The walk from the prison to the palace was a blur for Marvin. He followed in silence, his confusion growing with each step. Why was he being summoned like this? The question buzzed in his head, but the guard leading him offered no answers.
The grand palace loomed before them, its towering spires and intricate carvings, Marvin couldn't help but feel out of place, like a smudge on an otherwise pristine painting.
As they reached the main hall, the guards stationed by the massive double doors pulled them open without a word, the heavy creak echoing through the corridor. One of them gestured for Marvin to step inside.
Marvin hesitated for a moment but quickly shook off his doubts. Whatever this is, let's get it over with, he thought, stepping into the room.
The main hall was alive with tension. Nobles filled the long tables lining the room, their jeweled robes glinting under the golden light of the chandeliers. The low murmur of conversation halted as Marvin entered.
Every eye turned to him.
The gazes varied some curious, others judgmental, and a few openly hostile. Marvin felt their scrutiny like a weight pressing down on him, but he refused to show any reaction. He wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.
"Marvin, sit," his father's deep voice commanded from the throne at the far end of the hall.
Marvin's gaze shifted to the king, Marcus Lacoste, his father. The man radiated authority, his expression as unreadable as ever. With a slight shrug, Marvin made his way to the chair indicated for him and sat down.
The stares continued, but Marvin didn't care. Let them look. Whatever this was, he'd deal with it on his own terms.
--
The discussion in the hall quickly turned to politics—land disputes, trade routes, alliances. Marvin tuned it out almost immediately. Politics had never been his concern, nor his interest. While others in his family relished the games of power, he preferred the simplicity of a drink in his hand and the world's problems far from his mind.
He leaned back in his chair, barely listening, when suddenly his father, King Marcus, stood up. The room fell silent, every noble's gaze turning to the king. His piercing eyes locked onto Marvin.
"I've heard plenty of complaints about you over the years, Marvin," Marcus said, his voice steady but with an edge of disappointment. "Drunken brawls, neglecting your duties, living as a disgrace to our family name. But I never expected it to go this far." He took a step forward, his expression growing colder. "Murder, Marvin? Killing someone in cold blood? Is this what you've become?"
The words hit Marvin like a hammer. He sat up straight, his mind scrambling to process what he'd just heard. "Murder?" he repeated, his voice incredulous. "Me? Father, I don't know what you're talking about!"
Before the king could respond, a noble stood abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger at Marvin. "We have an eyewitness!" the man declared, his voice sharp with indignation. "A reliable witness who saw him at the scene of the crime. Are you going to deny their testimony, Your Highness?"
Marvin's jaw clenched as he shot a glare at the noble. "What witness? What crime? You can't just throw accusations like this without proof!" He turned to his father. "I didn't do it. I don't even know what this is about!"
The noble scoffed. "Of course, you'd deny it. You've always been a problem. You've disgraced this kingdom with your reckless behavior for years! Now you expect us to believe your innocence?"
"Enough," the king said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The noble sat back down, though his glare lingered on Marvin.
The king took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving Marvin. "Whether you did it or not, your actions have led to this moment. Your irresponsibility has brought shame to this family for too long. The accusations alone are enough to tarnish our name."
Marvin opened his mouth to protest, but his father raised a hand, silencing him.
"You leave me no choice," Marcus continued, his voice heavy with finality. "From this moment, you are stripped of your title. You are no longer a prince of this kingdom."
The hall erupted into whispers, some nobles exchanging smug looks, others murmuring in shock. Marvin sat frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
The king's voice rose above the murmurs. "I will grant you a territory. A small piece of land far from here. You will leave the palace at once and never return."
Marvin's fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms. "Father, you can't do this," he said, his voice low, almost pleading.
Marcus's expression softened, but only slightly. "Do not disappoint me further, Marvin," he said. "Do not strain our family name any more than you already have. You're a disgrace, Marvin. Begone from my sight. Perhaps the wilderness will teach you what the palace could not."
The king sat back down, signaling that the matter was closed. The weight of the decision pressed down on Marvin as the nobles whispered and cast judgmental glances his way.
With no other choice, Marvin stood, his face betraying nothing as he turned and walked out of the hall. His mind, however, was racing. Banished? Murder? What the hell is happening?
His mind was a storm of confusion and anger, replaying the events that had led him to this moment. The accusations of murder, his father's cold condemnation, the sneering faces of the nobles all of it swirled in his head like a nightmare he couldn't wake from.
Just as his thoughts spiraled deeper, a strange sensation rippled through his body. It started as a low hum in his chest, growing into a subtle vibration that spread to his limbs.
"System initialization complete," a calm, monotone voice echoed from within him, breaking the stillness of the room.
Ding!
The sound jolted Marvin from his thoughts. His head shot up, eyes wide as he scanned the empty room. His breath quickened.
His fingers traced the jagged edges of the chair's armrest as he stared blankly ahead, trying to make sense of it all. Murder? Me? The word felt foreign, He hadn't killed anyone, and yet the nobles were seemed so confident, even bringing forth supposed witnesses.
Marvin leaned back in the broken chair, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts began to connect. Now that I think about it... This string of misfortunes wasn't normal. Being accused of murder, stripped of his title, and cast out to this desolate ruin it all felt too deliberate. One disaster after another, perfectly timed. It couldn't be a coincidence.
His jaw clenched as realization settled in. Someone wanted him out of the picture, and they'd succeeded. But who? The scheming nobles? His so-called siblings? Or perhaps his father, Marcus Lacoste himself.
Marvin sat up, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "I'll show you what I can do, Father," he muttered, his voice low but resolute. A bitter smile crept onto his lips. "No, not Father, -Marcus Lacoste."
The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of his resolve. Whatever this strange system was, whatever this ruined territory held, Marvin decided he'd use it all. He would rise again not as the forgotten youngest prince, but as something more.