The winter sun was bright enough to hurt your eyes, and it was so cold that every time you breathed out, it looked like smoke.
Prince Albrecht Von Holtzen didn't complain, though. He was only nine, but he was trying really hard not to let his arms shake. He stood in the frozen dirt of the training yard with his feet planted firm. He had a padded coat on with his family's crest, and his blonde hair—which was a lighter color than the Emperor's gold hair—was sweaty even though he was shivering.
"Do it again!" the teacher yelled.
Albrecht bit his lip and swung his practice sword. The teacher blocked it easily and smacked Albrecht's knuckles with his wooden blade. It hurt like crazy, and Albrecht's fingers went numb for a second. But he didn't drop the sword. He just stared at the man with his gray eyes, refusing to cry.
Nearby, soldiers were watching and laughing a bit. Some priests in white robes were standing there too, watching him like he was a science project. Holtzen was the kind of place that obsessed over heroes and Albrecht knew he was expected to be one, even if it felt like a heavy weight around his neck.
"You're getting slow, Your Highness," the teacher said.
"No, I'm not!" Albrecht snapped. He lunged forward with everything he had, but he tripped on his own feet. His practice sword flew out of his hands and landed right by one of the priests.
Everything went quiet. Albrecht's face turned bright red because he was so embarrassed. The priest picked up the wooden sword and handed it back.
"Being a hero isn't about winning easy," the priest whispered, and his voice sounded real spooky. "It's about what you can take."
"I can take a lot," Albrecht muttered, grabbing the sword.
The priest leaned in closer so no one else could hear. "A shadow is coming. A Demon King. In sixteen years, the world is going to need a hero to stop it. That's what the old books say."
Albrecht swallowed. Sixteen years? That seemed like a lifetime away.
"Again!" the teacher shouted.
Albrecht lifted his sword. His hands were still stinging and his arms were tired, but he kept thinking about those sixteen years. He started swinging again, but the number was stuck in his head like a song he couldn't stop humming.
Meanwhile, back in Almeric, the palace was moving along like it always did.
Inside the big Hall of Petitions, everything was covered in gold. Emperor Tuare was sitting on a high platform, looking like a statue. Asimi was standing off to the side, holding Alaric. The baby was awake, watching everything with his weird-colored eyes. Behind them, Gina the maid was standing still, watching everyone's hands like she expected someone to pull a knife.
Suddenly, the big doors banged open. A messenger from the Kingdom of Holtzen walked in. He looked tired and dirty from the road, but he acted like he owned the place.
He walked up and bowed—but it was a really quick, rude bow. "I have a message from the King of Holtzen," he said loudly.
He handed over a letter with a big wax seal. Tuare opened it and read it without saying a word. Everyone in the room was holding their breath. Finally, Tuare looked up.
"Your king wants me to banish the goddesses Lune and Aurora?" Tuare asked, and his voice was flat.
The room went totally silent. Even Asimi's arms tightened around Alaric.
"He wants you to start worshiping the Gadreonic gods instead," the messenger said, looking smug. "And if you don't, Holtzen is going to invade. Plus, the Dwarves of Hammerdeep are on our side."
Alaric thought that sounded pretty crazy. Why would the Dwarves care about which gods they worshiped? It felt like an excuse for a fight.
Tuare didn't get mad. He just sat there. "The Almeric Empire is a big place," he said calmly. "You can't just change everyone's religion in a week. It takes time. We have to write new laws, build new temples, and train new priests. It's a lot of paperwork."
The messenger looked confused. "So... you're saying no?"
"I'm saying it's a slow process," Tuare replied. "If I just tell everyone to change today, there'll be riots. I have to manage it properly."
Alaric could tell his dad was lying. He was just stalling for time, trying to make the messenger look like the bad guy.
"Holtzen won't wait forever," the messenger warned.
"I'm not asking you to," Tuare said. "I'm just telling you how the law works. If you attack us while we're trying to change, then you're the ones being bullies."
The messenger looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't know how to fight against "paperwork." He just bowed and stomped out of the room.
Once he was gone, everyone started whispering. Asimi walked up to Tuare. "You aren't really going to get rid of the goddesses, are you?" she asked quietly.
"Not while I'm still breathing," Tuare said. He looked over at Alaric.
For a second, the Emperor and the baby just stared at each other. Alaric wanted to tell him about the "sixteen years" thing the priest had mentioned, but he was still just a baby. He couldn't do anything but wiggle.
Tuare started giving out orders to get ready for a possible war. "Get the soldiers ready," he said. "And keep an eye on the borders."
Asimi carried Alaric back to the nursery. He could feel her heart beating fast. He knew that sixteen years was a long way off, but the clock was already ticking. The world was changing, and it didn't look like it was going to be peaceful.