The capital of the Drakenhart Empire did not merely function.
It flourished.
White stone towers pierced the sky like proud declarations of wealth. Wide streets bustled with merchants, carriages, armored knights, foreign traders speaking unfamiliar tongues. Mana lanterns hung along the main avenues even during the day — decorative, unnecessary, extravagant.
And yet—
Not all parts of the capital glittered.
Arthur stood before a full-length mirror as royal attendants adjusted his cloak.
"Remove the insignia," he said calmly.
The head attendant froze.
"Y-Your Highness?"
"The imperial crest. Remove it."
Silence.
That crest — a golden dragon coiled around a sun — symbolized absolute authority. Removing it while outside the palace was unheard of.
But no one dared question further.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Arthur looked at himself once more.
He wore fine clothes — but not ceremonial armor. No crown. No aura flaring around him.
Just a tall, composed young man with terrifyingly steady eyes.
Behind him stood Darius, his nineteen-year-old brother.
Darius was built like a warrior already — short silver hair, scar across his cheek from training, posture rigid with discipline.
"You're really going without full escort?" Darius asked, clearly struggling to hide his excitement.
Arthur adjusted his gloves.
"Yes."
"Father will not object?"
Arthur glanced at him.
Darius straightened instantly.
"Right. He won't."
Of course he wouldn't.
Arthur was the only one in the empire who could ignore imperial protocol without consequence.
They exited the palace through the eastern gate.
The guards immediately knelt.
"Your Highness!"
Arthur nodded slightly and walked past.
No dramatic entrance. No announcement.
But word traveled like wildfire.
By the time they reached the central commercial district, whispers had begun.
"That's him—"
"The Crown Prince…"
"He looks different."
Shops slowly went quiet as he passed.
Not because he demanded it.
Because they were afraid.
Arthur observed everything.
Infrastructure quality. Road width. Drainage systems. Building spacing. Merchant diversity. Security presence.
His mind calculated automatically.
The empire was strong — yes.
But inefficient.
Overdecorated public structures. Unequal resource distribution. Poor waste management near lower districts.
He turned toward the southern slope.
Darius hesitated.
"That area…"
"I know."
The southern slope was where lower-income citizens lived. Not slums — the empire did not tolerate absolute poverty within the capital — but undeniably poorer districts.
As they walked deeper, the architecture shifted.
Less marble.
More stone.
Narrower streets.
Fewer mana lamps.
Children playing barefoot paused when they saw him.
A woman carrying water buckets froze mid-step.
A blacksmith stopped hammering.
Then—
One by one.
They knelt.
Not gracefully.
Not ceremonially.
Fearfully.
Arthur stopped walking.
He looked at them carefully.
There it was.
Not admiration.
Not devotion.
Distance.
To them, he wasn't a protector.
He was a divine weapon.
Something far above human.
Darius whispered, "They're honoring you."
"No," Arthur replied quietly. "They're afraid."
He stepped forward.
The closest man trembled.
Arthur crouched slightly, lowering himself to eye level.
"What is your trade?" he asked calmly.
The man stuttered. "F-Firewood cutting, Your Highness."
"How much do you earn weekly?"
Silence.
Darius stiffened.
Questions like this were not asked by royalty.
The man swallowed. "Enough to survive."
"Specific number."
"Eight silver coins, Your Highness."
Arthur's mind processed instantly.
Food cost. Rent. Tax percentage.
Too high.
"Who collects your tax?"
"Viscount Harlowe's office, Your Highness."
Interesting.
Arthur stood.
"Darius."
"Yes!"
"Memorize that name."
Darius's eyes sharpened.
"Yes, Brother."
Arthur turned toward the gathered crowd.
His voice did not rise — yet it carried effortlessly.
"The Crown exists to serve the stability of the realm."
Silence.
"If any noble burdens you beyond imperial law, you will report it."
The crowd looked confused.
Report?
To whom?
Arthur extended his hand slightly.
A faint golden mana pulse rippled outward — not destructive.
Just presence.
"I will personally review southern district taxation records."
Gasps spread.
Darius almost grinned.
Arthur turned and continued walking.
The atmosphere behind him had shifted.
Not fear.
Not exactly hope.
Confusion.
Curiosity.
—
As they exited the district, Darius finally spoke.
"You're going to investigate a viscount over eight silver coins?"
Arthur glanced at him.
"I am going to investigate the system."
Darius frowned slightly.
Arthur continued walking.
"If one viscount extracts slightly more than allowed, others will follow. If commoners feel unheard, resentment grows. Resentment breeds instability."
Darius nodded slowly.
Then he hesitated.
"You've changed."
Arthur didn't deny it.
"In what way?"
"You look at things differently. Before… you would have crushed the viscount immediately."
Arthur's lips curved faintly.
"That would fix nothing."
Darius blinked.
Arthur's gaze turned distant.
"Power is not just destruction. It is design."
Darius didn't fully understand.
But he felt something.
A shift.
Not weakness.
Evolution.
—
Meanwhile, in a dim underground chamber beneath the western quarter of the capital—
A cloaked figure knelt before a circular stone altar carved with ancient runes.
"The Crown Prince has begun moving," another voice echoed from the darkness.
"So soon?" the kneeling figure asked.
"He walked the southern district."
Silence.
"That was not his pattern."
"No."
A third voice spoke.
"The mana detonation was meant to create arrogance or fury."
Instead—
"He is calculating."
The air felt heavier.
A low chuckle echoed.
"Interesting."
Back above ground, Arthur paused at the edge of a bridge overlooking the capital river.
He leaned against the stone railing.
The breeze lifted his dark hair slightly.
Darius stood beside him quietly.
Arthur looked at the water below.
His previous life had been spent chasing potential.
This life offered control.
But control required information.
And information required proximity.
"They wanted to test me," he murmured.
Darius frowned. "Who?"
Arthur smiled slightly.
"Exactly."
He straightened.
"Summon Seraphina tonight."
"Yes."
"We begin auditing noble finances."
Darius's eyes widened slightly.
That wasn't small.
That was war.
Arthur looked toward the palace in the distance.
"Quietly."
He would not expose corruption randomly.
He would gather proof.
Publicly dismantle the guilty.
And make it a spectacle.
If the empire saw that the Crown Prince protected even the lowest citizen—
Then loyalty would not be based on fear alone.
It would be chosen.
Arthur's golden eyes gleamed under the afternoon sun.
"This kingdom will evolve."
And anyone who stood in the way—
Would be erased.