“Sir Prime!” Gabriel turned just in time to see a small object flying toward him. He tried to duck, but it struck him squarely on the forehead. Blinking in surprise, he glanced down at the offending object now resting in his lap—a green pea.
He picked it up and looked across the table to see Jonan grinning widely. “Thought being Prime would make you invincible. Nice to see you ain’t the demon this big oaf says you are,” Jonan said, nudging Lexon, who was still sulking from his earlier defeat.
“Stop calling me Sir Prime!” Gabriel muttered, not for the first time that night.
“Apologies, Sir. Sorry, I mean, Sorry Sir Prime.”
Gabriel sighed, fighting back the urge to laugh. Jonan had an uncanny ability to keep him grounded, always ensuring his head didn’t get too big. It was one of Jonan’s many charms, though at times it was equally annoying.
“Oi, Second,” Jonan said, pointing to Lakan with his fork, his mouth full of food. “Pass me the mead.”
Gabriel watched as Lakan tensed, clearly unimpressed by Jonan’s antics. “You know,” Gabriel said, trying to suppress a smirk, “I’m really starting to regret inviting you to the ball.”
Jonan waved his hand dismissively. “Please, who else were you going to invite?” Jonan said as he stuck out his tongue.
Gabriel groaned, burying his face in his hands as his elbows rested on the table. All the finalists had been invited to the ball, but Gabriel, as Prime, had been allowed to bring one guest. And in a moment of weakness—or madness—he’d chosen the jester’s son.
The boisterous laughter of his friends echoed around him, but as he glanced around the grand hall, the noise of the banquet began to fade, replaced by the regal atmosphere of the occasion. The chandeliers flickered above, the polished marble reflecting the golden light.
His gaze drifted toward the dais where the king stood. Gabriel straightened in his seat, knowing the weight of what was coming. The king’s address would likely touch on matters of alliance, power, and future expectations. The weight of being Prime pressed down on Gabriel’s shoulders, heavier than any sword or shield he’d ever carried. He couldn’t help but wonder what it truly meant for him, and his role in Balatia. He forced a smile at Jonan’s antics, but felt the tightening grip of responsibility creeping in. This wasn’t just a night of feasting—it was a night for something greater.
“Friends and foes,” the king called, his voice booming through the hall. “I trust you’re feasting well tonight?”
A chorus of cheers erupted in response.
“Tonight, we have much to celebrate,” the king continued, raising his goblet high. “Let us offer our congratulations to our new Prime!”
The table shook suddenly as Jonan slammed his fists down. “Prime! Prime! Prime!” he chanted with exaggerated enthusiasm, each thump making the cups and plates rattle.
Gabriel turned, utterly bemused, as Jonan continued his one-man celebration.
Then, before long, the chant echoed through the hall, fists pounding on tables in unison, creating a deafening rhythm. Gabriel, surrounded by friends, couldn’t help but smile.
Ryn should have been here too. Gabriel’s thoughts drifted back to earlier that day, when he and Lakan had rushed to the infirmary after the fight, their hearts heavy with worry. Relief washed over them the moment they saw Ryn awake. Though still in need of rest, Hale had reassured them that Ryn would make a full recovery within a few days.
Gabriel knew he needed to talk to Ryn soon, to understand what Velar had said to provoke such anger in him. But that conversation would have to wait. For now, he placed a fist over his chest and bowed respectfully toward the king, then turned and did the same toward his friends.
“For those who may not know,” the king announced, his voice carrying through the hall, “Orion, our new Prime, is a friend to our family. It warms my heart to have all of you here to celebrate this moment.”
Gabriel had spent enough time with the king to understand some of his mannerisms. The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the reaction had Gabriel worried.
“You are in good company, and we all look forward to seeing what else you can accomplish in the years ahead,” the king said. He scanned the room, his eyes roving the crowd, his gaze resting briefly on Gabriel before raising his goblet. “To Orion, our new Prime!”
The room erupted in cheers once more, and the clinking of cups echoed as the sentiment spread across the hall. Gabriel raised his own cup, taking in the moment, his heart racing as he glanced at his friends, allies, and potential foes.
After a stretch of lively conversation and drinking, the king cleared his throat, silencing the room once again. “I would also like to extend our gratitude to the Eldorian delegation who have come to visit us. Strengthening our ties with our neighbors has never been more important, especially with the Paresh growing bolder. In these times, we Valdorians must stand together.”
The crowd responded with polite applause, more subdued than before. There was none of the jeering that had greeted the mention of the Eldorians in the past—perhaps time had softened the initial discomfort, or perhaps the Balatians were more restrained than Gabriel had thought.
“And now,” the king continued, “I’d like to offer a special welcome to Queen Alicent and Princess Lahera. We hope you enjoy the bounty of our table and the spectacle of our tournament.”
In perfect unison, both queen and princess lifted their wine glasses, their pinkies delicately extended. With a subtle tilt of their necks, they gave the faintest of nods, the motion so synchronized and refined that it was almost imperceptible.
Gabriel was struck by the display, impressed by their effortless control. He wondered if such grace was ingrained in them through years of practice in courts and ceremonies, or if it was a skill they had honed deliberately, like warriors training for battle.
"However, I must apologize on behalf of Prince Aluban," the king said with a smirk. "He's never been one to take it easy during a sparring match."
Aluban grinned wide beneath his growing black beard, his white teeth gleaming as the crowd erupted into laughter and cheers. The Balatian pride in the room was palpable, their spirits lifted by Aluban’s recent spar with the captain of the Eldorian guard after Gabriel’s final bout. Gabriel had watched it closely—the Eldorian guard was skilled, as good as any warrior he had known, perhaps even the equal of his late brothers. Victra protect their souls. But Aluban... Aluban was something else entirely. It was hard to fathom, but Gabriel realized that within this room, the best fighters in all of Valandor were present. With the exception of Galland, who was still on campaign, it still felt like a gathering of legends.
As the king finished his speech, the hall returned to its feasting and revelry, and soon it was time for the dances.
Gabriel barely had a moment to himself as eligible girls lined up, each asking him for a dance. His heart raced, not from exertion as in a sparring match, but from the sheer overwhelming nature of the attention. This was a different kind of battle—one where he had to maneuver, not with swords but with words and charm. Though he secretly enjoyed the attention, it was all becoming a bit too much.
Poor Princess Casena had to physically push another girl aside to finally claim the dance Gabriel had promised her. Her earlier reticence from the fighting scattered like dust in the wind as he twirled her around the dance floor. Then came Lara, her rosy cheeks glowing in the candlelight. She looked radiant as she complimented him on his strength and bravery.
Gabriel smiled politely, but inwardly dismissed the praise. How can I be brave? I ran from my home, and there are those much stronger than me. Still, he danced with her gracefully, making sure to give her the moment she deserved.
Even Princess Adriella seemed to be in a rare good mood. She approached him with an uncharacteristic compliment. "You fought well today," she said curtly.
Gabriel grinned, unable to resist the playful jab. "Not bad for a 'waste of space,' right?" he echoed her insult from moon cycles ago.
Adriella narrowed her eyes, but her lips twitched. "I still don't like you," she said quickly.
"Well, at least you don't hate me anymore," Gabriel teased, his grin widening.
"For now," she replied, but there was a glint of something softer in her eyes.
"For now," he said, still smiling.
Later, Gabriel found Tunklard in the crowd, his old mentor looking proud but reserved.
"You've done well, my boy," Tunklard said, his voice gruff but warm.
"Thanks, Tunk. I couldn't have done it without you."
Tunklard nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. “You've become a powerful fighter. But remember, you’re more than just a warrior. Enjoy this moment—you’ve earned it. But don’t let it blind you.”
Gabriel nodded. "I will, Tunk."
But there was something more in Tunklard’s expression—something hesitant, as if he was holding back. Finally, he spoke, his tone more serious. “What you did to Velar… you brutalized and humiliated him. I understand why, but do you understand why? Be careful of the path you walk. I’ll stand by you, no matter what. But I want you to remember who you are.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but found no words. He knew Tunklard was right. Without a word, Gabriel stepped forward and embraced his mentor, the man who had been his closest ally. "I know," Gabriel whispered. "I really know."
Tunklard stepped back, his eyes moist with emotion. "You’re a good lad," he said quietly. "Just don’t forget that."
Gabriel, wanting to ease the tension, grinned. "How could I, with you around?"
"Enjoy the night, my boy. There are still a few who want a dance with you," Tunklard said with a knowing smile.
Gabriel turned and noticed several girls casting lingering glances his way. He gave them a polite nod before returning to his friends, finding comfort in their company.
"I’m happy for you, you know," Lakan said after a moment, his tone sincere but carrying a weight beneath it.
Gabriel looked at him thoughtfully. "I know. But I also know it can’t be easy for you."
Lakan gave a small, determined smile. "It’ll make me stronger."
"Then I guess I’ll have to keep training," Gabriel replied with a grin.
"I’m going for Prime next year."
"I wouldn’t have it any other way," Gabriel said. Then turning, he nodded toward a group of girls still eyeing them from across the hall. "And besides, looks like those muscles of yours are catching some attention. Might as well make Jonan jealous."
Lakan stammered, trying to find the words, and Gabriel laughed as he patted him on his back consolingly. “They would all love the honor to dance with you,” Gabriel pushed him forward, “So dance.”
Gabriel smiled as a girl latched onto his friend. Lakan hesitantly looked back, whilst Gabriel nodded in encouragement. It seemed his friend would rather face a hundred men in the battlefield, then talk with one girl.
Gabriel mingled for a while longer, moving through the hall and exchanging pleasantries with other named warriors. As he made his way through the crowd, he was approached by the Red General and his lady wife. Their presence commanded attention, and Gabriel straightened his posture as they neared.
"My dear child," the lady said warmly, her voice dripping with elegance. "You’ve done exceedingly well. We’re very proud of you."
Gabriel bowed respectfully. "Thank you, my lady. I owe my success to Commander Galland."
The Red General's beady eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Gabriel over, his expression harder to read. "There’s more to you than I first thought," he said. "You’ve got a cruel streak—one Galland never had. Remember, every action you take reflects on us now. I’ll ensure you have all the resources you need, but don’t tarnish our name."
Gabriel met his gaze steadily. “Thank you, General. But I have no need for anything more. I would never wish to bring ill reputation upon Commander Galland or you my lady.” Gabriel said, pointedly referring not to him.
The General gave a curt nod. "Then we are in agreement."
With that, Gabriel politely excused himself. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he walked away, hating the man for thinking him cruel—crueler, even, than Galland. The words gnawed at him. Who am I becoming? The thought plagued his mind, circling with every step he took.
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In an effort to distract himself, Gabriel turned his attention to the Eldorians across the hall. And what a distraction they were. Princess Lahera looked dazzling, the light catching on the jewels in her hair, her presence both regal and alluring. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to introduce himself. After all, he was a prince too. It only seemed fitting that he should meet a princess.
Then, in a moment of inspiration, Gabriel put one foot before the other as he approached, with much hesitation. It had been a long time since he'd felt this uncertain about speaking to someone. He told himself it was about gathering information, probing the princess for any insight into Eldoria’s intentions. But deep down, Gabriel knew the truth—he didn’t seek information; he simply wanted to talk with her. He couldn’t quite explain why.
Taking a steady breath, Gabriel moved forward, aware of the scrutinizing eyes following his every step and the subtle shift in the Eldorians' posture as he neared. The queen’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, while the princess tilted her neck to the side. Undeterred, Gabriel reached the royal pair and executed a bow in the Eldorian fashion he’d mastered in Accamania. He extended his arm straight before him, perpendicular to his body, and dipped low, pressing his forehead to his forearm in a gesture of deep respect.
"I, Orion, greet the light-kissed Queen and Princess of Eldoria," he proclaimed with a voice steadier than his nerves.
The queen, likely in her mid-thirties, had not lost any of her beauty. She regarded him with curiosity. "You know our customs well, young one."
Gabriel straightened with a polite smile. "I am merely a beneficiary of good teaching, Your Majesty."
"I must say," the queen continued, "after witnessing your performance today, I did not expect you to be so... eloquent."
"Then I must have made a poor impression in the arena," Gabriel replied with a light laugh. "I’m grateful for this opportunity to correct it."
The queen smiled, exchanging a glance with her daughter, Princess Lahera.
"He speaks as skillfully as he fights, Mother," Lahera said, her voice soft yet filled with warmth.
"Then I must have been quite unimpressive in the arena indeed," Gabriel joked.
Both women laughed, their voices musical and light.
"Has Balatia been to your liking?" Gabriel asked, steering the conversation.
"It has been... enlightening, and a spectacle worthy of much respect," the queen responded.
"Enlightening, Your Highness?" Gabriel asked, feigning casual curiosity. "One always seeks illumination, but what wisdom from Victra did you hope to find here?"
The queen’s gaze narrowed slightly, studying him with renewed interest, as if reassessing her initial judgment. "The kind of wisdom that is always needed."
"The Eldorians are fortunate to have such a wise queen," Gabriel said, bowing his head slightly.
Sensing he had reached the limits of his welcome, Gabriel turned to Princess Lahera. "It would be remiss of me not to ask for the honor of a dance, Princess."
Lahera glanced toward her mother, who blinked slowly, offering a nearly imperceptible nod.
"It would be wrong to refuse the new Prime," the princess replied with a gracious smile.
"Magnanimous and beautiful," Gabriel said, extending his hand toward her.
He could feel his heart race as she placed her delicate hand in his, a stark contrast to his calloused, battle-worn fingers. Her hands were those that nurtured life, while his had been shaped by destruction.
With calm composure, Gabriel led her to the center of the dance floor as the music swelled into a lively tempo. Though he tried to take the lead, it was clear that Lahera was the expert. Gabriel found himself following her graceful movements, her smile becoming more genuine with each step. A glimpse of the person behind the princess.
"You dance well, Princess," Gabriel remarked, twirling her gently.
"This is the most fun I’ve had in some time," she admitted, a sparkle in her eyes.
As he swung her around, his hand steady on her back, he asked, "I’m guessing you’re not one for tournaments, then?"
"It’s not just tournaments," she replied. "There are so many better things we could be doing than fighting."
"Sometimes, we have no choice but to fight," Gabriel said, though his tone was thoughtful.
"Maybe," Lahera conceded. "But sometimes, fighting is the easy way."
"You do realize you’re speaking to a Balatian," Gabriel teased gently. "We’re bred for battle."
"And that’s the problem," she said, her voice growing more earnest. "The world would be so much better without violence, without war."
Gabriel paused for a moment, her words resonating deeply. "In this, you’re right. But it’s a dream that remains just that—a dream."
Lahera’s eyes searched his. "Have you ever thought about not fighting? You fight because it’s all you’ve ever known. But what if you were taught differently?"
Her question caught him off guard, his pulse quickening. For a moment, Gabriel allowed himself to be vulnerable. "You know, Princess, I’ve never told anyone this, but there was a time when I hated violence. I wanted nothing but peace and refused to pick up a sword."
Lahera looked at him, disbelief flickering across her face. "I find that hard to believe. No one becomes Prime without brutality. Only the most ruthless can win."
"You’re not wrong," Gabriel winced. "I once saw the world as you do—that violence only breeds more violence. I wanted to break that cycle. But when I lost everything to a violence I couldn’t stop, I changed. What I’ve become, I still don’t fully understand. But I do know that power—whether through violence or not—rules this world. I won’t let anyone oppress me or the people I care about ever again."
Lahera stopped dancing. Her gaze locked on his, her expression softening. "I’m sorry," she said quietly, the apology not for her words, but for the pain that had shaped him.
Gabriel offered a faint smile. "Thank you, Princess, for the dance—and for reminding me that there are still those who believe in a better world, even if I’ve lost sight of it."
Lahera fell silent for a moment, clearly unaccustomed to such raw honesty. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, "Thank you, Little Wolf, for showing me depths in people I never thought to see."
They shared a quiet, understanding smile before parting ways, Gabriel bowing deeply in respect. As the evening progressed and Gabriel made his rounds, speaking to others at the ball, his mind kept drifting back to her—the way she envisioned a world so different from the one he’d come to accept. She saw light where he saw only shadows. He longed for that vision, even though he doubted if he could ever find his way back to it.
He just hoped he’d left as lasting an impression on her as she had on him.
Gabriel approached Aluban, who was firmly in his cups, thoroughly enjoying the night’s festivities. Aluban’s arms wrapped around Gabriel’s neck in a jovial embrace, pulling him close. "Little Prime!" he roared with a laugh. "I must say, no one expected it—not even me—and I’ve sparred with you before. But you’ve truly become something special."
Gabriel chuckled. "I owe some of that to your pointers."
Aluban waved him off. "Please, one sparring session doesn’t make a Prime. You’ve done this on your own."
Gabriel smiled appreciatively before steering the conversation toward something that had been lingering in his mind. "You’re not the only one who’s impressive. That princess, she’s really something else."
Aluban turned to glance at Princess Lahera, his smile faltering into something sadder. "She isn’t for me. My parents weren’t lying when they said I was not being married off."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, surprised. His assumptions had been entirely wrong. "There’s no way you can win her over?"
Aluban shook his head, his expression weary. "The princess will only marry an Eldorian. They’re obsessed with the purity of their bloodline—at least, that’s what their captain said right before I crushed him." He tried to laugh, but the bitterness in his voice betrayed him.
"Why are they even here, then?" Gabriel asked, sensing more beneath the surface.
"There’ve been attacks on Eldoria by the Paresh," Aluban explained. "Nothing they can’t handle, but it’s hurting their trade and supply lines. They’re here proposing a joint force to patrol our borders, protecting both sides."
Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. "Well, a future king’s bloodline isn’t something even a princess of Eldoria should scoff at," he said with a grin.
Aluban smiled weakly. "You never know, but I doubt it. Enough about me! This is your night—enjoy it! It’s not every day you become Prime."
Gabriel returned the smile, sensing a kind dismissal. Aluban’s pain ran deeper than he had expected, and now Gabriel understood why. Princess Lahera truly was captivating.
Gabriel was soon distracted by a new presence—Jacob, the Spider. Gabriel watched as the man made his way through the room, darting between people without a care for who he might offend. His eyes shifting suspiciously from side to side, always assessing, always calculating. But Gabriel knew from the man’s confident steps that the Spider was heading straight for him.
"You fought well today," the Spider said, his voice carrying that unsettling calm that always seemed to cloak his words.
Gabriel wasn’t naive. The Spider was not a man who offered idle compliments. "Thank you," Gabriel responded, his tone measured.
The Spider’s smile was thin, predatory. "But you've been daring—dancing with the Eldorian princess. I must admit, I didn’t expect that from you. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you in the future."
Gabriel stiffened. Fear always lingered when the Spider was near, but he refused to let it dictate his choices. He was his own person, not someone to be manipulated or intimidated into submission. "You’re already watching me constantly," Gabriel said, his voice steady. "If you were any closer, you’d be my shadow."
The Spider’s eyes gleamed dangerously. "Now, boy, don’t get smart with me. You remember what happened the last time?"
Gabriel’s smile didn’t waver, though he hadn’t forgotten the suffocating grip around his throat during their encounter moon cycles ago. "I’m not the same child you threatened back then. I’m not foolish enough to think I shouldn’t be cautious around you, but I’ll make my own choices. No one decides that for me."
The Spider studied him for a moment, his lips curling into a small, menacing smirk. "Follow me. The king wishes to speak with you."
Gabriel’s heart quickened. He doubted this was just another congratulatory word from the king—the monarch had already praised him publicly. No, this meeting had to be about something more. Something the king wanted, and Gabriel needed to prepare for whatever it was.
As Gabriel followed the Spider, the man parted the crowd with ease. People stepped aside instinctively; pity etched on their faces as Gabriel trailed behind him. The weight of their stares felt heavier with every step, but Gabriel kept his composure. He would face whatever awaited him, as he always had.
The Spider led him to a concealed staircase behind the king’s dining table, hidden from the view of the hall. They descended in silence, the atmosphere growing heavier with each step. At the bottom, the Spider knocked on a sturdy door before producing a key from his robes and unlocking it.
The room beyond was nearly identical to the king’s private study—ornate wood panels, shelves lined with ancient scrolls and texts, the air thick with the scent of history. Gabriel felt a strange comfort amidst the relics, but he knew this meeting would be anything but reassuring.
The king sat in a plush chair, his back straight and posture rigid. His eyes fixed on Gabriel as he entered. Gabriel bowed deeply in the Balatian fashion, waiting for the king to speak.
"I wanted to offer my personal congratulations on all that you’ve achieved," the king began, his voice carrying both warmth and gravity.
Gabriel nodded, his expression respectful. "Thank you, Your Highness. I couldn’t have achieved any of this without your support."
The king’s gaze softened, but his words carried weight. "The first time I laid eyes on you, Gabriel, you were a mess—bloodied, filthy, and broken. Yet there was something in you. A fire, a strength that didn’t match your outward state. It was the same strength your mother had."
Gabriel fought to keep his face impassive, focusing on anything but the memory of his mother. He could almost hear her voice, feel her disappointment for the man he had become—violent, ruthless, consumed by a need for power. The image of her looking at him with sorrow gnawed at his heart.
"She would be proud of you," the king added gently.
Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek, using the pain to ground himself. Proud? She would hardly recognize him now. The brutality, the savagery—everything he had done in her name felt like a betrayal of the very ideals she held dear. Yet Gabriel held his composure. "Thank you, Your Highness," he said, his voice steady.
The king cleared his throat, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Lad, you’ve come to a crossroads, one I never thought you’d reach this soon. Against all odds, you’ve become Prime—defied every expectation. You could become anything: a commander, a general ... even a king. But not here, Gabriel. Not in Balatia.”
Gabriel blinked, his mind racing to process the words. He didn’t desire those titles for their own sake, but he craved power—power to influence, to lead. If he was to reclaim his throne in Accamania, he needed to learn how to wield that power here.
"You’re a good lad," the king continued, his voice measured, "but you’re also an Accamanian. And no Accamanian, no matter how skilled or noble, can hold power in Balatia—not with dual allegiances."
Gabriel understood. To the king, he was an outsider, a potential threat. And with strength being the path to power in Balatia, he was already on that path. His growing influence was a danger to them.
He remained silent, his mind dissecting the king’s words, trying to find the direction this conversation was taking.
"You are Prime," the king said, "but I cannot allow you to hold a position of leadership. Not here."
The words hit Gabriel like a physical blow. Everything he had fought for—the endless hours of training, the pain, the sacrifice—felt meaningless. He wasn’t just losing a title; he was losing the very future he had built for himself here.
"You will not lead the first years," the king continued. "And you will step down from the position willingly."
"No," Gabriel said, his voice firm.
"This is not a request, Gabriel. It’s a command."
Gabriel understood the logic, but he couldn’t accept it. There had to be another way. "No, Your Majesty," he repeated, keeping his tone measured. "Let me explain why."
The king rose from his chair, his gaze hardening. "Careful, Gabriel. You are still a guest in this kingdom, even if you are a welcomed one."
Gabriel met the king's eyes, his voice steady. "Your Majesty, I know I am an Accamanian first. I won’t deceive you or claim otherwise. But I’ve come to love Balatia—its beauty, its people. The students at the academy are my brothers. The soldiers of the Fifth Regiment saved my life, and your family has shown me more kindness than I ever received from my own. This land has been my refuge. I would never bring suffering to it, not through my ambitions or by any other means."
He took a breath, choosing his words carefully. "I do have goals, yes—to reclaim my throne. But I will not make your people pay for that in blood. My ambitions are my own, and I will never twist others to suit them. I will protect Balatia. I will fight for her. And when I do reclaim my throne, I hope we can create a lasting peace between our two kingdoms."
The king’s expression didn’t soften. "And if there is a war between Accamania and Balatia? Who will you fight for then?"
A cold rush of realization swept through Gabriel, the question cutting into his deepest fear. War. His muscles tightened involuntarily, and he fought to keep his breath steady, but a flicker of panic lingered beneath the surface. He could feel his pulse racing in his throat. His mind raced through the implications, but he forced himself to speak, stepping forward.
"I pray it never comes to that, Your Majesty," he said, his voice lowering. "But if it does… I will fight alongside my brothers here, as long as no innocents in Accamania are harmed. That is my line. If it is crossed, I will leave this kingdom and never return." Gabriel felt sick at the thought. His words said one thing, but his mind said another.
The king’s eyes narrowed. "War with Accamania is a near certainty. The tensions along the border make it clear. It could come within a few years."
Gabriel stepped forward, his heart pounding. "Then it’s even more important that we work together now. We have the chance to break this cycle of violence, to forge something new. Let me lead, Your Majesty. Give me the opportunity to prove myself. Let me learn how to wield power so that I can help prevent war—not start it."
The king regarded him in silence, the weight of his scrutiny almost unbearable. The room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in on Gabriel, making it harder to breathe.
"You speak of reclaiming your throne as though it’s inevitable. But life offers no certainties, Gabriel."
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, trying to ground himself against the rising tide of doubt and fear. He couldn’t fail—not now. Not after everything. "Just as there is no certainty of war, your Majesty. But if it comes, I will do everything I can to protect my brothers here. To allow me to lead is a risk. I understand that. But I swear to you, I will never seek power in Balatia, nor will I allow harm to come to this kingdom—whether I become king of Accamania or not."
For a brief moment, the king’s gaze softened, as though he wanted to believe him. But before he could respond, the Spider, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward.
"Your Highness," the Spider said, his voice cold and precise, "the risk is too great. He cannot lead Balatians. He isn’t one of us. He can learn all he needs to as a foot soldier."
The king rubbed his forehead, clearly torn. Gabriel could see the weariness in his eyes—the weight of responsibility, the struggle between trust and caution.
"Continue your training," the king said at last. "You will remain Prime for now, and you will lead the students in the academy. But know this, Gabriel—if I ever doubt your intentions, or if I see any hint of deception, I will not simply take your position or banish you from Balatia. I will see to your death myself, no matter how much I wish it weren’t so."