The sun had yet to rise when Ken opened his eyes.
Cold air drifted in through the half-open window, carrying with it the scent of dawn,
while the candles on his desk had burned to waxen ruins, frozen in place —
silent witnesses to a night of thought that offered no rest.
It hadn't been a night of sleep.
It had been a battlefield.
Each sheet of paper spread before him was another front in a quiet war —
a war against the truth itself.
He sat up straight, gaze tracing over the notes and the red lines he had drawn across them,
all converging on a single name that kept repeating through reports, ledgers, and letters:
"Darius Orvallis."
Ken muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse from sleepless hours:
"Did he save the kingdom… or sell it to himself?"
It wasn't an accusation yet — just a question,
but one that grew heavier by the second,
a seed of doubt burrowing deeper into stone.
Marvin had left before dawn to dig through the Ministry archives for missing records,
and Gray was outside in the training courtyard,
speaking with soldiers, asking casually about the city's economic rumors.
That left Ken alone — alone with the silence of the palace,
a silence that felt heavier than any noise he had ever known.
When the sun finally rose higher, the sound of trumpets echoed from afar.
A royal procession was entering the capital —
ornate carriages, armored horses, banners gleaming in gold.
Ministers and nobles gathered at the palace gates,
lining up as if awaiting not a prince's return, but the arrival of a new king.
From the carriage stepped Darius, his every movement deliberate and graceful.
He wore a black suit embroidered in gold, his confident smile as polished as his reputation.
A minister stepped forward and bowed slightly before declaring in a loud voice:
"Welcome back, Your Highness — the heart that keeps the kingdom's wealth alive!"
Applause erupted.
The nobles bent their heads.
The crown itself seemed to bow to gold.
High above, behind the silk curtains of a shaded balcony,
Ken watched in silence.
His face froze, his expression unreadable, until he whispered to himself,
"The heart that keeps the kingdom's wealth alive…
or the heart that drains its blood — one coin at a time."
By midday, the palace was bustling — merchants, envoys, and financiers filling the halls.
The alliance with Safina had sparked a trade boom unseen in decades,
and for most, prosperity felt real.
But for Ken, every smiling face seemed to hide a motive,
every handshake a deal with invisible strings.
When Marvin returned that evening, he carried a small tower of folders in his arms.
He set them gently on the desk and spoke in a low tone:
"Your Highness, everyone's talking about prosperity…
but no one dares speak of its price."
Ken studied the flickering candles before lifting his gaze, voice cold and steady:
"We'll find out the price soon enough.
My brother doesn't create miracles… without taking something in return."
Marvin nodded, then added carefully:
"Tomorrow night, a grand banquet will be held in honor of Prince Darius's return.
I suggest you attend, my lord —
you might see which faces truly belong to him."
---
That night, the palace looked like a painting brought to life.
Crystal chandeliers spilled waves of light across a long banquet table,
and soft music filled the air — elegant, but tense beneath the harmony.
Darius sat at the head, speaking warmly of prosperity and historic alliances.
Every noble around him smiled — some out of admiration,
others out of the fear of falling out of his favor.
At the far end, Ken sat in deliberate silence,
watching every word, every movement,
looking for the cracks between polished smiles.
Then came a soft voice behind him —
light, melodic, unmistakably familiar.
"Your Highness… I didn't expect to see you here at last."
He turned — and there stood Lady Elaine von Loren.
Her hair, black as midnight, fell over her shoulders,
and her silver gown shimmered like moonlight on still water.
She curtsied with effortless grace before asking,
her tone poised between curiosity and charm:
"Tell me, my prince, what do you think of this new alliance with Safina?
Is it truly peace… or merely the beginning of a different kind of war?"
Ken's reply was calm, but his words gleamed like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath:
"Peace isn't measured by smiles, my lady.
It's measured by time —
and time never lies."
Elaine's lips curved into a small, intrigued smile.
"Even when you answer in riddles, you somehow make people want to know more."
Their eyes met for a moment —
no promises, no farewells,
just that quiet spark of understanding between two people who knew how to hide their truths.
When the music finally faded and the guests drifted away,
Ken remained by the great window overlooking the palace gardens.
The moonlight reflected against the glass, casting his own reflection back at him —
a face carved in quiet resolve, shadowed by something colder than anger.
He whispered under his breath, almost absently:
"In this palace… even the light seems to be hiding something."
Elsewhere, in another wing of the palace,
Darius stood surrounded by ministers, his composure glowing with triumph.
His name echoed through the halls like a new anthem —
the promise of a kingdom rebuilt on wealth, not blood.
And in that moment, Ken understood:
he wasn't merely facing a brilliant brother anymore —
he was facing an entire system,
one Darius had built so quietly that it had swallowed the kingdom whole.
"And thus," Ken thought,
"the conflict between brothers ceased to be a family matter…
and became the fate of a nation."
End of Chapter.