"Effort never betrays." A saying we have all heard throughout our lives. But deep down, we all know that effort alone is never enough. The most important variable for success is luck. There are those born with a golden spoon, granted a head start the moment they draw their first breath. Is their effort really the same as ours? What about those who were gifted the greatest teachers, education that those with lower standing cannot even dream of, let alone comprehend? And what of those born into warmth, into families who love and nurture them? That should be a given, right? But it isn't. Lady Luck, as always, is a cruel mistress.
So now, can anyone truly say that effort will never betray? It's a comforting lie, a phrase meant to soothe those who fall short. Regardless, today I am going to introduce you all to a prince of a kingdom, the eldest prince, mind you. A crown born of prestige, yet drowning in shame. The one whom Lady Luck descended upon with all her glory. How can anyone deny that? The eldest prince of a kingdom, no matter the size, should surely have it all. Teachers, money, connections, loving parents. And yet, dear reader, this particular prince despises every gift he's ever been given.
Well, it's simple really. In my little rant about my least favourite saying, there was one aspect I left out... Talent.
The Halgrave Kingdom was vast and wondrous, its reach spanning forests, plains, and silver rivers that reflected sunlight like blades. You could ask anyone, from the poorest man to the king himself, and they would all tell you the same thing: "The people are protected." Yes, that is the key to a flourishing kingdom. It is not happiness, nor is it wealth. The number one reason why people love their residence, their country, their home, is because they are protected.
Their military is ten thousand strong, a ratio of one knight for every ten civilians. Impressive, isn't it? Yet, the prince still hates it.
Okay, that's fine, right? Surely, the prince is not blind to the beauty of the kingdom. The roads lay a wonderful path to the castle so that even the lowest workers can find their way. The commercial district has segments so that all citizens can find what they are looking for. The gardens are full of the most beautiful fauna, vivid flowers that seem to wave to passing citizens and soldiers alike. The castle itself is not oppressive, but rather inviting, built to be wide and loving rather than tall and mighty.
And the king ensured that all six of his children, from his youngest, Mary, to his eldest, Marcus, had their own private education and training grounds. A fair and thoughtful ruler, a father who gave his children everything they could ever need. Yet Marcus Halgrave still hated it.
This world is not the world you may know. Similar, perhaps, but different for certain. Here, kings are not born, they are proven. There are three things that make a king. The first is intelligence. A king must know what to do in any given situation, must see the board when others see only pieces. Marcus had plenty of that; he knew almost more than his father. He had been taught for eighteen years, since he was five years old. So why does he hate it?
Maybe it's the second trait, charisma. Marcus was decent enough. He was engaged and made great political moves with his fiancée to strengthen the kingdom. His speeches were clear, his decisions fair. This gained him adoration from citizens and siblings alike. Yet he still hated being a prince.
Which leads us to the final thing that makes a king in this world... Power.
Marcus had none.
He trained for the longest hours. He bled for progress that never came, swung blades until his muscles screamed, prayed for strength until his voice went hoarse. He tried every single weapon, from spear to gauntlet. Yet he could not even do what his youngest sibling had achieved since her sixteenth birthday last week. Marcus still had no Discipline. No awakening. No spark. And that is why he hated this kingdom.
Disciplines rule this world. Whether your Discipline is Speed, Strength, Technique, Will, or any of the lesser ones, it matters not. What matters is that you have one. As a king, you must have three. Once you awaken for the first time and discover which Discipline resonates with your core, the world changes. You see the colour of auras, the shapes that swirl behind living beings, the faint traces of the animals that guide human will. You learn to discern threats, to feel the difference between prey and predator. And in this world, without the Second Awakening, you cannot lead.
But don't take my word for it, take the words of the people themselves.
When asked about the eldest prince, this was their reply:
"Oh, the fake crown prince? He's a good lad, decent I guess. He'd make a fine advisor to Princess Gemma, but... we can't trust him with the kingdom."
Simple and to the point. No venom. No hatred. Just quiet dismissal.
So why is it that the prince despises the idea of being second to his younger sister? The reason is pride. He hates being second. He cannot stand the sight of anyone standing above him, sibling, father, god, or fate itself. He doesn't truly crave power for what it brings; power is merely the means to his end.
And so, Marcus Halgrave trains. He trains beyond reason, beyond exhaustion, beyond what any noble should endure. He follows every manual, recites every meditation, studies every principle of the Disciplines. He memorizes the paths to awakening until they haunt his dreams. He repeats his father's words until they burn in his skull: "A king must master three."
He prays for something, anything, to prove his father wrong.
To prove that he is not the fake crown prince.
To prove that he is the best man for king.
Even if the gods themselves have turned away, he will drag their gaze back by force.