Chapter 50 - Theodore's Secret Scheme

Serena stirred from her slumber, the soft rays of dawn filtering through the curtains as Aviva's urgent voice penetrated her dreams. "Serena, wake up," Aviva said, her tone urgent. "Serena, it's already morning. If you don't wake up now, you'll be late for your duty."

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Serena's mind raced to catch up with the reality of the morning. "Oh no," she murmured, her heart quickening with the realization that time had slipped away unnoticed. "I didn't realize it was already morning, and I'm still so sleepy."

Aviva gently prodded Serena to wakefulness, concern evident in her voice. "Did you come back too late last night?" she inquired, noting the fatigue etched on Serena's face. "It seems like you didn't get enough sleep."

"It's nothing, really," Serena reassured her, pushing aside her own weariness. "I'm fine. I'll get ready right away."

As Serena began to stir herself from the bed, Aviva interjected, "I've already prepared everything for you."

"You don't have to do this every day, Aviva," Serena protested softly, a pang of guilt tugging at her heart. "You have your own job to attend to. It's not fair for you to exhaust yourself taking care of me."

Aviva's response was simple yet sincere. "I want to do it because it makes me happy," she insisted, her gaze steady.

Serena offered no further protest, rising from the bed and setting about preparing herself for the day ahead.

Meanwhile, in the dense forests of Eldoria, within the confines of a secluded military cantonment, Theodore sat in his chamber, a letter in hand, the weight of responsibility etched upon his brow. Beside him sat a middle-aged man named Drusus, his weathered features a testament to years of service and sacrifice.

The urgency in Drusus's voice cut through the stillness of the chamber as he addressed Theodore. "What does the letter say?" he inquired.

With a sense of gravity, Theodore relayed the contents of the missive to his trusted confidant. "Marcus, the previous commander of Elysia, is ready to cooperate with us in our plan to overthrow the current king," he began. "However, Aaron's words carry a warning. He suspects that Marcus may harbor ambitions of his own, seeking to claim the throne for himself once the dust settles."

Drusus's furrowed brow revealed his concern. "It's something worrisome," he conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "But this is not something unpredictable. Marcus is a betrayer; we can't expect loyalty from him."

Theodore nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the parchment in his hand. "You're right, Uncle Drusus," he admitted, his jaw clenched with resolve. "But I have a plan in my mind."

Curiosity flickered in Drusus's eyes as he leaned in, eager to hear Theodore's strategy. "Tell me," he urged, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Theodore's mind raced as he outlined his plan, each word calculated and precise. "We'll divide our forces," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the decision. "One group will accompany Aaron and his father to attack the palace with Marcus's assistance. Meanwhile, a smaller, elite unit led by me will launch a surprise attack on Marcus and his loyalists."

Drusus nodded slowly, his expression grave. "And how do you plan to catch Marcus off guard?" he inquired, his mind already spinning with the implications of Theodore's plan.

A steely resolve settled over Theodore as he revealed the final piece of his strategy. "We'll exploit the element of surprise," he declared. "Marcus believes us unaware of his treachery. We'll use that to our advantage, striking swiftly and decisively."

Drusus's eyes widened in understanding, a mixture of admiration and concern flickering in their depths. "It's a risky maneuver," he conceded, his tone laced with caution. "But if executed correctly, it could tip the scales in our favor."

Theodore's lips quirked into a grim smile as he clasped Drusus's shoulder. "We must be bold if we are to succeed," he acknowledged, his voice resonating with determination. "This plan offers us the best chance of victory, and I'm willing to see it through to the end."

Theodore's brows furrowed as he shifted his gaze to Drusus. "Did you get any information about Serena?" he inquired, his voice laced with concern.

Drusus nodded, his expression serious. "The man I sent to the capital of Aurelia informed me that she was selected as a palace chef and is currently working in the palace kitchen."

A sense of relief washed over Theodore, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "That's for the better," he murmured, a flicker of hope igniting within him. "I hope she'll be safe there until I reclaim the throne, and she'll regain her title as the princess."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Theodore's lips as he allowed himself a moment of reverie. "Then," he continued, his voice filled with warmth, "I'll go to her and reveal the truth about her identity. That she is the princess of Elysia, hidden away for her safety, and that she is my sister." His eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Oh, I can't wait, Uncle Drusus."

Drusus offered a supportive nod, his own heart swelling with emotion at the thought of Theodore reuniting with his little sister Serena. "It will be a momentous occasion," he agreed. "But until then, we must focus on the task at hand. We have a kingdom to reclaim and a usurper to overthrow."

Theodore's smile widened, "Indeed," he affirmed, his voice unshaken. "But knowing that Serena is safe gives me the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead. Together, we will restore Elysia to its former glory."

"Prince Theodore, should we inform Prince Julian about our plan?" Drusus asked, his hands clasped together, his gaze thoughtful and probing. "After all, he and his royal family supported us for fifteen years."

Theodore's mind raced with conflicting thoughts at Drusus's question. "I think it's not the time to tell him anything," he finally replied, his tone measured. "Prince Julian is too impatient, and besides, he's not lending us his army. Otherwise, why would we have needed all these years to reclaim what was rightfully mine?"

He paused, his gaze distant as he considered his next words. "It's true that the King and Queen of Eldoria have supported us by providing this place for our military cantonment and offering financial aid," he admitted. "But they aren't actively assisting us in our attack."

Drusus's expression softened, a note of contemplation coloring his voice. "But, Prince Theodore, isn't it still something we should appreciate?"

Theodore nodded, acknowledging Drusus's point. "Yes, we should appreciate their support," he conceded. "But I also know their motives. They're not aiding us out of the goodness of their hearts. It's all part of a larger game."

His voice took on a bitter edge as he continued, his words dripping with resentment. "My father engaged Serena to Prince Julian when she was born. They want to secure a long-term alliance with Elysia through Serena. By assisting us, they aim to ensure my gratitude, so they'll always have the upper hand in matters concerning both the Elysian and Eldorian kingdoms."

Drusus listened in silence, his gaze thoughtful as he processed Theodore's reasoning. "I see," he murmured finally, a weight settling in his chest. "So, what do you propose we do?"

A steely glint flickered in Theodore's eyes as he met Drusus's gaze. "We proceed with caution," he declared, his voice firm. "We'll keep our plans close to our chests and rely only on those we trust implicitly."

Theodore's command echoed through the chamber, "Uncle Drusus, you prepare an elite and skilled group of soldiers," he instructed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I'll send someone to deliver the letter to Aaron regarding our plan. We must strike within a month before Marcus has the chance to change his mind about our cooperation."

Drusus nodded, his expression grave as he absorbed Theodore's words. "Understood, my prince," he replied, his tone reflecting respect for Theodore.

In the chamber of Prince Ethan, the morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow upon the canvas before him. Prince Ethan sat hunched over his painting, his gaze fixed on the portrait of Serena that he had begun the previous day. With each delicate touch of his brush, he sought to enhance the beauty of his creation, to infuse it with a vitality that mirrored the very essence of its subject.

"I'll make this portrait so beautiful that nobody has ever seen or painted," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the chamber. His words were a solemn vow, a testament to his commitment to his art.

As the hours passed, Prince Ethan remained lost in his work, his focus unbroken. He scarcely noticed when lunch arrived, the aroma of food barely registering as he continued to meticulously touch up the painting. He had eaten only a meager breakfast earlier, his hunger overshadowed by the burning desire to perfect his masterpiece. His hands, clothes, and the floor were adorned with droplets of vibrant colors, a testament to the fervor with which he pursued his craft.

Dinner came and went unnoticed, the servants' gentle reminders met with absentminded nods as Prince Ethan immersed himself in his painting. The colors on the canvas seemed to dance and swirl beneath his skilled hands, each stroke imbuing the portrait with a newfound sense of life and energy.

By the time night descended upon the chamber, Prince Ethan's efforts had transformed the portrait of Serena into something truly extraordinary. Her likeness leaped from the canvas, her eyes sparkling with a warmth and depth of emotion that seemed to draw the viewer into her world. The soft curve of her smile, the gentle sweep of her hair, every detail was rendered with such exquisite precision that it was as if Serena herself stood before him, breathing and alive.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Prince Ethan finally set aside his brushes, his hands stained with the colors of his creation. In that moment, as he gazed upon the portrait of Serena, he felt a sense of accomplishment that transcended mere artistic achievement. It was a masterpiece in every sense of the word, a testament to his talent, dedication, and boundless imagination.

As Prince Ethan stood before his masterpiece, lost in admiration a sudden growling sound shattered the silence, causing Prince Ethan to startle and place a hand instinctively on his stomach. A wave of realization washed over him as he acknowledged the hunger that had been gnawing at him, unnoticed until now.

"I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten anything besides breakfast the whole day," he mused aloud, his stomach growling in agreement.

With a wry smile, Prince Ethan addressed his grumbling stomach, "Yes, I know, my dear stomach, how hungry you are. Fear not, for sustenance shall soon be yours."

Summoning Simon with a hearty shout, Prince Ethan called out, "Simon, come in!"

As Simon entered the chamber, Prince Ethan wasted no time in expressing his urgent need, "Bring me something to eat, Simon."

Simon responded with a hint of concern in his voice, "Your Highness, it's already late night. I'm afraid at this hour, finding something satisfying or warm may prove challenging, as the kitchen is already closed."

Prince Ethan, feeling the effects of hunger and exhaustion, let out a frustrated sigh, his hand finding its way to his forehead, "Oh, my brain, why must you be so consumed by every task that you forget the most basic needs?" Collecting himself, he turned to Simon and said, "Nevertheless, bring me whatever you can find. I'm famished."

Simon hesitated for a fleeting moment, considering his options before suggesting, "How about some fruits, Your Highness? They're light, refreshing, and readily available."

Prince Ethan's stomach growled in agreement, and he nodded eagerly. "Yes, fruits will suffice. But make haste, Simon. I fear my stomach may revolt if left unattended much longer!"

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at his master's hunger-induced antics. "Of course, Your Highness. I'll be back in a moment."

With a sense of relief knowing that sustenance was on its way, Prince Ethan settled back into his chair, the warmth of accomplishment from his painting mingling with the feeling of hunger as he waited for a well-deserved late night snack.