"Prince William!"
"Please stop, my lord! The ceremony begins in just a few hours!"
Prince William's head staff yelled after him. He wore a tuxedo with a bright red rose in the front pocket. His hair was neatly combed and shone bright yellow, complementing his sharp grey eyes. Though he appeared to be in his twenties, the troubled look on his face made it hard to guess his exact age.
Prince William, on the other hand, was a known troublemaker. Though his body had matured to the age of sixteen, his mind lagged behind. Dressed only in a white shirt and black trousers, he ran wildly through the palace halls, not stopping for anyone. His short white hair bounced with each step, and his red eyes dodged every obstacle in his way.
He halted suddenly at a specific door. Without knocking, he rushed inside.
The room was dark. William couldn't find the switch, but as he stumbled forward, he called out, "Edwin, you there?"
No one responded.
Just as he was about to leave, a voice called from behind.
"What do you want?"
William turned and saw Edwin, his younger brother, sitting in the corner. Dressed in his nightwear, Edwin sat on the floor with his legs pulled in. His brown hair and red eyes glowed faintly in the dim room.
"I came to propose an idea!" William said excitedly.
"An idea? Forget it. I don't want to be your pawn anymore," Edwin snapped, gritting his teeth. "You're so lucky! You get to explore all of Vraxen, and I'm stuck in these walls until I'm grown."
William grinned, bouncing on his heels. "That's what my idea is about!"
Edwin, now intrigued, asked, "What is it?"
William leaned in and whispered in his brother's ear. With every word, Edwin's smile grew.
"Is this possible?" Edwin asked.
"I don't see how they could stop us. But it'll be hot—can you handle that?" William asked.
"I'll do anything for this!" Edwin replied, eyes shining.
William turned to leave. "Alright, I'm off to the ceremony."
"Thank you, William!" Edwin called after him.
A smirk spread across William's face.
"I'm not doing this for you."
Seeing Edwin's confused expression, William added:
"Isn't it fun to cause a little trouble?"
With that, William left Edwin's room.
Outside the Great Palace
Tall black fences enclosed the massive royal garden. Outside those fences, thousands of citizens had gathered to catch a glimpse of the ceremony from afar.
In the center of the garden stretched a brilliant red carpet, lined on both edges with golden trim. On either side of the carpet stood rows of custom-crafted wooden benches.
Upon these benches sat the nobles and dukes, major officials, and political figures of Vraxen—all gathered for the ceremony.
In the front rows sat the royal family. King Robert and Queen Rowena sat together on the left, while Princess Angel, Robert's only daughter, sat on the right bench—an empty seat to her side.
Robert leaned forward and summoned the elder butler of the house.
"Where is Edwin? The ceremony is about to begin!" Robert asked, clearly agitated.
The head butler, nervous, responded, "My lord, we've tried, but the young master refuses to open his door."
Robert's face flushed red as he began to rise, intending to confront Edwin himself. But Rowena, the queen, placed a calm hand on his arm.
"It's alright. We all know how depressed he's been these past few days. Let's hope this will be the last time."
Rowena turned to the butler. The man lowered his gaze, unable to meet the queen's eyes.
"You may leave," she said coldly.
"Yes, my queen." The head butler bowed and stepped backward, standing by the front row.
Robert sighed. Understanding his son's mood, he chose to let it go. His eyes turned to the grand stone wall standing at the end of the red carpet.
The wall, said to be over a thousand years old, bore handprints—marks of every heir to the throne. Each heir, upon beginning the "Steps to a King," would imprint their hand in blood on the wall, blood drawn from them in childhood. Once the journey was complete, they would return and place their hand on the wall one final time.
Robert stared at his own two handprints. One was weak and small, from when he first began the ritual. The second was strong—firm and wide. A symbol of how much he had grown.
To most, the difference between the two prints was unnoticeable. But only one who had walked the path of a king could truly see the transformation.
His gaze rose higher. He saw the hands of his ancestors. Some had never returned to leave a second print—lost during the year-long "Steps to a King." Some hands had changed drastically. Others looked untouched.
At the top of the wall, the largest imprint of all seemed to glow with faint energy—a massive, ancient hand soaked deep into the stone.
It was the handprint of Gilbert the Giant.