I know every alley, every hidden corner, every secret passage of Custodian—from the grand palaces of the nobles to the darkest slums where people scrape to survive. But I can't say this out loud, can't tell anyone how intimately I know the enemy's land. So instead, we've gathered trusted merchants who will act as our eyes and ears on the inside. While Custodian's army is busy hunting for new kingdoms to conquer, we'll be quietly weaving our way into their territory, building networks that will one day help us bring change.
I suggested we start with the slums—and the royal council agreed. It's where I grew up, where people are most desperate for something better, and where the tyrant's eyes rarely stray. The poor are seen as invisible, which makes them the perfect foundation for our work. We'll bring in food and medicine first, earning their trust slowly, carefully—like tending to delicate seedlings that can't survive harsh sunlight too soon.
But I also made one thing clear: I won't just direct this from afar. I'll be going in myself.
"I'll enter Custodian not as Prince Vernom of Callibean," I told the council and my siblings gathered in the war room. "I'll take on the identity of a merchant's son—someone who travels between kingdoms to trade goods. It will let me move freely, see things for myself, and ensure our plans stay true to what's actually needed on the ground."
Prince Vonce frowned at this. "It's too dangerous. If you're caught—"
"If I'm caught, I'll be treated as a common merchant's son," I cut in firmly. "No one will suspect a lowly trader of being a prince. Besides, I know how to survive there. I know how to talk, how to act, how to blend in with the crowd."
I didn't add that I'd once been one of those people—had slept in those alleys, fought for those scraps, lived under that tyrant's rule. But from the way King Theron looked at me, I think he understood more than he let on.
"The merchants we've chosen are reliable," Princess Elara said, pushing a stack of documents across the table. "They've been trading along the border for years, know which routes to take to avoid suspicion. We've already prepared your new identity—Kael, son of Marcus the Trader. No one will trace it back to Callibean."
The name made my chest tighten—Kael, like my young servant friend here. Marcus, like the noble who'd tried to help the slums before he was killed. It felt like a sign, a way to honor those who'd fought for what was right before me.
"We'll start small," I continued, pointing to a map of Custodian's southern slums. "Set up hidden supply points, make contact with those who still believe in justice. We'll listen first—find out what they need most, what fears hold them back. Only then will we begin to plant the idea that change is possible."
I thought of the garden back at my palace, of how seeds need water and care before they can grow. That's what we'll be doing—giving the people of Custodian what they've been denied for so long: hope, help, and the knowledge that they're not alone.
"Your plan is sound," King Theron said finally, leaning back in his chair. "But remember, Vernom—you are not just going there as a merchant's son. You carry the hopes of both our kingdoms with you. Be careful, and know that you have our full support, even if we cannot show it openly."
I nodded, feeling the weight of the task ahead. Returning to Custodian would mean facing the ghosts of my past—seeing the slums where I lost my parents, walking the streets where I learned to fight to survive, looking into the eyes of people who still live under the same cruel system I once escaped.
But this time, I won't be running or fighting just to stay alive. This time, I'll be going back to help others grow beyond the life they've been forced into.
"Can I go with you, Your Highness?"
I turn to find Cael standing in the doorway of the war room, his young face set with determination. I'd thought I'd sent him back to my quarters hours ago, but it seems he'd been waiting outside, listening.
I shake my head firmly. "No."
His shoulders slump slightly, but he doesn't back down. "I can help—carry supplies, keep watch, do whatever you need. I won't be a burden."
"I know you wouldn't," I say gently, walking over to him. "But danger will be following every step of this journey, and this is a task only I can pull off. There are things I'll need to do, places I'll need to go, that no one else could navigate the way I can."
I've already mapped out our timeline carefully in my mind: one full year to prepare—securing routes, training contacts, gathering supplies. Then another year for me to go incognito, traveling to neighboring kingdoms to seek out reliable allies who share our vision of a peaceful continent. That leaves us eight more years to spread our seeds—building networks not just in Custodian, but in nearby lands too. We need people on our side, those who understand that Custodian's hunger for conquest threatens us all.
Cael cannot know the full extent of my moves—not because I don't trust him, but because he'd inevitably wonder how I know so much about Custodian's layout, its people, its weaknesses. He'd get confused, start asking questions I couldn't answer without revealing the truth of who I really am. So I'd rather move alone in this part of the work.
"War may be inevitable," I continue, lowering my voice so only he can hear. "Custodian's rulers have built their power on conquest, and they won't stop until they've taken everything. So if we do end up facing them in battle, we might as well bring the fight both inside their land and out. The plan is simple: hunt the hunter."
Cael's eyes widen slightly at my words, but he doesn't flinch. He's seen enough of hardship to understand what's at stake.
"I understand, Your Highness," he says quietly. "But please—be careful. The palace won't be the same without you."
I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility I once carried for my fellow soldiers. "I'll come back, Cael. And when I do, we'll have built something worth protecting. In the meantime, I need you to do something for me."
"What is it?"
"Keep tending to the garden," I say, thinking of the seeds we'll be planting across the continent. "Make sure the flowers keep growing. When I return, I want to see that even while I'm away, hope is still taking root here at home."
He nods, a small smile touching his lips. "I'll take care of it, Your Highness. I promise."
As I turn back to the war room to finalize our preparations, I feel both the weight of the road ahead and the lightness of purpose in my heart. We have ten years before the great war I remember will unfold—ten years to plant our seeds, gather our strength, and show Custodian that there's more to power than fear and conquest.
The hunter thinks it holds all the cards. But they have no idea they're already being watched.