Chapter 12 – Conversation with My dad ( The King )
Morning had come.
I woke up as the sunlight started to shine on my face. Seeing Renya in her maid outfit cleaning the room, I greeted her, "Good morning."
Hearing my greeting, Renya responded, "Good morning, Prince. Do you want to take a bath first?"
Still feeling a bit sleepy, I answered absentmindedly, "Yes…" while lying back down on the bed like a tired person.
"Okay, I'll get the water," she said, walking out of the room.
As her words sank in, I muttered, "Get…? Water…?" I realized what she meant and immediately sat up. "Wait, don't—" But the door had already closed, and she was gone. I sighed.
(Two hours later, after bathing and changing into the clothes the maids had prepared…)
Repairing the Exo-Armor
Two hours later, bathed and dressed, I sat at my workbench, carefully examining the damage my exo-armor had sustained during last night's attack. The servos were scorched, several plates bore deep gashes, and the leg mechanism had been completely severed.
I frowned. If last night's ambush had been a real assassination attempt, I would have been dead before I could react. My mother had saved me, but I couldn't rely on luck next time.
As I disassembled the damaged components, I absentmindedly said, "Renya, can you craft this part? I need... 33 pieces."
Silence. Then a sharp sigh. "Prince... have mercy on me."
I paused, realizing my mistake. No factories, no mass production—this was medieval craftsmanship. "Right... just three pieces, then."
"That, I can do."
I chuckled softly and continued my work. But something nagged at me, a forgotten obligation. Thirty minutes passed before it hit me.
"Where is Walter Kruger?" I asked.
Renya barely looked up. "Waiting for you this morning. At the training grounds."
I froze. "Oh, shit."
Training with Walter Kruger
I sprinted to the training grounds, only to find Kruger already in mid-swing, his blade carving through the air with practiced precision. His eyes met mine as I skidded to a stop before him.
"Sorry I'm late!" I panted.
Kruger straightened, his posture formal. "Prince."
I nodded, trying to catch my breath. "Can we start?"
He gave a small, knowing smile. "Of course, Prince."
For two hours, we sparred. Every strike he delivered was precise, every counter of mine just barely enough. My muscles burned, my lungs screamed for air, but I refused to yield.
"Ha... ha... ha..." I collapsed onto the ground, bruised but grinning.
Kruger loomed over me. "Are we finished, Prince?"
I forced myself back onto my feet. "Not yet."
Four days passed in a blur of relentless training.
The King's Return
The long-awaited day arrived. My father, the King, had returned, and the castle reconstruction was finally complete after the attack. I stood beside my mother in the great hall, waiting for him.
The guards outside called out, "THE KING HAS ARRIVED!"
The massive doors swung open, revealing my father. He walked with calm authority, his presence commanding the room. As one, we all dropped to one knee.
"Welcome, King," the assembled nobles and knights said in unison.
He surveyed us before giving a short nod. "Resume your duties."
With that, the formality ended. He turned to us, his family. "We'll talk over dinner."
At the Table
The air at the dining table was heavy with tension, the lingering taste of morning's meal overshadowed by the weight of discussion.
"So, dear, is the situation outside truly that dire?" my mother, the Queen, asked while dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin.
My father, the King, exhaled slowly. His eyes, usually sharp and unwavering, held an unusual weariness. "It is as bad as we feared. The Federation is fracturing… and with it comes bloodshed. Many factions are ready to tear each other apart."
Hearing this, I straightened my posture. "Father, we should prepare for the worst."
He turned his attention toward me, his expression shifting from weariness to scrutiny. "The worst?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "We were already dragged into this with last night's attack. Whether we like it or not, we're involved."
The King rested his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled in thought. "And what do you believe the worst would be?"
I let the word settle before speaking. "Invasion."
A thick silence followed. My mother's gaze darkened, and my father's eyes flickered with consideration.
"…Then how do we prevent it?" he finally asked.
At that moment, I realized how limited our options truly were. Letting out a slow breath, I gave my honest answer.
"We can't, not entirely," I admitted. "The only way to stop it is to strike first—or to form an alliance strong enough to deter them."
I sighed, knowing there was no easy answer. And from the look in my father's eyes, he knew it too.
Hearing my words, my mother and father exchanged amused glances.
Feeling uneasy about their reaction, I decided to ask something that had been on my mind for a while. "Father, Mother… Can I travel around the kingdom?"
Their faces immediately darkened.
"What for?" they both asked in unison, sounding somewhat angry.
I met their stares and explained, "If the Federation collapses, then even this castle won't be safe… like what happened the other night."
My mother, however, saw through me instantly. With a knowing smile, she said, "My son… Just get straight to the point."
"Damn… she saw right through me," I thought.
Feeling embarrassed, I hesitated before finally admitting, "I… want to go on an adventure."My face flushed red, burning with the weight of the words I had just spoken.
Both of them were shocked. My mother immediately opened her mouth to object, but my father raised his hand, silently asking her to hold back. Then, he looked deep into my eyes with an unreadable expression.
"Paul… you know, the world out there isn't like the bard's tales. It's harsh. Far more deadly than anything you can imagine behind these palace walls."
I stayed silent, head lowered, but listened intently.
"As a former adventurer, I know… sometimes, life out there isn't much different from the battlefield."
He took a deep breath, then spoke in a serious tone,"My son… if you find yourself in such a situation—caught between life and death, in the heat of battle—what is the first thing you prepare in your mind?"
His gaze was piercing, as if trying to read my very soul."If your answer satisfies me, I'll consider your request."
I fell silent. The question struck deep, stirring something unfamiliar… or perhaps, something long buried.
Faint images of battle surfaced in my mind.Dark trenches soaked in mud and blood. Mortar blasts shaking the earth. Thick smoke veiling all sight. The shouts of orders, the rattle of rifles, and the roar of war machines filling the air. Silence only came when all was gone.
It felt like a voice from a past I barely understood whispered softly in my ear.
I clenched my fists, then raised my head. My gaze steady, my voice firm.
"How to survive."
My father said nothing. He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Is that so…" he muttered, his gaze lingering on me as if weighing my answer. A brief silence stretched between us before he finally spoke again.
"Now, return to your room first. I will discuss this matter with your mother."
I hesitated for a moment, glancing at my mother, whose expression was still unreadable. But I knew better than to argue.
"…Okay, Dad."
With that, I rose from my seat, giving them both a respectful nod before turning toward the hallway. My steps were steady, but my mind was racing.
I had given my answer. Now, all I could do was wait.