Back when I was a teenager, I was reckless, rude, and rebellious. Henry—our current king—was my best friend, and he was worse. He got me into a lot of life-and-death situations—but to be fair, so did I. We did everything together. Fought together. Drank together. Fell in love at the same time with different girls.
I fell for a farmer's daughter—a quiet girl with soft eyes and a smile that could calm storms. Henry fell for a prime minister's daughter—a girl as sharp as her father's political instincts. Henry was always ambitious, always driven. Most of the time when we fought, he'd come out the winner. But I held my own more than a few times. We were a strong duo, even back then. But despite all our strengths and expertise, we couldn't protect Fort Gehena.
We were only twenty when it fell. The four-province army surrounded it under the guise of bandits. A calculated move to avoid alerting the other kingdoms and empires. It was a siege in every sense of the word—supply lines cut, escape routes blocked, and relentless pressure from an army determined to bleed us dry.
We held for as long as we could. But there's only so much you can do when you're outnumbered ten to one.
Henry and I were part of the last defense. We led the final charge, cutting through the enemy's weakest siege point under the cover of night. They didn't expect a counterattack, not when we were on the verge of collapse. We tore through the lines, swords flashing beneath the moonlight, arrows hissing past our heads as we sprinted toward freedom.
We reached the river on the eastern side of the fort. The enemy's archers adjusted their aim, and I swear half the sky blackened with arrows. Henry shoved me forward when a bolt nearly pierced my shoulder. We didn't stop running until we reached the outskirts of Helgrad.
Helgrad should have been a refuge. It wasn't.
The king—Henry's uncle—sat on his golden throne, unconcerned. His only interest was in his next feast, his next hunt, his next gold shipment from the mines. He didn't care that Fort Gehena had fallen. He didn't care that thousands of Drakseid's men were now rotting in Verdune's dungeons.
Henry's jaw tightened when he heard his uncle's response. I remember the look in his eyes that night—calm, focused. Too calm. He stood up, looked at me, and said:
"It's time."
And that's how we became traitors for the sake of our kingdom.
Henry decided to usurp the throne and slaughter the entire royal family. We had the support of the people. The commoners hated the king. Some nobles resented his wastefulness. Even the merchants were tired of being taxed into the dirt. All we needed was a single push.
The plan was simple. Fort Gehena had already fallen. Most of the kingdom's military was being held captive in Verdune. The capital's defenses were weak. Taking the throne would be easy. Holding it—that was the hard part.
Henry didn't hesitate. He killed his uncle himself. His aunt. His cousins. The defecting nobles. All of them—by his own hand. He wouldn't let anyone else carry that burden. I still remember the look in his eyes afterward—not cold, not haunted. Just... resigned.But that night, I heard the sound of a glass breaking in his chambers. Henry never mentioned it. Ester feigned oblivion. I didn't mention it either.
He ascended the throne that same night. By dawn, the Drakseid banner flew above Helgrad's towers.
That was only the beginning.
Henry started working on the kingdom immediately. Queen Ester handled the economic matters—no one could touch her when it came to managing the treasury. Henry handled everything else. And me? I just helped out where I could.
They were amazing together. They managed to get the kingdom running again before the next Round Table of Vermanyan—a feat most rulers wouldn't accomplish in a lifetime. Six years. That's all it took.
The first thing Henry did was tear down every golden statue in the capital. Melted them down and used the gold to fill the treasury and rebuild the army. He slashed the import taxes and tariffs on essential goods—food, iron, medicine. The merchants prospered, the people stopped starving, and the kingdom's infrastructure started to recover.
But not everyone was happy. The nobles had grown fat under Henry's uncle's rule. The border provinces saw the reforms as a threat to their influence. We faced multiple incursions from rival states—raids, skirmishes, assassination attempts.
Henry crushed them all.
I fought beside him in most of those battles. But the truth is—we couldn't have held the borders without the dwarves. Our good old friend Thorin Helmstrom, now the Dwarven King, helped secure the western passes. The dwarven warriors reinforced our western borders, holding back wave after wave of raiders and mercenaries.
Henry had once marched into a wyvern's nest to save Thorin's life years ago when we were in the Institute of Royal and Magic. Nearly got himself killed in the process. Thorin never forgot that debt. Neither did Henry. That's why when Henry sent word of trouble at the western pass years later, Thorin didn't hesitate. He packed his giant axe and rode through the night with his Greater Boar and dwarven cavalry.
Henry has a big and kind heart—he always protects the ones he loves. And if you hurt someone he cares about… you better start writing your will.
We turned Helgrad into a fortress. We rebuilt the army from the ground up. Henry drilled the soldiers mercilessly—new formations, new tactics, new weapons. He honed their fighting spirit and style. He forged alliances with the dwarves, and made the first major reform to Drakseid's military since the founding of the kingdom.
And when the dust settled, Henry and Ester stood at the top. The perfect king and queen. Ruthless when they needed to be, compassionate when it mattered. The people called them the Phoenix King and the Miracle Queen. A fitting title. I was titled the Royals Eminence.
And me? I was content in the shadows. I didn't need the crown or the glory. Henry and Ester deserved that. My job was to watch their backs and keep the kingdom stable.
And then Rhydher was born.
Henry asked me to be his godfather. I laughed when he told me. I told him he was crazy. He smiled and said:
"Would you rather have someone else raise him if something happens to us?"
I couldn't say no after that. I will admit that I was a bit too happy.
Rhydher was always sharp. Too sharp. He started reading military treatises when he was five. Fought his first duel when he was seven. And now… at ten years old, he commanded a campaign and had just conquered Verdune and retaken Fort Gehena.
Ten years old.
I was proud of him. But also terrified. Henry had the luxury of growing up slowly. Rhydher didn't. He was already walking the path Henry walked at twenty. If he keeps walking it…
He'll either become the greatest ruler in Drakseid's history…
Or he'll burn down everything Henry built.
I trust him. But trust isn't enough. That's why I'm here—to make sure he doesn't lose his way. To make sure he becomes the king this kingdom needs.
That's my duty as his godfather.
And if anyone tries to hurt him—God have mercy on them. Because I won't. I've killed for less.
Here I am today, walking through the conquered gates of Verdune after a week. The people… they look happy. Surprisingly so. From the distance near a fountain, I saw one of our soldiers surrounded by children, acting out the tale of Rhydher's victory with exaggerated gestures and a loud voice. The kids laughed, wide-eyed with awe.
It's all everyone talks about—Rhydher's victory. In the taverns. In the market. I suspect the news has already reached the Round Table Conference by now.
As I walked further down the cobbled street, I spotted a bizarre sight—two wooden crosses, darken with dried blood, planted at the edge of the square. The splinters were still stained red. A shiver ran down my spine.
So this is the crucifixion Rhydher ordered. Ruthless—but effective. The city was calm. No signs of unrest. Fear keeps people obedient.
The market was buzzing with life despite Verdune's loss of over fifteen thousand men. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking fresh produce and wares. Mothers with children gathered near the stalls, exchanging coins for bread and fruit. I passed by a butcher sharpening his knife—he glanced up, caught my gaze, and gave a respectful nod before returning to his work.
Drakseid soldiers patrolled every street and alley. Their polished armor gleamed under the midday sun. Helmets steady, swords at their sides. Rhydher had left nothing to chance. Even with the duke dead and the city conquered, he ensured Verdune remained under control.
I took a breath, savoring the sights and sounds of a city bent but not broken.
I quickened my pace toward the City Hall. The game isn't over yet.
The heavy doors of the City Hall swung open before me. I strolled inside calmly, a pair of beef skewers in one hand and another between my teeth. The savory scent of grilled meat mixed with the faint aroma of ink and parchment.
The hall was stacked with scrolls, papers, and documents piled high on every surface. At the far end of the room, a dark-haired woman sat behind a desk, her slender fingers moving swiftly across the pages as she sorted through the mess with practiced ease.
Next to her sat Rhydher. His small frame almost disappeared beneath the stack of scrolls surrounding him. He read through each document with sharp focus, occasionally pausing to write notes with quick, measured strokes. His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze flicked toward another scroll.
Young ones these days sure have a lot of energy and drive, I thought to myself.
I walked toward them, tearing off a piece of skewer with my teeth as I approached.
"Busy, huh?"
Rhydher glanced up, his eyes cool and calculating. The women gaze followed a moment later—sharp and composed as ever. I suspect her to be the old duke's daughter.
I tossed the skewers onto the desk. "Take a break. You'll both get wrinkles before you hit twenty at this rate."
Rhydher's gaze narrowed slightly, but he picked up a skewer without protest. Lynda hesitated before reaching for hers, her expression carefully blank.
"You brought food?" Rhydher asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Figured you wouldn't have the sense to eat otherwise." I smirked, taking another bite from my skewer. "Besides, you've earned it."
"Uncle Josh," Rhydher said coolly, his gaze steady. "Meet Lynda L. Verdune."
Lynda dipped into a shallow curtsey. "A pleasure, Prime Minister."
My gaze narrowed slightly. My eyes flicked toward Rhydher. "The old duke's daughter?"
"Correct."
"And she's… still alive?"
"She's useful," Rhydher replied smoothly.
Lynda's gaze sharpened slightly. "I'd like to think so."
I studied her carefully. Calm. Polished. Too composed for someone whose father had been crucified days ago.
"You've got sharp eyes, girl," I said.
Lynda's lips curled faintly. "I've had to."
Rhydher leaned back slightly. "She'll be assisting with the political restructuring of Verdune."
"Bold choice," I murmured. "And if she betrays you?"
Rhydher's gaze darkened. "She won't."
Lynda's expression didn't change.
My eyes flicked between them. Dangerous. Both of them. But dangerous tools, when properly handled, were often the most valuable.
"Well," I said, tearing off another piece of skewer. "I guess Verdune's in good hands."
Lynda smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."
Josh's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before shifting back to Rhydher.
"You're playing a dangerous game, kid."
Rhydher's smile was thin. "I'm counting on it."
Rhydher bit into the skewer, his expression neutral. "Needs more salt."
"Ungrateful brat," I muttered, tearing off another piece of mine. "I went all the way across the city to get those."
Lynda's gaze flicked toward Rhydher. Her skewer was still untouched in her hand. Her lips curved faintly. "He's right. It does need more salt."
I narrowed my eyes. "I see how it is. Two against one now?"
"You're outnumbered, Uncle." Rhydher's tone was dry, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Oh, is that how it is?" I crossed my arms, my skewer still between my teeth. "Should I remind you that I was wiping your nose when you were still figuring out how to walk?"
Rhydher's gaze darkened slightly. His smile faded, and for a moment, the steel in his eyes showed through. He leaned back slightly in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. "And yet, here you are. Serving skewers."
Cheeky brat.
"You know," I said, my gaze narrowing, "I could have left you to figure out this mess on your own."
"But you didn't," Rhydher replied smoothly.
The kid was too sharp for his own good.
Lynda's gaze flicked between us, and I could see the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes. "Should we expect the Prime Minister to abandon his duties so easily?"
I snorted. "Don't get cocky. I'm not the one running this circus—you two are."
Rhydher's eyes sharpened slightly at that. He set the skewer down and pushed back his chair. "Circus, huh?"
I waved a hand toward the pile of scrolls. "Call it what you want. The nobles will be restless. The merchants will want guarantees. Verdune's old guard are all dead. If you don't move fast, you'll have a full-blown retaliation on your hands by winter."
Rhydher's gaze darkened. He picked up a scroll from the table and unrolled it with a flick of his wrist. His eyes skimmed the contents in silence.
"They won't rebel," he said coldly.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because they're scared." Rhydher's gaze lifted, sharp as a blade. "They saw the crosses. They know will what happen to traitors."
I hesitated. My mouth tightened. "Fear's a powerful tool, but it doesn't last forever. Sooner or later, they'll start asking questions."
Rhydher's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then I'll give them answers."
Cold. Ruthless. Too much like Henry.
"I'll trust you to handle it," I said quietly.
Rhydher set the scroll down. His hand lingered over the edge of the paper.
"The Verdune nobles who were spared," Lynda said, her tone sharp. "They'll expect some form of political favor to remain compliant."
"They'll get nothing," Rhydher replied. "Loyalty isn't something you buy with titles."
Lynda's gaze sharpened. "They'll resent that."
"Let them."
Lynda's lips thinned. "And if resentment becomes treason?"
Rhydher's eyes darkened. His hand curled over the edge of the scroll, knuckles whitening.
"Then they'll find themselves hanging next to their predecessors."
A chill settled over the room. Even Lynda's gaze flickered slightly.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You're not your father, Rhydher."
"No," Rhydher said, his voice low. "I'm not."
His gaze sharpened. His hand uncurled from the scroll. "But I know what it takes to rule."
Dangerous words.
And he knew it.
Lynda's gaze lingered on him for a moment. Then she picked up her skewer and took a delicate bite.
The tension broke slightly.
I smiled faintly. "You're lucky the people love you."
Rhydher's gaze didn't soften. "Love is a fragile shield."
I leaned back against the edge of the table. "So is fear."
A long silence settled between us. Rhydher's gaze drifted toward the window, where the silver light of the moon cast pale shadows against the glass. His expression sharpened slightly.
"I received a message from the Sapphire Empire," he said suddenly. "An envoy will arrive in two days."
Lynda's gaze flicked toward him. "The Saint?"
Rhydher's expression didn't change. "She's supposed to be at the Round Table Conference. Must be someone else who's important."
"And you agreed?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rhydher's gaze sharpened. "Of course."
"You think they are coming to congratulate you?"
"I think they are coming to weigh me."
Lynda's gaze narrowed. "And if you come up lacking?"
Rhydher's smile was thin. "I won't."
I studied him carefully. "You sure?"
"I'm certain."
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "You're making me feel old."
"You are old," Rhydher replied.
I grinned. "Keep talking, brat. Let's see if you're smiling when the Sapphire Empire tests you."
"I'm looking forward to it," Rhydher replied. His tone was calm. Too calm.
I studied him carefully. The boy was sharp—too sharp. Henry was like this too at his age. But Henry's sharpness had been tempered by experience and pain. Rhydher was walking a thin line between strength and ruthlessness.
Lynda set down her skewer. "What's the plan?"
"They will talk first," Rhydher said. "Then I'll decide."
"And if they turn out to be hostile?" Lynda asked.
Rhydher's eyes darkened slightly.
"Then I'll remind them who conquered Verdune."
Lynda smiled faintly. "You sound confident."
Rhydher's gaze sharpened. "I have to be."
I rubbed my beard thoughtfully. "Confidence is good. But don't mistake it for certainty."
Rhydher's gaze lingered on me for a moment. Then he stood, brushing his hand across his cape as he stepped away from the table.
"We'll see."
Lynda's gaze followed him as he walked toward the door.
The kid was growing too fast.
But maybe that's what this kingdom needs.
I sighed and finished the last of my skewer.
"Well," I said, standing, "this ought to be interesting."
Lynda's gaze sharpened. "Shall I prepare contingencies?"
I smiled faintly. "We don't need to. I trust him."
Rhydher's footsteps echoed down the marble hall. The candlelight flickered slightly as the door opened and closed behind him.
The kid wasn't Henry yet.
But he was getting close.
And that was both comforting and terrifying.
"One day until the convoy arrives," Lynda murmured.
I smiled thinly.
"Let's see how Rhydher plays this."