"Attempting to violate Veter’s daughter... you’ve really lost it, Henry. Mom must have rocked you too close to the wall, there’s no other explanation!" Sophia shouted.

Henry paced back and forth between the four walls of his room.

"It was a setup, Sophia. Those Veter scum tricked me. The moment I get a chance, I’m going to wipe them out!" Henry replied, stressed.

Sophia slapped him so hard that Henry felt like his jaw was coming unhinged.

"Are you insane? That hurts like hell!" Henry mumbled.

"Shut up! Is it really that hard to stop thinking with your crotch? On the first day of your reign, you try to violate a noblewoman? You’re nothing but a lecherous pig! Please, Henry, just apologize to the girl!" Sophia said, tears in her eyes.

"Apologize for a crime I didn’t commit? That bastard planned everything from the beginning, believe me, Sophia, I swear..." Henry said.

"You haven’t changed. Even after five years, you’re still blaming your mistakes on some greater force supposedly manipulating you," Sophia said, looking at him with disdain.

Henry tried to reply, but no words came out. He stood there, mouth open, like a dead fish.

"Couldn’t you, just once, stop thinking only about yourself? By touching that girl, you’ve fallen, but you’ve also dragged me down with you," Sophia said, her voice trembling, her face pale.

She slammed the door and left.

Henry lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "I didn’t know you could win everything in one day and lose it all the next. Now I understand your choice, Isaac..."

Somewhere in the Principality of Kholm.

Isaac was nibbling on a piece of stale bread, casually dipping it in his soup. It had been days since he and his group had been roaming the countryside, passing through towns and villages.

"Looks like a goblin took a dump in my stew," an ex-soldier complained.

"Shut up and eat," replied a grizzled old man.

The group had been traveling for a month. Famine was starting to set in, and the men were reduced to eating their horses. Today, they were down to their last rations.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the forest edge, sprinting toward where the captain of the guard and the prince were eating. Panting, he struggled to deliver his message.

"Cap’n... (inhale) a village... (exhale)" he said, exhausted but excited.

"Come now, calm down and catch your breath."

The man took a few minutes to steady his breathing.

"We’ve spotted several villages. The villagers assured me they weren’t Elliptans," the man said, joyfully.

"That means we’ve crossed the border into the Principality of Kholm?"

"Really? Tell the men to get ready."

Isaac tossed his bowl of gruel aside with disdain. "No more rotten rations; we’re no longer in Ellipta."

"My prince?"

"What is it, captain?"

"After so long with forced marches and deprivation, I fear I can no longer keep the men in check," the old man said, worried.

"That’s not a problem. No one cares about isolated villages. Besides, the men’s morale is at an all-time low. I can’t refuse them a little reward after crossing the entire kingdom."

"Very well, Your Highness."

Isaac returned to his tent to prepare for the raid.

"I don’t want to look like a beggar, even during a pillage. It’s important to maintain appearances. These royal guards tend to forget who’s in charge. It’s good to remind them—sometimes with a little reward, sometimes with a firm hand."

Isaac looked at himself in a pocket mirror. Despite his greasy hair and pale complexion, the young man had a certain beauty. It wasn’t exceptional, but combined with his royal blood, it made him rather attractive.

Putting on his plate armor and gambeson, Isaac felt that his decision to leave the Royal Palace had been the right one. He’d rather die free than become a puppet king. He had passed the burden onto his brother.

The captain of the guard entered the tent.

"Your Highness, the men are ready. They’re just waiting for you."

"Very well, Albert, I’ll be right out."

Stepping out of the tent, Isaac saw his men standing in tight formation, armed and with the royal crests removed from their shields.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"They’re still soldiers, after all," he muttered, observing their discipline.

Royal Palace, Veter’s chambers

"That was easier than expected," Roland boasted.

"The plan wasn’t followed at all. It was a fiasco from start to finish. We only managed to improvise because he’s an absolute fool. If the marquis hadn’t put on his show, we could have humiliated him in front of everyone. Instead, only a few guards caught him, and some nobles are still skeptical. And you couldn’t resist drinking, even during such an important operation!" another man retorted.

"Stop dramatizing. Father said it wouldn’t have major consequences. Besides, if I recall correctly, it’s thanks to my impromptu party that it worked."

"I almost vomited getting up to set the scene."

"But it worked nonetheless. That little king dances in the palm of our hand. Honestly, I’ve rarely had so much contempt for someone."

"You’re only saying that because he fancied me. Come on, you know it was all an act," Anna said in a sultry voice.

"Yeah, cut it out, Anna. I’m not some noble in need of attention," Roland said, irritated, as he got out of bed.

"I’ve never heard anything so false. Should I remind you who was warming my bed last night?"

"Shut up," he replied, dressing nonchalantly.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"For a walk in town. I’m going mad in this castle."

"When you’re done buying your alcohol, could you get me some honey candies? There’s a confectionery near the port, I’ve heard they’re delicious."

"Honey candies? Fine."

"Great, thanks, big brother." Anna slipped out from under the covers, revealing her frail, snow-white body, contrasting with her long black hair.

Roland left the room before his instincts took over, making his way through the castle, greeting the guards as he headed toward the city. The town was bustling, and rumors about the king’s attempted assault on the Veter girl spread like wildfire.

"Did you hear about Veter’s daughter?"

"Yeah, I’m not surprised. He already had that reputation in the empire."

"What’s going to happen to him? He’s the king, after all."

"He’s just a spare. Prince Isaac would never have done that."

The conversations buzzed in the taverns and shops. It had become the capital’s gossip. People laughed more than they were outraged, but it still weakened the royal family. Between a fugitive and a pervert, the royal reputation wasn’t looking good. Only the third prince remained untainted by rumors.

Roland stopped at the port, the smell of the sea tickling his cold nostrils. Fishermen were unloading their catch, trying to stock up before the sea froze.

Roland approached a sailor, a burly, round man whose face was marked by years of life at sea.

"Have you seen the One-Eyed?"

"The One-Eyed? His ship has left, but he left you a gift," the man replied with a thick accent, pointing to a small box nearby.

It was the code used by smugglers. Roland opened the box. Inside was a red vial.

A heavy, calloused hand rested on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir. The One-Eyed also asked me to give you this. He said it was a gift from the house."

"A gift? That’s not like the One-Eyed," Roland said, puzzled.

"I’m not in the boss’s head, sir," the man replied, handing a small burlap sack to Roland.

"Good day, sir."

"Yeah, good day to you," Roland replied, walking away with a haughty air.

"The vial cost me a fortune, but knowing the One-Eyed, it’s not junk… or at least, I hope not. Now, let’s see what’s in this burlap sack. Don’t tell me he’s kidnapped a member of my family to ransom my father, and this is a finger or an eye... No, I’m getting carried away."

Roland opened the sack, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Honey candies..."

Royal chamber.

For two days now, the nobles had placed him under house arrest, as if they had the authority. Once he was out of this situation, Henry promised himself he’d hang Veter’s head on the door of his latrine and drag his daughter through the worst brothels in the slums of his kingdom. Then he’d let his entire army dishonor her. He could already imagine her begging for mercy while being forced to swallow yet another filthy peasant, squealing like a sow.

"Your Highness?" a man knocked on the door.

Henry, caught in the midst of his revenge fantasy, thought: Who dares interrupt me right now?

"May I come in?" the man said, opening the door.

A tall man with a face marked by multiple scars entered. Dressed in a plain but remarkably fine tunic, it was the Marquis Eldorien. He spoke in a deep voice:

"Good day, my king. Rest assured, I come not as an enemy."

"I’d prefer a friend, but very well. What do you want, Marquis?"

"I’ll be more than a friend, Your Highness."

The marquis closed the door, ensuring no one could eavesdrop, then flashed a smile, like a salesman eager to close a deal.

"Your Highness, you’re not in the best position for the start of your reign, are you? And I suspect you don’t have a very high opinion of Duke Veter."

"You think?" Henry replied sarcastically.

"If you keep interrupting me, I’ll gladly walk out and leave you to deal with this on your own, Your Highness," the marquis retorted, unfazed.

Henry was about to snap back but hesitated. Who does this man think he is? Well, perhaps he’s a high-ranking noble, after all...

"No, go ahead, Marquis. I’m all ears."

The marquis nodded slightly, then continued:

"I won’t beat around the bush. I’m here to help you. In a few days, Veter will come to you with several offers, seeking to avoid a noble trial. He’ll prefer to settle this matter amicably because such a trial would be long and uncertain. In fact, his demands will likely be lowered. The holy judges are not on good terms with him."

Intrigued, Henry raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?" he asked.

"An old story," Eldorien said, looking pensive. "The Church once demanded that his eldest son be ordained as a monk to atone for the duke’s sins. I won’t pretend I had nothing to do with that; let’s just say the bishop of Ellipta at the time owed me a favor. In the end, Veter had every monk tied by the testicles to a horse, saying it was unnecessary for a clergyman to possess them."

Henry winced. "Ouch, poor men..."

"Furthermore, Veter will try to manipulate you. He’ll attempt to place the monarchy under his control by marrying his daughter to you, restoring his honor and positioning his allies in key roles."

"So, I just have to wait and refuse all his proposals?" Henry asked, thinking he had found the solution.

"Not quite. The Veters are known for neutralizing their political adversaries by extreme means, especially through their specialized spies. It will be obvious that it’s them, and many nobles will be unhappy, but a civil war is still an option for them. The outcome is the same: control over the crown. I managed to avoid that fate thanks to a well-trained and loyal guard, but unfortunately, Prince Isaac deprived you of such an asset."

"What do you mean by 'neutralizing'?" Henry asked, his expression hardening.

"They lobotomize you," Eldorien replied calmly.

Henry’s eyes widened in horror at the word. "Lobotomize?"

"Yes, they insert a wooden stick into your brain through your eye socket. After that, you spend the rest of your life as a vegetable."

Henry swallowed hard. "Charming... And what can I do to avoid such a fate?"

Eldorien smiled, almost amused. "Accept all their demands."

"What?" Henry looked confused, incredulous.

"Even better: lie down, accept your fate. Be miserable, say you prefer to enjoy your status without worrying about ruling. Come up with something like that. In exchange, ask for just one thing to restore your honor. Request a duel."