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“Long before the war, before the whispers and the bloodshed, there was a boy in the kingdom of Eldora who wanted only peace.”
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In the land of open plains and lush forests, a grand castle stood in the heart of Andrea City.
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Andrea’s contrasts and gleaming buildings gave grandeur to the city, with clean streets lined with all kinds of shops. Pristine air, carrying the scent of roses, lingered in the streets as royal officers arrived.
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A royal officer announced in the middle of the city hall.
"Hear ye, hear ye! People of Andrea! "Prince Fulvi invites you all to his coronation! The event will be held after dusk!"
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The crowd burst into cheers, their faces beaming with happiness, and began shouting, "Long live our prince, Fulvi!"
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“Soon, the cheers faded, swallowed by the hush of the city.”
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After dusk.
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The royal castle’s radiant walls flickered in the light of oil lamps, while deep red carpets, rich as rose petals, lined the halls.
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Prince Fulvi stood in front of the mirror, his gaze lingering on his reflection as he muttered to himself.
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He ran a hand through his silver hair, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"I look beautiful... With my silver hair, light skin, blue eyes—just like Mother."
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A faint knock at the door reached Fulvi’s ear. He smirked.
"Come in," Fulvi said.
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A royal guard in heavy armor entered.
"My Lord, the crowd has gathered. Lords from across the kingdom have arrived. Everyone is waiting for you in the throne room."
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Fulvi narrowed his eyes. “Is my mother there?”
The guard hesitated. “Yes, my Lord. Queen Loria is there, waiting.”
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Then Fulvi stepped outside the room, where three heavily armored guards with long swords were waiting for him.
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They followed him to the throne room, their iron armor glinting under the light of oil lamps. Lords and ladies bowed as Fulvi entered. His gaze lingered on the crowd, searching for his mother.
Then a sweet voice called out, "Fulvi, where have you been? We've been waiting for you."
A small smile appeared on Fulvi's face. "Mother, I was preparing for the coronation."
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His mother smiled. "I know it’s a burden of responsibility, but you will be a great king, just like your father."
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As Fulvi began to reply, the courtier interrupted. "My lord, time is passing. We need to begin the coronation."
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Fulvi’s jaw clenched. " Commence the coronation,” he snapped... Gesturing sharply toward the courtier.
The courtier let out a slight sigh. “Yes, my lord.”
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“The crowd’s whispers echoed through the hall…” Their gazes fixed on Fulvi as he sat down on the throne — a towering seat of power made of ancient dark oak, adorned with intricately carved lions.
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The courtier spoke, "We are truly glad you all came from across the kingdom for Prince Fulvi's coronation."
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The crowd rose in cheers, their faces filled with excitement. The courtier began the coronation. He took the crown in his hands and raised it high in front of the crowd. Its ruby shimmered under the light of the candles. "This crown is a hundred years old. It has served many kings, and it will now serve our prince, Fulvi."
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As the courtier began placing the crown on Fulvi’s head, “He glanced toward his mother with a soft smile.” When the courtier finished, he spoke, "Now you are the king of Eldora, the mighty kingdom of the world."
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The crowd erupted in cheers, shouting, "Long live our king Fulvi! May the Gods be with you!"
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"Something shifted in the far corner of the throne room. A strange flicker tugged at Fulvi’s gaze—not too fast, not too odd—but before he could focus, his mother interrupted." Her voice was calm, tinged with sadness, as she spoke. 'Your father would be proud if he were here.' Fulvi replied, 'His strange disappearance shocked everyone in the kingdom, even though he never loved me.' Queen Loria's eyes blinked quietly, not making eye contact. "Your father always loved you. He always cared about you."
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Fulvi turned to his mother, frustration rising. "Then why didn’t he show any love? He always treated me like a puppet, just someone to follow his path."
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As she was replying, a courtier bowed.
"Forgive me for the interruption, my lady, but Lord Wayan wishes to speak with you regarding important matters."
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The Queen nodded. 'I’ll be there in a moment.' Then she turned to Fulvi. 'We’ll talk about this later. For now, enjoy the celebration.'
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As the crowd rejoiced, Fulvi’s instincts alerted him to a sharp whistle—a crossbow bolt heading toward his head. He quickly leaned to the side as the bolt pierced the oak of the throne.
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The crowd's joy turned to unease as royal guards drew their swords. Fulvi's lips curled back in anger, almost like a growl, as he spoke, "Find that bastard. Make sure he doesn’t escape."
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Queen Loria’s face paled as she saw her son. She hurried to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes quickly scanning him.
“By the gods, are you alright? For a moment, I thought I had lost you, my son,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Fulvi offered her a soft smile. “Mother, don’t worry. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to fear.”
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The goblet of wine crashed to the ground as a woman screamed from the crowd, shouting,
"He’s here! The man with the black mask!"
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Guards rushed toward the figure, their swords gleaming under the lights.
Before they could reach him, the man drew a blade and slit his own throat.
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Women and children screamed as blood sprayed from his neck, staining the polished floor.
The entire throne room erupted into chaos.
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Fulvi's hands brushed against the carvings of the throne with hesitation. Finally, he stood up from the throne; his heart pounded, and a slight fear was on his face. He spoke, voice raw but commanding. "Seal the castle! Make sure no one escapes!"
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As his order echoed through the throne room, the faces in the crowd darkened with fear.
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A courtier stepped forward, his voice hesitant. "My Lord, we can’t interrogate everyone. They are our guests."
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Fulvi snarled, "We are just asking questions. We have to. Not a single risk shall be taken."
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Then Fulvi turned to his mother and ordered the guard, “Take my mother somewhere safe.”
Queen Loria protested, “But what about you? You should come with me.”
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Fulvi replied, his voice firm but gentle, “Don’t worry about me. Just go somewhere safe—please, Mother.”
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The Queen nodded, her face tinged with worry, and the guards led her to safety.
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Guards began sealing every corner of the castle, hammering wooden planks across the doors. Others herded the guests into separate rooms.
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A nobleman, face flushed with anger, shouted at a guard, "I am the Lord of Elderwood! You can't treat me like a common criminal!"
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The guard answered firmly, "Sir, we are just asking some questions before you leave."
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In the gleaming light of the torches, the guards’ gazes lingered with suspicion as they questioned every guest who had witnessed the assassination.
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A few hours later, the guards found nothing — except a dagger on the assassin’s body, its blade intricately carved with the image of a lion.
They brought the dagger to Fulvi, who was resting in his royal chamber after the chaos.
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The guard spoke, "Your Grace, we found a dagger with a lion carved on it," and placed the weapon on the table.
Fulvi studied the dagger, his fingers brushing over the carved image of the lion. His voice was steady, determined.
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"This sigil belongs to my family," he said, letting out a quiet sigh. "There must be someone among us who has betrayed me."
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"What's your command, Your Grace?" the guard replied.
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Fulvi took a jug of wine and poured it into a glass. After a long sip, he spoke, his voice sharp and commanding, “Send your most trusted spies to every corner of the city and the castle—and make sure no one knows about it."
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“Fulvi stood alone in the silence of his chamber, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.”
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