"Can I try, father?" the Second Prince said. There was pride in his eyes as he looked at the weapon, and there was an emotion that Ludwig knew more than anyone in this room.
Envy.
Ludwig couldn't smile, thought he wanted to.
The prince's desire was visible, raw, and almost embarrassing in its simplicity. It wasn't admiration for craftsmanship. It wasn't respect for history. It was the childish certainty that power belonged to whoever grabbed it first.
Ludwig kept his expression neutral because smiling would be interpreted as mocking a prince, and mocking a prince was how knives found your ribs later.
"There are things you shouldn't covet." The Emperor said as he handed him the sword. "But it's better to learn with trial than words."
The Emperor's tone softened only enough to make the lesson feel paternal rather than punitive, which made it more humiliating.
He was giving the prince permission to fail.
