The old servants would say that the nameless prince was as intelligent as young Minte II. The nameless prince understood that because of his special origin, he was able to stay by his father's side unlike his siblings who were sent to various countries, but he also understood that because of his special origin, he could never become the head of the family. While his siblings followed tutors to learn rhetoric, debating skills, and history, the nameless prince went to the training ground of the noble guards, holding a wooden sword and competing with the adults.
One day, Minte II, dressed in a black robe, came to the training ground and watched the captain of the noble guards, who used his arm span advantage to play with the nameless prince like a puppy. The prince dodged the wooden sword thrust towards him, blocked the captain's arm with his shoulder, held the heavy wooden sword with both hands, lowered his body and rushed forward, only to be kicked away. Minte II had enough of this farce and limped over, ordering the captain to leave and the noble guards quickly retreated.
Minte walked up to the standing prince, placing his hands on his heaving shoulders, staring at him through his iron mask. "Why did you do that?" he asked after the noble guards had gone. "You know you are different from your brother and you are not qualified to inherit the wolf scepter."
"I don't want to be a king." The nameless prince wanted to break free from his father's grasp, but his claws were as strong and powerful as those of a vulture. "I just want to fight."
"Reasons are needed to throw oneself into battle," Minte II spoke without any trace of anxiety or worry, only inheriting the coldness of his lineage. "Do you want to win my favor through fighting?" He fingered his son's beautiful curly hair. "Give up on that idea. I won't love you, at least not in this life."
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The nameless prince raised his head and tearfully asked, "Why? Father, did I do something wrong?" Minte II just shook his head slightly. The black eyes hidden behind the iron mask looked coldly past the nameless prince and towards his empty shoulders, "No, you didn't do anything wrong. But then again, who did?"
The nameless prince suddenly knelt down, tears soaking the ground. "Since you don't love me, then let me join the army, father. At least let me be loyal to our family."
Minte II lowered his right hand and placed his palm on the nameless prince's shoulder. He stopped sobbing and opened his large grey-blue eyes. "Fighting? That's ridiculous." However, only colder mockery awaited him. "Do you think it's just playing around in the palace? If you join the army, it will only bring shame to our ancestors."
"Do you hate me, father?" The nameless prince spoke the question lowly through his hanging curls, not expecting an answer. Minte II only lowered his masked eyes.
The boy stood up, not pushing his father's hand off his shoulder, but lightly bowing and turning away, leaving the faceless one with an empty palm.
Gradually, the nameless prince no longer appeared publicly in the palace. It was rumored that he always climbed up the high tower at night to fight with soldiers who were willing to compete with him and rewarded them for their courage. The prince's solitary personality made it difficult for even his nursemaid to get close to him. Finally, the faceless one lost interest in the stubborn prince and announced his mother's identity (as expected, a deceased noble girl) to the outside world, giving the nameless prince a formal status and allowing other clans to accept him as a hostage.
Before departing, the nameless prince looked back at his hometown for the last time, but his father did not appear on the city wall. He put on his cloak and, accompanied by the wolf warriors, spent several nights traversing the snowy mountain ridges and arrived at the place of his confinement in Avalanşă Mountain.
On a sleepless night of rough straw bed, the nameless prince recalled the messenger's announcement before departing. Minte II had fabricated a name for him - "Vasili". He was twelve years old that year.