The Steps to a king

Green Forest – Encampment

A brown teddy bear.

The Captain's expression turned grave. In a heartbeat, the man who had been lounging under a tree became a soldier again, fully alert and in command.

“You there!” he barked, pointing at the man who had woken him moments ago.

“Y-yes, sir!” the young man stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“What’s your name?” the Captain asked sharply.

State recruitment was a national event in Vraxen. Every year, tens of thousands from every corner of the kingdom apply. Only about a  thousand make it in. For many, the State—the law, order, and military might of Vraxen—offered the only path to stability. A place in its ranks meant prestige and comfort for one’s family. These recruits were then divided and deployed under various captains across the land.

“Aden, sir,” the recruit answered nervously.

“Good. Aden, set up the tents. We’re camping here tonight.”

Aden gave a quick nod, turned, and headed toward the supplies.

The Captain then looked at Ember, who was still crouched near the teddy bear embedded in the earth. Her dark hair hung over her masked face, her wide black eyes looking up at him, troubled.

“Dig deeper. Keep going until you find a corpse,” he ordered, his voice cold and precise.

Though clearly shaken, Ember nodded and resumed digging.

Turning away, the Captain sat back beneath the tree, but didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he pulled out a scroll and began writing a letter. Once finished, he tied a red ribbon around it.

The ribbon shimmered faintly, and the letter floated upward like a balloon, rising above the trees of the Green Forest. A crow swooped in from the sky, snatched it mid-air, and soared in the direction of Pearl Town.

The Capital – Royal Embassy, Great Palace

The Great Palace of Vraxen, home to the Gilbert royal family, stood as a marvel of wealth and power—its walls lined with white marble, its halls adorned with gold. Tonight, it was alive with music, laughter, and elegance.

Inside the Grand Hall, nobles from all cardinal directions had gathered. Champagne flowed freely, couples danced under sparkling chandeliers, and the aromas of the Capital’s finest cuisine filled the air.

A raised platform stood at the far end of the hall. Upon it sat two towering golden thrones—one occupied by King Robert Slate III, the other by his queen.

Flanking them were royal courtiers and two guards clad in pitch-black armor, each wielding a blade forged from Valyrian steel—lighter, sharper, and deadlier than any other.

Unseen from below, the hall also featured a secret second floor, where elite archers lay in wait, hidden in shadow, ready to silence any threat before it reached the King.

A courtier stepped forward and bowed. “My lord, the food has been thoroughly tested. Shall we serve?”

Robert nodded.

Soon, two maids entered: one wearing a dark blue dress that complemented her golden hair, the other in green with flowing brown locks. They carried silver trays bearing delicacies for the King and Queen.

King Robert wore a black suit embroidered with subtle silver patterns. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his deep blue eyes—piercing and calm—caught the gaze of one of the maids.

His Queen, seated to his left, was draped in an elegant red-and-black gown. Her pale, porcelain skin and flowing white hair made her the jewel of the court, admired silently by many.

Once the royal couple had finished their meal, the courtier returned with a bottle of the finest champagne in Vraxen. He poured a glass for the King and stepped back.

“My lord—it is time.”

Robert rose, lifting the glass gently in his hand.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat.

“My dear souls of Vraxen,” he began, “I trust you’ve all enjoyed tonight’s festivities. I thank each of you for the gifts you’ve brought from your homelands.”

He paused briefly, then continued.

“I imagine most of you already know the reason behind this grand occasion—many of you traveled weeks to get here. But allow me to say it aloud, for history’s sake.”

A beat of silence followed.

“Tonight marks the first coming of age of my son—William.”

Applause broke out across the hall.

In Vraxen, this sacred rite was known as “The Steps to a King.” At sixteen, the heir to the throne was required to travel across the nation, visiting each major city and township. At every stop, he was to live among the people for three days—learning, listening, and observing.

The journey spanned nearly a year and was meant to teach the heir what no tutor in the Capital could. To be king, one had to first become a man of the people.

Robert continued, “I trust you will welcome my son with open arms. Teach him the truths your books cannot. Mold him not into a prince, but a future king. Raise him through the year to be the man our kingdom needs.”

Another roar of applause filled the hall.

“Your wishes are our command, Your Majesty!” someone shouted. “May Prince William become a splendid gentleman indeed!”

The King smiled, returning to his throne.

The ceremony was complete, and the celebration resumed—music swelling once more as Vraxen danced beneath golden lights. 

A moment Carved in History