Chapter 30 : A Prince’s Outcry
Edmond had sworn he would stay in the borderlands.
What he hadn’t sworn was that he’d thrive.
The first time Father asked him to help split firewood, Edmond nearly lost three fingers.
“Hold it steady,” Darius instructed, handing him the axe.
“I—I can do this,” Edmond muttered, jaw set. He raised the axe high, eyes squeezed shut—
CRACK. The log split sideways, sending chunks flying into the mud. Edmond yelped, dropping the axe like it had bitten him.
Elara laughed so hard she doubled over, clutching her stomach. “You’re supposed to cut down, not sideways!”
“I-It slipped!” Edmond cried, cheeks red, tears welling.
Father pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “At this rate, boy, you’ll cut down yourself before the wood.”
The next day, Edmond volunteered to help with the animals.
It ended with him face-first in the mud, chased by an irritable goat that had decided the prince’s fine cloak was chewable.
“Elaraaa!” he screamed, scrambling as the goat headbutted him in the rear.
Elara darted forward, her training blade flashing—not to kill, just to swat the goat away. She offered her hand, smiling gently despite her laughter. “Come on, Edmond. Up you get.”
He clung to her arm, blushing furiously. “…I’ll never live this down.”
“You don’t need to,” she said softly. “You just need to keep trying.”
Father watched from the porch, arms crossed, his sharp eyes following every clumsy stumble and every tear Edmond shed. At first, his gaze was hard—judging, almost disappointed.
But as the days passed, he noticed something else.
Every time Edmond fell, Elara was there. She wiped his tears, dusted off his clothes, and scolded him just enough to make him laugh through the shame. Her usual fiery temper melted away around him, revealing a tenderness few ever saw.
And for the first time in weeks, Father smiled.
“…That girl,” he muttered to Selene, shaking his head. “She’s gentler than I thought.”
Selene’s lips curved knowingly. “Or perhaps she’s finally found someone who lets her be.”
Rooga sat on the steps, kicking his small legs, watching it all with a mischievous grin.
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Edmond, covered in mud, pointed a shaky finger at me. “D-Don’t laugh, Rooga! I’m trying my best!”
The HUD blinked faintly:
[Edmond Valerius – Determination: Increasing despite failure]I smirked. Crybaby or not… he’s not giving up.
The sound of hooves thundered down the dirt road one morning, far heavier than the clatter of supply wagons or passing mercenaries.
When the crest of the Empire appeared on polished banners, even Father stiffened.
The Emperor himself had come.
He dismounted slowly, silver hair catching the sun, his presence commanding yet solemn.
He looked not at Father or Mother first, but at the boy standing awkwardly in mud-stained boots and a torn cloak.
“Edmond.”
The prince flinched. “F-Father…”
The Emperor’s eyes softened. “The academy term resumes soon. Your place is in the capital, not lingering at the border.”
Edmond’s lips trembled. He turned immediately to Elara, clutching her hand with desperate force.
“I don’t want to go. I… I only just found you again.”
Elara’s face twisted, but she forced a steady smile. “You have to, Edmond. You’re the prince. You can’t waste your chance.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “But what about you? About your family? They exiled you here—how can I just leave you behind?”
Elara’s fingers curled tighter around his, her eyes shining. “Because… you’ll have a future in the capital. One we can’t follow you into.”
It was as if she were saying goodbye forever.
Edmond’s breath hitched. He cupped her hands, shaking his head furiously. “No! It’s not goodbye. We’ll see each other again—at the academy, won’t we?”
His words hung in the air like a fragile hope.
But Elara didn’t answer. She only held him tighter for one long, trembling moment—then let go.
The Emperor placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, guiding him back to the carriage.
Edmond looked back again and again, his tears falling freely, while Elara stood rooted in place, silent, her face unreadable.
When the carriage finally vanished over the hill, the wind carried nothing but quiet.
Elara’s fists clenched at her sides. For the first time, she didn’t cry.
But she didn’t smile either.
Edmond perspective
The ride back to the capital was silent at first. The Emperor sat tall in the carriage, his hands folded neatly across his lap,
his expression calm as stone. Edmond sat across from him, shoulders hunched, fingers twisting his sleeve.
But the silence didn’t last.
Edmond’s fists clenched. His lips trembled—then, for the first time in his young life, he raised his voice.
“Why did you do it, Father?”
The Emperor’s gaze slid toward him, calm, unreadable.
Edmond’s voice cracked, but he pushed on, louder this time. “Why did you banish them? Didn’t the Valemonts do enough for us? For you?”
The Emperor said nothing.
“They’ve been our sword since before I was born!” Edmond shouted, tears welling in his eyes.
“They protected you from invasions, from assassins, from coups. Lord Darius nearly died a hundred times over for this Empire! And Lady Selene—she could have razed nations,
but she gave everything for us! For you! And now you throw them away just because of some dumb duel!”
His chest heaved, his cheeks wet with tears, but his eyes—sharp for once—locked onto his father’s.
The Emperor’s jaw tightened. He leaned forward, his glare sharp as steel.
“It is the best for them. They made too many enemies. The court would not let them stand. To keep them in the capital would be to kill them slowly.”
“Then banish their enemies instead!” Edmond snapped.
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“For what, Edmond? For being alive? For being ambitious? I am not a man who rules by whims. I cannot decide based only on what I think is right. I must do what the people believe they need.”
His voice grew heavy, echoing in the carriage.
“We are emperors because the people chose us to lead them. And they have chosen to end the Valemonts.”
Edmond trembled, his tears spilling over—but this time, he didn’t look away.
“They’re wrong,” he whispered fiercely. “The Empire’s wrong. Darius and Selene aren’t the only monsters in that family.”
The Emperor frowned. “What are you saying, boy?”
Edmond’s gaze sharpened, his small hands curling into fists.
“I saw him. A child. Younger than me. He’ll bring a storm to this Empire one day. And when he does, Father, you’ll regret throwing them away.”
For the first time, the Emperor’s expression cracked—not with fear, but with a flicker of doubt.
The carriage rattled on in silence.
But Edmond had spoken his truth. And nothing would take it back.