Stepping through the large door. In that moment, he thought he saw radiant light pouring down, a sea of people waiting outside. His ears seemed to echo with earth-shaking cheers calling his name, with roars surging like crashing waves. His heart pounded, his lips curved into a faint smile.
"Finally… they acknowledge me…"
But—
*Cough!*
A dry cough rang out right behind him, yanking the entire dream away.
Alwen, startled, spun around. The door behind him was tightly shut. Around him remained only the cold stone walls of the palace, light shimmering from the crystal chandeliers. There were no people, no square, no resounding cheers.
Ronan was standing there, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Alwen, full of confusion.
"What are you doing… Your Highness?"
Alwen froze for a few seconds, then scratched his head in bewilderment. His face flushed slightly, a forced smile breaking out as if he had just exposed his own naivety.
"...Um… I… thought…"
He didn't finish the sentence, feeling too embarrassed himself for letting fantasy override reality.
Seeing Alwen scratching his head so innocently, Ronan could only give a wry smile and sigh.
"Haizzzz, the usually dignified, contemplative prince is acting childish now?!"
"Hard to believe!"
Alwen, startled, quickly turned away, his voice strained:
"I… I was just… umm…"
Ronan stepped forward, lightly patting his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting in a forgiving smile.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you."
Alwen let out a long sigh, both flustered and relieved.
Ronan looked up. In his usually calm eyes, a hint of unmasked pride now glimmered. He gave a slight nod, his voice low.
"I didn't expect it either… that frail boy from back then is now able to stand firm before an entire kingdom."
He paused, his hand tightening slightly on Alwen's shoulder.
"You've come much further than I imagined, Your Highness. But precisely because of that… from now on, keep moving forward. For all those people out there, they are still waiting for you."
Alwen fell silent. A heavy stream of thoughts welled up in his heart, but something was also igniting.
Just then, a ray of sunlight slipped through the crack of the red silk curtain, shining directly into his eyes. He flinched slightly, but this time, he did not avoid that light.
Alwen stepped forward, his hands decisively throwing open the curtain. The harsh noon light flooded in, enveloping his figure. He lifted his head, his eyes shining brightly, gazing straight toward the distant horizon.
He stood silently looking out into the light for a while, then softly asked, his voice light but tinged with nostalgia.
"Ronan… do you remember the first time we met?"
Ronan was momentarily stunned. His expression grew somber. Then he nodded slightly, his voice softening:
"I remember, my lord."
Alwen did not turn around. He just stood there, back straight, his shoulders trembling slightly in the faint breeze.
Both seemed to sink back into that day…
◇
Summer, ten years ago…
The scorching cries of cicadas on old gray roofs. A dusty street corner, where burly youths gathered like a pack of vultures.
"Hey, you, who were you looking at with those eyes?"
A rough voice rang out.
A boy of about ten years old, his black hair smeared with dust, was shoved hard against the wall. He narrowed his eyes.
"I… I didn't—"
"Still denying it? You wanna get beat up for real, huh?"
Another growled, gripping the boy's collar tightly, raising a fist.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared...
"Stop! What… what are you doing?!"
A young but firm voice called out.
The youths all halted, then turned their heads. Before them was just a scrawny boy, a weak body, a face still young but with eyes burning bright, glaring straight at them.
They looked at each other, then sneered.
"Brat… who do you think you're talking down to?!"
The leader squinted his eyes, releasing the other boy's collar, and stepped closer.
"You think you're some hero? Or do you want to die with him?"
"If you're so tough, come and fight me! Don't go hurting others!"
Upon hearing that challenge, the youths' blood began to boil, showing signs of shifting their target.
The group started advancing towards the small boy.
Meanwhile, the boy who was no longer the center of attention saw his chance to slip away.
*SMACK*
A loud slap echoed, making him jolt and turn back.
The small figure had fallen to the ground from the terrible slap of the youth from earlier.
"HAHAHAHA..."
The whole group burst into raucous laughter as if they'd found a new game, then began leaning down with mocking tones.
"Still got a big mouth, huh, you brat?!!"
But the boy still lifted his head, his voice hoarse yet clear, stunning the group.
"If you're so great, hit harder! With just this little courage, you dare to bully others?!"
Hearing this, the group felt as if hundreds of needles had pierced their pride.
"Ah, you brat, seems like you don't want to live anymore, huh? Then I'll send you off for good!!!"
"STOP!!!"
A powerful roar suddenly came from behind.
The other boy, though not large in stature, even somewhat scrawny, stood firm like an unshakable pillar.
This made the group of youths turn their astonished gazes toward him.
"Whatever you want to do… do it to me. But don't touch that kid!"
His words were like a declaration of war to the large youths.
The youths looked at each other, then burst into uproarious laughter, echoing through the street corner. But in the boy's eyes, there was no trembling. Only youthful determination and astonishing courage.
The boy took a deep breath, closing his eyes:
"Hiiiiittt… haaa…"
His chest heaved. Then suddenly, he roared, like a beast cornered:
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
His entire small frame lunged forward, fist clenched tight, throwing a punch like a desperate young lion.
◇
The two boys sat on the slanted roof, the long shadows of the setting sun painting the old roof tiles red. The wind carried the scent of kitchen smoke, and cicadas chirped like background music for the quiet dusk.
One boy took a deep breath.
"Why did you rush in to help me back then?"
The other boy hugged his knees, his blond hair messy in the wind. He lowered his head, silent for a long time. Then his voice trembled.
"I... I don't know either. I just felt so angry seeing the weak being bullied..."
*Tch*
The first boy pressed his lips together, then unconsciously let out a soft laugh..
"What… do you think I'm that weak?"
The blond boy was startled, then flusteredly waved his hands.
"No… no, that's not it! I mean… everyone has moments of helplessness, right??!!!"
The space suddenly turned cold and silent.
The first boy's lips tightened, his voice bitter and sarcastic.
"Truly a fool… can't even take care of yourself but tries to care for others..."
The blond boy suddenly stood up. His previously timid eyes now shone brightly like fire. He clenched his fists, his voice still shaking but resonating clearly!
"No! If everyone thinks like that, injustice will last forever! The weak will never be protected!"
"I don't want to see anyone else oppressed, looked down upon, or beaten! No matter how weak I am, I will stand up! At least… I want to try once!"
Hearing this, the first boy was momentarily amazed, but quickly his gaze swept over the frail body, turning into scrutiny and mockery.
"With this body… who can you protect??"
He clenched his fists, his face flushing red, but his eyes did not falter.
"Even if I am weak… I can still stand in front of someone! Even if just once, for just one second… as long as that person gets a chance to escape, then it's worth it!"
"I will strive to grow stronger each day... I will rise up..."
"I WILL NOT LET ANYONE SUFFER INJUSTICE ANYMORE. BECAUSE I AM PRINCE ALWEN!!!!"
That shout echoed, drowning out the cicadas' drone, shooting straight into the fiery red sky.
The first boy suddenly fell silent, then squinted, his lips curling..
"You're the prince? Ha! If you really are the prince… then I'd gladly be your logistics support."
Alwen paused briefly, then nodded seriously, without hesitation.
"Then later… remember that promise."
"You must always be there at the most important moments!!"
The other boy was speechless, wide-eyed as he stared at the kid before him. He burst out laughing, rolling back on the roof tiles.
"You're beyond cure! Fine, consider it a slip of the tongue… I'll keep my word."
He stood up, crossing his arms, trying to look serious.
"So be it. I am Ronan… pleased to meet that weak prince."
"You…! I am not weak!"
"Yeah, yeah, great prince, I got it." Ronan laughed, rolling on the tiles, laughing until he choked as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
Alwen was so angry he wanted to cry, but then couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. Their innocent laughter echoed over the old roof, blending with the cicadas' chorus, lingering in the red twilight.
A name. A declaration. A beginning that seemed like a joke, yet became a bond etched deeply into both their fates.
◇
Back to the present.
Alwen bent down, splashing cold water on his face. Each droplet rolled down, as if washing away the hazy dust of memory, leaving only a clear light of determination in his eyes.
This afternoon… he was ready.
Stepping out of the room, Alwen paused. In the quiet space, Ronan's low, murmuring voice sounded.
"16—"
"What are you doing, Ronan?" Alwen asked, a bit puzzled.
Ronan started. A brief moment of silence, then he calmly replied, his voice even as if nothing happened.
"I was just… brushing up on my numbers, Your Highness."
Alwen tilted his head slightly, finding it strange, but his questioning gaze gradually subsided. He nodded lightly and continued into the corridor, his heart filled with determination.
Ronan also stood up and followed behind like a shadow.
Alwen stepped out the door.
He was greeted by the enthusiastic, resounding cheers filling the square!
"PRINCE ALWEN!!" Those were the voices of villagers he had saved, of the destitute who had once clung to his hand in despair.
The city's citizens also cheered, though amidst those sounds, murmurs of doubt and scornful, scrutinizing gazes were mixed in. But Alwen paid no mind.
He wore battle-worn iron armor, his shoulders straight, each step firm, echoing rhythmically across the square.
Each step was not just the step of a prince, but the heartfelt stride of a warrior who had stood up for all his people.
In the radiant light, his figure stood tall, like a flame that could not be extinguished.
Before Alwen stood the kingdom's great cathedral, its dome reaching high as if to touch the vast blue sky. Bells chimed, harmonizing with the cheers outside, resonating like a song of history.
He gently stepped inside.
The aisle was carpeted in red. Two rows of knights in gleaming armor stood straight as living statues. On one side, they simultaneously grounded their spears, the tips touching the marble floor; on the other, they held swords, the blades shining brightly, reflecting the brilliant light streaming from the cathedral's stained glass windows.
The cheers outside did not cease, echoing through the thick walls like waves pushing Alwen's steps deeper.
He walked, dignified in bearing, yet his eyes still shone with fierce determination.
Behind him, attendants silently approached. One held a gold-embroidered cloak, another carefully draped the royal ceremonial robe over Alwen's shoulders. The gleaming brocade fell, combined with the iron armor beneath, creating an image both majestic and steadfast: a prince of the people, yet also a warrior of the battlefield.
Alwen ascended the high step, kneeling on one knee before the Bishop.
The Bishop, with an austere face but eyes full of solemnity, carefully dipped his hand into the holy oil, anointing Alwen's forehead and hands.
"May the flame of your soul illuminate the path you walk… may these hands never drop the sword of justice."
His voice intoned evenly. Then he opened the pages recording Alwen's feats and the testimonies of the people. His voice was deep and powerful, echoing through the cathedral!
"From a scorned prince, once seen as a stain upon the royal family… now risen, fighting for the people. You who have shielded the weak, ventured into bloodshed, brought hope to those who had lost faith. That person is Alwen, son of Regalus the Third."
The final prayer rose, like a hymn.
And then—
From the highest point of the cathedral, amidst the dazzling light of the stained glass, a figure slowly appeared. The King.
He descended the marble steps, black and red cloak billowing. His gaze was cold and sharp, each heavy step like the drumbeat of fate.
Alwen bowed his head lower, his whole body trembling under the invisible pressure descending upon him, but he did not retreat.
The King advanced. He struck his scepter hard on the ground, his hands slowly lifting the crown from his own head. The precious metal shone brightly, set with gleaming red gems, reflecting the brilliant light from the cathedral ceiling.
He raised the crown high, his voice echoing like thunder!
"To all the people of Aurvel! This is the one who will inherit this throne. This is the flame forged from ashes, the sword that shields the weak. This… is Alwen, my prince, and the FUTURE OF THE KINGDOM!!!"
The sound seemed to shake the cathedral dome itself.
The King's hands slowly lowered. The crown shone like a miniature sun, now only a short distance from the top of Alwen's head.
But then—
It paused?