If Ivo was on his feet right now, he would have been shaking already.

Isn't he a little too early, ivo thought as he ordered Melisa to push him to the gate, he really didn't want to meet his father…not yet.

“Are you okay my lord?” Melisa asked as she weaved through the crowd toward the gate.

“Yes, I'm better now” ivo replied, but it was more of a wish than an actual reply, he had to be better.

Was it fear that he felt? Why was he afraid? The previous ivo had so much fear of his father that that fear was now engrossed in his very body.

His body pleaded for him to run away, anywhere as long as he was far from the king, his father.

He could see the gates, his heart was pounding, he couldn't wait to be in his room away from this feeling.

“Make way! The king approaches” the tower guards called out.

Ivo froze.

Ever since he had acquired this body, he felt something he had never felt before, Fear.

It wasn't just the fear everybody felt, this was so deep in his body he could call it supernatural, his body immediately registered how dangerous the situation, person, or environment was and he responded accordingly.

But this was different, his body simply froze from the fear that it felt, he was powerless simply a prey left to fate.

He hated it, he willed his body to move, but it rejected him—reminding him that it wasn't his body in the first place.

He could hear the horse's breath behind him, he could feel the gaze of the king—his father behind him.

Melisa was already on her knees with greeting escaping her lips, it took everything he had to turn around to face him.

“Welcome home father” he called out as he bowed his head as low as he could, it was simply the required courtesy but rather a vain attempt to avoid eye contact with the king.

The king never replied, he simply scorned—probably of pity for how pitiful his son looked now, and he rode away.

Ivo watched his father ride off without sparing him another look, he was grateful that his father didn't, he wasn't sure he was ready for another minute under the king's mischievous eyes.

Stolen story; please report.

He sighed a sign of relief as he turned to Melissa, “please take me to my room” he asked her as she nodded and placed herself behind his chair and pushed him away.

Edric hurried down the hallway, he pushed the doors that blocked his path, not waiting for the guards that stood on both sides.

He adjusted his bloodred coat as he hurried his steps, he was dressed in a pair of white robes with a red coat that reached his waist with a golden belt, black pants and high boots,

his sword hung around his waist as he heard the tilt to prevent it from falling off.

So many questions ran amok in his mind, why was the king here? Where was the Royal Army that followed him? He needed answers.

Now, all that blocked those answers was the large metal door between him and the king.

He signaled to the guards stationed at the door to open it, they didn't buckle, but simply stood still.

“I said open the door” he called out a little louder, but got non reply from the guards who stood motionless staring at the long hall behind him.

Edric noted their faces and made up his mind that he was going to execute them immediately he ascended the throne, he walked towards the door, but he was blocked by the spears of the guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked as he took off his coat and drew his sword, Rager—he called it, a plain white blade around 38 inches (ca. 1 m) made from emperor reformed steel, one of the strongest and expensive blades.

It had the title of being called the unbreakable for its strength, only the crowned princes and high ranking military officers had the honor of welding one.

The guards didn't move their spears, even when Edric drew a sword.

“No need for that son” a voice called out from behind him.

Edric turned to face the voice to see his uncle and the king's only surviving brother, commander petyr.

“Uncle” Edric called out as he walked towards him, petyr stared at Edric and looked at his blade.

“Pu that away, the king has made Clear instructions that he would see no one until the survivor greeting”

“There is a survivor greeting? ”edric asked.

“I thought father hated those unnecessary parties, that's what he called them.”

“Yes he does, but this one is rather necessary as he would announce the beginning of the king games. So, go back and prepare. Save your strength because you will need it in the upcoming games.”

Edric stared back at the guards then his uncle before nodding his head and picking up his coat before walking down the hallway back from where he came.

Petyr watched his nephew disappear as he turned towards the large metal doors and signaled to the guards to open the door.

They bowed and pushed the door back as he walked inside and bowed slightly.

“All hail the king” he called out as he pulled his sword, lifting it up.

In the dark corner at the other side of the throne room, sitting on a large throne, was the king with his hand on his chin and a bored expression on his face.

His black hair was wide and untrimmed, his golden pupils signaled his royalty and his brown teeth his brutality.

His nails were blacked from dirt and his face rugged and dirt.

Petyr walked close to him, as the king smiled.

“Alaric, aren't you a little harsh on Edric” Petyr asked.

“So that was the commotion outside” He said as he sat up properly.

“If he wants my attention, he has to earn it” Alaric replied.

“He is your first blood and your successor” petyr replied.

Alaric laughed as it appeared like the room shook.

“Oh but is he?”