Stepping through the grand door. In that moment, he felt as if a flood of light was pouring down, with a sea of people waiting outside. His ears seemed to echo with earth-shaking cheers calling his name, the roaring applause rolling like crashing waves. His heart pounded fiercely, his lips curving into a slight smile.
"Finally... they've recognized me..."
But—
Cough!
A dry cough sounded right behind him, yanking away the entire dream.
Alwen startled and turned around. The door behind him had slammed shut. Around him were only the cold stone walls of the palace, with light shimmering from the crystal chandelier. There were no crowds, no square, no resounding cheers at all.
Ronan was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes staring straight at him with bafflement.
"What are you doing... Your Highness?"
Alwen froze for a few seconds, then absentmindedly scratched his head. His face flushed slightly, a forced smile breaking out as if he'd just exposed his own naivety.
"...Uh... I... thought..."
He didn't finish the sentence, because even he felt embarrassed realizing he'd let his fantasy overtake reality.
Seeing Alwen innocently scratching his head, Ronan could only sigh and comment with a wry smile.
"Haizzzz, the prince who's usually so dignified and contemplative, now acting like a child?!"
"Unbelievable!"
Alwen jumped, quickly turning away, his voice strained:
"I... I was just... um..."
Ronan approached, lightly patting his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry smile.
"Alright, alright, no more teasing."
Alwen let out a long breath, both embarrassed and relieved.
Ronan looked up. In his eyes, usually so calm, now gleamed an unmistakable pride. He nodded slightly, his voice low.
"I never expected... the frail boy from back then could now stand firm before the entire kingdom."
He paused, his hand gently squeezing Alwen's shoulder.
"You've come farther than I ever imagined, Your Highness. But because of that... from now on, keep moving forward. For all those people out there, they're still waiting for you."
Alwen fell silent. In his heart, a heavy wave of thoughts surged, but something was also igniting.
At that moment, a ray of sunlight slipped through the slit in the red silk curtain, shining straight into his eyes. He flinched slightly, but this time, he didn't avoid the light.
Alwen stepped forward, decisively pulling open the curtain with both hands. The harsh midday sunlight flooded in, enveloping his entire body. He lifted his head, his eyes blazing, staring straight toward the distant horizon.
He stood there silently gazing out at the light, and after a while, he softly asked, his voice light but tinged with nostalgia.
"Ronan... do you remember the first time we met?"
Ronan was momentarily stunned. His expression grew somber. Then he nodded slightly, his voice quiet:
"I remember, Your Highness."
Alwen didn't turn around. He just stood there, back straight, his shoulders trembling slightly in the gentle breeze.
Both of them seemed to sink back into that day...
◇
Summer, ten years ago...
The cicadas screeched harshly on the old gray tiled roofs. A dusty corner of the street, where burly young men gathered like vultures.
"Hey kid, who the hell are you glaring at like that?"
A gruff voice rang out.
The boy, about ten years old, with black hair matted with dirt, was shoved hard against the wall. His eyes narrowed.
"I... I didn't—"
"Still denying it? You really want a beating, huh?"
Another one snarled, gripping the boy's collar tightly, raising his fist.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared...
"Stop! What... what are you doing?!"
A childish but firm voice rang out.
The group of young men froze in unison, then turned their heads. Before them was just a scrawny boy, frail-bodied, with a youthful face but eyes burning brightly, glaring straight at them.
They exchanged glances, then sneered.
"Kid... who the hell are you yelling at?!"
The leader narrowed his eyes, releasing the boy's collar, and stepped closer.
"You think you're a hero? Or do you want to die with him?"
"If you're so tough, come at me instead, don't hurt others!"
When the young men heard that challenge, their blood boiled, and they showed signs of shifting their target.
The group began advancing toward the small boy.
Meanwhile, the other boy, no longer the focus, planned to seize the opportunity to escape.
*Slap*
A loud smack echoed, making him startle and turn back.
The small figure had collapsed to the ground from the brutal slap of the young man earlier.
"HAHAHAHA..."
The group laughed hysterically, as if they'd found a new game, then bent down with mocking tones.
"Can you still run your mouth, you little brat?!!"
But the boy lifted his head, his voice hoarse but clear, stunning the whole group...
"If you're so tough, hit harder— this is all you've got, and you think you can bully others?!"
Upon hearing that, the group felt like a hundred needles stabbing their pride.
"Ah, this kid, you don't want to live anymore, do you? Fine, I'll send you on your way!!!"
"STOP!!!"
A powerful roar suddenly came from behind.
Though the boy's body wasn't large, even a bit skinny, he stood tall like an unshakeable pillar.
Making the whole group of young men glance at him in surprise.
"Whatever you want to do... do it to me. But don't touch that kid!"
His words were like a declaration of war to the burly young men.
The group looked at each other and burst into loud laughter, echoing through the street corner. But in the boy's eyes, there was no tremor. Only youthful determination and astonishing courage.
The boy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath:
"Hiiitttt... haaa..."
His chest heaved. Then suddenly, he roared like a cornered beast:
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
His small body charged straight forward, fist clenched, delivering a punch like a desperate lion cub.
◇
The two boys sat on the slanted roof, the evening shadows stretching long, dyeing the old tiles red. The wind carried the scent of kitchen smoke, cicadas chirping steadily like background music for the quiet sunset.
The boy took a deep breath.
"Why did you charge in to help me back there?"
The boy hugged his knees, his blond hair tousled in the wind. He bowed his head, silent for a long time. Then his voice trembled.
"I... I don't know, I just felt really angry seeing the weak being bullied..."
*Tsk*
The other boy bit his lip, then suddenly let out a soft chuckle...
"Do you think I'm that weak?"
The blond boy startled, then flusteredly waved his hands.
"No... that's not it! I mean... everyone has moments of helplessness, right??!!!"
The space suddenly fell into a cold silence.
The boy bit his lip, his voice bitter and sarcastic.
"You're such an idiot..., can't even take care of yourself but trying to help others..."
The boy suddenly stood up. His once timid eyes now blazed like fire. He clenched his fists, his voice still trembling but resounding clearly!
"No! If everyone thinks like that, injustice will last forever! The weak will never be protected!"
"I don't want to see anyone else oppressed, looked down on, or beaten anymore! No matter how weak I am, I'll stand up! At least... I want to try once!"
The boy was momentarily stunned upon hearing this, but quickly glanced at the scrawny body, his gaze shifting to scrutiny and mockery.
"With that body... who can you protect??"
He clenched his fists, his face flushing red, but his eyes didn't waver.
"Even if I'm weak... I can still stand in front of someone! Even if just once, just for a second... as long as that person has a chance to escape, it's worth it!"
"I'll try to get stronger every day... I'll rise up..."
"I WON'T LET ANYONE SUFFER INJUSTICE ANYMORE. BECAUSE I AM PRINCE ALWEN!!!!"
That shout echoed, drowning out the cicadas' drone, resounding straight into the fiery red sky.
The boy suddenly fell silent, then narrowed his eyes, smirking...
"You're a prince? Ha! If you're really a prince... then I'll be your attendant right away."
Alwen paused briefly, then nodded seriously, without hesitation.
"Then from now on... remember to keep your word."
"At the most important times, you have to be there!!"
The boy was speechless, staring wide-eyed at the kid in front of him. He burst into laughter, rolling back on the tiles.
"You're hopeless! Fine, since I said it... I'll keep my word."
He stood up, crossing his arms, trying to look serious.
"Alright. I'm Ronan... pleased to meet the weak prince."
"You...! I'm not weak!"
"Yeah, yeah, great prince, I know." Ronan laughed, rolling on the tiles, chuckling hysterically as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
Alwen was so frustrated he wanted to cry, but then he couldn't hold back and burst into laughter too. The innocent laughter echoed on the old roof, mingling with the cicadas' chirp, resounding forever in the fiery sunset.
A name. A title. A beginning that seemed like a joke, but it was a bond etched deeply into both their fates.
◇
Back to reality.
Alwen bent down, splashing cold water on his face. Droplets rolled down like washing away the dusty haze of memories, leaving only a clear light of determination in his eyes.
This afternoon... he was ready.
He stepped out of the room, but Alwen paused. In the quiet space, Ronan's low, soft voice echoed.
"16—"
"What are you doing, Ronan?" – Alwen's face showed a bit of curiosity.
Ronan startled. A brief silence, then he replied calmly, his voice even as if nothing had happened...
"I'm just... practicing numbers, Your Highness."
Alwen tilted his head slightly, finding it odd, but his questioning gaze gradually withdrew. He nodded lightly and continued down the hallway, his heart full of determination.
Ronan also stood up and followed behind like a shadow...
Alwen stepped out the door.
Welcoming him was the fervent cheers resounding throughout the square!
"PRINCE ALWEN!!" It was the voices of the villagers he'd once saved, of the poor who'd clutched his hand in despair.
The city folk also cheered, though mixed in were whispers of doubt, scrutinizing and disdainful glances. But Alwen didn't care.
He wore armor worn from battles, his shoulders straight, each step firm like pounding a rhythm into the square.
Each step was not just a prince's footfall, but the aspirations of a warrior who had risen for all his people.
In the flooding light, his figure stood tall, like an unquenchable flame.
Before Alwen, the kingdom's grand cathedral loomed, its dome reaching high as if touching the deep blue sky. Bells tolled, blending with the cheers outside, echoing like a historical anthem.
He stepped in lightly.
The aisle was carpeted in red, flanked by knights in gleaming armor, lined up like living statues. One side raised spears in unison, tips touching the marble floor; the other held swords, blades shining brightly, reflecting the vibrant light from the cathedral's stained glass windows.
The cheers outside continued unabated, echoing through the thick walls like waves propelling Alwen's steps deeper.
He walked with poise, but his eyes still gleamed with harsh determination.
Behind him, attendants quietly approached. One lifted a cloak embroidered with gold thread, another carefully draped the royal regalia over Alwen's shoulders. The shimmering brocade flowed down, combining with the iron armor beneath, creating an image both majestic and resolute: a prince of the people, but also a warrior on the battlefield.
Alwen ascended the high steps, kneeling on one knee before the Bishop.
The Bishop, with a stern face but eyes full of solemnity, carefully dipped his hand into the holy oil chalice, anointing Alwen's forehead and hands.
"May the flame of the soul illuminate your path... may these hands never drop the sword of justice."
The chant resounded evenly, then he turned the pages recording feats and testimonies from the subjects. His voice boomed, echoing throughout the cathedral!
"From a despised prince, once seen as a stain on the royal family... now risen, fighting for the people. He has sheltered the weak, plunged into blood and fire, bringing hope to the hopeless. That person is Alwen, son of Regalus the Third."
The final prayer rose like a hymn.
And then—
From the highest point of the cathedral, amid the blinding light of the stained glass, a figure slowly appeared. The King.
He descended the marble steps, his black and red cloak billowing. His eyes were sharp and cold, each step heavy like the drum of fate.
Alwen bowed his head lower, his whole body trembling under the invisible pressure, but he did not retreat.
The King approached, slamming his scepter down on the ground, his hands slowly lifting the crown from his own head. The precious metal gleamed, studded with shimmering red gems, reflecting brilliant light on the cathedral ceiling.
He raised the crown high, his voice thundering like lightning:
"Hear ye, all subjects of Aurvel! This is the one who will inherit this throne. This is the flame forged from ashes, the sword shielding the weak. This... is Alwen, my prince, and the FUTURE OF THE KINGDOM!!!"
The sound shook the entire cathedral dome.
The King's hands slowly lowered. The crown, shining like a miniature sun, was now just a short distance from Alwen's head.
But then—
It halted.