The alleys of Leo City twisted like veins beneath the golden spires of its towers—narrow, winding paths a world apart from the grandeur above. The stench of damp stone, cooking fires, and unwashed humanity filled the air, but these streets smelled like home to Shane.
Here, he wasn’t Prince Shane of Leona, twin to Edward and shadow to his legacy. Here, he was Sean, leader of the Cobble Kids—a ragtag gang of orphans, pickpockets, and misfits who had claimed the city's forgotten corners as their own. These streets respected cunning over titles, loyalty over blood, and survival above all else. And for a boy who had fled the suffocating expectations of the palace, that was enough.
Shane perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, his dark cloak billowing in the breeze. His twin daggers rested comfortably at his sides, the worn grips like old friends in his hands. From his vantage point, he watched the alleys below, his sharp eyes tracking the flow of the city. The air felt... wrong. Restless. The usual rhythm of the streets seemed off, and Shane trusted his instincts. They’d saved his life too many times to ignore.
Years ago, Shane was just a scared boy running from the weight of the crown. The slums had been cruel, stripping him of any illusions about the world. It wasn’t the palace courts that taught him survival—it was Calico Jack, the king of Leo City’s underworld. Jack had been a legend: part thief, part conman, and wholly dangerous. He saw potential in Shane whereas others saw a naive runaway. Under Jack’s tutelage, Shane learned to move unseen, read people with a glance, and turn any situation to his advantage.
“Trust is a blade,” Jack had told him once, flipping a coin idly. “It cuts deep, and it always cuts both ways. If you want to survive, kid, you betray the world before it betrays you.”
For years, Shane lived by that creed. Jack was his mentor, his savior—until he wasn’t. Jack’s ambition eventually turned dark, and he began to see Shane less as a protégé and more as a tool. When Jack tries to use Shane’s royal bloodline in a scheme that nearly exposes his identity, Shane confronts him. Jack’s response was chillingly simple.
“Everyone’s got a price, Shane,” Jack had said with a smirk. “Even you.”
That night, Shane walked away, vowing to carve out his path. Yet Jack’s lessons stayed with him, a ghost haunting every decision he made. Even now, as the leader of the Cobble Kids, Shane wrestled with the man Jack had tried to make him—and the man he wanted to be.
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Dropping silently from the rooftop, Shane landed in the shadowed alley with practiced ease. The Cobble Kids were already waiting for him, huddled in the hidden courtyard they called home. Their faces, young but hardened, lit up when they saw him. To these kids, Shane wasn’t a prince or a relic of Calico Jack’s past—he was their leader, their protector.
“Sean!” Lacey, one of the youngest, ran up to him, her small hands clutching his cloak. Her wide eyes brimmed with fear. “The Watch has been asking questions again. They’re looking for someone.”
Shane crouched to her level, his voice calm and steady. “What kind of questions, Lace?”
She glanced nervously at the others before whispering, “Something about the knights. And... the Academy.”
Shane’s jaw tightened. The Academy meant Edward—his twin, his other half, and the embodiment of everything Shane had left behind. The upper city’s problems always bled into the slums eventually, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever this was, it was bigger than usual.
“Alright,” Shane said, ruffling Lacey’s hair. “Keep your ears open, but stay out of sight. Let me handle the rest.”
The Cobble Kids dispersed, disappearing into the maze of alleys with practiced ease. Shane stayed behind, his mind racing. The Watch sniffing around the slums was never good news, but if they were asking about the knights, it meant trouble—and trouble always found him.
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Shane slipped through the alleys like a shadow, his movements silent and deliberate. His instincts, honed under Jack’s brutal tutelage, kept him one step ahead of the city’s chaos. As he turned a corner, he froze. Ahead of him, a boy about his age stood beside a horse, his posture tense and uncertain.
The boy was tall, with travel-worn clothes that marked him as an outsider. A sword hung across his back, its worn scabbard hinting at use but not mastery. Yet it wasn’t the blade that caught Shane’s attention—it was the look in the boy’s eyes. Determined, but uncertain. Like someone searching for answers in a world that refused to give them.
Shane stepped out of the shadows, his voice light and teasing. “Lost, are we?”
The boy spun, his hand darting instinctively to the hilt of his sword. Shane raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “Relax. I’m not here to rob you. Not unless you’ve got something worth stealing, of course.”
The boy frowned, but there was a flicker of amusement in his hazel eyes. “What, the sword doesn’t scream ‘I’m broke’ loud enough?” he asked dryly.
Shane chuckled, deciding he liked this one. “Fair point. But you do have this whole ‘clueless traveler’ vibe going on. So, who are you, and why are you wandering the alleys like someone out of a bad bard’s tale?”
“Julius,” the boy replied, his tone cautious. “And I’m not wandering. I’m... assessing my options.”
“Assessing your—” Shane raised an eyebrow, but Julius cut him off.
“Exactly. And you’re what, my next one? What’s your deal?”
Shane leaned against the wall, his grin widening. “Name’s Sean. And you look like someone who needs a guide.”
Julius tilted his head, studying Shane with surprising sharpness. His eyes flicked over the daggers at Shane’s belt, the faint calluses on his hands, the easy way he carried himself.
Fast. Prefers agility. Daggers for quick strikes. Not a swordsman.
The thought came unbidden, sharp, and clinical, and Julius shoved it aside, focusing on the boy in front of him. “I’m looking for the Knight Academy,” he said finally. “Think you can point me in the right direction?”
Shane laughed. “The Academy? Ambitious. You don’t exactly scream knight material.”
Julius smirked. “Oh? And what does a knight-in-training look like? Polished armor, noble lineage, and a complete inability to navigate a city?”
“Something like that,” Shane said, pushing off the wall. “But sure. I’ll take you to the Academy. On one condition.”
Julius folded his arms. “Let me guess. Money.”
“Nah,” Shane said with a wink. “Dinner. You’re buying.”
Julius sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Lead on, oh gracious alley guide.”
As they moved through the winding streets, Shane couldn’t help but smile. There was something about Julius that intrigued him—a wit as sharp as his blade, and a purpose he hadn’t quite figured out yet. For now, Shane decided, helping this boy might be worth the risk.
But in the back of his mind, Jack’s voice whispered, a ghost of the past. “Betray the world before it betrays you.”
Shane shook it off, determined to prove that, just this once, Jack might have been wrong.
The wind carved through the training grounds, sharp and biting, carrying the scent of frost from the northern mountains. Edward Leona stood in the center of the sprawling field, a lone figure amidst the expanse of cold stone and dormant grass. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on the horizon, his stance poised and steady, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface like a storm.
In his hand was his sword, a masterpiece of craftsmanship. It had been with him through countless trials—a weapon perfectly balanced, its blade honed to lethal precision. Yet as Edward turned the hilt over in his hand, the polished steel catching the pale morning light, it felt hollow. It was a symbol of his legacy, of the expectations that shackled him, and it seemed to mock the doubt growing within him.
He thought back to his time in Xing, where the air was thinner, the peaks sharper, and the weight of his lineage had felt momentarily lifted. There, amidst the serene mountain temples, he had learned more than swordsmanship. He had learned balance. The warriors of Xing had taught him that strength was not simply force; it was a harmony between body, mind, and purpose.
For the first time, Edward had glimpsed a world where his title did not define him. But freedom was fleeting.
The gates of Leo City had welcomed him back with fanfare, the citizens hailing his return as a triumph. His father, King Arthur D. Leona VI, had stood tall on the palace steps, a proud yet distant figure as parades honored his golden son. To the kingdom, Edward was their Blade of Justice, a paragon of honor and duty.
To himself, he was unsure.
The weight of Leona's name pressed on him like armor too tight to remove. It suffocated him, whispering that doubt was weakness, that hesitation was a sin. The cheers of the crowd had faded quickly into the deafening silence of his thoughts.