《From History Geek to Crown Prince: Love, Politics and War in Another World》 The Continent of Vermanyan I was meant to die on that battlefield. We were outnumbered by millions, our fate all but sealed. We should have perished that day. We were nothing but insects before an army that could have drowned us in sheer numbers. I remember the screams. The banners burning. The way the ground turned into a river of blood beneath our feet. I remember gripping my sword so tightly my fingers went numb. I remember praying¡ªnot for survival, but for death to be painless. Yet, not only did I survive, but we achieved a victory worth remembering. Not because of fate. Not because of the gods. But because of him. Somehow, I survived. But this is not my story. This is the tale of my king¡ªthe Nightmare of Drakseid. A man who turned the impossible into reality, who performed miracles in war, and who fought to bring peace to a continent drowning in bloodshed. It is the Year 310 of the Vermanyan Calendar, a system established by the Round Table of Vermanyan¡ªa council where kings and emperors gather once a decade, desperately attempting to maintain peace in a continent filled with ambition and greed. But peace is fleeting, as incursions and feuds are constant. The world is ruled by might, and the four great powers that lead the council stand on the brink of war: The Elven Empire, masters of magic and ancient wisdom, who confine themselves to their great forests, where trees soar over a thousand meters high. The Dwarven Kingdom, unrivaled in craftsmanship and technology, occupying the mountainous and rocky regions. The Distia Empire, expansionist and ruthless in its pursuit of dominance, possessing the largest empire with a vast diversity of land and life forms. The Empire of Sapphire, the mightiest of them all, a religious nation of humans and demi-humans. Between these warring giants lies Drakseid, a kingdom trapped in a web of ambition, diplomacy, and conflict. A land neither weak nor powerful¡ªuntil fate intervened. That year, a child was born to the majestic king and queen of Drakseid. A child of prophecy. The Oracle¡¯s words echoed through the halls of the palace: "He will make his people lift bronze, bring down the stars, and build mountains of flesh. And when the sky falls, he shall push it back up." At the time, many dismissed it as poetic nonsense. Others saw it as a foretelling of greatness. None understood its true meaning. Not yet. For generations, the Kingdom of Drakseid had survived by any means necessary, relying heavily on its allies. But its poverty was undeniable, with little more than a small supply of gold as its primary export. Trade was fragile, and even that meager gold supply was running dry. Our roads were rough, our armies small. I remember my father cursing under his breath as he counted the last few copper coins in his hand, wondering if we¡¯d have enough to buy grain before winter came. However, under the vision and effort of its rulers¡ªKing Henry, Queen Ester, and Minister Josh¡ªthe kingdom slowly began to reform. Trade flourished, life improved, and the weight of poverty began to ease. The rough roads and small army were changing. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The greatest joy for our king and queen came with the birth of their first child, a son. His arrival was celebrated throughout the kingdom, and he was given the name Rhydher, after the kingdom¡¯s legendary founder. His full name: Rhydher H. Drakseid. Little did we know what this child would become? Yet, even then, there was something in the air, an unspoken belief that he was destined for something far greater than anyone could imagine. But what would I have known? At the time of his birth, I was just a child tending the fields alongside my parents, oblivious to the storm of war that was coming. Years passed. Rumors began to spread¡ªwhispers of the young prince¡¯s ingenuity, ruthless discipline, and radical military reforms. At first, they were dismissed as exaggerations. But before long, the truth became undeniable. Then, the military recruitment was announced when the prince turned six. Boys and girls aged twelve and above were called upon to join¡ªan unprecedented decree that nearly threw the capital into chaos. The idea of child soldiers was unheard of, but before fear could take hold, the terms of recruitment were read aloud. I will tell you of those terms soon. But know this¡ªit was that decree that led me to enlist. I did not join for glory, nor for wealth. I joined because I wanted my name etched into history. And in doing so, I embarked on a journey beyond my wildest imagination. It was the year 316 of the Vermanyan Calendar, and inside the largest fort of the Drakseid Kingdom, a few hundred of us stood in formation. The fort loomed over us like a silent judge, its towering walls scarred by years of battle and extreme weather. The name of the fort is Hope, our ancestor¡¯s last stronghold in their survival. Boys and girls, aged 12 to 16, arranged by rank and age. Beside us stood the kingdom¡¯s veterans, battle-hardened but weary, their armor dented, their faces carved with experience. Every officer, every commander, even King Henry himself, was present. The air was thick with expectation. Then, a voice ordered silence. The highest-ranking general stepped forward. And then, to everyone¡¯s shock, the one who took the stage was not a war-hardened general¡ªbut the six-year-old crown prince, Rhydher. He was the cutest child I had ever seen. Small, fragile-looking¡ªhe should have been playing with wooden swords and chasing birds in the palace gardens. A part of me wanted to pat his head and give him a cookie. But then he stood firm, composed himself, and spoke¡ªand in that moment, I felt my breath hitch. His presence was overwhelming. His voice¡ªcold, measured, carrying the weight of a man who had stared into the abyss and never looked away. His eyes weren¡¯t those of a child. They were the eyes of a ruler. A conqueror. They burned into my soul like a dagger, stripping me bare. Before I heard him, I wanted to believe it was a mistake. That a six-year-old had wandered into this place by accident. Many had whispered that the prince was a fool. That a child pushing for military reform and debating his elders was either delusional or arrogant. But standing there, under his gaze, I knew¡ªthey were wrong. And then, in a fleeting moment, I saw it. A vision. A battlefield littered with corpses. My comrades and I, standing victorious, our bodies weary, our mouths dry from war. And at the center of it all, Rhydher¡ªhanding us water, ensuring that none of us went thirsty. In that moment, all my doubts disappeared. I would follow this child to the ends of the earth. To war. To death. To victory. I was just sixteen at the time. But all of this? All of it is nothing compared to what lies beyond our shores. Vermanyan is just one of the three great continents. Yet, to travel beyond it is to invite death. The seas are not our ally. The waves hide creatures so massive, so ancient, that even the mightiest fleets are reduced to nothing more than drifting wreckage. I know this because I¡¯ve seen it. I was there when one of them breached the shoreline, its monstrous form blotting out the sun. We tried to kill it but failed even though we had the advantage at land. It still had enough strength to escape after we throw our might at it. The damn creature had thick shells, long tentacles or arms and hooks or suckers that dries us up of our energy and blood leaving us like a twig. But that is a tale for another time. We should hear this story from his own words too. He claims to come from another world where magic does not exist and a single weapon can destroy the world. Frankly, I find that impossible. The strongest magic spells can barely blow up a village. Still I can say his ingenuity and thoughts are not of this world. Re-incarnation of a History Geek I feel an overwhelming urge to document the events of my birth¡ªor rather, my first day in this world. Even now, I vividly remember the moment I died and the strange process of my reincarnation. In my previous life, I was just an ordinary high school student, though some might call me a nerd. I maintained straight A¡¯s effortlessly, was well-liked by my classmates, and even made it to nationals as the ace of my volleyball club in my third year. But despite my social standing, I rarely hung out with others. My true passion lies elsewhere¡ªhistory and war. While my peers spent their time on social media or dating, I was buried in history books, war documentaries, and endless research on military strategies. Libraries and computer screens were my second home. My love for anime and manga was just as intense, filling my shelves with figurines, OVA DVDs, and special editions. Family meant everything to me. We were well-off, and my parents never hesitated to invest in knowledge and skills. My two younger sisters were the most precious people in my life¡ªI would have done anything for them. Even now, I can¡¯t help but wonder how they¡¯re doing without me. And then, one day, I died. It was a normal Sunday¡ªfor everyone, including me. I was out shopping for clothes and other essentials, accompanied by my two sisters, who had forcibly tagged along. They insisted my fashion sense was dull, and honestly, I couldn¡¯t argue. They were right. But this time, I had a reason to care. I had a date coming up. Next Wednesday, I was set to go out with the most popular and beautiful girl in my class. We had admired each other from afar since middle school, but with graduation around the corner, she finally gathered the courage to confess her feelings to me. I wasn¡¯t oblivious. I knew. Normally, my packed schedule¡ªfilled with history research, anime, and club activities¡ªleft me little room for anything else. But rejecting her just because of my hobbies would have been selfish. She had worked up the courage to be honest about her feelings. The least I could do was man up and step forward. When Wednesday arrived, I made sure to get to our meeting spot thirty minutes early, only to find her already there, waiting. Had she been that excited? The thought made me smile. Taking my sisters¡¯ advice to heart, I complimented her outfit and hairstyle, though I struggled to hide my embarrassment. Why was this so hard? I suddenly felt bad for all the anime protagonists I had mocked for being too flustered to compliment their heroines. I owed them an apology. She had planned the date, so I followed her lead, making sure to be true to myself and voiced my honest opinions. To my surprise, we had a lot of fun. She took me to a luxurious restaurant for lunch, and to my surprise, it was owned by her family. I had never realized how rich she was until she told me. She burst into laughter at my obliviousness, then casually revealed more about herself. She had modeled for her mother¡¯s fashion brand and even appeared in top movies. I was dating a celebrity. I apologized for not knowing, explaining that my world revolved around history, wars, and the otaku culture. That¡¯s when she smiled and said, "I love anime and manga too." That moment made me realize¡ªwe weren¡¯t so different. In terms of achievements, I wasn¡¯t far behind her. I had competed at volleyball nationals twice, won a national writing competition, and once helped our Kendo Club win the national tournament in my second year. My love for history led me to learn swordsmanship, and a Japanese Kendo dojo was the closest place to train near my home. In other words, we were a super couple. We loved each other dearly. But our time together was limited. The hour of my death was drawing closer. Leaving the fancy, expensive restaurant, we walked out smiling, stomachs full. Our hands found each other naturally, fingers intertwining as we strolled toward a sports center for some bowling or table tennis. We approached a crosswalk. The traffic light was red. We stepped onto the street. That¡¯s when I heard it. A loud horn. Tires screeching. People screaming. A truck¡ªbarreling toward us at full speed. The brakes had failed. Instinct kicked in. I grabbed her hand and ran. We barely made it to the sidewalk. The bystanders let out a sigh of relief. But then I saw her. A little girl. Frozen in the middle of the road. Tears streamed down her face, her small body trembling. She couldn''t move. She couldn''t even scream. I let go of my girlfriend¡¯s hand. "W-Wait¡ª!" she gasped, reaching for me. I ran. She called my name, her voice desperate and terrified, but I didn¡¯t stop. I lunged forward and shoved the girl with all my strength, sending her tumbling safely onto the pavement. For a brief moment, I saw her small figure lying on the ground, safe. Then¡ª Impact. The world spun. I felt weightless, like a feather tossed into the wind. Pain exploded through my body. Something cracked¡ªmaybe my ribs, my skull? I couldn¡¯t tell. My body slammed into the pavement, and for a moment, I thought I heard something¡ª Her voice. Screaming my name. Flashes of my past flickered before me. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. My younger self, pampering my sisters. My parents, smiling proudly. Joining a Japanese Kendo Dojo. Meeting her for the first time. Winning the nationals. Sparring Japan¡¯s best Kendo practitioner. And our date today. Everything blurred. The pain was unbearable¡ªbut somehow, I still smiled. "I saved her." My breathing slowed. My chest felt heavy. My girlfriend appeared above me, shaking me violently. "No, no, no¡ªSTAY WITH ME!" she sobbed, gripping my hand. Her whole body trembled. "Please, don¡¯t close your eyes¡ª!" I wanted to respond. I wanted to wipe her tears away. But my voice wouldn¡¯t come out. My body felt cold. The world around me faded¡ªblurring into a void of black. I could hear her screaming my name over and over, but it sounded so... distant. I had one last thought before everything went silent. "I hope... she doesn¡¯t cry too much..." And then¡ª My consciousness slipped away. Darkness swallowed me whole. I died. Or so I thought. The pain was gone. The crushing weight, the broken bones, the warmth of my own blood¡ªall of it had vanished. I should have been dead. Instead, I felt... small. Weak. My body was unresponsive, like I was trapped in a shell too fragile to move. I struggled, trying to lift even a single finger, but nothing happened. Panic began to rise in my chest. Was I paralyzed? I forced my eyes open. Blurred shapes. Colors blending together. My vision was too hazy to make out anything clearly. The only thing I could see was¡­ a face. A woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her expression soft and filled with warmth. She held me in her arms, and despite my confusion, I felt¡­ safe. Then, another face appeared¡ªa man, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "Who are they?" The thought barely had time to form before the woman spoke in an angelic voice¡ª "Look, dear¡­ our son is very active. He will grow up to be a strong and handsome king, just like his father." The man chuckled, his deep voice filled with relief. "I was worried when he didn''t cry, but seeing how strong his grip is¡­ I have no doubt he¡¯ll be a fine ruler one day." Then, something touched my hand. Instinctively, my tiny fingers curled around it. A massive finger. His. Everything clicked at once. I understood their words. I saw the size of my hands¡ªtiny, fragile. I was a baby. No. Not just a baby. I was reborn. A prince. The son of a king and queen. My new name¡ªRhydher H. Drakseid. A name that felt foreign, yet now belonged to me. Excitement should have filled me. I had always dreamed of being reincarnated into a fantasy world. The thought of wielding a sword, leading armies, diving into an adventure worthy of an isekai hero¡ªit should have thrilled me. But then¡ª A memory crashed into my mind like a tidal wave. My sisters, tugging on my sleeves, dragging me through clothing stores while laughing. My parents, smiling over dinner, my mother sneaking an extra helping onto my plate. My girlfriend, standing beneath cherry blossoms, eyes filled with nervous hope as she confessed. And then¡ª The truck. The red light. The little girl frozen in fear. The impact. The pain. Her screams. I saw her face in my mind¡ªher tears, her horror, her voice calling my name. She had been right there. She saw me die. My sisters¡ªhow long would they cry? My parents¡ªhow would they endure it? My friends, my teammates¡­ They were grieving me. Right now, at this very moment, they were mourning my death. And there was nothing I could do to tell them I was okay. My chest felt tight. I tried to scream, to cry, and to call out their names¡ªbut my body was too weak. The only sound that came out was a pathetic, gurgling whimper. Tears welled in my tiny eyes. I was gone from their world forever. I would never see them again. For a moment, I felt an unbearable loneliness¡ªa pain worse than death itself. But¡­ I knew them. I knew my sisters would try to be strong for each other. I knew my girlfriend would cry, but she would move forward. My parents¡­ they would grieve, but they would endure. And if they could move forward¡ªthen so would I. I clenched my tiny fists, steeling my resolve. If I had been given another chance at life, then I wouldn¡¯t waste it. I wouldn¡¯t let my new loved ones suffer the same way. I swore, to everyone I left behind, I would live this life to the fullest. That I would find happiness again. That I would protect those I love¡ªso they would never have to cry the way my family did. I am just a baby now but I will grow up. I will find out everything about this world. I will train my mind and body. Hone my skills. And protect my new life, new family and new world. This was my new beginning. Or so I thought. Just as I steeled my resolve, a strange sensation overwhelmed me. It was as if something¡ªor someone¡ªwas speaking directly into my soul. A voice, ancient and powerful, echoed in the depths of my mind. "The story have shifted, and fate has rewritten itself. The wheel of destiny turns, and the world awaits its lost king. One born of war, shaped by history, destined to walk the path of both conqueror and savior. Rise, child of two lives¡ª For you shall destroy legends." As the voice faded, a deep chill ran down my spine. What¡­ was that? Who said that? Was it a prophecy? A curse? A blessing? I had no answers. But one thing was certain¡ªthis world expected something from me. And whether fate liked it or not, I would decide my own path. The Crown Prince of Drakseid My name is Mary J. Holst. I serve as a maid in Tender Castle, the royal residence of King Henry and Queen Ester of Drakseid. I was among the finest maids in the castle, and my diligence earned me a coveted position as one of Queen Ester¡¯s personal attendants. When she became pregnant, she entrusted me with her care, a responsibility I carried with deep devotion. On a warm afternoon, shortly after lunch, the queen went into labor. The moment the news reached me, I sprang into action, ensuring everything was prepared. The midwives hurried in, the royal physician stood ready, and I remained by her side, wiping the sweat from her brow, whispering reassurances even as my own heart pounded. ¡°My queen, you are strong,¡± I murmured. ¡°Everything will be well.¡± Queen Ester clenched my hand, her determination unwavering. Moments later, after an agonizing but mercifully smooth labor, the sound of silence filled the chamber. The child had been delivered, yet no cries came. Panic gripped us. ¡°Why isn¡¯t he crying?¡± one of the maids gasped. Before fear could take hold, the doctor quickly declared, ¡°Rest assured, the child is alive¡ªhe¡¯s simply asleep. Cases like this are rare but not uncommon among royal birth. It¡¯s simply one of the signs of a man destined for greatness.¡± A wave of relief washed over the room. The midwife swiftly cleaned the newborn before handing him to me. I cradled the tiny boy, his delicate features peaceful, and his chest rising and falling with soft breaths. With a smile, I turned to the exhausted but radiant queen. ¡°Your Highness,¡± I said, my voice thick with emotion, ¡°the heavens have blessed you with a handsome and healthy son.¡± A luminous smile spread across Queen Ester¡¯s face, so full of warmth and joy that it nearly brought me to tears. The doors swung open, and King Henry strode in. His eyes fell upon the child, and for a moment, he was speechless. Then, as if the realization had only just struck him, his face lit up with unrestrained happiness. ¡°I am a father now!¡± he exclaimed, almost laughing. ¡°A son¡ªmy son!¡± The weight of all their struggles, their patience, and their love had culminated in this moment. The prince was their reward. The following day, the castle brimmed with celebration. Nobles, ministers, and honored guests gathered for the grand naming ceremony. As tradition dictated, the newborn was officially declared Crown Prince of Drakseid. To everyone¡¯s amusement, Minister Josh, a man of great wisdom and prestige, was appointed the child¡¯s godfather. He appeared more jubilant than even the king and queen, his usual composure momentarily forgotten. Then, amidst the joy and festivity, Queen Ester made a decision that changed my life forever. She placed the prince under my care. I was stunned. ¡°Your Majesty, I am unworthy of such an honor. There are others far more suited than I.¡± But the queen shook her head, her expression resolute. ¡°Mary, you are kind, diligent, and just. I want my son to be guided by someone with your heart.¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°But, my queen, you are the kindest and most beloved person I know. I pale in comparison.¡± Her hand clasped mine gently. ¡°I trust you more than anyone, Mary. Will you do this for me?¡± Tears welled in my eyes as I knelt before her. ¡°I will, Your Highness. With all my heart.¡± At that moment, I vowed to dedicate myself to the young prince¡ªto raise and protect him as if he were my own. And so, my journey as his guardian began. But I was in for one wild ride. From the very beginning, it was clear that he wasn¡¯t like any other child. There was something about him¡ªan aura unlike any infant I had ever seen. Taking care of him was easy, almost too easy. He rarely cried, only doing so when he was hungry or needed changing. But what stood out the most was how aware he was. Sometimes, it even seemed like he was trying to speak. Even as a baby, I could sense a thirst for knowledge, wisdom, and power within him. He absorbed his surroundings with an eerie intensity, watching us¡ªtruly watching us¡ªas if studying everything we did. At just six months old, he spoke his first words. The king and queen were overjoyed when he called them ¡°Mama¡± and ¡°Papa.¡± I found it a little strange¡ªbabies usually babble for much longer before forming clear words. But before I could dwell on it, he turned to me two days later and uttered, ¡°Ma-rig.¡± He was learning at an astonishing pace. By seven months, he could walk. By eight months, he was speaking in phrases. His development was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Yet, for all his brilliance, there was one anomaly¡ªhe had no manna. This puzzled everyone. A lot of the masses do not possess manna but both the king and queen possessed strong magical abilities, and manna was typically passed down through bloodlines. The royal physicians examined him extensively, yet they could not explain why the prince had none. It was troubling, but the young prince himself seemed unbothered. He simply smiled and carried on with his innocent days, showing no distress over the matter. In truth, he was the easiest child to care for. He never caused trouble, never threw tantrums, and obeyed every instruction without complaint. Occasionally, he would insist on taking strolls with the king and queen, but beyond that, he was content. Then came his first birthday. The castle was filled with laughter and celebration. But that day marked something else¡ªa shift in his behavior. From that moment on, he spent most of his time in the library. At first, I thought he simply enjoyed the quiet, but then I noticed something baffling¡ªhe could read and write flawlessly. No one had ever taught him. One day, curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, ¡°Young prince, where did you learn to read and write?¡± He looked up from a thick tome and answered with a simple, matter-of-fact tone. ¡°I taught myself. It wasn¡¯t difficult. The words you speak match the letters written here.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I stared at him, speechless. A one-year-old had just explained the concept of language acquisition as if it were the simplest thing in the world. By the time he was three, he had devoured every book in the royal library¡ªhistory, myths, legends, magic, sciences, philosophy. Anything that had been written, he absorbed. And yet, he was no frail scholar. He was faster, stronger, and sharper than most children his age. Every afternoon, after finishing his studies, he ran through the castle grounds, playing and training. What truly caught my attention, however, was his swordsmanship. His movements were unlike anything I had ever seen. His strikes carried both elegance and power, yet his technique was nothing like the traditional Drakseid sword style. Every motion was deliberate, refined, and practiced with a precision that no ordinary child could possess. Even the Commander-in-Chief of the army took notice, often observing the young prince in silence, as if trying to decipher the mystery behind his swordplay. Eventually, he began mingling with children much older than him, yet he still stood out¡ªoutperforming them in every way. This was no ordinary child. And deep down, I knew¡­ this was only the beginning. The young prince was now more active than ever. No longer was he just a quiet observer¡ªhe engaged. He spoke with refined scholars and merchants, discussing matters far beyond his years¡ªtrade, politics, state affairs. It was almost surreal, watching such a young boy hold conversations that even seasoned noblemen struggled with. Even Queen Ester, wise and composed, often found herself at the mercy of her son¡¯s relentless curiosity and sharp wit. Yet, she welcomed it. In fact, she delighted in it, indulging him in long discussions and teaching him the intricacies of politics and economics. She looked truly happy, her eyes shining with pride as she guided her son through the vast world of knowledge. The prince did not stop there. He frequently observed his father at work, standing quietly by the throne as King Henry presided over the royal court. He watched how decrees were issued, how nobles and officials presented their grievances, how diplomacy and governance shaped the kingdom¡¯s future. But what astounded me the most was what he did afterward. Each day, without fail, he would read the newly recorded scrolls of court proceedings¡ªas if committing every decision, every argument, and every outcome to memory. It was as if he was preparing for something. Something far greater than any of us could imagine. I had cared for many children in the royal nursery, but the crown prince was unlike any I have ever seen. Even as an infant, his eyes followed everything with eerie precision. As he grew, he absorbed knowledge at an unnatural rate¡ªreading, writing, history, and mathematics all mastered within mere months. While other children played, he observed. While others spoke their minds without thought, he measured every word. At first, I thought it was a sign of brilliance. The queen, proud of her son¡¯s intelligence, often said he was destined for greatness. But as the years passed, my admiration gave way to unease. One evening, as I lingered outside the royal study, carrying a tray of tea. I knew the prince often spent late hours poring over military texts and philosophical treatises, far beyond the comprehension of most adults. I peeked inside, expecting to find him engrossed in a book. Instead, he was standing in the center of the dimly lit room, eyes closed, speaking softly to himself. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the words¡ªsharp, methodical¡ªchilled me. It wasn¡¯t the playful muttering of a child, but the calculated analysis of a strategist. ¡°The enemy expects a head-on assault... which is why their flanks must collapse first. No escape. No survivors.¡± My breath caught in my throat. The cold precision in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I knew he reads war manuals, but this¡­ this was something else. It was as if he wasn¡¯t learning from the past¡ªhe was anticipating the future. A floorboard creaked beneath my foot. The prince¡¯s eyes snapped open. I froze. The room was dim, but I could see his gaze locked onto me. Not startled. Not surprised. As if he had known I was there all along. ¡°Mary,¡± he said calmly, a faint smile curling his lips. ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I forced a shaky breath and stepped inside. ¡°I¡­ I brought your tea, Your Highness.¡± He nodded, watching me closely as I placed the tray down. I kept my hands steady, but my mind was racing. The warmth of the tea felt distant compared to the cold knot forming in my stomach. I lowered my head in a slight bow. ¡°Goodnight, Your Highness.¡± Turning quickly, I hurried toward the door. My heart pounding. I need to speak to the queen. I need to tell someone that the prince¡ªbrilliant, unreadable, and far too aware for his years¡ªwas not normal. Just as I reached for the handle, his voice stopped me. ¡°Mary.¡± I turned slowly, dread creeping up my spine. ¡°Yes, young lord. Is something the matter?¡± The prince stood by the desk, his expression unreadable. Then, ever so slightly, he tilted his head. His smile was still there, but his eyes held something else. Something knowing. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly. ¡°For everything.¡± My throat went dry. I forced a smile, nodded, and left as quickly as dignity allowed. As the door clicked shut behind me, I exhaled sharply, my hands trembling. I had to warn the queen. But deep inside, I wondered¡ª Did he already know? Any how I needed some evidence for the king and queen to see. The next evening, as the prince was bathing. I skimmed through the documents he had been writing¡ªpages upon pages of carefully drawn diagrams and meticulous notes. My hands trembled as I flipped through them. What I saw shocked me to my core. Detailed military training regimens. Blueprints of armor and weaponry¡ªsome made of bronze, others with designs so foreign they seemed otherworldly. Complex war strategies, supply chain logistics, siege weapon designs, troop formations, battle records¡­ This was no mere child¡¯s imagination. This was the mind of a war master¡ªsomeone who had seen battle, studied war, and understood it in a way no five-year-old ever could. I felt a chill crawl down my spine. "This isn¡¯t normal. This isn¡¯t right," I whispered, clutching the documents tightly. My heart pounded as a terrible realization settled in. I thought I knew him. I thought he was simply a bright child¡ªa prodigy, perhaps, but still just a child. But now¡­ now, I wasn¡¯t sure anymore. Fear stirred deep inside me. An ominous, unshakable dread. I needed to tell someone. The queen. The king. Anyone. Gathering the documents, I turned on my heels, ready to rush out of the room. But my escape was cut off. Standing at the doorway, blocking my path, was the crown prince. Dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, his red damp hair clung to his forehead, water still dripping from the ends. In his small hands, he held his wooden training sword¡ªthe one he always used for practice. And his brown eyes¡­ His eyes held no anger. No fear. No childish confusion. Only calm awareness. As if he had been expecting this moment all along. ¡°Well, what now?¡± I thought myself. Drakseid’s Phoenix King When I inherited the throne of Drakseid, I thought I had prepared myself for the worst. I was wrong. The kingdom was a rotting corpse wearing the crown of a fallen empire. The royal treasury was a hollow vault, stripped bare by years of corruption. The once-mighty army had withered to barely a thousand men, and Fort Gehena, our strongest border fortress, had fallen to bandits¡ªalong with two thousands of our best soldiers. My best soldiers. Rescuing them was out of the question. Not yet. From the shadows, I could see the strings. The bandits were no mere raiders; they had the backing of a foreign power, likely the Distia Empire, caught in its own bloody civil war. A reckless move now would only tighten the noose around my neck. My uncle, the former king, had run this kingdom into the ground. His only mercy was that he had left behind no debts¡ªnot out of wisdom, but because no lender had been foolish enough to trust him. I buried him with the rest of the filth¡ªthe corrupt nobles, ministers, and officials who had fed on this kingdom like leeches. His Prime Minister, the man who had bled Drakseid¡¯s economy dry, suffered the worst fate. His execution was public, a warning to the rest. The crowd roared in approval, their fury honed from years of suffering. His daughter, Ester, stood among them, watching the blade fall. She did not flinch. She shed no tears. Later, she visited his grave and left a single white flower. "I suppose," She had murmured, "I should feel something." And yet, it was she¡ªnot her father¡ªwho would go on to save Drakseid¡¯s economy. Ester M. Drakseid. My wife. My queen. She had been raised with the finest education, surpassing even scholars and nobles in wit and wisdom. If she could not bring this kingdom back from the abyss, then no one could. While I rebuilt the army, she rebuilt the economy. Her reforms were ruthless¡ªmany nobles choked on their own greed before she ever had to lift a blade¡ªbut they worked. By my side stood Josh D. Speartact, my closest friend and now my Prime Minister. He was a soldier like me, a man who had stood in the fires of war and we escaped the Siege of Gehena together. No one wielded a spear like him, but in matters of diplomacy and governance, he was even deadlier. And so, we fought¡ªnot on the battlefield, but in the courts, in the cities, in the very bones of this kingdom. Years passed. The seasons changed. Every sunrise was a battle. Every night was a war. But in time, Drakseid rose again. The roads ran smooth, the coffers filled, and the army¡ªmy army¡ªstood once more, not as a remnant of the past but as a force ready to carve its own future. Then, my son was born. For the first time in over a decade, I allowed myself to stop. To breathe. To hold something in my arms that was not a sword, not a burden, but a life I had created. He did not cry when he first saw the world. Instead, he looked at me. His eyes were not those of a newborn. I had seen those eyes before¡ªon battlefields, in dying warriors, in men who had already decided their fate before they took their first step forward. They were the eyes of a soldier. A warlord. I could not read his thoughts. I did not know what future he saw when he looked at me. But I knew one thing. He was born in fire. And fire only rises. He is my son. I never doubted it. It¡¯s a fact since he resembles me in every way. Brown eyes, red hair, deep gaze. My own flesh and blood. And yet, as I sit here, staring at the documents before me¡ªmilitary reforms, detailed sketches and diagrams of formations, shield walls, weapons, armor, war machines¡ªI find myself questioning. These are the works of a seasoned tactician, a veteran general, and a visionary warlord. But they were delivered to me by Mary J. Holst, my son¡¯s caretaker. I had already ordered the ministers and nobles to wait outside. This was not a discussion for them. Not yet. Passing the documents to my wife and my closest minister, I asked the question already gnawing at my mind. ¡°Who made these documents, Mary? Surely, it¡¯s not the work of any of my ministers or generals?¡± I had an inkling. But I didn¡¯t want to accept it. These reforms would change everything. Our kingdom would rise beyond its limits. We would become an undisputed powerhouse. And yet, these ideas did not come from a seasoned warrior, a scholar, or an elder tactician. They came from my five-year-old son. Mary, standing tall despite the weight of her words, answered without hesitation. ¡°I was asked to deliver these by the Crown Prince himself, Your Highness.¡± I sighed, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I knew what he was after. My wife and minister understood as well. He wanted to oversee the reforms himself. He¡¯s becoming more and more of a stranger to me. A Trial for My Son The royal court had gathered. Ministers, nobles, and generals filled the grand hall. The air was heavy with curiosity and doubt. I had already made my decision. We will adopt the reforms. We will march toward the future my son envisions. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. But not blindly. If I simply declared the reforms in his name, the court would undermine him, question his wisdom, resists his authority. I could force them into submission, but fear is a fragile leash. No. If my son is truly ready to shape the future of this kingdom, then he must prove it himself. I would challenge him. Test him in front of the entire court. If he is truly capable, he will defend his ideas. And if he fails¡­ Well. Failure is not an option for a ruler. I took my seat on the throne as my son, Crown Prince Rhydher, stood before me. Even as a child, his presence was undeniable. He already knew what I was doing. Good. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re ready, my son. Our Debate I glanced at the documents before me, then at the assembled court. Time to begin. "War is not a child¡¯s game, Rhydher. You propose shifting our military from an undisciplined levy to a professional standing army. But how do you intend to fund it? We do not have the treasury for a mass conscription." He did not hesitate. "Indeed, we lack funds for immediate large-scale recruitment. However, I propose a phase-based integration. Start by converting existing levy forces into semi-professional units¡ªtraining them during off-seasons while allowing them to maintain their trades. Simultaneously, we reintroduce a tax on merchant guilds and nobility, specifically war bonds, promising future compensation in return for immediate investment." The court stirred. A tax on the nobility? Risky. Dangerous. But not impossible. "You assume they will simply agree to these taxes?" "Not without incentive, of course. The key is granting exclusive trade privileges and resource contracts to contributors. Merchants gain priority access to military trade routes, while nobles receive land incentives based on contributions. It¡¯s a calculated exchange rather than a blind demand." Clever. He wasn¡¯t forcing them. He was buying their cooperation. I folded my arms. "Very well. But let''s talk about training. Drakseid¡¯s soldiers rely on individual skill, not rigid formations. A structured army may be efficient, but will it break the warrior spirit of our men?" His answer came swift and sharp. "Far from it. The reforms do not remove individual combat prowess, they enhance it by giving it purpose. The shield wall, for example, does not make a soldier weaker¡ªit makes him stronger with his comrades. The phalanx creates an unbreakable wall, but should it fail, we transition into flexible legion formations, ensuring that individual fighters can still excel." "And you think they will learn this overnight?" "Not overnight. But through a mandatory six-month rotation system. Instead of fielding raw levies when war calls, we ensure that every man is trained before war arrives. This eliminates the need for emergency conscriptions." The generals leaned forward, murmuring among themselves. He was winning them over. But I wasn¡¯t done yet. "A well-trained army is nothing without war machines. You propose siege engines, but our blacksmiths can barely produce enough arms and armor. What then?" "A valid concern. But my plan is not just about training soldiers¡ªit is about reshaping Drakseid as a military-industrial power. We will standardize weapons production, focusing on universal designs instead of custom-forged arms. This allows for mass production using minimal resources. As for siege weapons, I have already identified regions with high iron and timber output. A portion of their taxes will be paid in raw materials, cutting our reliance on expensive imports." The economic ministers were silent. They were no longer questioning him. They were calculating. I gave him one last chance to falter. "These are all well-crafted ideas, my son. But what makes you believe they will work? What precedent do you have?" Then he smiled. That smile. "History, father." The room froze. "The Great War of Istar was won not by superior numbers, but by the first use of organized formations. The War of the Great Golden Plains saw a kingdom of 50,000 hold off an army of 200,000 using well-planned defenses and superior logistics. The Dwarves defeated the Orcs Horde by implementing structured smiting, advanced weapons of war and weapon distribution, ensuring that every soldier was armed before the battle. History is not a record of past events¡ªit is the blueprint for our survival. And I have studied it well." The court had no response. He had won. My Son, the Prince of Drakseid I leaned back, watching the room. Watching my son. He had countered everything. Crushed every doubt. He was ready. I asked him one last question. ¡°Why do you want to make our kingdom strong and powerful?¡± He gave me the biggest smile I had ever seen and answered without hesitation. ¡°What man wouldn¡¯t protect his family and loved ones? I want to keep my people safe¡ªfree from terror and fear.¡± Silence stretched across the hall. Then, I stood, my voice absolute. ¡°You have answered well, my son. Let it be known to all¡ªthis is no child before you, but a prince of Drakseid. And from this day forward, his word on matters of war is to be respected." The nobles rose in stunned silence. The ministers bowed. And Rhydher? He simply smiled, knowing that today, he had claimed his first victory. Not on the battlefield. But in the halls of power. I looked at my son, no longer seeing just a boy, but a ruler in the making¡ªa force that would shape the very foundations of this kingdom. He had silenced every doubt, countered every argument, and stood unwavering before the might of my court. Even the most skeptical among them could see it now. The future of Drakseid burned in his eyes. I turned to the assembled nobles and ministers, their expressions ranging from astonishment to reverence. There would be no further objections. No whispers of doubt. No resistance. ¡°I King Henry T. Drakseid, entitled by my people as Drakseid Phoenix King, declares this as the will of the Crown Prince, and from this day forward, it shall be the will of Drakseid.¡± A slow murmur spread through the court before it rose into an overwhelming chorus of agreement. I let my gaze return to my son. As the court dispersed, I remained seated, watching my son. He had won the debate, but his battle was far from over. The weight of command is not carried by words alone¡ªit is measured in blood, in the fire of war, in the sacrifices a ruler must make. I saw it in his eyes. He understood that. Perhaps more than I ever did at his age. Beside me, Ester placed a hand over mine. "He has your fire," she murmured, her gaze soft but unreadable. I nodded, but my thoughts were elsewhere. At the edge of the room, Prime Minister Josh¡ªthe only man in the court who had remained silent through it all¡ªwatched my son with an expression I had never seen before. Not skepticism. Not doubt. But recognition. He met my gaze, his voice low. "If you let him, he will reshape this kingdom into something beyond our imagination. But make no mistake, My Friend..." His lips curled into something between a smirk and a frown. "This path will not be kind to him." I knew that already. Yet, as I looked at my son, standing tall despite the weight of the future pressing down on his small shoulders, I knew one thing for certain. He would not break. He would rise. The Die is Cast Like any other evening, I was taking a bath. Being bathed by older girls always stirred my teenage mind¡ªdespite the fact that I was trapped in a five-year-old body. The warm water dulled the tension in my muscles, but my mind remained sharp. But this evening, my thoughts were elsewhere. Yesterday, I had deliberately let Mary see me working on my strategies and war documents. It wasn¡¯t an accident¡ªit was a test. I needed to prove I was capable, to make her take my documents to my father. Everything was prepared. I just had to oversee the reforms myself. Or so I thought. "Jill, where¡¯s Mary?" I asked, noticing her absence. ¡°She said she won¡¯t be joining us today, so I brought Lily along,¡± Jill replied. It hit me instantly. She moved early. Mary had already made her move to deliver my documents to the king. It was part of my plan¡ªbut not yet. I still had adjustments to make. There were things in those documents I hadn¡¯t finalized. I had to stop her. Without hesitation, I grabbed my bathrobe and, out of sheer reflex, my wooden sword. Then, I sprinted toward my room. As I reached the door, my stomach sank. Mary was already there. And worse¡ªshe had picked up the wrong documents. The ones I had planned to dispose of later. She turned just in time to see me standing in the doorway, wooden sword in hand, blocking her escape. She clutched the incorrect papers to her chest, eyes wide. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I had no intention of harming her. But she didn¡¯t know that. We locked eyes. And I broke the silence. ¡°The documents you¡¯re looking for are in the table¡¯s drawers,¡± I said calmly. ¡°But I still need to add a few more notes before you take them to my father. Will that be a problem?¡± Mary didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, she took a step back, retreating behind the desk as if I were some kind of threat. Her eyes darted to the wooden sword in my hand. ¡°Exactly who¡­ or what are you, Your Highness?¡± she asked, her voice laced with fear. Her eyes darkened. I could see it¡ªthe shift from trust to doubt. To fear. ¡°Answer me,¡± she whispered. She thought I would attack her. I sighed, tossing the wooden sword aside before closing the door behind me. Without another word, I walked to one of the sofas and sat down. Then, with a steady voice, I said, ¡°Let¡¯s have a heartfelt talk, Mary.¡± She tensed. ¡°I am no more than the crown prince of Drakseid,¡± I continued, my tone unwavering. ¡°The son of your king and queen. You have always trusted me, haven¡¯t you? Trust me now, as I trust you.¡± Mary¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly. Slowly, she placed the stack of papers and scrolls onto the table before lowering herself into the seat across from me. But something was different. The way she looked at me¡ªit wasn¡¯t the same as before. There was doubt, fear, maybe even something else I couldn¡¯t quite place. It stung. But I couldn¡¯t let it shake me. I needed to mend our relationship. And more than that¡ªI needed her help. Mary sat stiffly across from me, her hands resting on her lap, but her fingers twitched as if she wanted to grab the papers again. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth and quiet admiration, now held a flicker of doubt. I leaned back into the sofa, keeping my voice steady. "You¡¯ve known me since I could barely walk, Mary. Why do you look at me like I¡¯m a stranger?" She hesitated before answering. "Because I don¡¯t know what you are anymore, Your Highness." Her words were sharper than I expected. A direct challenge. I smiled faintly. "What I am? I thought it was clear¡ªI¡¯m a prince who doesn¡¯t want to be a fool. Is that so terrifying?" Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Her hands clenched. "You are different. Children don¡¯t draft military reforms. They don¡¯t prepare for war. And they don¡¯t look at people the way you do." I tilted my head. "And how do I look at people, Mary?" Her lips parted slightly, but she hesitated. "Like you¡¯re measuring them. Like you already know what they¡¯re going to do before they do it." Clever girl. She was paying attention. I exhaled through my nose, keeping my expression relaxed. "Then tell me¡ªdo you think I would measure you and find you lacking?" Her brows furrowed. "No, but¡­" She shook her head. "This isn¡¯t normal." I let out a chuckle. "Normal? Do you think our enemies will hesitate just because of my age? Will a blade stop at my throat out of pity? War is coming, Mary, and we don¡¯t have the luxury of time." Mary looked away, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. "That¡¯s not the point." "Then tell me what is." She drew a sharp breath before meeting my gaze with rare defiance. "I want the truth, your Highness. How did you become... like this? And is war truly inevitable?" The silence stretched between us. I didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t let my expression waver. She was asking for something I couldn¡¯t give. Instead, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Mary, I can¡¯t change what you already suspect. But you need to understand¡ªeverything I do, every choice I make, is for the kingdom. For my family. For you. And war isn¡¯t a possibility; it¡¯s a certainty. Give it a decade, and the Distia Empire will come to claim our kingdom, turning our people into their slaves." Her breath hitched slightly at that last part, but she said nothing. I reached out, gently placing my hand over hers. "You¡¯ve always been loyal to me. Will you trust me now?" She studied my face, searching for something¡ªdeception, perhaps. But I had given her nothing to find. Finally, she exhaled. "I don¡¯t understand you, Your Highness." "Then try," I said softly. A long pause. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Alright. I¡¯ll trust you. But promise me one thing." "Name it." She swallowed. "Don¡¯t carry everything alone." I let a small smile cross my lips. "That depends. Will you help me carry it?" Mary¡¯s eyes softened. "If you let me." "Then it''s a promise." The tension in the room eased. The doubt wasn¡¯t entirely gone, but it was fading. That was enough for now. Mary¡¯s eyes followed me as I left the room. She still had questions. Good. I had questions too. And soon enough, I¡¯d have answers. After two days, Mary delivered the documents to my father as planned. Now, the real challenge began¡ªI had to stand before the royal court and prove my worth. The great hall was filled with ministers, nobles, and military officials, all gathered to witness what they assumed would be nothing more than a prince¡¯s childish ambition being struck down. I could feel their skepticism pressing down on me, but I stood firm. I had no intention of being dismissed. As expected, my father scrutinized every proposal I put forward, challenging my reasoning, questioning my logic, and testing my resolve. But I was ready. For every concern he raised, I countered with cold, calculated responses. For every doubt he voiced, I laid out undeniable facts and foresaw his arguments before he could even make them. I cited our kingdom¡¯s vulnerabilities, exposed the flaws in our current military structure, and presented solutions that left even the most seasoned officials speechless. The court, once filled with murmurs of doubt and quiet chuckles at the idea of a child proposing military reform, had fallen into stunned silence. Even my father, a man not easily shaken, studied me with an intensity I had never seen before. The weight of the moment was immense, but I refused to let it show. I couldn¡¯t afford to. If I faltered even once, they would see me as nothing more than a boy playing at war. By the time I was finished, there was no laughter, no dismissive glances¡ªonly solemn nods and heavy consideration. It was a success. The reforms were approved. Not only that, but I was to work alongside Prime Minister Josh and the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, General Greg I. Maxwell. The kingdom¡¯s path had been set, and now, it was time to walk it. Things were about to change. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear¡ªwe were no longer content with survival. We are marching towards glory and honor. As I stepped out of the court, the tension in my shoulders eased¡ªonly slightly. Waiting for me was Mary, her expression unreadable, though a hint of admiration lingered in her eyes. ¡°Excellent work, Your Highness. You were¡­ dazzling.¡± I allowed myself a small smirk. ¡°Thank you, Mary. Now, is everything in place for Phase II?¡± She gave a slight nod. ¡°Yes, Your Highness. Every preparation has been made. We can begin at your command.¡± I glanced toward the towering halls of the palace, where decisions that shaped nations had just been made. But we weren¡¯t finished¡ªnot yet. ¡°Not now,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°There¡¯s something more pressing to discuss first.¡± Mary straightened, sensing the shift in my tone. ¡°We¡¯re about to be very busy.¡± I turned my gaze toward the horizon beyond the palace walls. The court may have been swayed today, but words alone wouldn¡¯t secure our future. The real battle was only beginning. Mary stood silently, waiting. ¡°Summon Prime Minister Josh and Commander Maxwell,¡± I ordered. ¡°Tell them the prince has work to do.¡± She hesitated for only a moment before bowing. ¡°As you command.¡± As she disappeared into the corridors, I exhaled slowly. The kingdom had taken its first step toward true strength. Now, we would see who had the will to march forward¡ªand who would be left behind. From this moment forward, there would be no hesitation, no doubts, and no mercy. The die was cast¡ªnow, all that remained was to push forth. Sparta System and Fort Hope Prime Minister Josh let out a huge sigh of relief as the royal scribe carefully copied the decree they had just drafted. Prince Rhydher spoke, his tone firm. ¡°We¡¯re just getting started. The recruitment process will be exhausting, and we still have to convince the masses.¡± Josh rubbed his temple. "It¡¯s one thing to write a decree. Getting the nobility to accept it will be another." The young prince replied with a composed tone, "We¡¯ll face resistance. But they¡¯ll fall in line once the results speak for themselves." Drakseid had officially adopted the crown prince¡¯s military reforms, and as commander-in-chief of the army, it was my duty to assist him. Should I feel lucky to still hold this position? I wasn¡¯t particularly attached to it. I had been considering retirement for some time, even though I wasn¡¯t yet of retirement age. Was I growing obsolete? Had the boy outpaced me already? Perhaps I should have been relieved with the new reforms making my work easier... but instead, I found myself gripping my sword tighter. Seeing the young prince¡¯s vision for our army, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I wanted to stay¡ªto witness firsthand what our kingdom would become under his leadership. The decree states: Royal Decree of Military Reform By the Will of His Majesty, King of Drakseid Let it be known throughout the kingdom that by royal command and with the counsel of Prince Rhydher, the kingdom of Drakseid shall enact the following military reforms for the strength and security of our land.
  1. Standardization of Training and Structure
  1. Officer Corps and Command Reform
  1. Arms and Equipment Standardization
  1. Logistics and Mobilization
  1. Citizenship and Service
This decree is effective immediately. All regional governors, lords, and military officials are commanded to enact these reforms without delay. Let none defy this royal command under penalty of treason. Come join the army and together we shall empower our kingdom to bend the wills of our enemy. By Order of His Majesty, King of Drakseid¡ª the Drakseid Phoenix King With the Seal of the Crown Things got busy real quick. We explained and demonstrated the Sparta System exactly as Prince Rhydher had taught us. The system itself was so complex that even I struggled to fully grasp it. It was designed to push human limits to their absolute extremes¡ªto forge monsters of war. Recruitment drives were held across the kingdom. The prince insisted on separating recruits by age and sex, tailoring their training accordingly. The standing army, four thousand strong, had already begun training under the new system. It was brutal, merciless, and unforgiving¡ªso much so that many tried to desert. Rhydher dealt with them swiftly. He didn¡¯t punish them physically¡ªhe didn¡¯t have to. Instead, he reminded them of the stakes. "Four years." He told them. "Follow this system for just four years, and retaking Fort Gehena will be child¡¯s play. I will personally lead the mission, and when that day comes, it won¡¯t even be worth calling a campaign." You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. His words carried weight. Fort Gehena was a scar on our pride. Our captured brothers were rotting in its dungeons, their fates unknown. The bandits who took the fort rejected all diplomatic talks and ransom offers¡ªproving they only understood one thing: strength. "We will teach them a lesson." Rhydher declared. "We will show the world our newfound power." A fire was lit in their hearts. From that moment on, no one complained. They gave everything to the Sparta System. There were setbacks, of course. But by the time the new recruits¡ªranging from twelve to sixteen¡ªwere ready to begin training, only a month had passed since the prince¡¯s sixth birthday. To mark the occasion, the entire army, the ministers, and the king himself gathered at Fort Hope for an official ceremony to announce and adopt the military reforms. Fort Hope was more than just a fortress to us¡ªit was a symbol. Built by the first king of Drakseid, it stood on the very ground where the legendary Rhydher made his last stand, holding the line against ten thousand invaders determined to wipe out our ancestors. Now, another Rhydher stood before us. Somehow, it felt nostalgic¡ªas if history itself was watching. Then, the young crown prince stepped forward. His voice, still young but unshaken, cut through the air like a blade. This time, his speech carried even more force, fire, and nerve. The young prince stepped forward, standing atop the ancient stage of Fort Hope. The wind carried his voice across the gathered ranks¡ªsoldiers, recruits, ministers, and the king himself¡ªyet it was not the wind that made them listen. It was the weight of his words. "Look around you." His voice was sharp, commanding. "These walls were not built to keep us safe. They were built to remind us of who we are." He gestured to the towering fortress behind him. "This land was not given to us. It was fought for. Our ancestors bled for every stone, every blade of grass beneath our feet. They stood here¡ªwhere we stand now¡ªand held the line against an enemy that wanted them gone. They did not yield. They did not falter. They did what had to be done so that their sons could live." His brown eyes burned with conviction. "But their sons grew weak." A hush fell over the crowd. "We have grown soft behind these walls. We have allowed our enemies to take what is ours, to slaughter our brothers, to lock them in dungeons and laugh at our weakness. And we have done nothing." He let the words sink in. He let shame boil into anger. Then, he raised his voice. "That ends today!" The recruits straightened. Soldiers clenched their fists. The fire in their prince¡¯s voice ignited something within them. "From this day forth, we fight for honor. We fight for glory. We fight because we must. Because if we do not, we will be the last sons of Drakseid. The last warriors of this land. The last free men to walk this kingdom before it is swallowed by those who see us as weak." He stepped forward, his presence towering despite his age. "I do not ask you to become soldiers. I ask you to become something more¡ªsomething unstoppable. The kind of warriors whose names will be etched into history not for their deaths, but for their victories. The kind of men whose enemies will whisper their names in fear. The kind of force that will make the world remember what Drakseid truly is." His voice turned cold, sharp as a dagger. "They think we are nothing. They think we are weak. Let them believe it." He smiled. "Because when we march, when we strike, when we reclaim what is ours, they will finally understand what a true monster looks like." The silence shattered. A roar erupted from the recruits and soldiers alike. Fists raised. Weapons slammed against shields. The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath their war cries. Rhydher stood before us, unwavering. This was no longer a gathering. This was the birth of an army. This was war. I stood beside the king, my bones heavier than they had ever been, yet my spirit lighter than it had in years. I watched his son¡ªthe child who had just turned soldiers into monsters with nothing but words¡ªand I felt something I had not felt in a long, long time. Dread. Hope. I turned to the king, my voice worn by years of battle. ¡°Perhaps it is time I lay down my sword, Your Highness. The boy speaks as though the throne were already his.¡± The king let out a quiet chuckle, though I could hear the unease beneath it. ¡°I suspect men like us will still be of use to him for some time.¡± A diplomatic answer. A careful one. The king knew as well as I did¡ªhis son had just become something far greater than a mere prince. The crowd still roared, chanting his name as he stepped down from the stage. He moved with the grace of one far beyond his years, his brown eyes burning with something unnatural. Even the stairs seemed to bow beneath his steps, as though the world itself was beginning to recognize him. I let out a slow breath, and for the first time in decades, I counted the years left in my weary bones. How many more would I live to see? How many more would I last, watching this child do the impossible? Phase-II I sat alone in my chambers long after our conversation, the dim glow of candlelight flickering across the cold stone walls. My heart was still racing. No matter how I tried to steady my breath, the echo of his words lingered¡ªthreading through my thoughts like a cold draft that refused to fade. His voice had been so calm¡ªtoo calm for someone so young to speak of war and death with such certainty. Yet beneath that calm, I had glimpsed something darker. A weight. A storm beneath the surface of his gaze, as though he had already seen too much¡ªknown too much. And yet¡­ when he stared into my eyes, I saw kindness. The same boy I had raised. His face was unchanged from the first time I placed him in the queen¡¯s arms. That softness was still there¡ªburied beneath the growing shadow of a king in the making. He had trusted me enough to reveal part of his plan¡ªa gesture of faith that should have reassured me. Instead, it terrified me. Because I believed him. His certainty about the coming war¡ªthe way he spoke of it as inevitable¡ªleft no room for doubt. He had seen something the rest of us hadn¡¯t. I stood outside the courtroom as he faced the king and his ministers. His first step¡ªPhase-I¡ªwas underway: reforming the military, restructuring the economy, and securing influence in the royal court. The young prince, standing alone against the weight of the court¡ªand winning¡ªwas simply astonishing. It should have been impossible. Yet there he stood, a five-year-old boy cutting through opposition with the composure of a seasoned ruler. I couldn¡¯t look away. I leaned back against the cold stone wall, pressing a hand over my racing heart. This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. I wasn¡¯t supposed to feel this way¡ªthis quiet, trembling sense of awe mixed with fear. I had pledged to serve the kingdom, to guide the prince where I could. But now¡­ now I wondered if it was already too late for guidance. He didn¡¯t need it. He didn¡¯t need me to teach him. He needed me to follow him. And I would. Because after today, I no longer doubted that he would lead us to victory. What terrified me was what he might become to achieve it. After several meetings and demonstrations, the reforms were underway. Phase I was progressing smoothly. His Sparta System had been adopted without resistance from the nobles, ministers, or the army. I watched as the regular soldiers spat blood from the brutal training methods¡ªbut they carried on. He had lit a fire under their hearts. But our work was far from done. Phase II had already begun. The crown prince ordered me to gather the kingdom''s orphans¡ªthe ones left behind by the previous king''s cruelty. Those abandoned on the streets, those whose parents had died in the king¡¯s wars or under his blade. Boys and girls between six and eight years old. I followed his orders and brought them to a secluded garrison deep within the forest. He was already there, waiting. I had missed his speech at Fort Hope, but the court was still talking about it. Another impossible feat for a boy his age, they said. I didn¡¯t need to hear it to know they were right. Now, I stood before him at Rivera Garrison with three hundred orphans¡ªtwo hundred boys and one hundred girls. Phase II was brutal¡ªfar harsher than the regular Sparta System training for soldiers and new recruits. The goal was to create a unit that could adapt to any battlefield situation¡ªa unit capable of turning the tide of war alone. A trump card for the kingdom. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. But the prince didn¡¯t spare himself from this grueling regime. He trained with them every day, demanding no special treatment from the overseers. He endured the same pain, bled with them, and pushed himself harder than anyone else. I couldn¡¯t bear to watch the training. Instead, I remained at the castle, helping the queen manage the kingdom¡¯s economic changes alongside the military reforms. Every two months, we visited him. Every time, I saw the difference. His body grew stronger, his posture more controlled. His eyes sharper, his speech more measured¡ªhe sounded wiser with each visit. And the orphans¡­ those lifeless children with dead eyes¡­ had changed too. Their eyes now burned with purpose. They had found something worth fighting for. They had found him. The prince blended in with them. They treated him as one of their own, following his commands without hesitation. He had given them a home. A purpose. A reason to live. The queen was worried¡ªhow could she not be? But seeing this newfound strength in both her son and the orphans eased her mind. Her loneliness didn¡¯t last long either¡ªshe gave birth to another child, a girl. For the first time in years, I saw the queen truly smile. The princess was¡­ normal. She cried and fussed like a baby should. The prince was overjoyed, introducing his little sister to his comrades with quiet pride, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Even in the mountains, he kept track of things. He read every new record and document from the royal court. He knew the state of the kingdom better than most ministers. Four years had passed. The prince finally descended from the mountain garrison. He had made a promise at Fort Hope¡ªand now he would make good on it. His physique had changed drastically. Gone was the small, lean frame of a child. His shoulders were broader, his stance heavier with purpose. His face had sharpened, his eyes colder. Yet despite the transformation, they knew him immediately when he stepped onto the stage. He was no longer a boy. He was a warrior. He was to lead this campaign to reclaim Fort Gehena¡ªthe kingdom¡¯s deepest scar. The place where their pride had been shattered. The place where their fathers and brothers had died. Thousands of soldiers stood assembled, their armor glinting beneath the morning sun. The air was thick with anticipation. He stood before them, unmoving, eyes scanning the crowd with quiet intensity. Then¡ª "Clang!" His sword struck the stone platform beneath his feet, the sharp metallic ring cutting through the noise. "Silence." His voice lashed out like a whip. The camp fell deathly quiet. "I have trained for four years in the mountains," his voice was steady, each word carrying across the gathered ranks. "I have endured the same pain you have. I have bled alongside those orphans who are your brothers and sisters. Even now they train to catch up to you." "I know the shame of Fort Gehena. I know the fear you carry in your hearts. But today¡­" He raised his sword high, the polished mythril blade catching the morning sun. "Today, we take it back." A heartbeat of silence followed¡ªthen the ground trembled beneath their roar. Spears were raised. Shields were slammed together. Veterans banged their helmets against their chests. The sound of war drums echoed through the valley. "I will lead you," he said, voice sharp with certainty. "Not as a prince¡ªnot as a child¡ªbut as one of you. I will fight with you. Bleed with you. And I will die with you if that is what it takes. But I don¡¯t plan on dying¡ªnor are any of you allowed to fall. You are strong. One of you now holds the strength of ten men. I can vouch for it. Show those barbarians the new army of Drakseid." The soldiers¡¯ roars intensified, a rising storm. His sword came down, pointed toward the horizon. "Fort Gehena stands before us. Four years ago, we lost it. Now we march to reclaim it." He turned, his crimson cloak billowing behind him as he stepped down from the platform. "Prepare for war. We shall slaughter them." Behind him, the roars of the army shattered the morning sky.