The golden morning sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows of the royal palace in Mirdia, casting warm hues across the intricate tapestries and marble floors. Deep inside the palace, within a heavily guarded section known only to a few, King Zenhil Mirdia sat alone in his private chamber.
The doors opened with a soft creak, and in stepped Prince Vanhil, draped in black and gold garments. Behind him came the towering figure of Valtheas, his long blond hair tied back and blue eyes cold and alert. Accompanying them were two others — the Royal Secretary, a thin, quiet man with glasses, and the Royal Mage, an old woman in a dark purple robe, her staff humming with faint magical pulses.
The moment the door shut, the Royal Mage lifted her staff and chanted under her breath. A faint shimmer enveloped the room.
"No eavesdropping spells or magical eyes can reach us now, Your Majesty," she said with a bow.
King Zenhil, aged but still stern, regarded his youngest son carefully. "This is quite a group you've brought, Vanhil."
Vanhil smiled faintly. "It is because what I ask of you must be done with absolute secrecy."
He walked forward, hands clasped behind his back. "You will summon Ranhil. Tell him you have decided to abdicate the throne — to me."
The King's expression hardened. "And what would that accomplish?"
Vanhil's voice remained calm, but there was a cold edge beneath it. "A test. If he truly respects you, he will accept your choice. But we both know what he'll do. He'll either try to kill you himself… or send someone to do it."
Zenhil's hand clenched on the armrest. "You're asking me to dangle myself like bait."
"I am giving you protection," Vanhil replied. "Valtheas's agents will be watching. They won't let harm come to you. And as insurance—" He pulled a small box from his robe and opened it.
Inside lay a golden ring, faintly glowing with blue symbols.
"A Resurrection Ring," Vanhil said. "If you die, it will activate within three seconds and return you to life, fully healed. But it can only be used once."
The King stared at the ring, then slowly picked it up. He looked up at Vanhil. "You trust this will work?"
Vanhil smiled thinly. "It will."
Valtheas stood silently in the background, arms folded, saying nothing — but his presence alone radiated assurance.
"Fine," Zenhil muttered. "I'll do it. But I want it recorded."
Vanhil nodded toward the Royal Secretary.
"Then write a will, Father. Declare that you will pass the throne to me. This is merely a safeguard… in case something unexpected happens."
King Zenhil sighed, took up a pen, and slowly began to write the document. When finished, he passed it to the Royal Secretary, who added his signature as witness. Vanhil took the scroll, rolled it up, and placed it into an enchanted tube on his belt.
Without another word, Vanhil turned and left the chamber with Valtheas.
---
Later that afternoon, in the soft glow of his personal garden, Prince Vanhil sat beside Queen Elizabeth, the newly crowned ruler of Theodor. The garden was quiet except for the occasional flutter of birds. They sat on an elegant bench, a white table between them. A maid gently placed a silver tea set and stepped away with a bow.
Elizabeth, radiant in a dark green dress, sipped from her teacup and turned to Vanhil. "Do you not love your father?"
Vanhil looked forward, eyes calm, unreadable. "He never showed me love. His heart belonged to Ranhil. He never once looked at me as a true successor. I don't resent him. I simply understand him."
He turned toward her, a soft smile forming. "Now I wish to see how Ranhil repays the love he was given."
Elizabeth looked down at her cup, then whispered, "That resurrection ring you gave him… it's fake, isn't it?"
Vanhil said nothing. He only lifted his cup to his lips, and smiled faintly.
Elizabeth didn't press further. She only gazed across the flowers blooming in the sunlight. "Then let's pray the King's faith isn't his downfall."
---
Meanwhile, in another wing of the palace, Prince Ranhil stood in his private study, his face pale with fury after the audience with the King. The doors shut behind him.
"Summon the Shadow Fang," he growled to his guard. "Tell them to prepare for a delicate task… and make sure it looks like an accident."
The trap had been set.
And the board was now in motion.