Adrian's POV
"Your father wants you dead," I said, staring at the letter in my hands. "And you're telling me this why?"
Seraphina's jaw tightened. "Because I'm not dying for his empire. And neither are you if we're smart."
"Smart means having a plan." I folded the letter carefully, my mind already racing. "How long until the invasion?"
"Six months. Maybe less if Daemon speeds up the sabotage."
Six months to save a dying kingdom, stop a traitor prince, and survive an enemy general who wanted us both dead.
In my old life, I'd done harder things with less time.
"Then we start now," I said. "Tonight. My province first—I need money, soldiers, and loyalty. Can't fight a war without those."
"Your province is a disaster. Everyone knows that."
"Everyone's wrong." I smiled. "It's not a disaster. It's an opportunity. And I'm very good at building something from nothing."
She studied me with those ice-blue eyes. "You really believe you can fix it? In two weeks?"
"Watch me."
I rode back to my province at dawn with Thomas and three guards. Seraphina wanted to come but I refused—too dangerous, too suspicious. People needed to see me fixing things myself.
The broken roads looked even worse in daylight. Starving peasants. Rotting buildings. Children with hollow eyes begging for food.
Victor Castellano's empire had started in neighborhoods like this. Places where people were so desperate they'd follow anyone who offered them hope.
Time to give them hope.
"Thomas," I said, climbing off my horse in the town square. "Send word to every peasant in this province. Meeting here at noon. Mandatory. Anyone who doesn't show up gets their taxes doubled."
Thomas's eyes widened. "My lord, they're already starving. They'll riot if—"
"Trust me."
Two hours later, the square was packed. Hundreds of angry, scared peasants crowding together. Muttering. Some held farming tools like weapons.
Good. Angry people paid attention.
I climbed onto a cart so everyone could see me.
"I'm Prince Adrian," I announced. My voice carried across the square. "Most of you think I'm a drunk idiot who's been stealing your money for five years."
Silence. Shocked, nervous silence.
"You're right," I continued. "I was an idiot. But I wasn't stealing from you. Someone else was."
I pulled out the financial records Thomas had stolen. Held them high.
"Lord Rennick, your tax collector, has been taking triple what he reports to the crown. He's been pocketing the difference. The roads you paid to fix? The food you paid for? The mine repairs? All that money went into his estate while you starved."
The crowd's muttering turned dangerous. Angry.
"Where is he?" someone shouted.
"In his mansion," I replied. "Eating imported food while your children go hungry. But here's what's going to happen. Starting today, taxes drop by half. The roads get fixed with money from Rennick's personal fortune—after we arrest him for theft. The mines reopen. And every single official in this province will be chosen by you."
"By us?" an old woman called out. "You're giving peasants power?"
"I'm giving loyal people power," I corrected. "People who'll work hard because they're paid fairly. People who'll be honest because dishonesty means losing everything. That's how we rebuild."
The crowd erupted—some cheering, some still skeptical, everyone talking at once.
I raised my hand for silence.
"But I need something from you too. Loyalty. Complete loyalty. I'm going to war soon—not with swords, but with corruption. With traitors. With people who want to destroy this kingdom. I need to know you're with me. That when I call, you come. That when I fight, you fight beside me."
"Why should we trust you?" a young man yelled. "You're still a prince! Still one of them!"
Fair question.
"Because," I said simply, "I'm the only prince who's standing here asking for your help instead of demanding it. Because I'm the only one who actually showed up to fix things. And because if I fail, you all die when the Ashenheart Empire invades."
That got their attention.
"Invades?" voices cried out. "What invasion?"
"The one coming in six months," I said. "Unless we're ready. Unless we're strong. Unless we build something worth defending."
I jumped down from the cart, walking through the crowd. Meeting their eyes. Letting them see I wasn't afraid.
"I can't do this alone," I told them. "I need farmers who'll feed an army. Miners who'll forge weapons. Merchants who'll supply what we need. And fighters who'll protect what we build. Help me. I promise—I swear on my life—I won't let you down again."
For ten long seconds, nobody moved.
Then the old woman who'd spoken earlier stepped forward.
"I'll help," she said quietly. "My grandson can work the mines."
"My family will farm," another voice called.
"I can fight," the young skeptic said. "If you're serious about this."
"I'm dead serious."
One by one, they came forward. Pledging support. Offering skills. Choosing hope over despair.
In my old life, this was how Victor built his empire—one recruit at a time, one neighborhood at a time. Loyalty earned through actions, not fear.
Within an hour, we'd arrested Lord Rennick. Within two days, the roads were being fixed. Within a week, the mines reopened and merchants started returning.
Thomas cried again when children stopped begging and started playing.
"You did it," he whispered. "You actually did it, my lord."
"We did it," I corrected. "This is just the beginning."
Word spread fast. Peasants from neighboring provinces started showing up, asking if the rumors were true. Was Prince Adrian really helping people? Really paying fair wages? Really listening?
By the end of two weeks, my province was thriving. And people had a new name for me.
"The People's Prince."
I hated it and loved it at the same time.
News reached the capital. I could imagine Daemon's face when he heard. Could picture Father's surprise.
Good. Let them underestimate me. Let them think I was just playing at being competent.
They'd learn the truth soon enough.
The morning of my wedding, Thomas burst into my chambers.
"My lord!" He was pale, shaking. "A messenger just arrived. From the capital. It's... it's bad."
"What happened?"
"King Aldric collapsed last night. The doctors say..." Thomas's voice cracked. "They say he won't last more than two months. He's calling all the princes to the capital immediately. He's going to choose his heir today."
My blood turned to ice.
The timeline just collapsed. Everything I'd planned assumed I had six months.
Now I had hours.
"There's more," Thomas continued. "Prince Daemon is already at the castle. And he's brought three hundred soldiers with him. Personal guards, he claims. But everyone knows..."
"He's planning a coup," I finished.
If Father named me heir, Daemon would kill me before the crown touched my head.
If Father named Daemon heir, the kingdom fell to the Ashenheart Empire within months.
Either way, I was walking into a trap.
"My lord, what do we do?"
I stood up, my mind racing through options. Calculations. Strategies.
Victor Castellano had survived thirty years of mob wars by always having a backup plan.
Time to see if Prince Adrian could survive one day of royal politics.
"Send word to Seraphina," I ordered. "Tell her the game just changed. And Thomas?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Find me the most dangerous criminal in this province. Not tomorrow. Not tonight. Right now. Because I'm going to need people who know how to fight dirty."
Thomas ran.
I stood alone, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
A young prince with old eyes.
"Daemon," I whispered to my reflection, "you just made your last mistake. Because the one thing you should never do to a man with nothing to lose..."
I smiled Victor's cold smile.
"...is give him a reason to burn everything down."