Chapter 55 - Silent Struggles

Prince Oliver remained utterly still, a solitary figure bathed in the moon's ethereal glow, his thoughts adrift in a sea of turmoil. Time slipped away unnoticed, the silence of the night broken only by the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze. It wasn't until the first hints of dawn painted the room in soft hues of pink and orange that he roused from his trance.

As he attempted to rise, his body protested with every movement, aching and sore from the long hours of stillness. A bitter smile tugged at his lips, only to falter as he felt the dryness and pain, the taste of blood on his tongue a harsh reminder of his neglect. Slowly, he made his way to the table, his steps faltering with weakness, and poured himself glass after glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

Crawling into bed, exhaustion weighing heavily upon him, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with questions that had haunted him for years. "Why me?" he whispered, the words heavy with bitterness and resignation. "Why is this happening to me? Don't I have the right to live my own life?"

His voice echoed in the stillness of the room, the pain of his past wounds etched into every syllable. Memories flooded his mind, each one a reminder of the restrictions and expectations that had suffocated him since childhood. "When I was but a child, my father forbade me from play. As I grew older and yearned to explore the world beyond these palace walls, he forbade me from venturing out. And now, as I dare to dream of learning the art of swordsmanship, he forbids me that too."

The weight of his father's disapproval pressed down upon him, a heavy burden that threatened to crush his spirit. "Why doesn't he just say it?" Oliver's voice cracked, tears glistening in his eyes as he stared into the void. "Why doesn't he just say that I can't live?"

For hours, Prince Oliver lay on his bed with his eyes closed, but sleep eluded him like a fleeting dream.

A gentle knock interrupted the stillness, and Alexander's voice followed, "Your Highness, if you are awake, would you like to freshen up?"

With a voice weakened by his unrest, but still audible, Prince Oliver replied, "Yes."

As Alexander entered the room, a retinue of attendants trailed behind him, ready to tend to their prince's needs. With a subtle gesture, Alexander directed them to their tasks.

"Alexander, come here," Prince Oliver beckoned, his tone carrying a hint of command.

Approaching his prince, Alexander waited for his next instruction.

"Tell the attendants to leave once they have finished preparing things," Prince Oliver commanded.

Understanding his prince's wishes, Alexander nodded respectfully, "Understood, Your Highness."

Curiosity tugged at Prince Oliver's thoughts as he turned his attention to Alexander once more. "How many guards did Father send to monitor my chamber?" he inquired.

Alexander hesitated before replying, "Twenty."

Prince Oliver's smile twisted bitterly, his voice laced with sarcasm as he uttered, "Twenty guards? Does he truly believe I possess the courage to flee? He's not mistaken, but he knows the depths of my weakness-I couldn't defeat a single guard. What does he fear? Sending one or two would have sufficed to contain a feeble prince like me. But no, he sent twenty." His chuckle held a bitter edge, echoing the irony of his situation.

Alexander's tone held a calm assurance as he spoke, "Had he sent only one or two guards, defeating them would have been a simple task. With ten, I could have created a distraction to facilitate your escape. And now, with twenty, though the odds seem daunting, rest assured, Your Highness, I will do everything in my power to assist you, even if it means risking my own life. Your command is all I need."

Prince Oliver's voice was filled with genuine concern as he addressed Alexander, "You don't need to endanger yourself, Alexander. Your life holds as much value as mine." Then, with a sense of resignation, he continued, "I know my father won't physically harm me. I'll comply with his wishes and remain here as he desires."

Alexander's heart swelled with gratitude as he heard Prince Oliver's words, appreciating the rare kindness bestowed upon him. "Your Highness, I am deeply grateful for your understanding and compassion. It is a privilege to serve a prince who values the lives of all under his care," he expressed, his eyes shining with heartfelt sincerity.

A booming announcement heralded the King's arrival, abruptly halting the conversation between Prince Oliver and Alexander. With a deep bow, Alexander greeted the king, while Prince Oliver straightened up, acknowledging his father's presence with a respectful nod.

The King's scrutinizing gaze fell upon Prince Oliver, noting his disheveled appearance and weary countenance. "You didn't sleep last night," he observed.

Prince Oliver nodded solemnly, admitting, "I couldn't sleep."

Concern etched the King's features as he observed his son's unkempt appearance. "You haven't freshened up yet," he remarked.

"I apologize, Father. I was just about to," Prince Oliver responded, his disheveled appearance and creased clothing reflecting his current state of disarray.

Turning his attention to the matter at hand, the King's gaze bore into Prince Oliver, his eyes sharp like hawks, scanning for any wavering. "Do you still wish to pursue swordsmanship? If not, I can rescind your punishment," he offered, his voice a river flowing with authority, yet tempered with a father's concern.

Prince Oliver's posture stiffened, his spine straightening like a drawn sword as he affirmed, "I still want to learn," his voice echoing like the clang of steel against stone.

A flicker of frustration danced across the King's face, like a sudden gust stirring the calm surface of a pond, as he struggled to contain his mounting anger. His lips parted, poised to release a tempest of reprimand, yet he managed to rein in his emotions, his control evident in the tightening of his fists and the crease of his brow. "Very well, but remember, until you change your mind, you are to remain confined to your chamber," he declared sternly, his words like iron chains binding a disobedient spirit.

As the King prepared to leave, he made a subtle gesture towards Alexander. "Alexander, follow me," he commanded in a low tone, indicating for him to follow.

As they stepped outside, the King turned to Alexander, his voice carrying a weight of responsibility. "Grant him whatever he desires. Ensure his well-being and see to it that he partakes of every meal," he instructed firmly.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Alexander responded with a respectful bow.

As the King departed, Alexander's thoughts churned with a tinge of frustration. "What he truly desires is to learn swordsmanship, nothing more," he mused silently. "If only the King could understand his son's deepest longing."

Meanwhile, Yeye's gentle voice filled the air, a comforting presence in the palace kitchen. "Where is your attention today, Serena?" she inquired, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Serena's gaze drifted down to the flour-streaked countertop, where a small puddle of water reflected her earlier clumsiness. "Oh, I didn't realize," she murmured softly, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With practiced ease, she added a sprinkle of flour to absorb the excess moisture, seeking to restore balance amidst the minor mishap.

Yeye's brow furrowed slightly as she observed Serena's actions. "Today, you keep making mistakes, Serena," she remarked gently, her tone tinged with a hint of worry. "Before, you were about to put peppers in sweets. Are you okay?"

Serena's outward response was a reassuring nod accompanied by a warm smile. "I'm okay," she assured Yeye, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind.

Beneath her composed facade, however, chaos reigned supreme. Thoughts of the shadowy figure that had lurked outside her window last night lingered, casting a shadow over her typically serene demeanor. She grappled with the decision of whether to confide in others about her unsettling encounter, uncertainty gnawing at her like a persistent whisper in the dark.

Serena's left hand instinctively found its way to the delicate necklace adorning her neck, the golden necklace cool against her skin. It was the sole remnant of her mother's presence, a cherished memento that spoke of a love she struggled to recall. While the features of her mother's face remained elusive, the memory of her gentle touch lingered in the weight of the pendant.

From the time she was a small child, Serena vaguely remembered her mother fastening the necklace around her neck. As she navigated the complexities of life, whenever turmoil threatened to overwhelm her, Serena's fingers sought refuge in the familiar curves of the pendant. It was as though by touching the necklace, she could bridge the chasm between the present and the distant echo of her mother's embrace, finding solace in the illusion of comfort and warmth.

In the eastern border of the Aurelia Kingdom, 500 km away, Prince Asher conferred with his head guard, Alden, regarding the impending visit of his elder brother, Victor.

"Is everything prepared, Alden? Brother Victor may arrive at any moment," inquired Prince Asher.

"Yes, Your Highness. A bedroom is ready with all necessities for his stay," Alden assured him.

"Excellent," nodded Prince Asher before suddenly recalling a crucial detail. "There are no flowers in his room, correct?"

Alden hesitated before responding, "Servants have adorned the room with flowers for fragrance."

Realizing the oversight, Prince Asher exclaimed, "Oh no! Elder Brother Victor dislikes flowers. Remove them before his arrival. QUICKLY!"

Alden promptly instructed the servants to remove the flowers from the room.

One servant, puzzled by the preference, remarked to another, "Isn't it odd? Doesn't the Royal Family typically enjoy the presence of fresh flowers?"

The other servant speculated, "Considering it's Prince Victor, who is likely to ascend to the throne, perhaps he prefers a more rigorous environment. I've heard rumors of his stern and formidable nature. Flowers might not align with his taste."

The servants wasted no time, swiftly eliminating all traces of flowers from the room before Prince Victor's anticipated arrival.

As Prince Victor's carriage came to a halt at the outpost, Prince Asher stood ready, anticipation coursing through him. Stepping forward as the carriage door opened, a genuine smile lit up Prince Asher's face, a stark contrast to the stoic demeanor of his older brother.

"Welcome, brother," Prince Asher greeted warmly, but Prince Victor's response mirrored the coldness of the mountain wind, acknowledging the gesture with a curt nod.

"Follow me, brother. Your bedroom is prepared," Prince Asher gestured respectfully, his voice a melody of deference as he led the way through the labyrinthine corridors of the outpost.

Prince Victor, his towering figure casting a formidable shadow, strode behind Prince victor, Dominic trailing silently in his wake. Prince Victor's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, surveyed his surroundings with the precision of a seasoned warrior, missing nothing.

Upon reaching the chamber designated for Prince Victor, Prince Asher announced, "All things are prepared for you to freshen up. You should freshen up first," his voice carrying the weight of duty and hospitality.

Prince Victor's response, a simple nod, exuded authority with effortless grace.

"Would you like to rest today and discuss the matter of sovereign route tomorrow, brother?" Prince Asher inquired, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

"Do you think I came here to waste my time by resting?" Prince Victor's retort sliced through the air like a blade, his words sharp and biting, leaving no room for interpretation.

Prince Asher's expression faltered momentarily, like a fragile blossom caught in an unexpected frost. "Forgive me, brother, I meant no disrespect. I shall prepare the necessary documents forthwith."

"You haven't prepared them yet? So disappointing. I expected more from you. You should focus on your duty more," Prince Victor's words were a whip crack, his disappointment a weight heavy enough to crush stone.

Prince Asher's spirit wilted under the weight of his brother's scorn, his resolve shaken like leaves in a gale. "I humbly accept your admonishment, brother. I shall strive to heed your counsel."

With a displeased glance at his younger brother, Prince Victor entered his room, the heavy door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the chamber like a solemn decree.

Prince Asher turned to Dominic, his expression a mask of exhaustion and resignation, saying, "Your room is ahead of this one. Alden will show you."

Alone at last, Prince Asher exhaled a heavy sigh. "I confess, I've always found Brother Victor rather intimidating," he admitted, pondering how effortlessly his brother maintained that stern countenance throughout the day. "Whenever we're alone, I'm rendered speechless by his imposing presence."