The next thing I knew was waking up to soft sheets covering me as my body sank into an extremely comfortable mattress. This feels heavenly! I thought with a smile.
Just then, a soft voice rang out. ''Looks like my magic was devoured by you, Prince Arthur Verona.''
My head snapped toward the voice. A stunning woman sat across from me, impossibly composed. Short purple hair, streaked with vivid pink, framed a face sharp enough to steal the breath from any man who looked at her too long. Her glowing violet eyes shimmered with raw mana, alive with power and intelligence.
My gaze drifted lower, tracing the elegant lines of her figure before settling on the unmistakable robes she wore, Battle Mage robes, dark and intricate, woven with silver runes that pulsed faintly beneath the fabric. She looked less like a person and more like a storm waiting for an excuse to break loose.
When realising that, she gave off an aura of someone way above the Tenth Circle, a rarity among Old Humans. A warm smile appeared on her face as she continued. ''I've finally met an Old Human who can fight back against the encroaching hordes that bear down on Aldoria.''
''Hordes?''
The older woman smiled. ''Yes, Demons. They're coming to finish us, Old Humans.''
''Why?'' I asked.
''We're their weakness as you proved when fighting a Demon Knight,'' the stranger revealed, jumping up, excited. ''We can finally fight back! Old Humans may not vanish into the night.''
''Who are you?'' I questioned, knowing there was something special about this woman.
She looked into my eyes with a big smile and bowed. ''I'm Virella Fireheart, fallen princess of the Fireheart Kingdom.''
I was about to respond, but she continued. ''I'm the Wandering Mage, it's what everyone calls me on Aldoria.''
Virella dropped to one knee and spoke in a respectful tone. ''It's a pleasure to meet you, Arthur Verona. I look forward to seeing what you'll do now in this world.''
My jaw dropped, causing the older woman to light up. ''Yes, I know things about you, and I must admit I'm curious about you, my lord.''
I stood up, feeling paranoid as I demanded, my Devourer aura flaring out, causing her eyes to widen. ''You will not speak of this to anyone, do I make myself clear?''
Virella trembled but nodded. ''Yes, my lord, I'd never tell anyone.''
Seconds later, Sahara, Lagertha, Selene and Evengaline rushed into the room only to stop short when seeing the scene. The gorgeous Orc general beamed as the brunette shook her head, smiling. My blonde bodyguard dropped to one knee. The Half-Elf, on the other hand, was shocked to the core.
She exclaimed. ''Why is Virella the Slayer kneeling to our prince! She's on the Fourteenth Circle!''
My eyes snapped to the trio who felt my aura, making all three drop to one knee as Virella interrupted. ''Because I serve the true ruler of all Old Humans as have my ancestors, and that certainly is not King Ragnar Verona or the First Prince.''
''Then take an oath of not betraying me, Virella, the Slayer?'' I suggested, a smile crossing my lips as I motioned to the kneeling women. ''Those three have already done one.''
Virella quickly took the oath, which surprised me, but she did ask one thing. ''My lord, how did you win that fight?''
A smile crossed my face as I recited something Garrick had taught me. ''The winner of any fight is the one who keeps getting back up.''
''He told me I couldn't give up, and it's helped me defeat a powerful enemy with my strange powers,'' I finished, remembering all the times the old man had trained me.
''Well, that's good to hear, but I need to get going,'' Virella suddenly said. ''Demons are infesting the Western Duchy of Verona, and I intend to hunt them.''
''Will you return before we march on Bleakmarch?''
The older woman grinned. ''I wouldn't miss your first battle for anything, and those outlaws think their mages will be enough.''
I laughed before turning to Selene. ''What of Asmara and the lost soldiers?''
''Found in the Demon's hideout, unconscious but alive,'' Evangeline revealed. ''Now she's training hard with the First Cohort for the upcoming battles.''
''Good. Now it is time to train the recruits, and retake Bleakmarch," I said, turning toward the window. ''Barely two years ago, I was a useless, fat prince, good for nothing but laughter and disappointment. Now look at me. We are standing on the edge of something that will echo through the ages. Something that will be sung about in halls long after we are dust… something they will call legend.''
''Each one of us will be there, witnessing the birth of the Devourer Emperor,'' Virella said, smiling. ''Now, until we meet again, my lord.''
Just then, the purple-haired beauty vanished into nothing as I commanded. ''Selene, order Garrick and the others to increase training. We march when I've met Theodora Medici.''
''Yes, my prince!'' she responded with a salute.
''Lagertha, you will be hidden on the right wing behind the cavalry and attack the enemy cavalry alongside the Verona Spears,'' I suddenly said, shocking the blonde. ''I will tell you more soon.''
I turned to Selene. ''You will hold the left wing with the Legionnaires. Sahara will take the right.''
''What about the center?'' the brunette questioned.
''Asmara and I will fight on the frontlines,'' I answered, honestly. ''She will command the First Cohort.''
Selene opened her mouth to protest, but I raised a hand and silenced the thought before it ever became words. ''I'll fight.''
The room went still. ''I won't hide behind walls while men die carrying my banner. I'm not the First Prince.''
My voice sharpened like a drawn blade. ''The Ninth Legion will see their prince in the mud beside them, blood on his armour. They'll know I ask nothing of them that I would not do myself.''
A slow grin crossed my lips as I looked at her. ''And tell me, Selene,'' my eyes narrowed with dangerous amusement. ''Where else would I gather hearts more easily than on a battlefield?''
I rose from my seat, already able to hear the distant roar of war in my mind. ''Besides,'' I said calmly. ''Asmara, Garrick, Torvald and Lirael will be at my side. Anyone foolish enough to reach for my throat will have to survive them first.''
''My rise to power will be at my own hand,'' I declared. ''Now prepare for battle and make sure the Ninth Legion is ready.''
***
(Two weeks later)
I stood before a disciplined host of 9100 Veronians ready to fight for me: 3,800 Legionnaires, 2,000 Blades, and 1,000 Spears, flanked by 1,300 Pathfinders, 500 Legionnaire Cavalry, and 500 Archers.
Every formation held perfect order, a living wall of steel, discipline, and silence. All that remained was the meeting with Theodora Medici, expected to begin at any moment. I turned to Sahara, Asmara, and Evangeline.
''Begin the march to Bleakmarch. We'll catch up with you,'' I commanded.
The three women saluted before rushing over, leaving Selene, Lagertha, Torvald and Lirael beside me. The blonde Northman smiled. ''Are you sure about this, master? This fight will be brutal if the rumours are true.''
Without a second thought, I nodded. ''This is the beginning. I shall show the kingdom what the Third Prince is as I usher in something they wish to be a part of.''
After that, the two of them fell silent as we waited outside the fort. In the distance, something appeared, at first a faint speck on the horizon, barely more than a smudge in the haze.
But it steadily grew, drawing nearer with an unease. I turned back toward the legion. ''Remember your training, my soldiers!'' I called out, my voice rolling across the ranks. ''You will go down in history as the finest Veronian Legion!''
A roar rose in response, Legionnaires cheered, steel and spirit answering in equal measure, while some of the Verona Swords shouted above the noise. ''Are you fighting with us, Prince?''
''I will be on the front lines with you all,'' I said. ''Fighting at the front.''
A beat of silence followed my words, just long enough for the meaning to settle in. Then a voice rang out from the ranks. ''Thank the Third Prince for such a fight!''
For a moment, it was as if the words froze the air itself. Cheers surged through the formation like wildfire, breaking through dry grass. Shields rattled, spears lifted, and disciplined lines momentarily wavered under the force of rising excitement.
The Verona Blades shouted and laughed, pounding weapons against armour, and even the Legionnaires, usually the most restrained of all, joined in with roaring approval. ''Quiet! Silence in the ranks!'' Centurions barked, their voices sharp as whips.
''Hold formation!''
''Back in line, now!''
But their commands barely pierced the storm of morale. The excitement had already taken root too deeply, spreading from man to man, rank to rank. Even as Centurions pushed through the aisles of soldiers, trying to restore order, the energy only intensified.
It was less chaos than controlled anticipation, a shared certainty that something historic was about to unfold. I stepped forward, letting the noise settle just enough for my voice to cut through it.
''Enough.''
The word carried, the nearest ranks quieted first, then the rest followed. I looked across the sea of helmets, banners, and steel. ''We did not come here for noise or pride alone. We came here for victory. For Verona. For every oath you swore when you took up your armour.''
A pause. The wind swept across the field, tugging at cloaks and standards. Then I raised my voice again. ''Fight hard!'' I ordered. ''Fight as if every step forward is the last you will ever take, and take Bleakmarch from their hands!''
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then it broke. A deep, rolling answer rose from the legion, not wild this time, but focused, sharpened. Centurions lifted their arms, snapping the formations back into perfect order, but even they could not hide what had changed in the men beneath their command.
The name Bleakmarch hung in the air like a promise. Some time later, the roar of the legion slowly faded into something more structured. From the fortress walls, I watched as my personal army moved as one living machine.
I noticed the first to leave were the Legionnaires, tight ranks of disciplined steel, shields aligned so precisely they looked like a single moving wall. Behind them came the Blades, darker and faster, their steps lighter but no less controlled.
The Spears followed in ordered blocks, their formation stretching like a disciplined river of iron points and polished wood. Pathfinders slipped along the edges of the column like shadows given purpose, vanishing and reappearing between lines of march.
Cavalry units broke off in controlled intervals, circling wide before taking position along the flanks. Even the Archers moved with measured patience, their quivers swaying in perfect rhythm.
No noise of disorder, no wasted motion. Just the steady, unstoppable heartbeat of an army that believed it would not fail. I stood on the battlement with the wind pressing against my cloak, watching it all pass beneath me.
For a moment, I didn't speak. This… this is mine, not borrowed, not inherited, not given. Mine.
Selene moved up beside me. ''They move well, better than they did weeks ago.''
''They should,'' I replied. ''They've stopped thinking they might die tomorrow.''
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. ''And do they?''
My gaze followed the last columns marching through the gates. Verona's banners rose and dipped above the sea of steel like waves carried by the wind. ''Yes, they just believe it will matter now.''
The words hung between us. Neither of us spoke for a while afterwards. Below, the final cavalry units cleared the fortress grounds. The gates groaned as they swung shut behind them, sealing the walls with a deep, resonant thud.
The fortress felt emptier immediately, as though it had just released a long-held breath. I turned away from the parapet.
''Prepare the escort,'' I said. ''I'm going to meet Theodora Medici.''
Selene stiffened slightly. ''You're taking only a small guard?''
''I'm not walking into a battlefield.''
I allowed myself a faint, humourless smile. ''I'm walking into a negotiation.''
The smile lingered for only a moment. ''Those are always worse.''
The road beyond the fortress was far quieter than the marching fields behind us. It cut through rolling terrain as we headed for the Dwarven camp that was being set up not far from the walls.
I turned to Torvald and Lirael. ''Do you guys want to travel with the legion?''
When the big man heard my words, his eyes lit up as the woman shook her head, smiling. ''We will go, my prince. Tors here needs to fight again.''
''Go and enjoy yourselves before the battle,'' I said, amused. ''Make sure you're ready.''
Torvald looked at me, a glint of something in his eyes. ''It's an honour to serve you, Prince Arthur Verona. You're not like the other nobles we've met.''
''I agree with my husband,'' Lirael finally spoke, a respectful expression crossing her face. ''An age of freedom is upon us, and when the world sees it, then they will see what we see.''
What are they on about?
I shook my head. ''I'm doing what a prince should do, and fighting for the kingdom.''
Following that, the married bodyguards rushed off to catch up with the others as Selene and Lagertha laughed. ''Looks like you aren't bothered about giving them some freedom, master,'' the blonde commented.
''I don't mind,'' I replied as we approached the camp. ''People can't be chained to me; they need to be given freedom to flourish. Now Torvald will tear through the enemy ranks like a wild beast.''
Lagertha laughed, but Selene nodded, a smile appearing. ''Looks like you already know them, they love a good fight and the upcoming battle will be exactly that.''