Chapter 9: The Hidden Agenda
The air in Witherhold was thick with an unspoken heaviness.
He had designed this city himself—an industrious hub known for its quarries and fertile lands, a place of bustling trade and hardworking people. But as his carriage rolled through the main road, he found none of the prosperity he envisioned.
The roads were lined with weary citizens, their clothes hanging loose from bodies too thin to be healthy. Stalls that should have been filled with fresh produce were empty or selling pitiful scraps at inflated prices.
Children, barefoot and pale, lingered near the corners, their sunken eyes following the movement of carriages with silent desperation. James exhaled, pressing a hand to his temple. The situation was worse than he thought.
Edwin seemed to notice as well. The knight sat tensely beside him, his sharp eyes scanning the area, his lips pressed into a thin line. Victor, however, appeared unaffected, stretching his arms lazily as he leaned forward to peer outside.
"Hmm. Dreary place," Victor mused, tilting his head. "I don't get why everyone looks so miserable."
James gave him a sidelong glance.
"Because they're starving."
Victor blinked, his gaze shifting back to the streets.
For the first time, his easygoing expression faltered.
The boy wasn't cruel—just sheltered. He had spent most of his life in the palace, where food and luxury were abundant. To him, hunger was a distant concept, not a harsh reality.
James had seen this kind of detachment before—in players who skipped past NPC struggles without a second thought. But this wasn't just a game anymore.
James turned his head, his gaze landing on a young girl standing near a crumbling alleyway. She was thin—far too thin—and her oversized tunic barely clung to her frail shoulders. Her arms were outstretched, her palms dirty and trembling.
His fingers curled. Before he realized it, he was already moving.
"Stop the carriage."
Edwin shot him a look. "Your Highness—"
"I said stop."
The carriage slowed to a halt. Victor sat up straight, surprised. "Uh... what are we doing?"
James ignored him, stepping down onto the dusty road. The girl flinched and took a step back, but her eyes never left him.
He knelt, reaching into the bag he carried at his side. Though he hadn't packed much for himself, he had ensured they had extra supplies—just in case.
He pulled out a small wrapped loaf of bread and a handful of dried fruit.
"Here," he said, placing them in her hands.
The girl's fingers clenched around the food, her breath hitching. She looked up at him, stunned as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Eat," James told her. "And take the rest to your family."
Tears welled in her wide eyes. She nodded frantically before scurrying away.
James took a look around the crumbling city. The marketplace, which should have been lively with merchants hawking their wares, was subdued—half the stalls were empty, and those that remained had only paltry offerings.
Edwin exhaled sharply. "We should move quickly, Your Highness. This place has the stench of desperation. And desperation breeds danger."
James said nothing. His eyes were on another small group of children near a crumbling stone wall. They weren't playing, nor were they crying. They simply sat there, watching, their tiny hands gripping their stomachs.
It was an unmistakable sight. One that he couldn't bear to watch. These were children who hadn't done anything wrong.
Despite his better judgment, James reached into the carriage and retrieved another small leather satchel.
The supplies they carried were meant for the journey, but they could afford to part with some. Without a word, he approached the children.
"Your Highness please we're attracting too much attention." Edwin said from behind him.
The wary eyes of the children followed him, but none of them ran.
He crouched down, opened the satchel, and pulled out wrapped parcels of bread and dried fruit. He held them out. "Here."
The oldest of the group—a boy who couldn't have been older than ten—hesitated before reaching out. His fingers twitched as if expecting the food to be snatched away.
James simply nodded.
The boy took the parcel, and the others quickly followed, grabbing at the food with trembling hands. They didn't even thank him. They were too busy eating as if afraid it would vanish.
Victor watched the exchange with wide eyes.
"They're really that hungry..." he murmured.
James stood. "This isn't just a poor harvest," he said quietly. "Something's wrong here."
"Your Highness, people are gathering. We should leave before it becomes an issue." He said, his eyes locked in a horde of people slowly gathering around their carriage.
"We should speak to the city's governor. If Witherhold is in such a state, it's his failure." He continued.
James agreed. He held Victor's hand as the knights formed a protective circle to protect them from the crowd. They managed to make it into the carriage and were on their way.
"We need to figure out what's causing the food shortage," James said, stepping back into the carriage. "I want to meet with the city's officials."
Edwin gave a short nod. "We have an inn prepared for our stay. We can arrange a meeting there."
Victor sighed, flopping back into his seat.
"Politics already? At least let me eat first."
James glanced at him. "You can eat while we talk."
Victor groaned dramatically, but he didn't argue further.
The carriage resumed its journey, rolling toward the governor's estate.
As they moved deeper into the city, James took note of the surroundings. Witherhold wasn't just suffering from hunger—the entire economy seemed to be crumbling. Shops were closing, the streets were in disrepair, and the people carried an air of hopelessness.
This wasn't just a temporary crisis.
Something—or someone—was letting it rot from within.
As they rode through the city streets Victor broke the silence.
"You..." Victor hesitated, then grinned.
"That was kind of cool."
James raised a brow. "It was common sense."
"Yeah, yeah," Victor waved a hand. "But still."
---
As time went by, it became clear that while the common folk suffered, others thrived.
The noble district, though not as grand as the Drazenovian capital, showed no signs of hardship. The manor houses were well-kept, the streets swept clean, and the scent of freshly baked bread carried from kitchens where meals were prepared in excess.
The contrast made James's jaw tighten.
A food shortage should have affected everyone. And yet, the elite seemed untouched. That meant one of two things: either the nobles had stockpiled resources and left the rest to starve, or someone was diverting supplies away from the people.
Neither was acceptable.
They arrived at the governor's estate—an imposing structure with high walls and an iron gate. The guards at the entrance stiffened at their approach, eyes darting between the royal insignia on the front of the carriage and Edwin's ever-present hand on his sword.
"We're here to see Governor Valtin," Edwin announced.
The guards exchanged a look before one of them disappeared inside. Moments later, the gates creaked open, and they were led into a lavish hall.
When James and his group arrived at the estate, the man greeted them with excessive bows and eager smiles—too eager. James had seen this type before.
Back in the army, some men would kiss ass all day to get on their commander's good side.
Governor Valtin himself was waiting in the receiving chamber, dressed in silks that spoke of wealth, with a thin, well-groomed mustache that twitched at the sight of them. His bloated stomach was a stark contrast to the skinny kids he had seen earlier.
"Your Highness." he said smoothly, offering a shallow bow. "Had I known you were visiting, I would have prepared a proper welcome."
James met his gaze, unblinking. "I didn't come for pleasantries."
Valtin chuckled, though there was a nervous edge to it. "Of course. To what do I owe the honor?"
James didn't waste time. "Witherhold is starving. Why?"
Valtin's smile faltered. "Ah, that. Yes, we've faced some difficulties this season, but—"
James raised a hand, cutting him off. "I don't need excuses. I need answers."
Valtin hesitated. He glanced at Edwin, then at Victor—who, for once, wasn't making any sarcastic remarks.
Trying to pivot the conversation he instead ushered them to a dining room where only the most quality food was displayed.
They were led into a lavishly decorated sitting room—one that contrasted sharply with the suffering outside. The tables were lined with fine silverware, the chairs carved from polished oak, and the scent of rich food lingered in the air.
Victor's nose twitched. "Smells good."
James, however, wasn't impressed. If anything it annoyed him even more.
"Lord Valtin my question still stands." James said, eyes locked on the governor.
Finally, the governor sighed. "Drought," he said. "The rivers have been unpredictable this year, and the irrigation systems are outdated. The farmers can't yield enough crops, and we've had to ration supplies."
James tilted his head. "Strange. The rivers haven't dried up, and the reservoirs seem intact. Why weren't alternative irrigation methods implemented?"
The Lord visibly stiffened.
Edwin watched the exchange silently, while Victor sipped his tea, completely unbothered.
James, however, didn't break eye contact.
Because he already knew.
This wasn't about weather or misfortune.
It was about corruption.
And he was going to find out just how deep it ran.
Valtin's fingers twitched as he fumbled for a response. "Y-Your Highness, I assure you, we have done everything in our power to mitigate the crisis. But Witherhold has faced... unforeseen challenges."
James studied the man carefully. He was nervous—too nervous for someone merely dealing with bad harvests. The governor was hiding something.
But what?
James glanced at Edwin, who was also watching Gregor closely. The knight wasn't easily fooled. He had been trained to detect falsehoods, and right now, the old noble was practically sweating deception.
Victor, on the other hand, took another sip of his tea and muttered, "This is kind of fun."
James ignored him.
"Lord Valtin," he said, voice smooth but firm. "If I were to personally investigate the fields, would I find evidence of this so-called drought?"
Valtin visibly tensed. "I... I don't see why that would be necessary, Your Highness."
"I do." James retorted.
A tense silence followed.
Valtin swallowed hard before forcing a smile. "O-Of course. If that is your wish, I will arrange for a guide to take you through the farmlands tomorrow morning."
James leaned back in his chair, watching as Valtin wiped the sweat from his brow. He was stalling.
The truth was out there, and James intended to find it.
—-
That evening, James stood on the balcony of the inn where they were staying, staring down at the city. From here, he could see the flickering lanterns of homes where people were struggling to survive.
He exhaled.
This was supposed to be a game. A world he had created. But standing here now, witnessing the suffering firsthand, it no longer felt like lines of code and scripted events. These were real people, with real pain.
Behind him, Edwin stepped onto the balcony. "You've changed."
James turned slightly. "Have I?"
Edwin's sharp gaze didn't waver. "You are not the same prince I once swore my sword to."
James stilled. There it was. The question he had been dreading. Edwin had noticed. Of course, he had.
The old Julian Drazenov was cowardly, foolish, and pitiful. He wouldn't have cared about starving children or corrupt governors. He wouldn't have even left the palace for such a task in the first place.
James wasn't him. And Edwin knew it.
"I..." James hesitated.
Was he Julian? Or was he still James, merely playing a role? Edwin watched him, waiting. Then, after a moment, he sighed. "It doesn't matter."
James blinked. "What?"
The knight turned, crossing his arms. "My duty is to protect the life of the prince. If that life is unchanged, then my loyalty remains the same." He glanced at James.
"So far, you have not done anything that endangers the empire."
James studied him, searching for any sign of doubt. But Edwin's expression remained calm, resolute.
This conversation wasn't over.
But, for now, it was enough.
"Get some rest, Your Highness," Edwin said before stepping back inside.
James remained on the balcony for a while longer, staring at the distant horizon.
He would find the truth behind Witherhold's famine. And, more importantly, he would prove—to Edwin, to Victor, and himself—that the new Julian Drazenov was here to stay.