rack.
Does this boy really want to fight me? Viola said, subtly trembling, it was the first time in years that had happened; maybe she also heard the subtle, maddening whispers telling her to run far away from this problem waiting to happen.