Ethan spent his first few days in Veldoria in a whirlwind of formalities and introductions. Everything moved at a pace he couldn't keep up with—each new face, every new piece of information, felt like another stone being added to the weight he was now carrying. But despite the confusion, one thing was clear: he was expected to step into his role as king quickly. And soon, the entire world would be watching.
The palace was as majestic as it was imposing, with its high stone walls, intricate tapestries depicting Veldoria's long history, and marble floors that echoed with each step. The air inside was cool, but heavy with history, like the building itself was holding its breath, waiting for the new monarch to take his place.
Veldoria was ancient, its roots tracing back over a thousand years, and Ethan was supposed to take the reins of this vast kingdom. But he wasn't sure if he was ready. Everything about the palace screamed tradition—an immovable, ancient force, and here he was, a young man who had barely been in Veldoria for more than a few days, learning the ropes of being a ruler.
Despite his uncertainties, Ethan couldn't afford to be hesitant. Not anymore. He had no choice but to step up.
The first person he truly got to know in the palace was his bodyguard, Viktor. The tall, broad-shouldered man had been assigned to him for his own safety, but there was something in Viktor's demeanor that hinted at more. The way Viktor watched the palace staff, the way his eyes never rested—he wasn't just a protector; he was a sentinel, ever vigilant. Every day, Viktor seemed to be just a little too quiet, his movements a little too controlled.
Viktor's presence was a constant reminder of the danger Ethan was in. It wasn't just the grandeur of the palace that loomed over him—it was the ever-present threat of enemies, both within Veldoria and beyond its borders. While Ethan wasn't sure he fully understood the nature of these dangers, Viktor had a way of making it clear without saying much. Every time they crossed paths, Viktor's silent gaze felt like a warning.
One evening, after a particularly difficult meeting with the royal council, Viktor spoke of his role more openly.
"The people you met today—ministers, advisors, diplomats—they all have their own agendas, Your Majesty," Viktor said quietly, once they were alone in Ethan's chambers. His voice was deep, with a gravelly undertone that made every word sound like it carried weight. "Not all of them will be loyal. But they will not harm you as long as I am here."
Ethan had been skeptical of the idea of needing constant protection. He was used to being on his own, fending for himself, but the weight of his crown and the responsibilities that came with it made the need for protection clearer. The people he had met in the councilroom weren't just officials—they were players in a game much bigger than him. And they would not hesitate to exploit his weaknesses if they thought they could.
Over the next few days, Ethan was introduced to the key figures of Veldoria's political and military world. The palace staff, who would manage everything from security to diplomacy, were efficient and discreet, each one with their own duty to uphold. Among them was Lady Selene, his personal advisor, who had worked with his uncle for years and now acted as Ethan's bridge between the palace and the government. She was a woman of sharp intellect, quick to offer advice, but she was also incredibly cautious. Ethan could tell she wasn't quite sure what to make of him yet, but she wasn't ready to show her hand. Still, her calm demeanor helped him feel less out of place.
Lady Selene had an aura of experience about her—she had lived through political upheavals, wars, and alliances, and yet she was able to remain composed, even in the face of Ethan's inexperience. Whenever she spoke, it was with authority, but also with a touch of caution, as if testing the waters before committing to anything.
"There are things you must know, Your Majesty," she said one afternoon as they walked through the royal gardens. The paths were lined with flowers in full bloom, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and rose. "Not everything here is as it seems. And not everyone who smiles at you is a friend. You will find that diplomacy, more than anything else, will decide whether you succeed or fail."
Ethan nodded, absorbing her words. "I'm beginning to understand. But it's hard to know who to trust."
"Trust your instincts, Your Majesty," she said. "But always be cautious."
There was a sharpness to her words that made Ethan wonder if she was trying to warn him about something in particular, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, she changed the subject, talking about the details of the upcoming coronation.
"There will be foreign diplomats arriving soon," she said, "and the media will cover your coronation live. The eyes of the world will be on you."
It was a statement that carried a weight Ethan wasn't prepared for. He had been focused so much on the political intricacies of his new life that the reality of the coronation had slipped his mind. Soon, he would be crowned king, with people from all over the world watching. How was he supposed to make them believe he was ready?
The buildup to the coronation was overwhelming. Diplomats from across the continent began arriving in Veldoria, each one bringing with them their own expectations. Some came as allies, hoping to forge new partnerships, while others came with their own agendas, waiting to see how the young king would handle the pressure of the throne.
Ethan met with some of the more notable figures during this time. General Rafe, the head of the Veldorian military, was a gruff man with a commanding presence. He didn't waste words, and it was clear that he regarded Ethan as a necessary figurehead rather than someone who could truly lead. Still, he was loyal to the crown, and his experience in battle made him a formidable ally.
"You'll need to be prepared, Your Majesty," General Rafe told Ethan one afternoon, his eyes cold and calculating. "There are always threats—internal and external. Don't let your guard down."
Then there was Countess Miras, a well-known diplomat who had survived more than one political crisis in Veldoria. She was in her mid-forties, with silver hair that shimmered in the light, and an air of elegance that contrasted sharply with the harsh realities of the political world. She was a calculating woman, one who watched and waited, as though studying her prey. Ethan had yet to fully understand her motivations, but he knew she was a player in the game, whether he liked it or not.
At one of the many diplomatic dinners, Countess Miras leaned in close, her voice a soft whisper. "Veldoria's future lies in your hands, Your Majesty," she said, her eyes narrowing. "But remember, the crown is not just about power. It is about survival."
Her words left a lingering chill in Ethan's gut, but he didn't have time to dwell on them. The next few weeks were filled with endless meetings, ceremonies, and preparations for the coronation. He had no time to rest, no time to think. His entire life had changed in an instant, and he had to adapt.
The night before the coronation, Ethan stood alone in his chambers, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The royal robes felt heavy on his shoulders, and the golden crown—meant to be a symbol of power—felt like a burden.
He couldn't help but think of the life he'd left behind. The life of a nobody, wandering from one day to the next, trying to survive. He had never asked for this, never wanted to be king. But it was happening now, and he had no choice but to rise to the occasion.
"Are you ready, Your Majesty?" Viktor's voice broke through his thoughts. The bodyguard stood in the doorway, his expression as impassive as ever.
Ethan turned, meeting Viktor's gaze. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to be."
Viktor nodded, stepping forward to adjust the hem of Ethan's cloak. "That is what a king does. He does what is required, whether he is ready or not."
The two of them walked in silence down the long, winding corridors of the palace. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls, a reminder of the quiet stillness that hung over the place. The world outside the palace might be chaotic, but in here, everything was controlled, ordered.
As they entered the grand hall, Ethan felt the eyes of the assembled dignitaries on him. The foreign diplomats were present, their faces a mix of curiosity and calculation. Some of them were allies, eager to meet the young king, while others were less friendly, sizing him up, trying to gauge his strength.
The ceremony was a grand affair—traditional, steeped in history. The crown was placed upon Ethan's head, the weight of it symbolizing the responsibility that now rested upon him. His knees almost buckled under the pressure, but he forced himself to stand tall.
As the cheers from the crowd filled the hall, Ethan took a deep breath. This was it. His reign had begun.