Chapter 2: Survival
The King's eyes burned, unreadable, but within them flickered something rare: curiosity.
"…Very well."
His voice rolled like thunder across the Aurum Hall. "Tomorrow, you will stand before the Solar Council. If you fail to show me change, if you disgrace your blood again…"
His words cut like steel. "…I will strip you of title and inheritance, and you shall be cast from this palace as nothing more than a beggar."
The declaration slammed into the chamber like a hammer.
Lucian's heart pounded, but his lips curved into the faintest smile. "So be it, Father."
For the first time in decades — in two lifetimes — he felt alive.
Not as Harrington, the weary politician.
Not as Lucian, the fool prince.
But as both. Merged. Doubled. Strengthened.
Two souls, one body. One destiny.
And so the banquet ended not with laughter, but with silence.
A silence that promised change.
A silence that whispered of storms to come.
--------
The banquet had ended with whispers chasing him through the corridors.
Lucian walked in silence, the sound of his boots echoing against marble floors. Guards saluted stiffly as he passed, though their eyes betrayed doubt. Servants avoided his gaze. For years, their duties included cleaning after his drunken messes and calming his tantrums.
Now, he walked like a man reborn straight-backed, sharp-eyed. And that unsettled them even more.
His chambers awaited at the far end of the east wing. A grand room decorated with silk drapes, books left to gather dust, and bottles of wine scattered like trophies of disgrace.
Click.
The heavy oak doors closed behind him, cutting him off from the court's whispers. He exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. For the first time since awakening in this body, he allowed himself a moment to think.
Then —
Thump… thump… thump.
His chest pulsed, not from heartbeat but from something deeper. His vision blurred.
And suddenly, he was not alone.
Inside the darkness of his mind, another presence stirred.
"…Who are you?" A voice echoed, rough, half-panicked, half-angry.
Lucian froze. The voice was his own — and not.
"I should be the one asking," Lucian whispered. "This is… my body."
"No!" The voice roared. "My body! I am Lucian Von Solaris, Fifth Prince of Solinara! You ; you're an intruder!"
For a moment, silence stretched.
Then Harrington
— The politician soul smiled faintly.
"So you're still here. The real prince."
The darkness around him shifted, coalescing into a faint, ghostly image of the young man's soul: tousled hair, lazy grin, wine-stained tunic. The old Lucian looked exactly as he had lived — foolish, carefree, a clown among royals.
The specter sneered. "What are you? Demon magic? Possession? Did the Draemirs send you?!"
"No." Harrington's voice grew firm. "I am… or was… a man of another world. A politician. A man who spent sixty years fighting wars of words, laws, and power. And when I died… I woke here. In you."
The specter blinked. His grin faded. His eyes sharpened for the first time. "…Another world?"
"Yes. And now, for some reason, our souls are bound. Merged."
Lucian lifted his hand — in the mindscape, threads of light and shadow wove around it. "I can feel it. Your energy, your essence, intertwined with mine. Two souls, one body."
The ghost-prince scoffed, though unease tinged his voice. "So what? You plan to take my life? Use my name? Pretend to be me?"
Harrington chuckled softly. "If I meant to erase you, I wouldn't be talking to you, would I?"
The ghost faltered.
"No," Harrington continued. "Listen carefully. You were mocked, weren't you? Dismissed by your brothers. Laughed at by the court. Even your father lost faith in you."
The ghost's face twisted, defensive. "…So what? I didn't care."
"Yes, you did." Harrington's words struck like daggers. "No man can drink that much wine and laugh that hard unless he's hiding something. You wanted freedom, not power — but in this court, freedom without strength is death. Isn't that right?"
The ghost flinched, his form flickering.
Harrington stepped closer. His tone softened. "I don't want to erase you, Lucian. I want to rise with you. Together. You and I with two souls, double strengths, one destiny. With both our wills, every effort will be multiplied.
Four times the growth, four times the resolve. Think about it: the fool prince… and the weary politician. Together, we could become something greater than either alone."
The ghost stared, torn between fear and intrigue.
"…And if I refuse?"
"Then we both rot." Harrington shrugged. "Your body will collapse under two souls at war. We'll wither until nothing remains. But if we merge… we rise. And maybe, just maybe… we can change this kingdom. Change ourselves."
The ghost was silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly… a grin crept back onto his face. Not the drunken grin of an idiot, but a sharp grin. Hungry.
"…Heh. I like the sound of that."
The specter extended his hand. "Fine, stranger. Let's see what two damned souls can do together."
Harrington smirked. He grasped the ghost's hand.
BZZZZZTT!
A surge of power exploded within the mindscape. White and black light fused, wrapping around them both. The chamber walls shook. Wine bottles rattled and shattered. The air crackled like a storm.
Lucian gasped, snapping back to his body. His veins burned with energy, his heart pounding like a war drum. His eyes glowed faintly a golden spark in the left, a silver gleam in the right.
And in his mind, the ghost's voice echoed.
"We're one now… partner."
Lucian grinned. "No more fool. No more old man. Only Lucian Von Solaris."
Outside, the moonlight poured through the balcony, silvering his silhouette.
Tomorrow, he would stand before the Solar Council.
Tomorrow, the Fool Prince would begin his rise.
-------
The Court
A chamber vast enough to house a thousand men, with marble columns carved into the likeness of radiant suns and heroes of old. The air shimmered with incense, and the polished floor reflected the throne like a mirror.
At the far end sat the Radiant Throne, upon which King Alaric Solaris reigned. His presence filled the hall — silver hair like fire-forged steel, eyes burning with power. His aura pressed down like the weight of mountains, demanding respect.
At his side, Queen Seraphina sat gracefully, her calm gaze piercing sharper than any blade.
The princes and princess stood in their allotted places.
Dorian, the Crown Prince, tall and severe, armor polished like judgment itself.
Elenya, radiant and poised, her diplomat's smile masking keen eyes.
Kaelith, the warrior prince, clad in knightly garb, hands resting eagerly on his blade.
Tharion, the scholar prince, robes shimmering with enchantments, eyes glowing with disdainful intellect.
And finally, Lucian Von Solaris, the fool prince — standing straighter than he ever had, his wine-stained reputation hanging like a shadow.
The nobles filled the chamber:
Duke Armand Valebran, scarred and stern, flanked by his knightly kin.
Lord Regent Malrick Draemir, pale, serpent-eyed, lips curled in a ghost of a smile.
Countess Celistra Lysoria, radiant in naval silks, jewelry clinking softly as she leaned forward.
Marquis Aurelius Caelthorn, scrolls tucked under his arms, face unreadable.
And the Archmage Thalorien Zevrath, robes dark as midnight, staff glowing faintly with unreadable runes.
The Solar Council had convened. And Lucian was their entertainment.
---
The Trial Begins
King Alaric's voice thundered across the chamber.
"Lucian Von Solaris. Fifth son of Solinara. For years, you have squandered your name with idleness, debauchery, and shame. You have made a mockery of your title and of this kingdom."
Boom. His scepter struck the throne's armrest. The sound echoed like thunder.
"Tell me, boy. Why should I not strip you of your title and cast you from this court?"
Whispers rippled through the nobles.
"This is it," hissed one baron.
"The fool will be banished," murmured another.
"Good riddance," someone laughed softly.
Even his siblings remained silent, expectation heavy in their eyes.
Lucian inhaled slowly. The merged souls steadied his heartbeat. His mind was sharp, his voice calm — not the drunken slur of yesterday.
He stepped forward.
"…Because a kingdom needs its fool, Father."
Gasps filled the hall.
King Alaric narrowed his eyes. "…Explain."
Lucian smiled faintly.
"Every court, every council, every throne… is surrounded by flatterers, schemers, and liars. But the fool "
" The fool speaks truth. He is underestimated, mocked, ignored… and thus he sees what others do not. I have played the fool, Father. But even a fool learns."
The nobles shifted uneasily. This was not the Lucian they knew.
He continued, voice gaining strength.
"You ask why I should not be stripped of title? Because my weakness is my greatest strength. Who would fear the fool prince? "
"Who would suspect him of seeing the daggers in the dark? Of hearing whispers meant to be secret? I can go where my brothers cannot into laughter, into shadows, into secrets no one bothers to guard."
Silence.
Even the Archmage's eyes flickered with interest.
Lucian bowed his head, not groveling but deliberate. "Cast me out if you will, Father. But know this, the fool who watches from the corner may yet serve you better than a hundred knights."
---
The hall erupted into whispers.
"He speaks… wisely?"
"This isn't Lucian…"
"Perhaps the prince has finally grown."
Dorian frowned, fists clenching.
Kaelith smirked faintly, intrigued.
Tharion sneered. "Words only. He'll trip on them soon enough."
Elenya, however, allowed herself the smallest of smiles.
Lord Regent Malrick Draemir's eyes gleamed with calculation. "Interesting…" he murmured, hiding his grin behind gloved fingers.
The king leaned forward, gaze sharp as a blade. "Lucian. If you are no fool, prove it. Speak what is Solinara's greatest threat?"
A test.
A trap.
A stage.
Every noble leaned in.
Lucian's mind raced. Harrington's political instincts sharpened. The old Lucian's instincts for courtly survival whispered. And together, they found the answer.
He straightened, voice carrying across the chamber.
"Not the elves, nor the dwarves, nor the Drakari. Not even the mercenary duchies. Our greatest threat… is ourselves."
Boom.
The words struck like a hammer.
Lucian's tone was steady, deliberate.
"While our neighbors posture and plot, we bicker in court. While knights bleed at the borders, nobles sharpen their knives here, in these halls. Division is our enemy. Pride is our weakness. And if we do not unite, Father…" His gaze swept across the nobles. "…then Solinara will fall before a single demon sets foot on our soil."
The word demon hung in the air like poison. The hall went dead silent.
---
King Alaric's eyes narrowed… then softened, just slightly.
"…You dare lecture this court?"
Lucian bowed. "I dare tell the truth, Father. For that is what a fool is meant to do."
For a long, dreadful silence, the king said nothing. The nobles shifted, waiting for thunder.
Then —
"…Very well."
Gasps.
King Alaric's voice carried like iron and fire.
"Lucian Von Solaris. For the first time in your life, you have spoken like a prince. You will keep your title. But from this day forth — you will prove these words with action."
Boom. The scepter struck the throne again.
"You will enroll in the Aurum Arcanum — the Grand Mage Academy. You will learn discipline, strength, and wisdom. And if you fail…" His voice sharpened like a blade's edge. "…you will be cast out, never to return."
The decree was law.
The nobles bowed. The court was adjourned.
---
As Lucian turned to leave, whispers chased him.
"The fool prince at the Academy?"
"He'll embarrass himself within a week."
"…Or surprise us all."
Elenya brushed past him, whispering softly. "Not bad, little brother. Don't waste this chance."
Dorian scowled.
Kaelith smirked.
Tharion muttered, "I'll crush you at the Academy."
But Lucian… only smiled faintly.
Two souls. One body. Four times the effort. A chance reborn.
As the sunlight streamed down on him, he whispered under his breath:
"…Let the game begin."