"Yes, Vere. I'll do it," said Hasib, determined as he immediately left the kitchen, heading downstairs.

Despite all the wild rumors circulating, Hasib found himself rather content in this new and peculiar environment. The princess may have had her unpredictable mood swings, and she certainly possessed an untamed spirit, but there was nothing as disturbing as the rumors suggested, such as her engaging in relations with corpses.

Stepping out into the yard, Hasib made a beeline for the stack of crates. Each one was meticulously labeled, but he struggled to read the markings, taking his time to decipher their contents. Counting the letters and making his best guess, he eventually selected one crate and carefully carried it back with him.

The crate was quite heavy, but somehow he managed to bear the weight, energized even further by the beauty of the day. The sun beamed down from above, while the refreshing sea breeze invigorated the air.

With the princess now back to eating, a sense of normalcy returned to the tower. Hadiza was busy cooking, but some of the spices in the kitchen had been completely used up, prompting Vere to send Hasib to fetch more.

After ascending the stairs, Hasib placed the crate on the table amidst the other items scattered there from the maids' ongoing work.

"Thank you," Vere expressed his gratitude before proceeding to open the crate with one of his knives.

Hasib paid little attention to the act, instead peering out of one of the small windows, admiring the vivid blue sky outside.

The tall man took notice of Hasib's distraction. "How about grabbing a broom and giving the tower's stairs a sweep?" he suggested.

A smile illuminated the boy's face as he swiftly descended the stairs. This was yet another opportunity for him to relish the freedom of an easy job. As his thoughts delved deeper into his current circumstances, the only nuisance that bothered him was the magical collar encircling his neck. It prevented him from leaving the premises, and only the princess held the power to remove it, though she herself was unable to venture past the gate.

She may be trapped in this place forever, but that was not truly his concern.

"Bruno, Javohir," called out Mamadou, standing within the ring formed by people.

They were all gathered in the training area, creating a makeshift arena with their bodies. Each person observed as, one by one, nearly everyone engaged in sparring with their assigned partners. There was no holding back, resulting in a few individuals already bleeding from broken lips or noses. Only those with upcoming matches were exempted from the intense training.

The two boys stepped into the ring. Their fists were already wrapped in bandages, indicating the toll their training had taken on them. Javohir sported a smile, in stark contrast to Bruno's focused expression. Bruno had endured accumulating damage over the days, so his objective was less about winning and more about evading hits.

"Fight," commanded their teacher.

The young alchemist cautiously advanced, his hands tightly clenched into fists and held close to his face, serving as a shield against incoming punches.

As the distance between them closed, Javohir assumed a looser stance and initiated with a jab. Bruno effortlessly evaded it by stepping back. He wanted to first familiarize himself with his opponent's rhythm before launching his own attack. Having spent sufficient time sparring with Javohir, he had gained a solid understanding of his favorite moves.

The beginning of their clash followed a familiar pattern. Jabs to measure the distance, leading up to a powerful punch. It was what they had been taught since their early days in this brutal environment.

Bruno continued to move, ensuring he avoided Javohir's strikes, while keenly observing his footwork. He couldn't overpower Javohir, having learned that through multiple defeats, but he could certainly outsmart him. Nevertheless, his movements were limited due to his weakened state, leaving him with two key strategies: counters and kicks.

Another punch nearly landed on Bruno's guard, just as he detected a subtle shift in his opponent's weight distribution. It could only mean one thing—a heavy punch was imminent.

Javohir shifted his mass entirely onto his left foot and propelled himself forward with the right, launching a powerful swing. The young alchemist swiftly stepped back, capitalizing on the opening to deliver a low kick to Javohir's knee. The strike landed with a sickening crack.

The boy screamed in pain, prompting Bruno to seize the opportunity. He leaped forward and landed a punch, albeit unintentionally striking Javohir's forehead.

Javohir collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way under him. Bruno dropped to his knees, gripping the hand he had nearly broken. He gritted his teeth, determined not to scream. The scabs beneath the cloth were torn open, causing blood to stain the slightly soiled white bandages.

"Show me," Mamadou instructed, moving closer and kneeling beside the boy. He lightly examined the hand, providing reassurance. "It's fine. No bones are broken, but you need a break from fighting. From now on, you'll focus on running." He patted Bruno on the shoulder before rising to his feet. "You good, Javohir?"

"I'm fine," Javohir replied as he picked himself up, though he avoided putting weight on his injured leg. Limping slightly, he approached Bruno and offered a helping hand.

The boy accepted the gesture, and together they rejoined the circle, creating space for others to spar.

"Good fight. I didn't expect you to kick like that. I thought you'd try to overpower me as you did in our previous matches," Javohir remarked.

"I've learned that I can't win against you with just strength alone. I'm too weak now," Bruno responded.

"You'll get better."

Javohir patted his friend on the shoulder, and both of them redirected their attention to the ongoing fight before them.

"Hasib?" The princess's voice echoed from the staircase as she eagerly peered into the kitchen.

Vere and Hadiza, who were both present, immediately turned their attention toward her. Hadiza, the head maid, was engrossed in the preparation of a soup, deftly chopping vegetables. Meanwhile, Vere, the giant man, sat on his stool, indulging in an apple he held with the aid of a knife.

"I sent him to clean the basement," Vere replied to the princess's query.

"Tell him to come to my room," she demanded, fully entering the kitchen. "I need some help."

"I can help you, princess," Vere offered, promptly standing up and placing his belongings on the table.

"No. I don't want you!" She stamped her foot on the floor. "You won't understand. You're too old."

"I was once young too, Princess. I will understand," Vere calmly responded.

"No, you won't. That was a long time ago when elves still ruled the lands."

Hadiza snorted but quickly caught herself when Vere glanced in her direction.

"Nobody is that old, princess," Vere reasoned.

"No. You are. Tell Hasib to come to my room," she countered before swiftly retreating back upstairs.

Vere sighed heavily, a sense of weariness hanging in the air.

"Maybe this time will be different?" the head maid proposed, her mood swiftly shifting.

The giant man remained silent as he moved forward, descending the stairs all the way to the ground floor. There, an open trapdoor revealed the entrance to the basement. Peering down, he could make out the ladder and a few barrels filled with aged wine, but there was no sign of the boy.

"Hasib?" Vere called out.

"Yes?" the slave swiftly replied, rushing to reveal himself, still clutching the broom in his hands. His face bore traces of dirt, likely a mix of dust and perspiration.

"The princess wants to see you. You should go upstairs immediately," Vere instructed.

The boy nodded, propped his broom against one of the barrels, and hesitated for a moment, glancing at the flickering torch that illuminated the dim space.

"I'll take care of the torch. Go upstairs," Vere reassured him.

With that, the boy swiftly ascended the ladder and joined Vere on the ground floor. After exchanging a brief glance with the giant man, he proceeded to climb the stairs.

Meanwhile, Vere began his descent into the basement. The space was cluttered with crates and numerous barrels, while a small pile of dust gathered in the center. The torch was securely fixed onto a holder attached to the central column, casting its wavering glow across the entire area.

Hasib had spent several days diligently cleaning up the space, leaving it remarkably tidy. Unfortunately, Vere's plan to keep him away from the princess had failed.

The tall man let out a resigned sigh, his hand reaching out to grasp the torch firmly.