Inside the grand study of the royal palace, the king sat at his ornate mahogany desk, surrounded by towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of battle and victory, a reflection of the kingdom's storied past. The king, a man of imposing stature with a muscular build, his red hair gleaming like fire in the light of the chandelier above, was deeply engrossed in his work. His yellow eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the various documents and reports laid out before him. He was dressed in a regal crimson robe, embroidered with golden threads that traced the symbol of the royal family—a roaring lion, symbolizing strength and authority.
As he signed off on another document, his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of the door to his study being flung open. Cedric, one of his most trusted advisors, rushed in, his usually composed demeanor replaced by one of urgency and alarm.
The king's gaze snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Cedric with a stern, commanding presence. "Cedric," the king's voice boomed, echoing through the chamber, "what is the meaning of this?"
Cedric, catching his breath and regaining his composure, quickly bowed before speaking. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice tinged with the gravity of the situation, "I bring urgent news. There has been an explosion at the Satoru family estate. Both the Reaper and the Duke's son... they are dead."
The king's hand slammed down onto the desk, the force of the blow causing the papers to scatter. "Who did this?" he demanded, his voice laced with fury.
Cedric visibly trembled under the weight of the king's anger. "It... it was the second prince, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with sorrow.
The king let out a deep sigh, his hand coming up to cover his face as he tried to process the news. "Why... why can't my own son just be simple and not behave like an irresponsible person?" he muttered to himself, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and despair.
After a moment, the king looked back at Cedric, who stood waiting for orders. The king's expression hardened as he made his decision. "Now that my plans have been disrupted by my foolish son... I need you to go and destroy every piece of evidence or information that could reveal who or what killed the Duke's son and the Reaper."
Cedric bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty," he responded, his tone filled with determination.
Before Cedric could leave, he paused and hesitated before asking, "Your Majesty... what about the young prince?"
The king's expression darkened further. "Find out who my foolish son has been conspiring with," he ordered coldly. "And summon him back to the palace. I need to have a word with him."
Cedric nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "As you command, Your Majesty," he said before swiftly leaving the study.
As the door closed behind Cedric, the king leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of the ruined plans and the trouble his second son had caused. His anger simmered beneath the surface as he looked up at the ornate ceiling, adorned with frescoes depicting the glory of the kingdom.
"What is the second prince thinking?" the king muttered to himself, the weight of his son's actions pressing heavily on his shoulders. His plan to keep the Duke in check, to prevent any potential rebellion or defiance, had been shattered by the recklessness of his own flesh and blood. The future of the kingdom now felt more uncertain than ever.
Night had fallen over the bustling Imperial Kingdom, where merchants, nobles, commoners, and beastfolk alike converged within the confines of a lavish brothel. The establishment thrived under the shroud of darkness, its corridors filled with the murmurs of secret dealings, drunken laughter, and the allure of pleasure. The brothel itself was an ornate structure, with golden lanterns casting a warm, seductive glow across the decadent halls. Velvet curtains adorned the windows, and the scent of incense and exotic spices filled the air, mingling with the sounds of revelry.
Within one of the brothel's opulent rooms, a small round table was surrounded by five men, deep in conversation. The room was dimly lit, with a chandelier hanging low, casting a flickering light over their faces. At the center of this gathering was the Second Prince, a young man with striking blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He was dressed in a regal yet discreet manner, wearing a dark blue coat with golden embroidery, a white silk shirt underneath, and a sword strapped to his side. His expression was one of cold confidence, his eyes calculating as he surveyed the nobles before him.
The nobles gathered around the table were a varied group, each with their own distinct presence:
Duke Varlan Ashford was a man of imposing stature, his tall frame accentuated by his graying hair and sharp, hawk-like features. Draped in a deep crimson robe trimmed with luxurious fur, he exuded an aura of wealth and power. A large ruby ring gleamed on his finger as he raised his glass to the Second Prince. "I am most grateful for your invitation, Your Highness," he said smoothly, his practiced voice betraying his ambitions.
Beside him sat Count Dorian Valmont, a rotund man whose ruddy complexion spoke of indulgence. His fingers, adorned with heavy rings, seemed to sparkle in the dim light as he laughed heartily. Dorian was dressed in a purple doublet with gold accents, a testament to his vast lands and ruthless business acumen. "We are all proud of your decisive action against the Reaper, Your Highness!" he boomed, his voice filled with a crude sort of admiration.
Across the table, Viscount Thorne Belrose leaned back in his chair, a cunning smile playing on his lips. His jet-black hair was slicked back, and his sharp green suit was tailored to perfection. Thorne's hands were never still, always twirling a glass or gesturing as he spoke, his eyes glinting with mischief. "There's no doubt, Your Highness," he declared with eager anticipation, "that you're destined to be the next ruler of this great kingdom!"
Finally, there was Count Lucien Arkwright, the youngest of the group but no less dangerous. His auburn hair was neatly kept, and his navy blue waistcoat with silver buttons gave him an air of quiet authority. Despite his drunken state, Lucien's sharp mind was evident as he slurred his words with a sincere smile. "Your victory over the Reaper ensures our success, Your Highness," he said, his tone both respectful and calculating.
The Second Prince smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. "What I do is for the betterment of this kingdom," he declared, his voice cold and authoritative. "The death of the Reaper should have been carried out by my weak father long ago. But no matter, what's done is done."
Viscount Thorne raised his glass in agreement. "Without you, our businesses would never have thrived! We owe you everything."
The Second Prince's smile widened. "All I need is your continued support, gentlemen. With that, nothing will stand in our way."
The nobles nodded, their agreement sealed by greed and ambition. As the Prince rose to leave, he signaled for the evening's entertainment to begin. Five beautiful women, dressed in silken robes, entered the room to entertain the nobles. The men's eyes lit up with anticipation as the Prince took his leave, his expression dark and unreadable.
As the Second Prince walked through the brothel's dimly lit passage, he passed by various women—some beastwomen with feline features, others human—dressed in seductive attire. They attended to customers with practiced ease, their laughter mingling with the soft music playing in the background. The walls were lined with rich tapestries, and the floors were carpeted in lush velvet, muffling the sound of footsteps.
A young man with fiery red hair and green eyes approached the Prince, bowing low. He was dressed in a simple brown shirt and trousers, the attire of an adventurer, with a blade strapped to his waist. His name was Angelo, a trusted ally of the Prince.
"Your Highness," Angelo said with a slight grin, handing the Prince a black hooded cloak. "You should wear this to avoid attention."
The Second Prince took the cloak but sighed. "I need no such thing, Angelo."
Angelo chuckled. "What would people think if they saw the Prince in a place like this?"
The Prince rolled his eyes but donned the cloak anyway, pulling the hood over his head. "Follow me."
They exited the brothel and made their way to a dark alley behind the building. There, they found a woman torturing a man dressed as a commoner. The woman had long black hair and dark eyes, her expression one of twisted delight. She was dressed in the attire of an adventurer, her leather armor stained with blood. As the man begged for his life, she stomped on his leg, breaking it with a sickening crunch. His scream echoed through the alley, but she seemed only annoyed by it. With a swift, brutal motion, she crushed his head under her boot, blood splattering across the ground.
"Sara," Angelo called out, his tone half-joking, half-exasperated. "Did you have to do that here?"
Sara looked up, her eyes lighting up as she saw the Prince approaching. She ignored Angelo completely, running up to the Prince and embracing him. "Your Highness," she said sweetly, her voice a stark contrast to the violence she had just committed.
The Prince returned her embrace with a smile. "How have you been, Sara?"
"I've been well enough," she replied, casting a disdainful glance at Angelo, who was left standing awkwardly to the side.
"Hey, I'm here too, you know," Angelo said, feigning hurt.
Sara pulled away from the Prince, her expression turning sour. "Who are you again?"
Angelo gritted his teeth but forced a smile. "You're lucky you're cute, Sara."
The Prince raised a hand, signaling for them to stop their bickering. "I need both of your help, and your party as well."
Angelo leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "No need for formalities, Your Highness. You know we're always ready to help."
The Prince handed Angelo a folded piece of parchment.
Angelo unfolded the paper, scanning the names. "Just names?"
The Prince nodded. "These are individuals who need to be eliminated before they can cause any problems. I can't trust my men with this. My father would catch wind of it."
Angelo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We'll take care of it. But you owe us."
The Prince smiled, his expression one of gratitude mixed with calculation. "Thank you."
At that moment, they heard the voices of knights calling for the Prince. The Second Prince quickly removed the hooded cloak and handed it back to Angelo. "I'll see you both again soon."
He patted Sara on the head, making her smile, before turning and walking away. As he disappeared into the night, Angelo looked at Sara, who was still gazing after the Prince with dreamy eyes. He sighed and lightly smacked her on the head with the cloak.
"Let's go," Angelo said, starting to walk away.
Sara glared at him but followed reluctantly. "I don't take orders from you," she muttered.
"Sure you don't," Angelo replied with a smirk, leading the way back into the shadows.