Thirteen years later...
The world had changed.
The name Florencia had all but faded into the abyss of forgotten history. Only a rare few remembered that such a country once stood proud—and to most, it was now nothing more than a distant myth whispered by old men in taverns.
The great nation of Francia had risen in prominence. It was a land known for its beauty, its peace, and the prosperity brought about by a just and noble king. Under his reign, the people lived content and free of fear.
But the king was old now, and the time to pass the crown was drawing near. He had two children. The first, Prince Alexander. The second, Princess Alexia. And soon, the title of king would be handed down to the young prince.
Prince Alexander—a kind soul, gentle in heart, and humble by nature. Yet, he bore one fatal flaw.
Now, Alexander stood deep within the forest, flanked by his private army. A foreign invasion had been reported, and as heir to the throne, he had chosen to face the threat himself.
Though brave, Alexander was no prodigy in battle. Every swing of his blade came with effort, every duel a struggle.
But by his side was a man who fought like the wind itself—Commander Romero, sworn protector and closest friend to the prince.
Romero: “I’ll always be here to guard you, my prince.”
Alexander: “I’ve told you a million times, just call me Alexander. These enemies, though… they’re no amateurs.”
Romero: “Compared to me and him? Please. These guys are a morning warm-up.”
Romero, the same age as the prince, was more a mischievous childhood friend than a soldier. He commanded Alexander’s personal army but rarely acted like a proper commander. Playful, flirty, and rarely serious—but beneath that exterior hid a tactician's mind and a warrior’s hands.
Alexander: “Speaking of which… where’s Eidrin?”
Romero: “You know him. Always playing the hero. Probably already in the enemy's base."
Elsewhere, within the heart of the enemy camp, a lone figure danced across the battlefield.
Eidrin.He was locked in fierce combat with the enemy’s commander—a formidable fighter by any standard. But even then, Eidrin’s movements were sharp, precise... effortless. He wasn’t just holding his own—he was overwhelming.
As one enemy soldier rushed to join the fray, another grabbed his arm.
Soldier 1: “Are you insane?! Do you even know who that is? If you value your life, run.”
Soldier 2: “Who is he? He's forcing our commander back!”
Soldier 3: “That man... that's Eidrin of Francia. There's no one in the kingdom who surpasses him in swordsmanship.”
A few moments later, the battle was over. Eidrin stood victorious. He had matured into a fine young man—strong, sharp-eyed, and cold toward enemies. Yet beneath his stern demeanor, he remained kind... to everyone else.
By the time Alexander and Romero arrived, the enemy camp had already been secured.
Romero: “Well, would you look at that. Our hero wrapped it all up again. No glory left for us.”
Alexander: “Honestly? That works for me.”
Romero: “Ugh, I’ve said it a million times—save some enemies for me next time. I am the commander, after all!”
Eidrin: “What can I say? You’re just too slow.”
Romero: “I’m not slow! You just cheat by rushing ahead!”
These three—Alexander, Eidrin, and Romero—were more than comrades. They were bound by a deep, unshakable friendship. But this bond was also Alexander’s weakness. He relied too much on them—for advice, strength, and even mischief.
To the dismay of most of the royal family (except the king, queen, and Alexia), Alexander placed Eidrin and Romero above all. They were his most trusted companions, sharing nights of drinking and gambling in his chambers. No one else had permission to enter.
One such night, long after the castle had gone quiet...
Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed softly from within the prince’s chamber.
Then came a voice that silenced them all.
Alexia: “Big brother. That’s enough drinking for tonight.”
Romero: “Too late, Princess. He’s already completely gone.”
Alexia: “Eidrin. I need a word.”
Eidrin: “Why me?”
Alexia: “Just come.”
Eidrin followed her out of the room. Romero sighed dramatically.
Romero: “Welp, looks like I’m not needed for their little heart-to-heart.”
Alexia: “You’re spoiling my brother far too much, Eidrin.”
Eidrin: “Hey, don’t blame me. He’s the one spoiling us.”
Alexia: “I gave you one job—fix him. But he’s barely changed.”
Eidrin: “And I keep saying, he’s already perfect. How much more fixing does he need?”
Alexia: “Only when you’re with him does he act that way. Just... help him, okay?”
Eidrin: “Right, right. My apologies, Princess.”
Alexia: “I prefer it when you call me by my name…”
Eidrin: “...Anyway, that new dress of yours. A gift?”
Alexia: “Yes. A traveler brought it from afar. What do you think?”
Eidrin: “I... honestly don’t know much about women’s fashion.”
Alexia: “Tch. Fine. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
Eidrin: “Good night.”
As she left, Eidrin found himself wondering—why did the princess act so freely around him, yet so reserved with others?
Back in the room...
Romero: “So, what was all that about?”
Eidrin: “She told me to fix Alexander... and asked about her dress.”
Romero: “And you said?”
Eidrin: “That I don’t know.”
Romero: “You cold-hearted idiot. She’s clearly into you.”
Eidrin: “And that’s exactly the problem. If something happened between us… I’d lose Alexander.”
Romero: “Come on. Alexander would support you.”
Eidrin: “No, he wouldn’t. I’m just a guard. A commoner. I don’t have the right to love a princess.”
Romero: “And yet, kings have risen from nothing, and nobles have fallen just the same.”
Eidrin: “...Forget it. What really matters now is preparing Alexander. He’s to be crowned in two weeks.”
Romero: “He won’t abandon us. He’s not that kind of man. He was the only one who saw our worth when no one else did. I can’t wait to serve under him when he becomes king.”
Eidrin: “Yeah... Let’s get some rest.”
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