The training yard of the Citadel had survived wars.
It had survived rebellions.
It had survived Vaelor Nightbane.
What it was not prepared to survive was Vaelor's eight-year-old son.
The morning began like every other.
Steel rang against steel.
Boots pounded dirt.
Commands echoed through the yard.
Veteran soldiers sparred beneath the pale sunlight while younger recruits pushed through drills along the outer field.
Everything was normal.
Then Caelum arrived.
And normal quietly packed its bags and left.
The boy walked beside Vaelor with his hands tucked into his pockets.
No armor.
No weapons.
No sign that he was about to become the greatest problem the guards had faced all month.
Several soldiers noticed him immediately.
The Crown Prince of the Citadel was difficult to miss.
Especially because he looked exactly like Vaelor.
The same black hair.
The same silver eyes.
The same expression that suggested he was already disappointed in everyone around him.
