A crown symbolizes leadership. But more than that, the sharper ends tell the story of the daggers thawed into other people.


    To inherit the crown.


    Be it the common folk, the mighty nobles or the dearest of family.


    A crown is never inherited without sacrifice.


    To your people or to your heart.


    A crown was always built on weary bones.


    And that was the story of ‘Fight to Crown,’ or at the very least the concept.


    It was a fun read.


    The protagonist was Charles-Alexandre de Fontaine, the second youngest son of the royal family. It was a historical story based on the common concept of inheritance.


    And as far as the man remembered, the boy Etienne was dead by the time the story started.


    As for the other boy, Louis, he also died before the start of the main story.


    The only reason he remembered either of them was because the chapters mentioned both of their names.


    The man bit his nails. He was unsure as to where all of this was going. The story had not started yet, so he had a slight chance of turning the game towards himself.


    But the question was—-why?


    Why did he have to bother with the royal war, when he could easily live his life. Without the burden of a crown he does not want.


    On a more important note, why was God doing this?


    That was a question he still did not understand.


    Why redemption? Why this late?


    If he had to be forgiven, he should have been centuries ago.


    But he was not. He was not. The humans were, for millions of their sins—but he was not.


    He held the pomegranate in his hands, rubbing his fingers against its rough skin.


    Something landed on his head, he grabbed it and tore it in the process. It was a flower—a lily.


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    Lilies meant a lot of things.


    Purity.


    Renewal.


    Life.


    He knew that because the lily was a symbol in several novels he had read.


    It was a peaceful offering.


    But he did not understand the purpose.


    He was as lost as the day he was exiled. He had lost his home once because of his carelessness, now once again because of that.


    He sighed.


    He just wanted to spend his endless life doing nothing but read stories of every language he spoke. To understand a world that humans had crafted so intricately.


    He hated humans. He had hated them. But then he stopped. He somewhere along the way realized why they were forgiven, despite their sins.


    Not that he ever admitted it.


    He just liked what they made, not what they were made of.


    And he wondered if he could get out of here, to some country far far away. Then rot his life there.


    As he was lost in his thoughts, there was a knock on the door.


    He stared at the door, then sat down upright. Kept the pomegranate beside him.


    “Enter.”


    The door opened, a maid had come alongside the little child. She walked in a poised manner, not a misstep. She bowed, then kept the glass bottle on the bedside table. Bowed again then walked out.


    The young boy smiled.


    Etienne smiled back and then he bit his lip, “Tell me how old are you?”


    “I am of twelve years of age.”  He spoke so softly that the words were almost unheard.


    He waited for a second, holding his tongue in. Then he decided to question his brother, “Why are you asking me these things, big brother?”


    The man took the glass bottle, his face calm like the sea after a storm. He took a sip. It was wine. Sour, sweet, alcoholic wine.


    He wiped his mouth as he kept the bottle in its place.


    “I was just wondering how time passes so quickly?” He looked at the young boy whose eyes widened.


    But then the boy asked, “How does my name fall into time’s lapse?”


    “It…does not.” He pretended to cough.


    “I was just confused during that time, I think.” Etienne mumbled the last part.


    The younger boy tilted his head then decided to let the matter go.


    The two sat in silence. Well Etienne sat in silence and the younger boy stood there.


    Etienne was lost in thought.


    If the young boy was twelve, it meant that Charles was seventeen. Which meant he was eighteen. It was useless information, but it solidified that the main story had not started.


    He closed his eyes and he could feel Louis’s hands gripping his pants—as though holding onto something.


    When he opened his eyes, there was a blue screen in front of him. It only had a few words.


    [TASK


    DAYS TILL LOUIS-PHILIPPE DE FONTAINE’S DEATH- 1,826 DAYS


    SAVE HIM]


    He swallowed his surprise.


    But it must have been obvious as Louis asked “Big brother, you seem sick. Should I call–”


    “I am fine.” Etienne said. He smiled at the boy.


    If he was being honest—he did not care about the boy. So he wondered what God was going to get out of it.


    Then there was another message–


    [PRIZE: KNOWLEDGE FOUND AND LOST]


    Was God playing some game?


    The man had the urge throw something at the particular deity.


    He sighed, again.


    Then he looked at the young boy whose eyes told him he was confused.


    The boy–Louis had a feminine disposition, which held a part in him never being favored.


    He was going to die.


    It essentially did not concern him.


    But God promised the knowledge of the whole universe, it was the temptation God had withheld from Eve.


    God was giving Etienne, the exact thing that had made him exiled.


    He does not know how or when or where….but he knew he wanted it.


    He stopped, a look at the young boy’s innocent face.


    It was not like he was harming him or so he thought.


    And so he bit into the fruit.


    “Do you want to be king?” He asked the young boy. His voice was smooth and saccharine.


    “Yes! Mother says she wants me to be.” the young boy grinned as he said that.


    “Do you think you are capable?” The man questioned, the happiness disappeared from the boy’s eyes. “I meant to ask—there are seven, can you defeat them all and get the crown?”


    He slowly shook his head.


    “Then let’s team up.” Etienne said.


    “Pardon?” The young boy said.


    “Let’s join hands—then when only we are left, we will decide who will be king.” Etienne smiled. “Does that sound fulfilling?”


    Louis nodded.


    Etienne never dropped his smile.


    “Want some fruit?” He asked as he took the one that had dropped on his head.


    “Yes.” Louis nodded. He loved the fruit.


    Etienne tried to open the fruit with his bare hands.


    He could not open it.


    “Give it to me, big brother.” Louis asked.


    Etienne gave it to him. Expecting childish whim.


    Louis opened it in one pull.


    The man was surprised. His mouth wide-opened.


    “I may not look like it—but I have incredible strength!” Louis grinned like a little kid.


    Louis looked at the two pieces and one side was rotten, so he gave the fresh piece to Etienne.


    Etienne looked at it, he bit his inner lip.


    “Let’s share, you don’t have to eat rotten fruit.” The man said, ruffling the boy’s head.


    The boy grinned.


    And so the rotten part was cast away.