# Chapter 3: The Golden Prince
Ten years later...
"Again!"
Emperor Marcus Aurelius's voice rang across the training courtyard as his son picked himself up from the polished stone floor. Sweat gleamed on the boy's forehead, but his golden eyes burned with determination that would have made his past self proud.
"Yes, Father!"
Prince Riven Aurelius—though he knew himself only by that name now—raised his practice sword once more. At ten, he stood tall for his age, his silver hair catching the morning sunlight as he moved through the ancient sword forms his father had taught him since childhood.
The Aurelius Empire might have been small compared to the great powers of the eastern Constellation Continent, but it was prosperous and peaceful. Nestled in fertile valleys with rich mines and productive farmlands, it had known nothing but growth under Marcus's wise rule.
And Riven was its shining star.
"Your footwork is improving," Marcus observed, circling his son with the practiced eye of a former warrior. Though past his prime, the Emperor still moved with the fluid grace of someone who had reached the peak stage of the Body Tempering Realm in their youth. "But you're still telegraphing your strikes. An enemy will read your intentions before you've even decided to attack."
Riven nodded, adjusting his stance. The sword felt natural in his hands—almost familiar, though he couldn't explain why. Sometimes, in the heat of practice, he felt the familiarity of movements he'd never learned, techniques that seemed to flow from somewhere deeper than memory.
"Like this?" He flowed into a complex sequence, his blade cutting perfect arcs through the air.
Marcus's eyebrows rose. "Where did you learn that combination? I don't recall teaching you those transitions."
"I... I'm not sure," Riven admitted, lowering his sword. "It just felt right."
"Remarkable." Marcus smiled with paternal pride. "You have natural talent, my son. Perhaps it's time we found you a proper martial instructor—someone who can push you beyond what this old man can teach."
"Father, you're not old!" Riven protested with a laugh. "Mother says you're still the most handsome man in the empire."
"Your mother is biased," Marcus chuckled, but his eyes softened at the mention of his beloved wife. "Speaking of which, she wants to see you before your lessons with Master Chen. Something about proper behavior at next week's harvest festival."
Riven groaned dramatically. "More etiquette lessons? Father, I already know how to bow properly and which fork to use for what course. Why can't I spend that time practicing sword work instead?"
"Because," Marcus said, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "you're not just learning to be a warrior. You're learning to be an emperor. The people need to see strength, yes, but they also need to see wisdom, compassion, and dignity. A ruler who can only fight is just a glorified bandit."
The words carried weight that seemed to resonate somewhere deep in Riven's soul, though he didn't understand why. He nodded seriously. "I understand, Father."
"Good. Now go find your mother before she sends the entire servant staff to hunt you down."
* * *
Empress Elena Aurelius stood in her private garden, directing the gardeners as they tended to the rare spirit flowers that were her pride and joy. Even in her mid-forties, she retained the elegant beauty that had captured an emperor's heart twenty years ago. Her gentle brown eyes lit up as she spotted her son approaching.
"There you are, my little prince," she said, opening her arms for an embrace that Riven, despite his ten years and growing dignity, still eagerly accepted.
"Mother, I'm taller than you now," he pointed out, though he made no effort to pull away from her warmth.
"You'll always be my little prince," Elena said firmly, stepping back to brush dirt from his training clothes with practiced maternal efficiency. "Now, about the harvest festival. I need you to understand how important this celebration is."
"Important how?" Riven asked, genuinely curious. His parents had always been patient in explaining the deeper meaning behind royal duties.
"This year marks our empire's most prosperous harvest in generations," Elena explained as they walked among the flowering bushes. "The people are happy, trade is flourishing, and our neighbors respect us. But prosperity can make enemies as easily as friends."
Riven's expression grew more serious. "You mean other empires might be jealous?"
"Exactly. Which is why you must represent our family perfectly. Every gesture, every word, every smile must show our people that their future is secure in your hands." She paused beside a bush heavy with silver blooms. "These are moonlight roses. Do you know why I grow them?"
"Because they're beautiful?"
Elena smiled. "Because they only bloom under the full moon, and only for a single night each month. Beauty is fleeting, my son. But the memory of beauty—the way it makes people feel—that can last forever. That's what you must give our people. Not just strength or wealth, but the feeling that they are part of something beautiful and enduring."
Riven nodded thoughtfully. Sometimes his mother's lessons felt more profound than Master Chen's scholarly lectures or even his father's warrior wisdom.
"I won't disappoint you," he promised.
"You never could," Elena said, cupping his face in her hands. "You have your father's strength and determination, but also something else. Something that makes me believe you're destined for greatness beyond what any of us can imagine."
If only she knew how right she was.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Riven sat in the palace library with Master Chen, his elderly tutor, working through a scroll detailing the trading relationships between the various empires of the eastern Constellation Continent.
"Now, Prince Riven," Master Chen said, adjusting his wire-rimmed spectacles, "can you tell me why the Quilin Empire maintains such extensive trade routes despite having abundant natural resources of their own?"
"Because trade isn't just about resources," Riven replied, his finger tracing the map spread before him. "It's about relationships. The more interconnected the empires become through commerce, the less likely they are to go to war with each other."
"Excellent!" Master Chen beamed. "And why might this principle be especially important for smaller empires like ours?"
Riven considered this, his mind working through the implications. "Because we can't match the military might of the great powers, but we can make ourselves valuable enough that attacking us would cost them more than they'd gain."
"Precisely. Your father understands this well. Our empire's strength lies not in the size of our armies, but in our strategic position and the prosperity we bring to the region." Master Chen rolled up the scroll. "Remember this wisdom, young prince. Sometimes the greatest victory is the war you never have to fight."
As the lesson ended and Riven made his way back to his chambers, he reflected on the day's teachings. His parents and Master Chen were preparing him for a life of responsibility and leadership. He felt the weight of their expectations, but also their love and confidence.
Tomorrow would bring more lessons, more training, more preparation for the day he would inherit the throne. The harvest festival was only a week away, and after that, his tenth birthday—a milestone that would mark his official entry into adulthood and the beginning of his formal role as heir apparent.
Life was good. His future seemed bright and assured.
In the depths of the palace's oldest storeroom, buried beneath decades of accumulated artifacts and forgotten treasures, something reacted. A shard of metal, rusted and unremarkable, pulsed with the faintest hint of recognition.
"Soon," it seemed to whisper. "Very soon."
But Riven heard nothing as he fell asleep that night, dreaming of harvest festivals and the proud smiles of his parents. In his dreams, he was exactly what he appeared to be—a beloved prince with a golden future stretching endlessly ahead.
He had no idea that in less than a month, everything he loved would be ashes, and he would be dragged away in chains to begin the darkest chapter of his long, long life.
The last days of his happiness were slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Somewhere in the shadows between realms, the Void Emperor's closed eyes suddenly opened and he let out a satisfied smile. "This is going to be fun," he thought, and closed his eyes again.