Chapter 53: Sudden request
If Hayden had known that his son was teasing a boy who had slaughtered over three hundred soldiers, tortured a grown man to death, and even assassinated one of the most dangerous criminals in the land, then the Duke might’ve taken his son and fled the palace without a second thought.
This wasn’t some rumor whispered in fear—it came straight from the man who ruled the nation.
Hayden trusted his friend’s sources. And no father would ever believe his child had done such terrible things... just as a joke.
That could only mean—"You... really?" Hayden’s voice faltered, his words broken as he stared at the black-haired boy, eyes wide in disbelief, heart pounding. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Arthur didn’t say a word. He had no interest in bragging about those things.
"It’s true, Hayden. My butler confirmed everything."
"Charles?" Hayden asked instinctively. And when his friend gave a slow nod, all his doubts vanished.
Charles wasn’t just a servant. He was one of the best informants on the continent—an ex-assassin with eyes and ears in every corner of the world.
If Charles said it was true, then the boy standing in front of Hayden wasn’t at all who he had thought he was.
And Celia even started calling him son-in-law... That memory hit him hard. Grace, his quiet, distant daughter, had actually taken the first step to approach someone—a boy, no less. And ever since, Celia had been teasing her about it. Grace never got annoyed either. She just remained quiet, as if she liked him in her own way.
Hayden felt a strange mix of fear and awe rising inside him.
This boy... who exactly was he?
"Arthur, would you like to tell us more about what exactly happened back then? And how did you manage such a feat?" asked the Supreme Authority in the room—his voice calm, but carrying a weight that silenced everyone.
Arthur lowered his gaze. To him, it wasn’t something to be proud of. It was revenge—bloody, gruesome, and far from glorious. But the way they all looked at him, including his father... there was no avoiding it.
"I can tell you," he said quietly. "But are you sure the young prince should be hearing this?"
"What’s the problem? I’m just like you," Eric replied in a steady, matter-of-fact tone.
...He had a point. Arthur gave a small nod and didn’t argue further.
He took a moment. His eyes drifted away as he searched for the right place to begin.
He started from Atinberg.
Without revealing that its ruler had secretly kidnapped Aston, because, despite everything, that man had helped him later on, Arthur recounted what he had faced. The chain of events. The terror. The weight of responsibility. And the monstrous strength of Goliath.
"You... have a tier two blessing," Duke Montclair said slowly, clearly stunned. "And your element is water. Yet you took that man down?"
It was a fair reaction. Water wasn’t known for raw power. It was graceful, flowing, a defensive element more than anything else. And Arthur was just a ten-year-old at the time. Children with the same blessing were still learning how to shape a basic spell—yet here he was, speaking of battles that could shake a battalion.
"I didn’t beat him with spells," Arthur said softly. "I wounded him badly using hand-to-hand combat. He was strong... but my small frame gave me an edge in speed and reach."
The room went quiet.
Even Aston, who had been sitting calmly beside him, looked stunned. It was the first time he’d heard the whole story—and it hit him hard.
Then Devon, who had remained quiet through most of it, turned his head. His voice had lost all curiosity. There was only disbelief now.
"Did you teach him combat?"
Aston looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "No, Your Majesty... he actually beats me in swordsmanship."
"..."
The silence that followed was deeper than before.
Their expressions shifted from surprise to something else entirely. Arthur wasn’t just a skilled boy. He was something much more—and none of them had seen it coming.
Devon had always believed that only his own son could pull off something so mind-wobbling, defeating his own trainer at such a young age. But Arthur... Arthur wasn’t just some prodigy raised in the safety of the palace. He had fought real battles. He had survived life-or-death encounters. He was cut from a different cloth entirely.
A heavy silence settled over the reception hall. No one dared to speak.
Except for one.
Eric’s eyes sparkled—not with jealousy, but with admiration. He stared at Arthur as if he were seeing a dream brought to life. Someone his own age, who had done what grown warriors couldn’t. Someone who had tasted real blood and come out standing.
He had always known Arthur was different. But this... this made it real.
"Fight me," Eric suddenly muttered.
Everyone turned in surprise.
Arthur raised a brow. "So suddenly...?"
Eric nodded without hesitation. "Yes. It’s important for me. So please—fight me." He stepped down from his seat and gave a deep bow, his voice clear and sincere.
Duke Montclair blinked, stunned. "You just heard what he’s done... and you still want to fight him?"
Eric lifted his head slowly. His voice was calm, steady. "Lately, I’ve started to feel like training is no longer something I want to do, just something I have to do. Maybe... maybe if I fight him, I’ll remember why I picked up the sword in the first place."
Those words struck harder than expected.
A silence of a different kind followed now, one filled with quiet respect. Eric had always been seen as a prodigy. Talented, disciplined, far ahead of others his age. But even prodigies lose their spark. Becoming complacent with ease is natural. What mattered now... was that he wanted to rise again. To keep growing. To chase something more.
Devon broke into a proud grin. "If that’s what you want, son, then I’ll request it too."
He turned to Arthur, his gaze firm, yet not demanding. "Take him on."
"..." Why did he expect this?
From telling a story to facing a Prince in the comat.
If things go awry, Arthur might end up in prison.
And to add pressure to the match, there was a audience too.
"Go, Eric!!" From the stands shouted the Princess who was cheering for her brother.
Beside her were the three ladies from three different noble houses
On the other side were the three males, watching the scene with keen interest. And his brother was sitting between the first Prince and Gustav.
’...I hope you still have it in you, Eric....or this will hurt pretty bad.’
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A/N:- Thank you for giving my novel a chance.