The grand hall of the royal palace buzzed with anticipation. Nobles adorned in silks and jewels lined the marble floor, whispering among themselves as they awaited the ceremony. The air was thick with excitement, but for Leonard Eldridge, the third prince of the Eldridge Kingdom, the tension felt suffocating.
Leo stood on the ceremonial platform, his back straight but his hands clenched tightly behind him. His brothers, Darius and Victor, lounged in the front row with smug grins plastered on their faces. His stepmother, Queen Isolde, sat beside them, her gaze sharp and her lips curled in faint amusement. She wore the same expression she always did when looking at him—contempt, mixed with just enough mockery to sting.
"This is it, little brother," Victor called out, his voice carrying over the hushed crowd.
"Today's the day you prove to everyone what we've always known."
"That you're worthless," Darius added with a snicker, drawing laughter from the courtiers nearby.
Leo ignored them, though the words bit deeper than he cared to admit. Instead, he focused on the ornate altar before him.
Carved from gleaming white stone, it bore the symbols of the gods—each representing a domain: war, wisdom, agriculture, and countless others.
Today, Leo would kneel before them, pray, and receive the divine blessing that would awaken his mana.
It was supposed to be a moment of triumph, a rite of passage every noble child experienced at sixteen. But for Leo, it felt more like a trial.
The High Priest stepped forward, his golden robes shimmering under the light of the crystal chandeliers. "Prince Leonard," he intoned, his deep voice silencing the room.
"Step forward and present yourself to the gods."
Leo took a breath, steadying himself. As he moved to the center of the platform, the murmurs of the crowd followed him. His reputation as the weakest of the royal siblings preceded him.
Unlike Darius and Victor, who had awakened powerful mana two years prior, Leo had always been… unremarkable. His swordsmanship was average, his intelligence competent but unnoteworthy, and he lacked the charisma his brothers exuded effortlessly.
As he knelt before the altar, Leo couldn't help but feel the weight of the court's expectations—or lack thereof. He pressed his palms together and bowed his head, the cold stone biting into his knees. The High Priest began the chant, calling upon the gods to witness the ceremony.
The hall grew still, the air thickening with divine energy. This was the moment every noble child dreamed of, the moment when a god would descend and mark them with mana, granting them the ability to wield the world's most coveted power.
"Pray, Prince Leonard," the High Priest commanded.
Leo closed his eyes. Please… please let this work. He pictured himself standing tall, his mana surging, his father looking at him with pride for the first time in years.
He prayed to every god he could remember—Morynth, the God of War; Elyra, the Goddess of Wisdom; Solen, the God of the Harvest. His voice trembled as he whispered his pleas, his heart pounding in his chest.
But as the seconds stretched into minutes, the silence grew deafening.
Whispers rippled through the hall. Nobles exchanged uneasy glances, their hushed voices growing louder. On the altar, the symbols of the gods remained dim. No light, no sign, no blessing.
Leo opened his eyes, panic rising in his chest. He tried again, his voice more desperate.
"Please… I beg you, grant me your favor."
Nothing.
Queen Isolde's laughter broke the tense silence, her voice melodic and cruel. "Oh, how tragic," she said, her words cutting through the crowd like a knife. "Even the gods find him unworthy."
The court erupted into quiet laughter. Victor leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with mock pity. "I knew it. I told you he'd embarrass the family."
"Silence!" the King's voice boomed, silencing the room instantly.
King Alaric Eldridge rose from his throne, his face a mask of disappointment and anger. He descended the steps slowly, his heavy boots echoing against the marble floor. When he reached the platform, he stared down at Leo with cold, unyielding eyes.
"Leonard Eldridge," the King began, his voice laced with disdain. "You have brought shame upon this family. No god deems you worthy of their favor, and no mana flows within you."
Leo wanted to argue, to scream that it wasn't his fault, but his throat closed up. The words wouldn't come.
"You are forsaken," the King continued, his tone final. "A prince in name only. As of this day, you are stripped of your title and your place in this palace."
Gasps echoed through the hall, but no one dared to speak. Leo's vision blurred as the King delivered his verdict.
"However," Alaric added, his voice hardening, "I am not so cruel as to leave you with nothing. You will take on the title of Duke of Aridale."
Murmurs broke out again. Aridale. The largest but most desolate land in the kingdom. Barren soil, uninhabitable terrain, and a cursed reputation—it was a place no noble would willingly claim.
"You will rule over that forsaken land," the King said, his gaze piercing. "And you will not return to this palace unless you make it flourish. Prove your worth, Leonard, or be forgotten."
The crowd erupted into whispers, their curiosity and amusement evident. Some pitied him, others relished in his downfall. Leo remained frozen, his fists trembling at his sides.
"Father, no!" a voice cried out.
Selene, Leo's younger sister, pushed through the crowd, her violet eyes filled with tears. At thirteen, she was small but fierce, her long silver hair trailing behind her like a banner. She fell to her knees before the King, clasping her hands together.
"Please, Father, don't do this!" she begged. "Leonard is your son! He—he doesn't deserve this!"
"Enough, Selene," the King said sharply. "This is not your place."
"But he—" Selene's voice cracked, her tears falling freely. "He's all I have left!"
Queen Isolde's voice cut through the moment, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Oh, how touching. But perhaps the young princess should learn that this is what happens to failures."
Selene glared at Isolde, her tiny fists clenched, but her defiance crumbled under the weight of the King's silence. Alaric gestured to the guards, who gently pulled Selene back. Her cries echoed in the hall as she was led away.
Leo's gaze fell to the floor, his heart heavy. As the court began to disperse, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Eldric, his mother's trusted butler. The older man's face was stoic, but his gray eyes shone with quiet determination.
"You are not alone, young master," Eldric said softly. "Your mother would not want you to give up."
Leo nodded numbly, though the words barely registered. His mind was a whirlwind of anger, shame, and despair.
Hours later, as the sun set over the palace, Leo stood outside the gates. His belongings were packed in a single carriage, a stark contrast to the grandeur of his former life.
Eldric stood beside him, along with two guards assigned to escort him to Aridale.
Before he could step into the carriage, a voice called out to him. "Leonard!"
He turned to see Selene running toward him, clutching a bundle in her arms. Her face was red and tear-streaked, but her determination was unmistakable.
"Selene, you shouldn't—" Leo began, but she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"I'll follow you," she whispered fiercely. "No matter where you go."
Leo's throat tightened. "You can't. It's not safe."
"I don't care!" she said, pulling back to meet his gaze. "You're my brother. You've always protected me. Now it's my turn."
Leo placed a hand on her shoulder, his heart aching. "You need to stay here," he said gently. "Be strong. For me."
Selene hesitated, her lips trembling, but eventually nodded. She pressed the bundle into his hands. "Then take this. It's… it's all I can give you."
Inside was a scarf, hastily knitted but warm and comforting. Leo smiled faintly, wrapping it around his neck. "Thank you, Selene."
As he climbed into the carriage, Selene stood at the gates, watching him leave. Her figure grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely.
Leo leaned back, clutching the scarf tightly. The barren lands of Aridale awaited him, but so did something else—a faint spark of resolve.
I will not be forgotten.