The System's alert hit Alexius like a cold slap, shattering the faint glow of his win over Thornecroft. Grand Prince Alaric's condition critical. Decline imminent. The words burned in his mind, stark and merciless, like an error message he couldn't debug. The game he'd been playing—careful moves in the shadows—had just jumped to a whole new level, and he wasn't ready.
"Elias!" His voice came out sharper than he meant, edged with a panic he couldn't quite hide.
The steward, who'd been watching him with that quiet, steady gaze, straightened at once. "Your Highness?" His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of dread.
"My father. The Grand Prince. How fast can we get to him? He is in critical condition."
Elias's face seemed to crumple, lines deepening as if he'd aged in an instant. "Right away, Your Highness.Please follow me."
The walk to his father's chambers felt like a dream—crimson tapestries with roaring lions and grim ancestors blurring past, their painted stares heavy with judgment. Servants and courtiers pressed against the walls as Alexius strode by, their whispers buzzing like static. He wasn't just the spoiled Prince Regent anymore, the placeholder everyone ignored. He was the heir, and the weight of it made his chest tight.
The antechamber to the Grand Prince's rooms was packed—physicians in dark robes murmuring, Lord Chamberlain Astolfo wringing his hands with a grief that looked more like theater than feeling. A few of Alaric's old retainers stood like stone, their faces carved with real sorrow. No sign of Valerius's or Thorne's people yet, but Alexius knew they'd be circling soon, like sharks smelling blood.
He pushed through, Elias close behind. The System was relentless, flooding his mind with data: Alaric's vitals failing. Organs shutting down. Brain activity fading. Estimated time left: 8-12 minutes. Secure the palace. Alert the Royal Guard. Lock down critical areas. It was cold, clinical, and Alexius hated how it made his father's death feel like a checklist.
Inside the bedchamber, the air was thick with the bitter tang of herbs and the sour edge of decay. Grand Prince Alaric lay in the center of a massive bed, velvet curtains pulled back, his frail body swallowed by the sheets. He wasn't the stern, distant father from Alexius's borrowed memories, or the commanding figure in old portraits. He was just a dying man, skin waxy, breath a faint rattle.
A sharp ache caught Alexius off guard—not his own grief, exactly, but something deeper, maybe a echo of the old Alexius's love for a father he barely knew. Michael Sano, the coder who'd once lived for late-night debugging sessions, felt out of place here, but he moved to the bedside anyway.
Master Elmsworth, the head physician, bowed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Your Highness, there's nothing more we can do. He's beyond us now. I'm deeply apologize for our incompetence."
Alexius only nodded, his throat tight. Alaric's eyes fluttered open, cloudy and unfocused. Did he see his son, or was he already slipping away? A bony hand twitched on the blanket, and Alexius, acting on instinct, took it. The skin felt like brittle paper, the bones fragile under his grip.
"Father?" The word felt strange, like it belonged to someone else.
Alaric's lips parted, a faint, garbled sound escaping. For a split second, his gaze seemed to sharpen, a flicker of recognition—or maybe just a dying spark. Then, a soft sigh, a final shudder, and he was gone. The rattling breath stopped.
Elmsworth checked for a pulse, then stood, his face heavy with sorrow. He bowed deeply and kneel down. "The Grand Prince is gone. Long live Grand Prince Alexius." Everybody in the chamber followsuits.
The words landed like a punch. Long live Grand Prince Alexius. Not as a celebration, but a chain around his neck. It is heavy, too heavy.
The System updated: Alaric Demetrios Leo deceased. User designation: Grand Prince Alexius. Mandate: Assume Control. Ascend. Conquer. New objectives: Proclaim ascension, secure Royal Guard loyalty, neutralize ducal threats.Alexius let go of his father's hand, placing it gently on the bed. He stood, turning to face the room. Physicians, retainers, Astolfo—all eyes were on him, not as a boy, but as their new ruler.
"Lord Chamberlain," Alexius said, his voice steadier than he felt, forged in the crucible of the past few days. "Announce my father's death to the palace. Have the Great Sept's bells toll. Inform the Chancellery. No one leaves the grounds without my order until I say otherwise."
Astolfo blinked, startled by the sudden steel in his tone, then bowed low. "At once, Your… Your Majesty." The new title felt like a weight he wasn't ready to carry.
"Elias," Alexius said, turning to his steward. "Get Captain Gregor of the Royal Guard to my solar now. Double the sentries at the gates and walls. I want a report on troop readiness in an hour."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Elias said, a faint note of pride in his voice. He moved fast, like a man who'd been waiting for this moment.
To Elmsworth, Alexius added, "See to my father's arrangements. Make sure it's done with respect. I'll handle the funeral details later."
As the room cleared, officials scrambling to obey, Alexius lingered a moment, staring at his father's still form. The throne was his now, and it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
Back in his solar—now the Grand Prince's command center—the air crackled with urgency. Captain Gregor arrived, a hulking man with a scarred face and eyes hardened by years on the Sea of Forests border. He dropped to one knee, his fist thudding against his breastplate. "Your Majesty," he rumbled. "The Royal Guard mourns your father. We pledge our swords and lives to you, his rightful heir. Long Live the Grand Prince Alexiius. We await your command." Yes, Alexius take control the 1000 Royal Guard listen only to the Grand Prince, not even Regent or ducal houses cannot control them however they may be powerful. The reason is Captain Gregor is the stongest sword master inside the entire principality. Duke Valerius may dismantle the quality of arms and any other expects to the royal guards but they cannot directly confront the sword master whose strength is beyound human comprehension and Captain Gregor is only loyal to the crown.
Alexius met his gaze, searching for truth in those battle-worn eyes. The Royal Guard was the Crown's shield in the capital. Their loyalty was everything. "Captain Gregor," he said, his voice firm, "you served my father without question. I need the same from you. Leo's on the edge—enemies inside and out want it to fall, or to bend it to their will. We won't let that happen."
He moved to his desk, where Elias had left a dispatch case, its leather gleaming with new importance. "Your men are the Crown's strength. I need to know I can trust every one of them. Things will change—better pay, better training, a Guard worthy of Leo. But first, we lock down the capital. Any unrest, any armed groups, any hint of ducal overreach—report it to me directly. Clear?"
"Clear as day, Your Majesty," Gregor said, a spark of hope in his eyes. Alaric's illness had left the Guard directionless; Alexius's clarity was a lifeline. "We're yours."
"Good. Get to it." As Gregor left, Alexius felt a flicker of relief. One piece in place, at least.
Elias slipped back in. "Your Majesty, envoys from Dukes Thorne and Valerius are at the gates, demanding to see you."
Alexius's lips twitched in a grim smile. "Already? Valerius is still on his hunt, isn't he?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. It's Lord Titus Cornelius again for him. Thorne sent Baroness Althea Varro."
"Let them cool their heels," Alexius said, his voice cool but sharp. "Tell them I'm mourning and will hear formal pledges at a Noble Council meeting I'll call later. They can send urgent messages through Astolfo." He needed time—time to shore up his grip on the palace, to figure out what he had to work with, to understand the System's new rules for ruling.
The System approved: Delaying envoys: smart move. Buys time to consolidate. Next step: public address to calm the city and show strength. The thought of speaking to a crowd made Michael's stomach lurch, but Alexius knew it had to be done.
The day was a blur. The palace bells tolled, their mournful clang echoing over the capital. Astolfo read the proclamation of Alaric's death and Alexius's ascension from the balcony, his voice carrying to a tense crowd below. Alexius stepped out briefly, dressed in plain black, his face set. He wasn't ready for this, but he had to look like he was.
"People of Leo," he said, his voice boosted by a subtle enchantment Elias had arranged. "Your Grand Prince is gone. I'm Alexius, his son, and I take up his duty. I mourn with you, but Leo will stand strong. Order will hold. Justice will come. Trust me."
It wasn't poetry, but it was honest, raw, and it came from a place of conviction he hadn't known he had. The crowd didn't cheer, but their restless murmurs quieted, a small win against the chaos threatening to spill over.
By nightfall, Alexius was drained, slumping in his solar that now felt more like a war room than a cage. Elias brought a tray of bread and broth, but Alexius barely touched it. "Valerius won't like being kept waiting," Elias said quietly. "Thorne either, though Althea will be politer about it."
"Their feelings aren't my problem right now," Alexius said, rubbing his temples. "Keeping Leo from falling apart is. I need to figure out how to actually rule this place, not just sit on a throne while it crumbles."
The System laid out the brutal truth: Status: Grand Prince (barely). Palace security: shaky but holding. Capital: on edge. Dukes: dangerous (Valerius wants power, Thorne wants control). Treasury: nearly empty. Army: weak. Food for winter: not enough. Each line was a reminder that Michael Sano was gone, swallowed by the reality of being Alexius, Grand Prince of a sinking ship.
He was scared, exhausted, but something hard was forming inside him—a stubborn spark, forged in the Sump and tempered by his small win against Valerius. He wasn't going to be a puppet or a footnote in Leo's collapse.
The System's mandate echoed: Assume Control. Ascend. Conquer. It sounded impossible, but it was all he had. (Continue...)