The grand dining hall of Berakh Palace shimmered under the light of a hundred floating orbs—enchanted crystals that pulsed with soft azure glows, mimicking stars in a twilight sky. Long tables stretched across the marble floor, laden with silver platters of roasted venison glazed in honey and herbs, crystal bowls of jewel-toned fruits from the southern orchards, and loaves of bread still warm from the ovens, their crusts dusted with edible gold. Servants in crisp black-and-silver livery moved like shadows, pouring wine from decanters etched with the Eryndor eagle.
Draven Eryndor—once a nobody from Earth, now the first prince—descended the curved staircase with measured steps. His black velvet doublet caught the light, the silver embroidery gleaming like frost. The curse still tugged at him, a dull ache in his bones, but the system's recent level-up had eased it slightly. Vitality felt... sharper. He could breathe deeper, think clearer.
Heads turned as he entered. Whispers rippled through the assembled nobility like wind through reeds.
"The first prince? He actually came?"
"Look at him—almost presentable. The curse must be lifting."
"Or perhaps he's finally decided to play the game."
King Eldric sat at the head of the high table, his broad shoulders stooped under the weight of years and grief. His crown rested heavy on graying hair, and his eyes—once fierce—now held a distant weariness. To his right sat Aurelisse Eryndor, the second empress, her golden hair coiled like a crown of its own. Her gown was midnight blue silk, embroidered with sapphires that matched the cold gleam in her eyes. Flanking her were Thorne and Elara: the golden son, broad-shouldered and smirking, and the silver daughter, elegant and venomous.
Draven took his seat opposite them, directly across from Thorne. The prince's smile was all teeth. "Brother. We feared you'd hide in your chambers again. The wine might have gone to waste."
Elara tittered behind a gloved hand. "Indeed. We were discussing the border skirmishes. Your... unique perspective might amuse us."
Draven met their gazes evenly. Memories of the original Draven flooded him—Thorne "accidentally" shoving him into the training yard mud during sparring, Elara spreading whispers that he was "touched by darkness," unfit for the throne. Aurelisse had watched it all with approval, her ambition a quiet blade.
He smiled thinly. "Amuse away. I'm here to listen... and contribute."
The king cleared his throat. "Enough. Let the feast begin."
Plates were served. Draven accepted a slice of venison, but his eyes never left the family. The system window hovered invisibly at the edge of his vision, a faint blue notification pulsing:
[Daily Quest: Observe and Endure. Reward: 20 points. Bonus: Uncover a scheme during the gathering – +30 points.]
Observe and endure, he thought. Easy enough. But the bonus... that's where the fun starts.
Conversation flowed—stilted at first, then warming under the influence of wine. Nobles discussed the Drakorian Empire's latest raids: border villages burned, scouts vanishing into the mist-shrouded forests. Suggestions flew—reinforce the wards, send envoys, raise levies.
Thorne leaned forward, voice booming. "Father, we need decisive action. Let me lead a punitive strike. Show them Berakh's strength."
Eldric rubbed his temple. "Caution, son. War is costly."
Aurelisse placed a gentle hand on the king's arm. "Thorne speaks wisely. The people need to see resolve. And our heir—" her eyes flicked to Draven "—should demonstrate leadership as well."
Draven sipped his wine. It tasted of blackberries and oak, rich and heady. He felt the curse stir—a faint whisper in his mind, urging retreat, weakness. He pushed it down.
"I agree with caution," Draven said calmly. "But not inaction. Magical wards along the northern passes could deter raids without bloodshed. And diplomacy—send an envoy under truce flag. Knowledge of their motives could be more valuable than corpses."
Thorne laughed outright. "Wards? Envoys? That's the talk of a scholar, not a prince. Are you afraid of blood, brother?"
Elara tilted her head. "Perhaps the curse makes him... timid."
The table quieted. Nobles exchanged glances. Eldric frowned but said nothing.
Draven set his goblet down. "Timid? No. Strategic. A dead hero wins no wars. A living one builds empires."
Aurelisse's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Bold words from one who has spent years in seclusion."
Draven shrugged. "Seclusion sharpens the mind. Absence makes the throne's weight clearer."
The king nodded slowly. "Wise counsel. We will consider wards."
Thorne's jaw tightened. He raised his glass in mock toast. "To strategy, then."
As dessert arrived—towering confections of spun sugar and cream—Draven excused himself briefly, claiming a need for air. In the shadowed corridor beyond the hall, he leaned against cool stone, breathing deeply. The curse throbbed, but the system's voice cut through:
[Bonus Objective Progress: Eavesdrop on suspicious conversation. Reward pending.]
He moved silently toward a side alcove where voices murmured. Thorne and a cloaked figure—likely a guard—stood in low discussion.
"...the vial is ready. Slip it into his wine during the final toast. Slow poison—untraceable. By morning, the 'curse' will have claimed him fully."
The guard nodded. "As you command, my prince."
Draven's blood ran cold. They plan to kill me tonight. He backed away, heart pounding. System pinged:
[Hidden Plot Uncovered: Assassination Attempt via Poison. Quest Complete – +50 points. Total Points: 80.]
[Level Up Available! Consume 50 points to reach Level 3? Y/N]
Not yet, he thought. Save for something bigger.
Returning to the table, he resumed his seat as if nothing had happened. The final toast approached. Servants refilled goblets. Thorne's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
King Eldric rose. "To Berakh's enduring peace—and to my sons, who will carry it forward."
Glasses clinked. Draven lifted his goblet, but as he brought it to his lips, he "accidentally" knocked Thorne's arm. Wine splashed across the table—mostly onto Thorne's lap.
"Apologies, brother," Draven said smoothly. "Clumsy of me."
Thorne snarled, wiping at his doublet. "You—"
But the damage was done. The poisoned wine—intended for Draven—now soaked Thorne's clothes. No one noticed the switch; it looked like an honest spill.
Aurelisse's face paled for a fraction of a second. She recovered quickly. "No harm done. More wine!"
Draven smiled inwardly. One down.
As the gathering wound down, nobles departed in twos and threes. Liora waited in the corridor, eyes wide with worry.
"Your Highness, you were brilliant. But... I saw Thorne glaring daggers."
Draven nodded. "They tried something tonight. Failed. But they'll try again."
Back in his chambers, he dismissed Liora with thanks and locked the door. Alone, he summoned the system.
"Status."
The window expanded:
[Host: Draven Eryndor]
[Level: 2]
[Points: 80]
[Skills: Basic Swordsmanship (Curse-Affected → Mildly Improved), Elemental Affinity (Dormant), Perception (New – +10% detection of hidden threats)]
[Curse: Shadow Veil – Reduces vitality by 18% (improved from 20%). Origin: Unknown.]
"Level up to 3," he commanded.
Power surged through him—warm, electric. Muscles tightened, mind sharpened. The curse retreated further, like fog burning off in sunlight.
[Level 3 Achieved! +5 Stat Points to distribute. New Feature Unlocked: Basic Skill Shop (Limited).]
[Available Purchases: Minor Vitality Potion (20 points), Stealth Cloak (30 points), Mana Sense (40 points).]
He allocated points: 3 to Vitality, 2 to Perception. The curse's grip loosened more.
A new quest appeared:
[Main Quest: Survive the Week. Objective: Avoid assassination attempts and gather allies. Reward: 200 points + Skill Unlock.]
[Side Quest: Investigate Mother's Disappearance. Reward: ???]
Draven stared at the last one. Memories of Empress Isolde—warm smiles, secret lessons in magic, her sudden vanishing—stirred something deep. Not random. Connected to the curse. To me.
He sat on the edge of the bed, rain pattering against the windows. The palace slept, but intrigue never did.
Tomorrow, he'd train. Probe the curse's origin. Find allies—Liora first, perhaps others disillusioned with Aurelisse's rule.
And when the time came, he'd strike back.
For now, though, rest. A new world waited, full of shadows and thrones.
But Draven Eryndor was no longer the forgotten prince.
He was awake.