The throne room was built to intimidate.
Tall obsidian pillars.
A crimson carpet stretching like a fresh trail of blood.
Dozens of nobles lined on each side, dressed in silk—faces full of arrogance and venom.
And sitting on the lion-carved throne—
King Aldric.
The father of the body Leone currently possessed.
A massive man with steel-gray hair and eyes that could gut a man without touching him.
The moment Leone entered, the nobles bowed politely…
…but their eyes mocked him.
The useless prince has arrived.
The coward who fainted in public.
The disgrace of the royal line.
Leone walked forward, unhurried.
Relaxed.
Too relaxed.
A murmur rippled.
He wasn't trembling.
He wasn't avoiding eye contact.
He wasn't acting like a humiliated child.
He had the stride of a man who built empires on the corpses of traitors.
King Aldric leaned forward.
"Leonus," he said coldly. "Do you know why you've been summoned?"
Leone bowed slightly—just enough to be polite, not submissive.
"No," he replied. "But I assume it's the usual nonsense. Insults. Accusations. A few attempts to strip my title."
He shrugged.
"Quite boring."
The nobles stiffened.
One sputtered, "How dare—!"
Another hissed, "This brat—!"
A thin man with a pointed beard—Chancellor Marthis—clicked his tongue.
"This behavior proves the prince is unfit. I insist we proceed with the removal of succession rights—"
Leone's head tilted.
"Removal?"
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous purr.
"For what crime?"
"You humiliated the royal family by fainting during the ceremony!" the chancellor snapped.
Leone chuckled.
"Interesting. Would you like to know the REAL reason I fainted?"
Everyone leaned in.
Leone smiled like the devil.
"It's because someone tried to poison me."
Gasps exploded across the room.
The king's eyes widened—rage, shock, suspicion.
"What nonsense!" Marthis shouted. "We found no evidence—"
"Oh?" Leone stepped closer to him.
"Then how fortunate that I brought the cup with me."
He raised his hand.
From behind him, a servant nervously stepped forward holding a silver goblet—the one Leone had found in the prince's chambers, coated with faint traces of a paralytic that Leone recognized instantly.
King Aldric's aura turned deadly.
"If this is true…"
His stare sliced through the nobles.
"…then there is a traitor among us."
The court fell silent.
Leone let the tension stretch.
He enjoyed it.
He thrived in it.
"Your Majesty," he said softly, "I suggest an immediate interrogation."
Marthis snapped, "You think you can order the court?!"
Leone's smile vanished.
"If you don't shut up," he said gently, "I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you."
The room froze.
No one breathed.
The threat wasn't shouted.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet.
Cold.
Matter-of-fact.
Like a man stating a business schedule.
Leone stepped even closer until he towered over Marthis.
"Now listen carefully," he whispered, "I don't care who you are, what your rank is, or how long you've been licking the king's boots—"
A ripple of shocked gasps.
"—but if you ever interrupt me again, I'll show you what a real disgrace looks like."
Marthis' legs shook.
Several nobles flinched.
King Aldric's expression shifted subtly—confusion, curiosity… and interest.
This was not the weak son he knew.
"…Leonus," the king said slowly, "you have changed."
Leone met his gaze boldly.
"People grow up," he said. "Some faster than others."
A moment of silence.
Then a loud voice echoed from the entrance—
"Your Majesty! Emergency report!"
A knight rushed in, panting.
Everyone turned.
The knight dropped to one knee.
"Bandits from the Black Fang Tribe have invaded the eastern villages. They've taken hostages… and demand the kingdom pay ransom."
The king cursed.
"They dare attack during a royal assembly?"
The knight hesitated.
"There is more… Your Majesty…"
"Speak!"
"They specifically asked for…"
The knight swallowed hard.
"…Prince Leonus."
The court exploded.
"Impossible!"
"They want the useless one?"
"This must be a joke!"
"Why him?!"
Leone's eyes gleamed.
Bandits asking for a helpless prince?
No.
This smelled like—
A planned kidnapping.
Someone inside the court wanted him gone for good.
Perfect.
He smirked.
"Father," he said calmly, "allow me to go."
The room fell silent.
"What?" nobles shouted.
"You'll die!"
"This is lunacy!"
"He'll embarrass the kingdom again!"
Leone ignored them all.
"I'll handle it."
King Aldric narrowed his eyes.
"You?"
"You can barely swing a sword."
Leone's smirk sharpened.
"I don't need a sword."
He stepped forward, voice dropping into a cold, mafioso tone.
"Trust me. I've survived foes far crueler than anything hiding in the woods."
The king studied him for a long moment.
Then—
"…Very well."
The court gasped.
"If you wish to prove yourself," the king said, "bring back the hostages. Alive."
A perfect challenge.
A perfect test.
Leone bowed slightly.
"As you command."
He turned around—cloak swirling, aura radiating danger.
But before he reached the doors—
A soft voice rose.
"Your Highness… wait."
Leone paused and looked over.
Standing at the far end of the hall, in silver armor and burning blue eyes—
General Kael.
The strongest warrior in the kingdom.
A man who hated the prince more than anyone.
His hand rested on his sword.
"I will accompany you," Kael said coldly.
"To make sure you don't run away… and to drag back your corpse if you do."
Leone grinned slowly.
"Oh?"
He stepped closer, voice silky and mocking.
"You want to keep an eye on me?"
Kael glared.
"I don't trust you."
"Good," Leone whispered.
"Because you shouldn't."
Kael froze—caught off guard.
Leone walked past him.
"Try to keep up," he murmured.
"I don't slow down for anyone."