The sight of Prince Trallod's arrival sent ripples through the crowd, but for his three brothers, it ignited a different kind of fire—one that burned deep with envy, frustration, and bitter hatred. They had each fought long and hard, shedding blood and sweat in their assigned realms, and yet here stood their youngest brother, calm and composed, with an entire realm bowing to his command.
Prince Helard, always quick to anger, was the first to react. His long red hair whipped in the air as flames erupted from his body, his signature fire raging uncontrollably. His skin gleamed with embers, and his eyes were wild with fury as he stared down the brother who had surpassed them all.
"How dare he..." Helard muttered through gritted teeth. His fists clenched tightly, and the flames around him flickered and hissed in the air. He could not stand the sight of his younger brother basking in the admiration of their father. Helard had brought the Pearl of the Ancient Sea, the most coveted treasure of the Merman Realm, yet it seemed insignificant in the shadow of Trallod's conquest. His pride, once towering, now felt fragile.
Prince Wilord stood silent, but his calm demeanor had fractured. His ocean-blue eyes, once as serene as the sea, now churned with turbulence. His control over water had been tested against the icy tortoises, but now, he felt powerless before his younger brother's effortless mastery of the earth. His victory felt hollow compared to Trallod's. Wilord's fingers twitched as he stared at Trallod's golems, their stone forms towering over the kingdom like immovable giants.
Prince Gust, too, was consumed by bitterness. The serpent skins he had brought, trophies of his hard-fought battles, now seemed no more impressive than the remains of a hunted animal. Gust had always prided himself on his cunning and agility, but now he could feel the winds shifting—his youngest brother had become the unstoppable force that none of them had anticipated. A cold gust of wind whipped around Gust, his frustration manifesting in the air.
The three brothers stood together, united in their jealousy and hatred. Their pride, once their greatest strength, now felt like a heavy burden. Their gazes bore into Trallod with an intensity that could set the earth ablaze, but Trallod—he remained indifferent, utterly unbothered by the venom in their eyes.
Trallod had always been different. He had never sought glory or power, nor had he ever craved the throne that his brothers so desperately desired. He had come only because his father had summoned him. If not for the king's request, Trallod would have happily remained in his realm, free from the politics and competition that consumed his brothers. As he stood before the throne, the weight of his brothers' envy meant nothing to him.
King Vallios observed his sons from his throne, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He could feel the tension rising in the air, the heat of Helard's rage, the cold determination in Wilord's stance, and the silent fury behind Gust's clenched jaw. But what intrigued him most was the calm that radiated from Trallod, the son who had conquered his realm not with force, but with respect and wisdom.
"You have all returned as I commanded," the king said, his voice cutting through the thick atmosphere. "You have brought trophies, victories, and power to display before me. Each of you has proven your strength in battle, your cunning in war."
He turned his gaze to Prince Helard, whose flames continued to burn fiercely. "You conquered the Merman Realm, brought their greatest treasure, and forced them to bow to your will." He nodded approvingly, though Helard barely noticed, too consumed by his own rage.
To Prince Wilord, Vallios said, "You subdued the icy tortoises, creatures of immense strength and wisdom. Your control over water and ice has grown beyond what I had expected."
And to Prince Gust, "You faced the Earthen Serpents, deadly creatures whose might was said to be unchallenged. Yet you have slain hundreds and brought their remains as proof of your prowess."
Then, Vallios' gaze rested on Prince Trallod, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. "And you, Trallod... You have not only conquered the Thundering Wolves, but you have earned their loyalty. You have built a city, commanded golems, and established a realm where its creatures live in peace under your rule."
The silence that followed was heavy. The three elder princes gritted their teeth, each of them feeling the sting of their father's words. He had praised them all, yet the praise for Trallod felt different—deeper, more meaningful.
King Vallios rose from his throne, his towering figure casting a shadow over the hall. "Only one of you can inherit my throne," he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The time is near for me to decide who will succeed me as king."
The air grew thick with anticipation. Helard, still burning with fury, stepped forward. His fiery aura flared as he spoke. "Father, I have won my battles! I have claimed the greatest treasures and subdued the fiercest enemies! The throne is rightfully mine!"
Wilord followed, his voice calm but steely. "I, too, have won. The icy tortoises are no more than relics in my realm. My mastery over water has made me the true heir to the throne."
Gust was next, his eyes sharp as the winds he commanded. "I have slain hundreds of serpents, creatures that were said to be invincible. My strength and strategy make me the rightful king."
But when it came to Trallod, he said nothing. He did not need to. His actions, his accomplishments, spoke louder than any words could. He stood, unbothered by the squabbling of his brothers, content with the freedom he had already claimed.
King Vallios observed them all, his decision weighing heavily on his mind. He had set them a task not just to test their strength, but to see which of his sons understood the true nature of power.
As the princes waited, the kingdom held its breath. The fate of the realm—and the throne—hung in the balance.