Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Aric stood close to the window of his modest room. The surroundings were simple, and the furniture, although not old, was far from the royal adornments of his prior quarters.

The room wasn’t much, but it suited his needs.

Aric stretched, the sunlight filtering through the small window, illuminating his face in a glistening gold.

"Aszer, how long has it been since we met?" Aric shot his head back, running his hands through his dark silver hair in an attempt to push it away from his forehead.

The fourth prince had made a decision, a vital and perhaps deadly one—he would confront the Byzeth king directly. It was a risk, and many would deem it foolishness, but Aric knew that a crack inside could shatter even the strongest shields.

Swiftly getting through his morning routine, Aric headed down the stairs.

Before even reaching the bottom, Aric could smell the pleasant aroma of food permeating throughout the house, and he immediately knew who was creating the divine scent.

He entered the living room; there was no one present, but he began to hear grunts in the distance. He walked towards the door leading to the kitchen, and as he pushed it open, the aroma of roasting meats and spices flooded his senses.

"Ah, you’re up," the old man acknowledged Aric as he moved through the medium-sized kitchen, preparing a meal.

Aric was hit with nostalgia once again. The old man was a wonderful cook and had always made breakfast for him and his men back then. It was a hobby that contrasted sharply with who the man truly was.

"Yeah… I need to get to the capital to meet the king," Aric explained.

Hitoki stopped what he was doing, turning to the fourth prince.

"That’s suicide," the old man warned gravely.

"Don’t worry, it’s just for a friendly chat," Aric assured him, turning away. "And it smells great, but I can’t wait for the food. Do help me tell the others I’ll be back by sundown."

"And if you’re not?" Hitoki asked.

Aric sighed, his face hardening.

"Then they should return to the imperial city immediately."

He said firmly before walking away. He glanced out the large window, where he saw the young guard sparring with Lerai, both grunting. Not wanting to alarm anyone, knowing they would suggest tagging along or stopping him, he left without further discussion.

Aric knew the Migard Province well. He made his way to the carrier station, where he boarded a carriage heading to the capital. It was designed to accommodate more people than a typical carriage, and this was the quickest mode of transportation between provinces for common folk.

The carriage driver screamed, "To the capital, to the capital. 50 silver!" repeatedly, joining the chorus of shouts from other drivers calling for passengers to different provinces.

Aric had sat, and soon enough, the carriage was full and set off on its journey.

The ride was not sluggish, but it was far from fast. However, with the distance between the provinces and the capital not being too significant, they would reach their destination in a few hours.

The carriage had no roof or windows, so Aric could easily observe the outskirts of the province. As time went on and they traveled further from the business district, the more rural the landscape became. The scenery shifted from large stone buildings to small cottages clustered together—villages where people lived simple lives, unaware of the inevitable looming over them.

He pondered Darisu’s words from the banquet, when he asked if Aric would slaughter the innocent to quell rebellion—to achieve his goals.

As he gazed at the modest villages, Aric clenched his fist, his answer unchanged.

After a few hours of travel, the Byzeth capital came into view. High walls and grand buildings rose in what seemed like a mockery of an attempt to mirror the imperial city splendor. It was far from as grand, but it was vastly different from the countryside they had passed through.

The carriage made its way into the busy city and halted at the receiving station.

The prince stepped out, pausing to take in the sight of the fortress-like capital. Excitement began to brew within him at the thought of all of this being his.

He couldn’t help but think his father was right. The Byzeth Kingdom was the greatest gift his father could have given him.

He moved through the crowded streets. Vendors, soldiers, and citizens roamed around, going about their lives. Though Aric’s presence was unremarkable to most, especially with his cloaked figure obscuring his identity, this was a pivotal moment in the kingdom’s history. They, however, had no idea.

Aric looked up at the castle, which dominated the center of the capital and stretched as though attempting to graze the heavens. His cloak billowed in the wind, and his gaze turned cold and calculating. He was not here to admire the city—he had a job to do.

He made his way toward the palace.

Aric reached the massive gates of the royal castle, heavily guarded, with men stationed at every possible point. The guards, standing rigidly in their armor, eyed him as he approached.

One of them stepped forward, his voice stern.

"State your business."

Aric met the man’s gaze, his voice calm yet unsettlingly intense.

"I’m here to see the king."

The guard fell silent for a moment, perhaps confused, before letting out a small laugh. He turned to his companion as if sharing the absurdity of the situation.

"You can’t just walk in and demand an audience with His Majesty. Is this a joke?" the guard barked, nearly losing his patience.

"Oh?" Aric’s face carved into a sharp, predatory smile. "But I’m quite certain I can..."

Aric lowered his cloak’s hood, stepping closer as he reduced his voice but not his intensity. "Tell your king that Aric Valerian is here… he will understand."

The name utterly unsettled the guards. A visit from an imperial prince, and at a time like this, was no light event. They hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, trying to conceive a way to confirm that this was indeed the fourth prince.

Why would he approach in such a manner, unannounced? It didn’t make sense. But the man before them exuded such confidence that they felt as though they were already in danger.

Finally, with slight reluctance, the guard said, "Wait here."

Aric waited, his hands clasped behind his back, while the remaining guards kept their distance, their hands hovering over their weapons.

After a short while, a new, seemingly higher-ranked guard returned, slightly anxious. "The king will see you," he said as the gate creaked open.

Aric walked through the halls of the Byzeth palace, his boots echoing on the marble floor. The majesty of the palace did little to impress him—he had seen better in his own empire—but he could sense the power that lingered here, the authority of a kingdom on the verge of challenging its betters.

As Aric entered the throne room, all eyes turned toward him. The royal court, filled with advisors, nobles, and high-ranking officials, fell silent.

Murmurs swept through the room, tension rising as they realized who had walked through their doors—they had been skeptical when the guard announced it, but now that they saw him, they were all certain: this was the fourth prince of Valeria.

At the end of the room, on a raised platform, sat King Aszer Hait, ruler of Byzeth. The king was slightly aged, as one would expect, with a stern, calculating expression. His eyes narrowed as he watched the foreign prince approach.

Aric’s footsteps were the only sound as he strode confidently down the center of the room, his eyes never leaving the king’s. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but there was an unmistakable menace in the way he moved, as though he held all the cards in this confrontation.

The king’s voice boomed across the throne room as he spoke.

"Prince Aric Valerian, fourth prince of our great empire… you seem to be doing better than I was informed."

"Not all information can be trusted, Your Grace," Aric replied, his voice calm and devoid of any discernible emotion.

"You are right," the king’s eyes narrowed. "So, what brings you here, unannounced and without formal invitation?"

The entire court watched, holding their breath as they awaited Aric’s response.

The fourth prince’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at the king.

"Oh, you know, to catch up, maybe discuss business..." His grin widened slightly.

"...and to find out what gave you the audacity to contemplate rebellion."