The faint light of dawn filters through the cracks in the stone walls of Ashenhold's castle. Cassius, still restless from the previous night's discussion, stands by his window, gazing out at the city below. He can see the ruins of once-proud towers and the faint movement of the city's people beginning their day. The weight of his father's words hangs heavily on his shoulders.
---
Cassius enters the training hall, where Master Elric waits. Elric is a broad-shouldered man with silver streaks running through his once-black hair. His face bears the scars of countless battles, and his piercing eyes seem to weigh and measure everything they see. He's dressed simply, but the aura of a seasoned warrior surrounds him.
Elric had fought alongside King Marko in the Wars of the Darkest Light, earning his place not only as the kingdom's finest swordsman but also as the king's closest comrade. When Marko ascended the throne, Elric was appointed the Training Hall Master and the King's Personal Guard—a position of deep trust and respect.
Elric:
"You're late, boy."
Cassius flinches slightly at the gruff voice but quickly salutes, gripping his practice sword tightly.
Cassius:
"Apologies, Master Elric. I—"
Elric (interrupting):
"Don't apologize. Pick up your blade and show me what you've learned."
Cassius adjusts his stance, raising the wooden sword. Elric circles him, his sharp eyes taking in every flaw.
Elric:
"Your stance is wrong again, Cassius. Feet wider. Blade steady. A king who falters with a sword falters in everything."
Cassius tries to follow the instructions, but his movements are stiff, his focus scattered. Elric steps closer, his voice softening slightly.
Elric:
"What's on your mind, lad? You've got the look of someone carrying the weight of the world."
Cassius:
"It's my father. He... He wants me to take the throne soon. But I don't feel ready."
Elric exhales, his expression unreadable.
Elric:
"Your father was younger than you when he led us into battle. Do you think he felt ready? None of us were, but we fought. And he rose above us all."
Elric's voice deepens, carrying the weight of memory.
Elric:
"Marko wasn't just my king; he was my brother in arms. I trusted him with my life because he earned it. If he believes you're ready, then maybe it's time you start believing it too."
---
After training, Cassius finds his mother waiting nearby. She watches him with a soft smile, her hands clasped in front of her.
Mother:
"Your father tells me you went to bed troubled. What's on your mind, Cassius?"
Cassius:
"I'm trying to understand, Mother. How can I be a king when I feel so... disconnected from the people? How can I lead them if I don't know them?"
Mother:
"Then perhaps it's time you learned. The people will respect a ruler who walks among them."
---
Later that morning, Cassius dons a plain cloak and sets out into the city with his loyal friend and guard, Soren. They move through the crowded streets, their presence unnoticed. The once-grand avenues of Ashenhold are now lined with crumbling buildings, and the air carries the faint scent of ash.
Soren:
"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Cassius. If someone recognizes you..."
Cassius:
"Let them. I need to see what Ashenhold has become with my own eyes."
The two pass by a group of children playing with makeshift toys made from scraps. Cassius pauses, watching them with a pang of guilt. Nearby, merchants argue over the price of dwindling supplies, and a beggar sits by the roadside, his hand outstretched.
Beggar:
"Spare a coin for an old soldier?"
Cassius hesitates, then removes a small silver pendant from his pocket and presses it into the man's hand. The beggar's eyes widen in surprise.
Beggar:
"Bless you, my lord. Bless you."
Soren frowns but says nothing as they move on.
---
In a dimly lit tavern, Cassius and Soren overhear a heated discussion among the patrons.
Townsman 1:
"The king may have been a great general, but where's he now? Sitting in his castle while we starve!"
Townsman 2:
"And his son? They say he's soft. What good will he be as king?"
Cassius clenches his fists but remains silent. The words sting, but they also ignite a spark of determination within him.
---
Returning to the palace, Cassius finds his father in the war room, poring over old maps. The room smells of parchment and wax, and the flickering light of the lantern casts long shadows.
Cassius:
"Father, the city... It's worse than I thought. The people are struggling."
King Marko:
"I know, my son. This is the burden of kingship. You must carry the weight of their pain and turn it into hope."
Cassius:
"But how? The city is falling apart, and the people have no faith in us."
King Marko:
"Faith is earned, Cassius. Show them your strength, your resolve. Be the king they need."
A knock at the door interrupts them. A messenger enters, bowing low.
Messenger:
"Your Majesty, word has come from the eastern settlements. The Wasteland Tribes are raiding again."
King Marko:
"Summon the council. Cassius, you will join me. It's time you learned the art of diplomacy."
Cassius nods, though uncertainty still lingers in his eyes.
---
Cassius stood at the edge of the balcony, the night air crisp against his skin. His eyes lingered on the distant lanterns flickering across Ashenhold, his thoughts heavy with expectation and uncertainty.
Cassius (to himself):
I will restore this kingdom. I will prove them wrong.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
Soren: "Thinking deeply again, aren't you?"
Cassius turned to see his friend approaching, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.
Cassius: "You always do that when something's troubling you."
Soren: "And you always bottle things up. What is it this time?"
Cassius exhaled, looking back at the city.
Cassius: "Father, Mother, and Master Elric... they all believe in me. They expect me to be a ruler worthy of Ashenhold. But what if I'm not? What if I fail them?"
Soren leaned on the railing beside him, shaking his head.
Soren: "You won't. Because you're Cassius—the same stubborn fool who never gave up during training, even when Elric had you flat on your back ten times in a row."
Cassius let out a small chuckle.
Cassius: "That's because you used to be worse. Remember when Elric made you do extra drills for swinging your sword like a madman?"
Soren groaned.
Soren: "Ugh, don't remind me. I was trying to be flashy. Turns out, Elric doesn't care much for 'style' when you keep missing your target."
Both of them laughed, sharing a rare moment of ease.
After a moment, Cassius's expression grew serious again.
Cassius: "But in all seriousness, Soren… I want to prove myself. I want to be more than just Marko's son. I want to restore this kingdom, to make Ashenhold strong again."
Soren clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Soren: "And you will. You've always had the heart for it. That's why I—no, all of us—have faith in you."
Cassius turned to him, slightly taken aback by the conviction in his voice.
Before he could respond, a voice called from the corridor.
Guard: "Soren! Your mother is looking for you."
Both men turned. Soren frowned.
Soren: "What happened?"
The guard hesitated.
Guard: "It's about the tavern. Something's happened."
Soren immediately straightened.
Soren: "I need to go."
He glanced back at Cassius, offering him a small nod.
Soren: "Don't overthink things too much, Cass. Just keep moving forward."
Cassius watched as Soren disappeared into the halls, a faint sense of unease settling in his chest.
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