Many years ago...

In the royal palace courtyard, grunts echoed through the air as sixteen-year-old Drystan sparred against his elder brother with a practice sword in hand. Alaric attacked relentlessly while Drystan struggled to defend himself from the heavy strikes coming his way, though he was clearly failing beneath the pressure. Then with one final blow, Alaric struck hard enough to knock the sword out of Drystan’s hand before pointing his own weapon directly at him.

"Try to keep up, little brother," he mused with a smile before offering him a hand.

Drystan grabbed it and got back to his feet with a groan. "You fight like you’re trying to crush your enemy completely," Drystan muttered while walking over to retrieve his fallen sword from the ground. "How is anyone supposed to survive against that?"

"Strength alone does not win a fight," the royal instructor said calmly from where he stood overseeing their training. "If that were true, wars would already be decided by size"

"Then it’s about tactics and using your opponent’s strength against them" Drystan replied.

The older man smiled faintly. "Good, Your Highness."

Alaric rolled his eyes immediately. "Enough talking. Again," he ordered before taking his stance once more.

At Ser Vincent’s command, they charged at each other again, their practice swords colliding loudly. Alaric fought aggressively, striking with enough force that it often felt to Drystan as though his brother was trying to prove something every single time they sparred. Alaric always wanted to show that he was stronger, untouchable and impossible to defeat.

"Why don’t you actually try to land a hit instead of defending all the time?" Alaric barked from behind another strike.

Drystan’s brows furrowed as he blocked the attack.

"You’re weak," Alaric muttered with annoyance.

Use their strength against them.

Drystan recalled and his gaze sharpened instantly. This time he fought back properly, countering Alaric’s attacks instead of merely blocking them. Alaric shifted backward and a wicked smirk spread across his lips because this was exactly what he had been trying to force out of him all along.

Ser Vincent noticed it too and watched with satisfaction as the brothers continued clashing swords. Their grunts filled the courtyard until Drystan suddenly twisted his sword around Alaric’s own and knocked it clean out of his hand. The weapon flew across the courtyard before landing on the ground.

Then Drystan pointed his sword at him with a wide grin on his face.

"Got you."

Alaric’s expression darkened immediately beneath the surface while Drystan smiled proudly.

"I do not agree with this. You cheated," Alaric snapped almost instantly before storming over to pick up his sword.

"Crown Prince, His Highness only followed the instructions given to him. There was no cheating involved," Ser Vincent said carefully since he had witnessed the entire thing himself. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"I do not need your opinion, Vincent," Alaric barked coldly, causing the man to immediately fall silent.

Alaric returned to his position with a dangerous look in his eyes. "Let’s see if you can win again," he said while raising his sword.

Drystan took his stance as well, though before either of them could move, a loyal servant of House Eryndell hurried into the courtyard.

"Crown Prince, Your Highness, Ser Vincent," the eunuch greeted with a bow.

The training came to a stop immediately and everyone except Alaric bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgment.

"The king has requested the princes’ presence in the throne hall," the eunuch announced at once.

Ser Vincent nodded. "Then I suppose training ends here for today. We shall continue another time." His lips curled into a smile as he added, "His Highness Drystan did well today."

Alaric narrowed his eyes at him but said nothing. Instead he turned toward his younger brother. "Come on. Father is calling us."

The brothers put away their swords before heading out of the courtyard.

"What do you think he’s calling us for?" Drystan asked curiously from behind him.

"Probably one of his tedious judgments again," Alaric mused with clear disinterest.

"The Crown Prince is correct," the eunuch confirmed while following behind them.

Soon they arrived before the massive double doors leading into the throne hall. Their presence was announced and the doors were pulled open for them. The brothers stepped inside together upon the long red carpet stretching toward the throne.

Alaric’s gaze slowly swept across the hall where nobles, ministers and servants lowered their heads respectfully before him. He reveled in the sight because he already believed that one day not only these people, but the entirety of Eryndor would bow before him and fear his name.

When they finally reached the throne, both brothers lowered their heads.

"Your Majesty," they chorused together while the eunuch quietly retreated from the hall.

King Harold glanced at his sons and a smile spread across his face as his gaze moved from Alaric to Drystan, lingering a little longer on the younger prince.

"Well boys, you both know how this works," he said calmly. "I have a question that requires critical thinking and whoever answers best shall receive whatever he wants."

Alaric resisted the urge to roll his eyes because he already knew where this was going, while Drystan immediately paid attention since this was where he excelled the most. One brother was gifted in combat while the other possessed a sharp mind despite his young age and was skilled at solving difficult matters.

The great hall fell silent as a nobleman was dragged forward and forced onto his knees before the throne, his wrists chained tightly while guards stood firmly behind him. Murmurs spread among the ministers because the matter had already shaken all of Eryndor. The nobleman had secretly supplied grains and information to the enemy kingdom across the borders and because of that, royal soldiers had walked directly into an ambush where many of them lost their lives.

King Harold sat quietly upon his throne, unreadable as always while his sons stood below him.

"This man betrayed the crown of Eryndor," one of the councilmen announced loudly. "What judgment should be passed upon him?"

Before anyone else could speak, Alaric stepped forward immediately, his expression cold and devoid of hesitation.

"Execute him," he said plainly. "And every servant that aided him should die alongside him. Treachery spreads like disease and the only way to stop it is to cut it out completely."

The hall became silent at his words.

The nobleman’s wife burst into tears immediately while the chained man lowered his head in despair. Alaric looked at them without a trace of pity in his eyes.

"Mercy only encourages rebellion," he added calmly. "If the kingdom fears us enough, no one will dare repeat such foolishness again."

Several ministers nodded in agreement while others exchanged uneasy glances.

Then the king’s gaze shifted toward the younger prince.

"And you, Drystan?" he asked.

Drystan had remained silent the entire time, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the kneeling nobleman before he finally stepped forward.

"Why did you betray the crown?" he asked instead.

The nobleman swallowed hard. "The villages under my territory were starving," he admitted shakily. "Winter destroyed the harvests and the taxes remained the same. The enemy offered grain in exchange for information and I..." His voice broke. "I made a terrible mistake."

Alaric scoffed in disgust beneath his breath.

But Drystan continued calmly. "And the grains? Did you keep them for yourself?"

"No," the nobleman answered quickly. "I gave them to the villages."

Murmurs swept through the hall once again.

Drystan finally turned toward the throne. "What he did was still treason and innocent soldiers died because of it," he said calmly. "But killing everyone tied to this will solve nothing because another desperate man will eventually make the same choice again."

Alaric’s expression darkened slightly.

Drystan continued, "Strip him of his title, imprison him and compensate the families of the fallen soldiers using his estate. Reduce grain taxes temporarily in the affected territories and place royal supervision there."

"And what?" Alaric mocked coldly. "You intend to reward betrayal now?"

"No," Drystan replied evenly while meeting his gaze without fear. "I intend to stop it from happening again."

Silence engulfed the hall once more.

King Harold leaned back against his throne thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on Drystan before a faint smile touched his lips.

"A ruler who only knows fear creates enemies," he said slowly. "But a ruler who understands his people creates loyalty."

Alaric’s jaw clenched instantly at those words while murmurs erupted throughout the hall once again. He saw the look in his father’s eyes, pride resting there openly as he looked at Drystan, and when the younger prince smiled back faintly, irritation burned through Alaric immediately.

He could not believe that his younger brother had managed to outshine him twice in a single day.