In a small kingdom, confined to the northern edge of the continent, a distinguished gathering prepares to crown a young prince.
"It’s finally time," he thought to himself in front of a large wooden door. After offering himself a few words of encouragement, he signaled the guard to open it. A cold wind engulfed him as he entered the church.
All the seats were occupied, and a religious atmosphere permeated the place. The young man finished his walk in front of an old man dressed in white. The young prince knelt, hands bound in prayer. After a few seconds of silence, the old man began a religious chant, followed by the other clergymen. The guests started applauding, and the sound echoed in the once-quiet stone building.
After the nobles’ praises, the bishop continued the ceremony. A priest approached the prelate, holding a cushion on which rested a simple crown made of steel with a few touches of gold. The ecclesiastic gently took the crown and began speaking in a hoarse voice, impressive for his old age.
"Prince Henry of Relvar, descendant of Cadomar the Lion, I crown you by the grace and benevolence of Seraphim, sovereign of the Kingdom of Ellipta," he proclaimed ceremonially.
The audience applauded again as Henry was crowned.
"It’s heavy," he thought.
Henry stood up, placed a hand on the Seraphica, a sacred book, and, as per protocol, addressed the assembly.
"Nobles of Ellipta, I, Henry of Relvar, now your king, order you to recognize me as your rightful sovereign," and the crowd shouted in unison, "Long live Henry III of Relvar, our one and only king!" followed by a few "Long live the king." Henry had become the King of Ellipta.
After his coronation, Henry left the church, accompanied by the most prominent aristocrats of the kingdom, toward the royal castle. This march was a tradition, allowing the people to admire the new king. As Henry walked through the streets, he saw his subjects, eager to catch a glimpse of his prestigious person, pushing against the guards. The buildings were covered in snow, and they were particularly old, made of stone with thatched roofs.
Once the procession ended and the assembly reunited at the castle, a dinner awaited them. Small appetizers and digestifs were available.
Henry felt uncomfortable, unaccustomed to such social events. He merely sipped his drink and nibbled on the buffet.
Suddenly, a man approached confidently. He was slightly shorter than Henry and didn’t hide his portly figure.
"Lord Henry, I wanted to have a word with you. Why haven’t we crowned a queen along with you?" he exclaimed mockingly.
Henry couldn’t hide his discomfort, and sweat dripped from his face as he stammered,
"It’s... it’s for diplomacy. I’m keeping the continent’s princesses in suspense," he said, trying to adopt a playful tone but failing awkwardly.
"That must be it, Your Highness. You must have learned this revolutionary diplomatic technique during your studies at Balrac, I suppose," the man sneered sarcastically.
Henry, unsure of what to say, laughed nervously.
"Oh yes, Balrac is truly ahead of us in many ways. For instance, I hear many intellectuals and high society folks have adopted particular diets, mainly white meat and steamed vegetables. I think I’ll introduce it in Ellipta—some could really use it," he added, glancing at the man’s protruding belly.
The man blushed and tried to mumble something.
"Come now, Your Highness, leave the viscount alone. We both know that the aristocrats of the Empire are as fat as pigs. Embarrassing your guests is quite impolite," said Duke Veter, a well-built man in his forties.
Henry responded with a sheepish look. "Yes, Duke, my apologies, Viscount, for my rudeness."
"I’ll take my leave now, Duke, Your Highness."
He didn’t even accept my apologies, Henry thought.
"Don’t worry, Your Highness. I know that Viscount Montclair can be truly irritating, but he wasn’t wrong on this occasion. The kingdom cannot survive without an heir. Right now, only your elder brother can inherit the crown," Veter said in a fatherly tone, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder.
Henry had never had much success with women. During his studies, he had been placed in a university reserved for high-ranking officials of the Seraphic Church. The entire student body and faculty were men, which hadn’t helped him with women. The few he did meet found him ugly and strange. Moreover, several rumors circulated about Henry, accusing him of assaulting several young women.
In a sorrowful tone, Henry replied,
"Yes, I know, Duke. I will endeavor to find a good match. Don’t worry about the kingdom’s future."
Veter gave a small, barely concealed smile.
"Speaking of good matches, my… cough, cough... daughter is single. She’s turning 17 soon. If by chance you’re interested, she’s over there," the duke discreetly pointed to a young brunette woman with an ample bosom.
"Haha, Duke Veter, let’s be serious, please. Your daughter is certainly beautiful, but between you and me, we both know she probably already has someone…" (Henry realized the stupidity of his words) "uh, I mean, well…"
The Duke interrupted Henry, raising a hand, then leaned toward his ear. (whispering)
"Don’t worry, I can assure you, no man has ever touched Anna."
The Duke straightened up, thanked Henry for the conversation, and left.
"I was stunned, it was that simple. Thank you, arranged marriages, thank you, Veter," Henry thought, barely able to hide his excitement, as he headed toward the young woman.
As I think back to all those harlots who looked down on me, that era is over. Calm down, Henry, don’t count your chickens before they hatch. For all I know, the Duke’s daughter could be an impotent fool. What am I saying? Even if she were the stupidest, most naive woman in the world, I wouldn’t pass her up… Well, maybe afterward, in a more private setting," he thought.
The closer Henry got to the young woman, the more his excitement grew. He found himself standing before her.
She wore a modest outfit, a black dress that fell to her ankles with a few pieces of jewelry. She charmed all the young men at the gathering with her natural beauty. Her scent was akin to the sea at sunset.
"Congratulations, Your Highness, on your coronation."
Her breasts jiggled slightly as she curtsied before me, and those delicious nipples could almost be seen through her clothes.
"Thank you. May I ask your name?" Henry replied, feigning nonchalance.
Blushing slightly, she looked Henry straight in the eyes and said, "My name is Anna, Your Highness, Anna Veter," she replied with pride.
"I’m honored to meet a member of the illustrious Veter family and even more so a ravishing young woman like yourself," Henry said, trying to be as charming as possible.
Anna stiffened for a few seconds, then glanced at Henry’s glass and asked,
"Are you a wine connoisseur?" she returned to her usual demeanor, though slightly more flustered.
She changed the subject.
"Yes, I know a bit about it. In the Empire, I took oenology classes, and let’s just say I did quite well," he said, still nonchalant.
I’ve never taken such classes, and I wasn’t very good at university either. In fact, I was mediocre in almost all subjects except horseback riding and religious ethics.
"Really? What region is this wine from?" she asked, intrigued.
As surprising as it may seem, I know this wine. It’s the cheapest around, barely drinkable, but it has the advantage of having a fancy name.
"Simple, it’s a Comte Domaine des Chênes from the Kingdom of Castelle Bourg," he said, trying to sound knowledgeable.
"Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?"
"Impressive, Your Majesty. How many more talents do you hide?" she said, with undisguised admiration.
"A multitude, Anna. I’m a genius," he said, lifting his glass sarcastically.
"I heard from a bard that sarcasm is very useful for charming ladies. I hope he wasn’t lying. So far, I think I’m on the right track for Anna to warm my bed tonight."
Anna giggled, a little embarrassed.
"And you, Anna, what are your hobbies? Personally, I’m quite the master with a sword in hand. At Balrac, they used to call me the Monster of Ellipta."
Once again, that’s a lie. I’m atrociously bad with a sword. They did call me the Monster, but it was because of my guttural screams during combat.
"Oh really, that much, Your Majesty? I hope you’ll grant me the honor of a duel one day. As for my hobbies..."
Suddenly, a man slightly older than Anna grabbed her by the arm.
"Anna, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The Marquis Eldorien has challenged Father to a duel. That bastard Eldorien is taking advantage of the coronation to seize the County of Lysombre," he said, panicking.
"Oh no, excuse me, Your Majesty, we’ll have to finish this conversation later." Despite her apology, she bore a faint smile, barely hidden behind her panic.
"Don’t worry, let’s see what’s happening," Henry replied, following her to avoid losing her in the evening crowd.
The Veter and Eldorien families had been feuding for several years over the County of Lysombre, which had been vacant for four years. Both families were cousins of House Lysondre. The conflict had worsened due to my father’s inaction. Today, both families laid claim to the county, which had fallen into anarchy and decay.
Some minor noblemen followed us, likely eager to witness members of the highest families fight like dogs, thirsting for blood and eager to see their superiors fall so they could grab whatever crumbs they could get, Henry thought, descending the stairs toward the outer courtyard.
It was cold, very cold. Snow covered the courtyard floor. I saw the Marquis and my soon-to-be father-in-law. Great.
Lost in his lascivious thoughts, Henry didn’t notice the drool forming at the corner of his mouth.
The Duke saw me and approached.
"Your Majesty, you’ve arrived just in time. The Marquis is throwing yet another tantrum, pushing the limits of decency, ridiculousness, and falsehood."
"What are you saying, you Veter dog? The one who pushes the limits of the unspeakable is you, son of a whore, child killer, and descendant of the devil," the Marquis screamed angrily.
The Marquis was a tall and well-built man, but the weight of age showed on his face, though it was flushed with rage.
"Enough, Marquis. Look at yourself, right now you’re neither a nobleman nor a knight. You’re no better than an animal," the Duke retorted.
Well said, father-in-law. That’s what we like to see, put this fool in his place, Henry thought smugly.
Veter was a man in his forties, renowned for his remarkable swordsmanship and unwavering piety. He also happened to be my future father-in-law.
"Your Majesty, may I ask for your permission to engage in a duel with the Marquis, to cleanse our honor tarnished by House Eldorien?" asked Duke Veter.
"Of course, on one condition: I will stop the fight at any moment. I wouldn’t want my father-in-law to be killed. Anna wouldn’t bear it, and I couldn’t look our future children in the eyes knowing I let their grandfather be killed before me."
"That’s acceptable," replied the Duke.
"I don’t care about the conditions, as long as I can smash your rat face in," the Marquis retorted angrily.
After the combatants donned armor and the arena was hastily set up, the duel could begin.
Henry found himself outside the makeshift arena but positioned in the center of the two men so that he could halt the fight at any moment. The nobles surrounded the fence like ants around a drop of water.
I think this is the moment to say a prayer for the Duke, to our merciful and benevolent Lord Seraphim, Henry thought, closing his eyes and clasping his hands.
"Our Lord Seraphim, hallowed be your name, please grant that my father-in-law wins the duel—or at least, if he loses, that Anna seeks comfort on my strong chest and takes care of my royal member."
After finishing his prayer, Henry shouted in as deep and noble a voice as he could muster.
"Let the duel of honor commence, Lord Veter, Lord Eldorien—FIGHT!"
Despite Henry’s intentions, his voice trembled, making him sound like a prepubescent boy yelling.
The two men moved, but neither attacked immediately. They studied each other, watching for their opponent’s slightest move, trying to exploit any weakness.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"I’m going to rip out your balls and make a necklace out of them, gut you like the pig you are, you’ll suffer as much as my son did," the Marquis growled, still seething with rage.
"What a poet you are, Marquis. Perhaps you should consider... OOFF."
The Marquis lunged at Guillaume, tackling him to the ground, raining down blows with his shield and striking him with the pommel of his sword. Guillaume barely managed to wriggle free, struggling under the imposing Marquis.
No, no, no, not like this. What will Anna say? Henry glanced over at Anna, who looked deeply worried for her father.
I should try to reassure her.
Henry discreetly grabbed Anna’s hand. She was startled and momentarily distracted from the fight. She looked at Henry, puzzled.
"Don’t worry, Anna. He’ll win—no, he must win," he whispered, trying to give her hope.
Anna, astonished, opened her mouth, but...
"Shh, don’t say anything," Henry said, putting his finger to his mouth. Unfortunately, he misjudged the movement, and his finger ended up under her upper lip.
Oops, Henry thought, pulling his finger away.
To Henry’s surprise, she rested her head on his shoulder and gripped his hand tightly.
Tonight’s in the bag... ouch, my hand, this girl’s got a grip, Henry thought.
Back in the arena, after escaping the Marquis, Guillaume had retreated to the edge of the field. The Marquis had taken the initiative, and Guillaume was merely deflecting and parrying the Eldorien’s attacks without retaliating. Blow after blow, he gave up ground, inch by inch, until Guillaume reversed his sword, grasped it by the blade, and struck the Marquis’s helmet with the hilt, like a hammer. The Marquis’s helmet was dented by the impact, and blood seeped from both combatants' orifices.
Dazed, the Marquis staggered back, retreating, losing the ground he had fought so hard to gain. He walked like a drunken man, trying to counterattack like an old, limping dog fighting a young wolf.
The last efforts of the old man were in vain. He collapsed, his armor covered in blood.
"Guillaume Veter has won!" Henry shouted, this time with a deeper, more confident tone.
The Veter family, along with a good portion of the present nobles, rejoiced and congratulated Guillaume.
Anna looked at Guillaume with a broad smile and extended her hand.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for your support. I will not forget this, rest assured," she said gratefully.
Anna left to join her father.
"Thank you, Lord Seraphim... Finally, she let go of my hand. I would never have thought such a young woman could be so strong. Thankfully, it didn’t last any longer—my poor hand," Henry sighed.
The Marquis lay unconscious on the ground, knocked out by the Duke’s final blow. They were trying to remove his armor, which was bent and battered from the fight, just as they were with Guillaume. If the Marquis had been younger and more vigorous, the outcome of the fight might have been different.
After a few minutes, the crowd had dispersed, many of the older nobles had retired to bed, and only Henry and the young heirs of the middle and high nobility remained.
Henry, still uncomfortable with these types of events, hadn’t spoken to anyone his age except Anna since the beginning of the evening.
She was the only one he wanted; she was the only one who didn’t judge him. After the duel, he had tried to follow her, but her brother had made it clear that this was a family event, and Henry was not invited. Roland, Anna’s brother, had tried to politely, yet firmly, usher him away.
"But who does he think he is, standing between me and Anna? I saw Anna glance at me, frustrated by her brother’s behavior. Why send the king away when he's on a noble quest to produce heirs? That man has only delayed the birth of my son, but he hasn’t stopped the inevitable. One day, Anna will be mine—today or tomorrow. And even if her brother doesn’t want it, her father is a shrewd strategist, and he has found the best man for his daughter," Henry thought, wandering for a few minutes through the stone corridors of the royal castle, still cursing Roland and muttering things like:
"That self-righteous little brat."
He fantasized about a world where he, defying Roland, would rescue Anna from the clutches of her terrible brother, like a gallant knight freeing the princess from the evil dragon.
Henry had even begun drinking. He hated the taste, but he was convinced that Anna liked men who drank wine, based on their earlier conversation.
No, it’s more like he was giving himself an excuse to drink, and that was the best one he could come up with.
He finished off the last bottle left at the party.
He remembered that the castle had a small wine cellar just a few steps from the royal chamber, now his own chamber. He wouldn’t even need to search around for more drinks. He just hoped that his sister hadn’t stolen the room, as she had a bad habit of taking whatever belonged to him.
When Henry approached his chamber, he was relieved to find the royal room still untouched. But he heard cries and joyous laughter coming from the stairwell leading down to the wine cellar, along with muffled conversations. Intrigued, Henry descended the stairs, and the noises grew clearer.
"Bloody hell, some bastards are squatting in my cellar, an inheritance from my father. There are wines down there that date back to the reign of Cadomare," Henry growled, preparing to throw out the assembly occupying his property.
He carefully descended the stairs until he found himself standing before...
A group of young heirs from various noble houses, sitting in a circle with a few empty bottles around them. They all turned to Henry, surprised by his presence.
"So these are the rats who have been guzzling MY wine all evening... Wait, but there’s Anna and her brother. Hahahaha, see, you little brat, you can’t stop love. Push away the inevitable, and it will still come back to bite you," Henry chuckled inwardly.
Roland stood up and said:
"Your Majesty, you’re just in time. Come, there’s a place right next to my sister."
Laughter, silly banter, a few drinking games, the strong smell of sweat, and stupidity in its purest form.
This is everything I hate. I had distanced myself from these kinds of parties and these fake friends in the Empire, and now here I am enduring them in my own kingdom. But it’s all worth it if it lets me spend even a second more with Anna.
The group was made up of teenagers and young adults. Henry was the oldest of the group, which only heightened his discomfort. If he weren’t a noble, and if Anna weren’t there, they would have kicked him out.
A bottle was spinning in the center of the adolescents. It spun and spun until it stopped in front of a young boy, barely 14 years old.
Everyone giggled like hyenas.
A girl began to speak.
"So, Frédérique, truth or dare?"
This woman is hideously ugly, and she has shoulders like an ox.
"They're actually playing this, and in front of me, no less, in front of their king, who has probably just crowned their future ministers, and here they are playing this brainless game. I am the last king of Ellipta—this youth is doomed," Henry thought, half-drunk.
"I’ll say truth," the boy replied, a little embarrassed.
In a shrill voice, the girl responded, "You’re not taking any risks. Alright, what’s your biggest secret?"
"Uh, one of our maids... is pregnant with my child."
"WHAT? BUT WHAT? BUT HOW? BUT WHY?" Henry shouted, completely flabbergasted.
"Well, uh, Your Highness, I don’t need to paint you a picture. It was a gift from my mother and..."
"FROM YOUR MOTHER? A GIFT?" Henry yelled even louder.
"THIS LITTLE BRAT. HE’S BEEN DOING IT, AND IT WAS A GIFT. Calm down, he’s only 14. But precisely, he’s 14! I’m 23 and haven’t even touched a breast," Henry thought, feeling both angry and miserable.
"Calm down, Your Highness, you’ll wake the entire castle," Roland interjected.
"Officially, Frédérique, I may not have ‘touched the biscuit,’ but I’m your king. I’ll make your life a living hell. You have become my rival, my nemesis. I am yin, you are yang. The fact that you’re 10 years younger than me changes nothing," Henry thought provocatively.
"But, Your Highness, you’re not going to pretend you’re a saint," said Frédérique, curious.
"What do you mean?" Henry asked, puzzled.
"Well, during your studies, we received complaints from women every two weeks," Roland chimed in.
"Which women?"
Henry had a flashback. He remembered all the girls he had tried to court.
In an episcopal school, encountering a female was so rare. I didn’t want to miss any opportunity, and in my memory, sure, they ran away and screamed whenever they saw me, but I don’t think they hated me.
"Sometimes it was noblewomen or bourgeois girls. Oh yeah, one time we received a complaint from a father because you had hugged his daughter."
"Just hugged? That doesn’t sound too bad," Frédérique replied.
"She was 9 years old."
Everyone gasped in astonishment.
"It’s out of context. Stop it. She hugged me."
I was crying in the hallways when this little girl appeared out of nowhere and hugged me.
"Haha, I didn’t know you were like that, Your Highness," Frédérique laughed.
"I didn’t know your conquests came straight from the cradle," Anna snickered.
"Come on, tell us, Lord Relvar, how many do you have?" said a boy, excited.
"Of what?"
"Well, illegitimate children. With all this, you must have a few hidden away. I mean, Frédérique may have surprised us because he’s still very young to be a father, but you, you have quite a reputation."
"What, a reputation? Have they completely lost it? I’ve been trying for 10 years. What kind of opinion do they have of me?"
"Mmm, I think I have three," Henry said, trying to appear pensive and mysterious.
"I knew it! You had so many that you aren’t even sure anymore."
"And what about you, Roland? How many?" Frédérique asked curiously.
"For me, my second is on the way. His mother is a serf from the family estate."
"Argh, you men, can’t you just control yourselves seriously? Not a single one here doesn’t have a bastard in every village of their estate," the ugly woman said with a disdainful air.
"Don’t play the saint with us, Corinne. Of the women in this room, you’re the least legitimate. You’ve probably been ridden more than a horse," Roland retorted.
It’s true I’ve had a few adventures, and compared to His Highness, Sophia, or Anna, I’m neither pure nor innocent. But don’t compare me to a horse!" Corinne snapped.
The fact that someone as hideous as her has had more relationships than me is beyond belief, Henry thought, growing more frustrated.
Anna blushed deeply, embarrassed by Corinne’s remarks.
The group began to argue, exchanging insults and a few light curses, but all in good spirits, like old friends reunited after a long absence.
"They’re a bit stupid, aren’t they?" Anna whispered to Henry, while a commotion surrounded them.
"Virgins are the best, haha!" shouted Frédérique, now shirtless, completely drunk, with a bottle in each hand.
"Go, Fred! That’s my boy!" Roland cheered, equally intoxicated.
"Guys, stop, you’re going to start again," Anna said, trying to hide her amused smile.
"No, they’re completely normal, maybe even too normal," Henry replied sarcastically to Anna.
"You’re right, life is boring with them," Anna smiled.
"Got any ideas on how to stop them?" Henry asked.
"Sometimes I wait for them to fall asleep, or I shout really loud, but that kills the mood."
While they were talking, Corinne, who was tall and very strong, grabbed the frail Frédérique by the waist and threw him onto Roland.
"Are they crazy?" Henry said, wide-eyed.
"You clearly don’t know them," Anna replied, resigned.
"Are they enraged?" Henry asked.
"No, they’re just getting warmed up," Anna sighed.
Roland threw Fred back at Corinne, and Corinne launched him like a ball in a tennis match.
"Okay, now I understand," Henry said.
Anna stood up. "ALRIGHT, YOU IDIOTS, STOP IT!" she shouted.
"I love this woman," Henry thought.
Frédérique collapsed to the floor as Roland was distracted by Anna’s shout. Poor Frédérique had passed out a while ago, unconscious on the ground, vomiting as everyone else ignored him.
Henry felt a surge of satisfaction seeing the boy in such a state, a smirk forming on his face.
"That’s right, you little brat, stay in your place. This is your punishment for tasting the forbidden fruit."
Then Henry had an idea. "How about a drinking game from the Empire?" he asked, a mischievous grin on his face.
Some time later...
"Come on, my king!" Roland shouted.
"I know you can do it, Henry," Anna encouraged.
"Oh my God, this is not human," Corinne said, shielding her eyes in fear.
Fred, convulsing in a corner of the room, foamed at the mouth.
Henry finished the bottle, struggling but determined, and shouted, "Who dares challenge me, the great king of Ellipta?"
Anna knelt down. "Oh, Your Highness, may I propose a duel?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred with alcohol.
"So be it, damsel. But every duel needs a witness," Roland pointed out. "You’ll be the witness."
"Very well, Your Highness, I’ll fetch the bottles," Roland, unsteady on his feet, staggered but managed to return with two large, dusty bottles marked with a large "C."
"So, are you giving up, little king?" Anna teased.
"Never, woman!" Henry grabbed one of the bottles and brought it to his lips. The taste was dry and strong, like drinking fire. He took the bottle away from his mouth, then back again in a back-and-forth motion.
Anna, on the other hand, was pouring herself glasses. The bottle was so large that Henry had to take longer and longer pauses, while Anna, without stopping, kept drinking glass after glass like a seasoned drunk in a dingy bar.
The gap widened, the cheers and shouts of encouragement grew louder. Drops of sweat formed on Henry’s face. He felt like his skull was doubling in size, but he finished the bottle and looked at Anna, who still held a full glass in her hand.
"I win," he declared.
Then a black veil fell over Henry’s eyes, like a theater curtain after a performance. A few bright points pierced the darkness, but it was impossible to open his eyes or even think, as if falling into a dreamless sleep.
He could still hear voices and indistinct noises, but he couldn’t recognize them.
"Your Highness, please, my king, wake up!"
It was Roland, shaking Henry’s shoulder.
"What’s happening? I... feel awful, no way, I’m never doing this again," Henry groaned before noticing Anna lying next to him, using his arm as a pillow.
Seeing Henry’s expression, Roland said, "That’s why I wanted to wake you," he whispered.
"So this is paradise," Henry mumbled sleepily.
"Don’t be ridiculous, Your Highness, get up, you lazy lump," Roland said, shaking Anna harder.
Roland shook his sister more and more violently, but she only responded with muffled groans.
Henry noticed a strong odor in the room and then realized that Frédérique hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner, still covered in various fluids and filth, foaming at the mouth.
"Actually, I take back what I said—this is... horrible. Sorry, Fred, I hope you’re not dead."
As if in response, Fred began trembling violently.
"I’m not sure if that’s reassuring. We should leave before we’re caught looking like a bunch of drunks. If Fred’s the only one left, it’s not a big deal. Help me carry my sister."
"Alright, I’ll take her shoulders, and you grab her legs," the two men picked up the young woman and headed for the stairs.
Henry glanced back at his wine cellar with a pang of regret. Not only had it shrunk in size, but now it was filthy: bottles and vomit littered the floor, and a man in his underwear, covered in various fluids, might be dying inside. "Poor cellar, I’ll send the maids to clean you up," Henry thought.
As Henry and Roland carried Anna, her dress got caught and ripped; an old chandelier was to blame. The dress was torn from the waist down to her ankles.
"It’s fine, let’s keep going, she’ll survive," Roland said, annoyed.
"Okay," Henry responded, still feeling queasy.
Once they were out of the staircase, Henry noticed the sun beginning to rise.
"Where do we put her, Roland?" Henry asked.
"If you don’t mind, Your Highness, in your chamber. It’s the closest, and no one would dare disturb the king after his coronation."
"Anna will be in my room. I would have preferred it without her brother... and with her conscious."
"I don’t mind," Roland said, opening the royal chamber door.
Henry and Roland laid Anna down on the bed.
"Well, I think it’s time, Roland," Henry said, his tone shifting from mildly drunk to fully sober.
Roland grabbed two decorative swords from the wall and tossed one to Henry.
"Be ready, Your Highness."
Henry clumsily caught the sword, bewildered by Roland’s sudden change in demeanor.
"Hold on a second, Anna," Roland said. "Take off the top."
"What? Are you crazy? In front of him?" Anna exclaimed.
"You’ll do it, and that’s final. It’s what Father wanted, and don’t forget the drops."
"You’re telling me this is some kind of Veter family ritual? I have to fight you, Roland, to earn the right to be with Anna? If that’s what the Duke wanted, fine. But this seems barbaric," Henry asked, confused.
"Make him shut up already, this fool," Anna spat angrily. "I’ve wanted to strangle him since yesterday," she added while putting eye drops in.
Without warning, Roland lunged at Henry, swinging the decorative sword. Henry barely managed to react, as Anna began screaming and crying uncontrollably like a child.
"What’s going on, Roland? Why? I don’t understand anything," Henry shouted, panicking.
"Shut up, you disgusting violator!" Roland snapped back.
"Violator? But I haven’t..." Henry glanced at Anna, who was now sitting on the bed, her makeup smeared, clothes torn, crying uncontrollably.
Suddenly, Henry realized the terrible truth—he had fallen into a honeytrap.
"TRAITORS! I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!" Henry roared, now enraged, and began to clumsily defend himself.
"HELP! GUARDS! The king has lost his mind!" Roland shouted, deliberately provoking him.
It was Henry’s first real fight. Though he was unskilled, his blind fury fueled his attacks, surprising even himself. Roland, caught off guard, fell to the floor as Henry kept striking, a wild look in his eyes. Meanwhile, Anna screamed even louder, her shrieks filling the room.
The stress, adrenaline, and chaos all mixed in Henry’s mind. Without thinking, he swung again and again, every strike driven by betrayal and anger. Just as he was about to land a final blow on Roland, the door burst open.