Lucian's gaze fell on the sword at his waist, and he halted his horse.
"Wait! That's…!"
He leapt off his horse and quickly pulled the sheath from his scabbard. A faint glimmering red light caught his eye, causing him to grimace as a thought crossed his mind.
Isn't it… a magic stone?
Curiosity piqued, he promptly unsheathed his sword and turned the sheath upside down. A small, scarlet stone, bright and glowing, fell to the ground.
"How did this happen? How did it even fit inside?" Lucian muttered, picking up the magical stone in his palm. "And it didn't even break!" He gasped as the heat emanating from the stone warmed his cold skin.
Though amazed, Lucian clenched the stone in his hand and his jaw tightened as he recalled the horrors of war.
No matter how fascinating this small piece could be, was it worth so many lives?
Angered yet determined, he was resolved to inform the king. Perhaps it could change his mind about the marriage he had announced a few hours earlier.
The young man grabbed his horse, turned it 180 degrees, and rode back to the palace.
Upon arriving at the king's castle, he requested an audience.
"The king is busy," the guard told him, his complexion filled with contempt.
As much as Lucian would have liked to believe the guard's words, he knew the king must have refused his request without a second thought.
He wasn't surprised. He was accustomed to the king's cold demeanour.
As the illegitimate prince—born from a commoner whose origins were unknown and the object of mockery in high society—he was seen as a mistake by the king, not as a son.
Despite no one knowing his true roots, Lucian remembered his motherland, where he was born and spent his early years—Terveland.
He recalled his mother's dark hair, identical to his own, which she had to cut short during the sweltering summer heat and never had the chance to grow as an aristocratic lady could.
Nobles could afford magic stones to cast spells and create cooling breezes, but such luxuries were out of reach for commoners, especially in a land without a king to guide and nurture it.
One day, a red light struck his land, revealing magic stones in a dark large sinkhole. The following day, everyone was in awe to discover them. Within a year, every kingdom was aware of Terveland's newfound riches.
They believed these stones were a blessing from God, as they had started to deplete the few magic stone mines they possessed. But for Lucian, they were a curse—a curse that led to the loss of his mother.
Rushing into his room, Lucian pulled open the curtains, only to be met with a faceful of dust.
He coughed, trying to clear his throat and cover his eyes. He hadn't expected anyone to care for his room during his absence, but he never imagined it would be this bad.
"What were those servants doing all this time when I was gone?" he grunted in disbelief at the sight before him.
The hall was layered with dust, the furniture covered, and a few furnishings pushed to the corners of the room, making it resemble a servant's quarters rather than a prince's. It lacked the grandeur typical of other royal family quarters.
Lucian considered calling a servant using the method he'd learned when he first entered the palace—clapping twice to call for help—but shook his head.
I would be ignored again.
Taking a deep breath, he began cleaning the room himself, opening a window to let in fresh air while keeping the curtains down. The cold breeze flowed through the thin fabric into the hall.
Exhausted, Lucian lay on his bed, staring blankly at the magic stone in his hand.
"You need to live on. No matter what," a faint voice echoed in Lucian's mind.
To survive within these hellish palace walls, he had to obey the king.
His new order was to wed the princess of Eldoria, the country he loathed.
Lucian had never given much thought to marriage, but he certainly never desired to marry a woman from his adversary's kingdom.
Due to the king's unexpected decision, Lucian found himself at a dead-end. Again.
He dismissed the dark thoughts swirling in his mind, gently pulling his bangs away from his face.
"I will have to talk to the king before the wedding preparations begin," the dark-haired man mumbled.
-The next day -
Lucian was seated at his desk, reading through battlefield reports. He had yet to meet with the king, as his busy schedule—filled with training and accumulated work—had kept him occupied.
"Your Highness!" Dylan rushed into the prince's study.
"What is it?" Lucian demanded.
"I have news about the princess!" the blonde-haired man exclaimed.
"What princess?"
Dylan gasped, placing the papers he held on the desk and sighed in disbelief.
"The princess of Eldoria! The woman you were asked to marry!"
Lucian grimaced at the mention of Eldoria.
"I don't want to hear anything about that kingdom."
"You should stop running around like a child, shorty!" Adrian, who had followed Dylan, shouted.
When his gaze fell on the prince, he promptly bowed and greeted him properly.
Dylan mirrored his companion, having momentarily forgotten proper protocol, as Prince Lucian had asked them not to greet him on the battlefield, considering it a waste of time.
"Get out," Lucian whispered.
"Pardon?" Dylan and Adrian asked, lifting their gazes toward the prince.
"I said get out!" he shouted, startling the two men.
With a quick bow, they exited the room, closing the door behind them.
Once the door was closed, Lucian crumpled to the ground, falling from his chair and gasping for air.
"Damn it! Not now!" he muttered, gripping the edge of the desk with trembling hands.
His chest felt as though an intense, searing fire had been ignited within it. He groaned in pain but forced himself to focus. He quickly opened the drawer of his desk and retrieved a small transparent bottle filled with a blue liquid. After drinking its contents, he felt the pain gradually subside.
Lucian rose from the floor, brushing off his clothes. His gaze fell on the stack of papers Dylan had brought.
He picked up the documents and began to read.
It contained details about Princess Cynthia, known as the villainess of Eldoria's aristocracy.
Lucian's once left emerald eye glimmered golden as he stared at the paper.
"Curse those Eldorians. They're all equally despicable," he muttered through gritted teeth, his face twisted with disgust.