Florian hated realizing that the only father figure in his life was—well, technically—Locke.
Did he ever wonder about his real father?
He did. And usually, the thoughts of his father flashed through his mind when he discovered anything he was good at.
For example, he once discovered that he was good at fishing, so he thought, my father could be a fisherman, right? Then again, when he found out that he had a talent for farming, climbing trees very quickly, and many more—you name it; any possibility for a boy who spent his childhood in the woods. The thought of his similarity with his parents was unstoppable, but at the same time, his hatred grew bigger for thinking them.
They have abandoned me, so why should I even bother thinking about them?
Not sure when exactly Florian began to stop wondering about his parents, but he had decided to bury the thoughts, covering them by lying to others and himself.
But a king? Of all professions a father could have, he never thought to be a son of a king. Not even the slightest.
In conclusion—
[You have obtained the title of [Prince]]
[Innate trait acquired: [Vanity lv. 1]
“So, I’m a prince now?”
Florian rolled his body over the edge of his bed, which was triple larger than his previous one and softer as if lying on tons of dandelion. His gaze rested upon the fancy ceiling with magnificent carvings all over it and a painting in the middle, depicting one folklore about five dragons sealing five different powers in their hearts.
“Classic but bullshit,” he commented on the painting before shutting his eyes close.
Florian had acquired his room, which was almost as big as Rebecca’s house. With a bookshelf and study desk, a balcony, a closet that could fit ten people in it, a bathroom that was as wide as his previous living room, and more useless furniture that added more aesthetics to the room.
Who needs a bathroom as big as that, anyway?
Florian could not understand how impractical his room was.
But he quickly moved on and started recollecting some information about the current King of Arcsvere, his father. Though he didn’t know much about him, he was sure the current King was the first Sorcerer to become the King of Arcsvere.
Arcsvere was better known as the country of swordsmanship, and most previous kings were either aura-wielding or strong swordsmen. The current King, Adrian Frankland, was also a sorcerer at Grand III rank.
It's honestly very impressive. With his father as an example of a cool and strong sorcerer, Florian considered becoming one—but not a king and a swordsman; he hated those words for some definite reasons.
Not long after he contemplated all the things that had happened, and probably his future plans too, a knocking sound reached his ears, but what made him open his eyes was the dark nymph who kept pulling his nose.
“Ugh,” he groaned, rubbed his nose, then half-shouted, “yes?”
Yawning, Florian scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered how long he’d been asleep. But the surrounding view gave him the answer; his room bathed in the golden light of sunset through the window and balcony.
Did I just fall asleep?
You did.
“Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence in the dining room,” came from beyond the door.
Florian yawned again and rubbed his hungry stomach before heading toward the door. He glimpsed his simple attire before opening the door and saw the same servant leading him to his room earlier. He was an Irnakalshi guy named Shaun.
“Shouldn’t I take a shower first? Or—change?” he pointed out his simple outfit.
“His Majesty requests your presence as soon as possible, as the Queen Consort, Princes, and Princess are waiting for you after they have just arrived from Klerton,” Shaun explained, “and I think your attire is presentable, Your Highness.”
Queen Consort, and Princes and Princess?
A spark of nervousness hit him again after catching those words. What would be their reactions?
Florian took a second to think.
Shock? Absolutely. Happy? Hmm, probably. Aversion? More likely. Neutral? Hopefully.
“Sure. Lead me the way, Shaun.”
***
In the dining room, tens of teardrops lamps powered by magic bathed the room with their gentle light, all the luxurious furniture reflected each other’s shine to the surroundings, and the warm aroma of the food being served wafted in the air. The servants went here and there preparing the dishes but without making much noise. Meanwhile, the King and Queen Consort, the four Princes, and the Princess had just arrived and headed to their usual seats.
The King casually occupied the head table, with the Queen Consort sitting on his left and the first Prince on the right, and the next chairs were seated by the Princes and Princess.
“What a bolt from the blue—who would imagine that I’d get news about my lost younger brother while I was in the middle of spar with General Stepanov,” began Charles, half-laughing, and sat down in his usual chair next to the first prince.
“News of the lost and hidden prince isn’t as trivial as the birth of the neighbouring king’s son,” Lucas added before lazily dropping his body into the chair next to Charles, the second prince. “But I guess having another little brother wouldn’t be that bad.”
Charles snorted at Lucas’ statement.
“But why did you compare it to the neighbouring king’s son?” Liam, Lucas’ twin brother, asked in confusion, brows puckered.
“Oh stupid”—Lucas rolled his eyes at him—"I only distinguish them on their unimportant similarities,” he sputtered to Liam’s question, letting the mockery into a more dismissive one. “And also, from all the kingdom he could live in, why Varaklich?”
“Well, I did hear that the Erembour has some connections in Varaklich,” Charles clarified with a shrug. And Lucas dramatically mouthed, Interesting. “Good place to hide, indeed,” Charles added.
“Anywhere could be a good place to hide,” Cyrus finally spoke, glancing at Charles, then whispered, “if you surely know how to do it.” Charles narrowed his gaze at him, but Cyrus just quietly smirked in response before turning to the King. “I wonder—what can be the reason behind his hiding? I was too young when the last mournful event happened.”
The King cast his first son a smile. “It is a matter we shouldn’t talk during dinner,” he had said, then looked at his children in turn. “And I demand—we ought to welcome him warmly, because from what I heard from Lord Erembour an hour ago, he just had an incident with the family he grew up with.”
“What incident?” Charles queried, his brows raising. “Natural disasters?”
“Hunger and poverty?” Lucas offered.
“Impossible,” Liam chimed in, turning to his twin in a bit of horror.
“Oh, do shut up and listen,” Cyrus chided, glancing at them sharply out of the corner of his eye.
The King gave a quick, harsh sigh. “Shortly, he lost all the family he grew up with because of this incident,” he answered, staring at the princes in turn for five seconds long as if holding them from asking another question. “Therefore, matters about your youngest brother’s incident will not be allowed to be discussed during the meal and thereafter. He is still grieving and traumatized after going through such painful events and even losing a family who had raised him. So be kind and careful about the questions you boys want to ask.”
The table fell into silence for a moment longer. All the princes nodded softly in understanding.
“And how old is he, Father?” Willow asked excitedly, keen to break the silence. “Is he around my age?” She sparked another question, and the King couldn’t help but stretch his smile wider. Willow was the only Princess among the now six children of the King, turning ten this year, and the Queen Consort’s second child after Cyrus, the first prince.
“I believe he is a year younger than your twin brothers, Lucas and Liam,” answered the King with a smile and a glance at the twins.
Lucas and Liam exchanged a glance, sharing the same surprise. But as usual, only Lucas passed a comment, because Liam was already busy stuffing his mouth with his own snack.
“And I heard he can control mana—then would he attend the academy as the first year? Or perhaps he was already a student in the Sorcery Academy and will enrol as a second-year instead?” Lucas queried, casually tying his neck-length ginger hair into a half, low ponytail—man bun, his typical hairstyle.
“Interesting—another sorcerer in the family,” Charles concluded and glanced at Cyrus while smiling connivingly. “Perhaps I shall teach him a thing or two.”
Charles and Lucas were the only sorcerers among the princes, but Cyrus and Liam’s skill as a swordsman was above the average for their age. Willow had yet to be confirmed whether she would be a sorcerer or not, as she hadn’t experienced Mana-awakening. But since she was a Frankland, she had trained to wield a sword at seven years old. The blood of being good at swordsmanship had naturally flowed in her blood.
“He will attend the academy as the first year, so I hope you, as older brothers, take care of him well in the academy,” the King stated, but only Cyrus and Liam nodded their heads. “Well, I heard he was homeschooled before and didn’t get any official education, so do help him to catch up,” the King continued before tucking his nose in his goblet, indicating that he did not accept any more questions and was even reluctant to explain further.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
“And can his education be trusted?” the Queen Consort finally entered the conversation while swirling his goblet of wine. “Cyrus, dear, perhaps you can hire some royal tutors for him to make sure his education level corresponds to the royalty level.” She told his only son delicately, and Cyrus cast her a simple nod.
“But the first day of the school year will start in two days. If he didn't have a decent basic education, it would be hard for him to mingle in the academy, especially to catch up,” Lucas pointed out. “We don’t stick to our royal titles in school. Hence, getting bullied is inevitable.”
“Fair point,” Charles concurred and added, “but it also depends on where he grew up—who knows, this family he grew up with was a rich family, considering his legal guardian: House Erembour—we shall expect his remarkable skill in swordsmanship, then?” His taunting tone led the others to snort and roll their eyes.
“Wait—are we about to bring up how you love taunting people in the academy, Lucas?” Liam was grinning ear to ear as he turned to Lucas, but Lucas immediately shoved his face away.
“Right—House Erembour. I couldn’t imagine they are the special sponsors of our little brother,” Lucas said, his voice rising, trying to change the topic his twin brought up.
“What’s up, Lucas? Do you want to get a special sponsor from them, too, by any chance?” Charles snarked, and Lucas hissed, glancing away.
“I think that’s enough,” Cyrus snapped, giving his siblings a cold glance. “It’s inappropriate to judge someone when we haven’t even met them yet. We ought to hear the story from the fifth prince himself—if he’s willing to. And besides, we should be having casual conversations, not interrogations.”
“Oh. Here it is—a lecture from our prince charming,” Charles said in a sing-song voice, then raised his goblet to drink. Lucas snickered at his words. Cyrus inhaled sharply and turned to the right, ready to return Charles’ words—a fight was possible to begin.
While all the princes had their own boiling discussion, the King kneaded his knuckles on his temple, shaking his head softly. The Queen Consort busied herself with her sparkling wine, unbothered. Willow folded her arms on her chest, grimacing as she witnessed all the drama happening amongst his older brothers.
Ugh, boys, Willow commented inwardly, shaking her head with boredom.
But the table grew silent when the main door opened, and their focus immediately fell in the same direction as they waited for the figure of the fifth prince to appear.
The sound of footsteps approaching grew louder in this sudden silence—even all the servants halted to wait for the Fifth Prince’s debut in the royal family. Then, a tall, striking boy came into view within a moment. His blood-red hair gleamed rose gold by the light, the same for his cheekbones. He had eyes that were a bit different from most humans, bold and intense. And his gaze, on the other hand, was oddly penetrating.
“Please do have a seat, son,” the King said as he regarded Florian’s eyes.
Florian inhaled nervously as his eyes turned to the dining table. His first pang of unease came when he received all the tension from the royal family. Everyone had their attention on him, with various kinds of gaze that he could not quite place, and Florian rapidly adverted his eyes, at a loss about how to react.
“Oh, dear Saints! You are so handsome! Please sit next to me!” remarked Princess Willow excitedly, smiling with an open mouth. Her left hand tapped the chair, gesturing for Florian to sit next to her.
Her excited voice dragged Florian back from his stiff state. Florian cast a stiff smile in thanks before sitting next to her, on the same line as the Queen Consort and facing all the four Princes.
Then a servant pulled the chair for him, unfolded the napkin, and placed it atop his lap, and Florian did not forget to slightly nod as thanks. It was an experience beyond his dream. He felt so weird and pleased at the same time.
“I heard you are only twelve?” asked Willow excitedly, gripping Florian’s right arm with both hands. “But you are so tall!”
Florian held back his gasp and turned to the blond-haired girl, who looked like the younger version of the Queen Consort. “Yes, I am twelve.”
Lucas scoffed and mumbled, “He’s not that tall.” Then he straightened in his chair, perhaps trying to look taller as he was a year older, yet it was no use. “And hey—I heard you can control mana, so have you checked your mana core?”
Florian turned toward the ginger-haired boy, who pinned him with a dismissive gaze through his green eyes. “No, I have not,” he answered, with his shoulders sagging.
A chuckle from a prince with espresso hair got in. “I don’t think mana core or such is a topic worth bringing up right now, Lucas,” lectured Charles, giving Lucas a serious sideways look, but his lips twisted into a half-smile.
“And, oh, brother,” Lucas called and shifted to Charles, smiling wantonly and slightly elbowing Charles. “Don’t you think we should have congratulated him first for making us sit at the dining table together after a long time,” he said in a low voice yet loud enough to be heard by everyone.
At Lucas’ statement, Cyrus let out a fake cough, a fist covering his smiling mouth. Charles burst out into silly and original laughter—but seemed to be holding it a bit from being too loud. While Liam snorted and pressed his lips from smiling too widely, his left cheek bulging with food. The King just witnessed the situation with a chin resting on his hand, his face stoic. The Queen consort looked unbothered; she even asked the servant to fill her empty glass with more wine.
Willow glanced up at Florian. “Don’t mind those idiots, brother,” she said with a genuine smile at the end of her words. And Florian smiled back at her, unsure of how to respond.
“Well—shall we just begin to eat?” the Queen Consort suggested softly but rather intimidatingly. She apparently feigned ignorance to Liam, who actually had started eating. “So, please tell us a bit about yourself, my dear.” Her gaze turned to Florian.
With that remark, the actual dinner began.
Florian introduced himself during the meal but did not tell them about the incident because no one specifically asked about it—much to his relief.
But there was one thing about the dinner that bothered him, or perhaps he was just sensitive and still not used to his new family: Everything about the dinner discomfited him—nothing like the warm and domesticity dinner he used to have with his previous family.
Is this the kind of dinner the rich usually have? Florian wondered.
The food might taste too good to be true, but Florian could scarcely enjoy it.
----------------------------------------
The first dinner clearly did not leave Florian a good impression on almost all of the royal family.
The King, however, didn’t seem to object to what his children did, even though some were downright rude. It was nothing like the dinner Florian used to have with Maman Rebecca and other children, where a spoon could fly right to your face when someone was being rude or inappropriate.
In spite of that, Florian, to say the least, had learned a bit about his family. The Queen Consort always tried to defend his only son, the first prince, Cyrus. Then, Charles seemed to always show his dislike towards the Queen Consort and Cyrus. And the two menaces were Charles and Lucas, who enjoyed jesting and even insulting stuff—including Florian as the victim—every time they got the chance. Unlike the two menaces, Liam and Cyrus weren’t that much of a talker. There were supposed to be another two concubines—Charles’ mother, the second Concubine, and the twins’ mother, the third Concubine. But they were not present, and Florian refused to know the reason.
So many wives and children. What a headache, Florian thought.
After dinner, the King asked for Florian's presence in his office to discuss other specific stuff, leading him to understand what Cithrel had said that morning.
“Just play along.”
Based on his father’s explanation and questions, Cithrel explained the story by adding spices to it. Because somehow, Florian became the only boy who survived an accidental gas explosion at the orphanage owned by the Erembour.
Why gas explosion when Maman can’t even afford a gas stove?
Florian had nothing in his mind but confusion and tens of questions.
“And I hope you oughtn’t to be taken to heart with the other princes' words, as they love pulling up jokes. You will get used to it,” told Adrian to Florian at the end of the discussion about the incident. “Since you are now brothers,” he added.
Florian urged his head to nod, and his face was stoic as if he bothered nothing by their words. Even though some comments from them offended him a bit, he would try to be more cold-headed since things like that would definitely happen again in the future.
“I will,” answered Florian stiffly.
Rising from his seat, Adrian crossed his desk to sit on the edge of his table and match his son’s height. He stared at his son for quite some moments, lamenting at his amber eyes, then spoke in a low voice, almost like a whisper. “Have you heard anything about your mother?”
Florian found himself surprised at the question. He breathed and inched up his chin to look at his father. “No, I haven’t”—he slightly shook his head—"I heard nothing about my parents until today, honestly.” I didn’t even know my parents were the King and Queen of such a great country like Arcsvere, he continued silently.
Part of him still couldn’t even believe everything that had happened up to that point was real.
“Cithrel—” Adrian sounded peeved as he mentioned that name. “She always avoids telling me anything about your mother,” he resumed, looking into Florian’s eyes. Florian looked at his blue eyes, which were filled with frustration and fatigue. But for a glance, they looked as if searching for a clue that Florian might know about his mother—the Queen.
Florian had learned that Cithrel visited the palace, together with her master, the Patriarch of House Erembour, to explain the incident that happened to him in Arallean village. Even though he might not have known the specifics of their conversation, two things about Citrhel’s story shocked and confused him.
First, Rivka's house was an orphanage under the control of House Erembour, and the reason for Florian’s existence was hidden because of the Queen’s request—his mother’s request. But based on his knowledge, Rebecca had never received any official support from the nobility or government and mentioned anything about her relationship with House Erembour or anyone from Arcsvere. They had been poor since Florian was young. Even Locke had to start working young to help with finances.
Second, the Erembour was also the guardian of the Queen, his mother, who was, in fact, also coming from the same orphanage where Florian grew up.
The patterns and puzzles were just not connecting to the fact he had. To the truth he knew.
Had he been living a lie all this time? Which side was telling the truth?
Florian was truly lost.
Why did Florian have to keep the actual incident a secret? Why did his mother have to keep him in Rivka’s house when his father searched for him? What did happen to both of them?
Why did things need to be kept secret?
And why did Florian have to be in between?
There were so many questions Florian wanted to unravel and ask, but the unconnected patterns brought them down. And he felt as though some of them were better left undiscovered—at least, for now—because he was aware of how young and unknowledgeable he was. What could a twelve-year-old boy do, anyway?
“And as you heard earlier at dinner, I have told Dain to take care of everything for your school preparation; he’s preparing all your data now,” said Adrian, his eyebrows raising and his smile widening. “So you can start studying at the Academy on Monday.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
Hearing that one of his dreams was about to come true, something shifted in Florian's face. An excitement. He gasped in mute; a hand immediately covered his open mouth, refraining his excited self from making embarrassing responses.
Adrian let loose a curt chuckle at Florian’s expression; he couldn’t help it. “It seems this kingdom will have another prince who is a talented sorcerer,” he teased.
Florian tightened his smiling lips, trying his best not to exaggerate his smile. “Thank you. I will do my best—”
Adrian raised his eyebrows and smiled teasingly, waiting for something missing in Florian’s enthusiastic response.
Florian exhaled with a smile, then answered while suppressing his embarrassment.
“I will do my best to study in the academy, Father.”
There was as though a butterfly bounced around in his heart, a colourful sensation popping unknowingly. After all the horrible incidents that happened to him the other day, deep down, he did desire a new family. New home and happiness. Anything to make him forget his grief.
So—
To hell with my brothers and my parents’ secrets and issues. I only need to learn to get stronger and level up.
Yes, nothing was more important than levelling up.
----------------------------------------
Fact corner:
Adrian and Siofra (the Queen Consort/first Concubine) had been friends since they were young and were already expected to be the next King and Queen Arcsvere. But their relationship was only for a political relationship between House Frankland and House Orlov—just like how most previous Kings and Queens of Arcsvere.
But things could always change.
When Adrian and Siofra were in university, they met Flora Sylrie, whose guardian was House Erembour, and whom Adrian eventually fell in love with.
Flora and Adrian fell in love with each other and were even known as the strongest couple in their youth. Then, as soon as Adrian was made Crown Prince at twenty-one years old, he promptly announced their engagement with Flora and married her a year later.
But Adrian couldn’t neglect the promise his father, the King, and House Orlov made to marry Siofra, so he made Siofra his first Concubine.
After the death of King Roland, Adrian took the throne to become the King in place of his father and made Flora the Queen.
But there was a tradition when a new King took the throne.
In gratitude for the Council’s position not being handed down by the new King, the Council’s family usually gave the new King a present, such as lands, property, and even their daughter as a Concubine.
Therefore, Adrian had two more Concubines. The second Concubine was the daughter of House Lennartson, and the third Concubine was the daughter of House Van Der Ze.
In conclusion, the story between Adrian and Flora is worth an entire book. (if the author is not lazy)