Chapter Two: The Proclamation of the Battle for the Throne
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The morning sun cast a golden glow over the palace gates as Vin stepped forward, flanked by two royal guards and a retinue of servants. The grandeur of the palace loomed behind him, its towering spires and shimmering banners a stark contrast to the humble village below.
"The villagers have gathered in the square to greet you, Your Highness," a servant said with a bow. "It is customary for the princes to acquaint themselves with the people they are sworn to protect."
Vin nodded, his jaw tightening. The idea of facing the villagers filled him with unease. In his past life, he'd been a figure of fear and destruction; now, he was expected to inspire hope. The weight of the carved wooden knight the boy had given him earlier sat heavily in his belt pouch.
As they descended the cobblestone path into Ziad Village, the sounds of daily life grew louder. Merchants called out their wares, the clink of a blacksmith's hammer echoed through the air, and children's laughter danced around the edges of the marketplace.
The square was alive with activity. Stalls lined the streets, brimming with fruits, fabrics, and strange glowing objects that Vin assumed were magical artifacts. The villagers paused their work as Vin's procession approached, and one by one, their gazes turned toward him.
"It's Prince Vin!" someone shouted, and the hum of conversation swelled into a wave of excitement.
The crowd began to gather, villagers jostling for a closer look. A young woman holding a baby bowed low, her eyes filled with hope. An elderly man with a weathered face approached, leaning on a cane.
"Your Highness," the man said, his voice trembling with age, "welcome to Ziad Village. It is an honor to stand before you."
Vin hesitated, unsure how to respond. His throat tightened as memories of his former life surfaced: the screams, the blood, the faces of the innocent. He forced a smile, bowing his head slightly. "The honor is mine."
The villagers erupted into cheers, their enthusiasm catching Vin off guard.
"Your Highness!" a boy's voice rang out. A young child, no older than eight, darted through the crowd, clutching a small wooden carving in his hands. "I made this for you!"
Vin crouched to meet the boy's wide, eager eyes. He accepted the carving—a tiny figure resembling a knight. It was crude, but the effort was clear.
"Thank you," Vin said, his voice soft. "It's incredible work. Did you make this yourself?"
The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes! My father says you'll protect us, just like the knights in the stories!"
Vin swallowed hard, emotions swirling in his chest. "I'll do my best," he promised.
The boy grinned, darting back into the crowd as the villagers cheered again. For the first time since his transmigration, Vin felt something stir within him—a sense of connection, of responsibility.
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That evening, the palace bells tolled, summoning everyone to the grand hall. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation as nobles, knights, and villagers filled the vast chamber. Vin stood among his brothers and the other princes, his hands clasped behind his back.
At the head of the room, King Chaden rose from his throne. His presence was commanding, his voice carrying easily over the murmurs of the crowd.
"Citizens of Ziad, noble guests, and my sons," Chaden began, "it is with great honor that I announce the First Battle of the throne."
The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on the king.
"The First Battle is a tradition as old as our kingdom itself," Chaden continued. "It is a test of strength, of cunning, of magic. In eight days, contenders will face trials that will determine their worthiness to lead."
The crowd erupted into murmurs, excitement and apprehension mingling in their voices.
"This battle," Chaden said, raising his hand for silence, "is open to all contenders. However, history has shown that the blood of the royal family runs strongest. My sons—your princes—will compete for the right to prove their leadership."
Vin's heart sank. He glanced at his brothers, who stood with confidence radiating from their postures. Syia caught his eye and smirked, a silent taunt.
"Prepare yourselves," Chaden concluded. "The First Battle begins in eight days."
---
After the declaration, Vin sought out his father, questions burning in his mind. He found King Chaden in his study, poring over maps and scrolls. The room smelled of old parchment and wax, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating the king's stern features.
"Father," Vin said, hesitating at the door.
"Come in, Vin," Chaden replied, not looking up from his work.
Vin entered, closing the door behind him. "I need to understand the First Battle. What is it truly about?"
Chaden set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, studying his son. "It is a test, Vin. A test of worthiness. The throne is not given—it is earned."
Vin frowned. "But what does it involve? What are the trials?"
"There are five challenges," Chaden said. "Each one is designed to test a different aspect of leadership: strength, strategy, magic, loyalty, and wisdom. The contender who wins the most challenges will emerge victorious."
"And anyone can participate?" Vin asked.
"Anyone," Chaden confirmed. "But it is rare for anyone outside the royal bloodline to succeed. The power of our lineage gives us an edge, both in magic and in training."
Vin's gaze shifted to the map spread across the desk. It showed Ziad and the surrounding regions, each marked with a distinct emblem.
"What role do the villages play in this?" he asked.
Chaden traced a finger over the map. "Ziad is one of five villages in the Mage Kingdom. Each village sends its best to the battle, though their participants rarely challenge the princes. Their purpose is to represent their people and to remind us that the kingdom is greater than any one ruler."
Vin stared at the map, his thoughts racing. The stakes were higher than he had imagined. This wasn't just about proving himself; it was about defending the legacy of his village, his people.
"Do you think I'm ready?" Vin asked quietly.
Chaden's expression softened, a rare moment of paternal warmth breaking through his stoic demeanor. "That is for you to decide, Vin. But remember: the throne is not an inheritance. It is a prize, and only the strongest claim it."
---
Back in his chambers, Vin paced restlessly. His mind replayed the events of the day: the villagers' cheers, the king's declaration, and his father's words. He felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, suffocating and invigorating all at once.
On his desk sat the wooden carving the boy had given him. He picked it up, running his thumb over its rough edges. The boy's words echoed in his mind: "My father says you'll protect us."
Vin turned to the map Chaden had given him. The Mage Kingdom was vast, its villages interconnected yet distinct. Each village had its champions, its warriors, its leaders. And Vin? He was a D-rank mage, barely scratching the surface of his potential.
Can I do this? he thought. Can I fight for the throne? For Ziad? For myself?
The answers eluded him, but one thing was clear: the First Battle was more than a competition. It was a test of his worth, not just as a prince, but as a person.
And he would face it head-on.