I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom-Chapter 63: Coincidental Meeting

September 25th, 1693

The late afternoon sun bathed the capital of Elysee in a warm golden hue, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets. The scent of freshly baked bread from reopened bakeries mixed with the lingering traces of ash from buildings still in ruins. Merchants haggled with customers, craftsmen repaired storefronts, and soldiers patrolled the streets, ensuring that order remained.

Prince Bruno rode through the city on horseback, his cloak draped over his shoulders to avoid drawing too much attention. It was not unusual for rulers to inspect their cities from a distance, relying on reports from bureaucrats and advisors. But Bruno had never been content with secondhand information. He had fought for this kingdom with his own hands, and now that he ruled it, he needed to see its recovery with his own eyes.

Beside him, Captain Vallier rode with quiet vigilance, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. Though the city was under Royalist control, threats could still lurk in the shadows. Loyalists of the Republic had not vanished overnight, and Bruno knew that remnants of resistance could rise at any moment.

Vallier observed the rebuilding efforts as they passed through a marketplace where wooden beams were being hoisted to restore a burned-down shop. "The city’s recovering faster than expected," he remarked.

Bruno nodded, though his expression remained neutral. "Because they have no choice. If they do not rebuild, they will starve."

The weight of war still clung to Elysee. Though the banners of the Republic had been torn down and replaced with the newly minted standard of Elysea—bearing the golden eagle—many streets bore the scars of battle. Some homes had been reduced to rubble, their remains now nothing more than piles of stone and wood. Yet, amid the destruction, there was a resilience in the people.

They turned a corner onto a quieter street, where a group of children sat in a semicircle outside a modest stone building. A woman stood before them, speaking in a voice clear and calm.

"This city was once called the Jewel of Elysea," she told them, her tone carrying authority yet warmth. "Its streets were filled with life, its people proud and prosperous. And one day, it will be again."

Bruno narrowed his eyes. He recognized that voice.

Standing before the children was Lady Amélie de Vauclerc. She wore a practical yet elegant gown, simpler than the one she had worn at the banquet. The sapphire silk had been replaced by a muted ivory and gray dress, still dignified but suited for movement. Her pink hair was neatly tied back, and her violet eyes gleamed with quiet determination.

Bruno hadn’t expected to see her again so soon—certainly not here, teaching children amid the ruins of a broken city.

"She’s different from the other nobles," Vallier muttered, his tone carrying a note of intrigue. "Most are too busy reclaiming their estates and wealth, yet she’s here."

Bruno did not reply immediately. Instead, he watched.

The lesson soon ended, and the children scattered, running toward the market and their homes. Amélie lingered, watching them go with a small smile before turning to leave.

Bruno took the opportunity to step forward. "Lady Vauclerc."

She turned, her expression shifting from surprise to composed elegance. Her violet eyes studied him before she gracefully curtsied. "Your Highness."

Bruno approached, studying her carefully. "I did not expect to find you here."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "And what were you expecting, Your Highness? That I would be idling away in a salon, speaking of courtly gossip?"

A small smirk played on Bruno’s lips. "Something like that."

She chuckled, the sound soft yet genuine. "Then I’m afraid I must disappoint you."

Bruno glanced at the schoolhouse behind her. "You’re teaching?"

Amélie nodded. "These children have lost their families to war. Some have no homes to return to. If they are not given guidance now, they will grow up without purpose, without hope. And an orphan with no hope is an easy tool for the next revolution."

Bruno was silent for a moment. She spoke with the clarity of someone who had given deep thought to the matter—more thought than many of the so-called statesmen who surrounded him.

"Most nobles would not bother," he remarked. "They see the people as their subjects, not as something to invest in."

Her expression remained poised. "Then they are blind. If the people remain uneducated, they will always be susceptible to manipulation—whether by nobles, by revolutionaries, or by foreign invaders."

Bruno understood that truth well. Power was not just about swords and soldiers—it was about knowledge. A ruler could not simply command; he had to ensure the loyalty of those who followed him.

"You think education is the answer to stability?" he asked.

Amélie nodded. "It is the foundation. Without it, you are simply ruling over men who do not understand why they follow you."

Bruno regarded her with newfound respect. He had met many nobles, many women who were skilled in courtly games. But Amélie de Vauclerc was different. She was sharp, deliberate with her words, and pragmatic in her beliefs.

He was intrigued.

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"You do not seek to reclaim your family’s old influence," he noted. "Yet here you are, working to rebuild the city."

She tilted her head slightly. "Because my family was loyal to Elysea, not just to the monarchy. I serve not for titles or power, but because this is my home."

Bruno found himself admiring that answer. It was not often that he met someone who spoke of duty rather than ambition.

"Then perhaps Elysea still has use for the House of Vauclerc," he said thoughtfully.

Amélie’s lips curved slightly. "That depends, Your Highness. Do you mean to restore it… or to control it?"

Bruno smirked. "That depends, Lady Vauclerc. Would you be so easily controlled?"

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No, Your Highness. I would not."

He liked that answer.

Bruno took a step back, nodding. "Then perhaps we shall speak again soon."

She curtsied once more. "Perhaps we shall."

As she turned and walked away, disappearing down the narrow street, Bruno remained still, watching her go. There was something about her—something compelling.

Vallier, still at his side, finally broke the silence.

"She has quite the spirit," he remarked.

Bruno exhaled slowly, mounting his horse. "Yes. She does."

As they rode further into the city, Bruno’s thoughts lingered on Amélie de Vauclerc. He had spent years consumed by war, by politics, by power. He had never concerned himself with matters of courtship or marriage.

But now, for the first time, he found himself considering the possibility.

Perhaps Leclerc had been right after all.