I always knew I'd die young. Working hundred-hour weeks at a tech startup tends to have that effect. What I didn't expect was opening my eyes to find myself staring at a crystal chandelier, my tiny baby hands reaching for the magical lights dancing across its surface.
That was fourteen years ago. Now, as Prince Welheim Gavurnale of the Holy Eastland Empire, I find myself in a situation that makes my previous life's stress look like a vacation.
"Your Highness, please focus on your studies." Shuna, one of my personal guards, taps the ancient tome before me with her staff. Her silver hair catches the afternoon light streaming through the library's stained glass windows. "The theoretical foundations of fire magic are crucial for—"
"For a prince of my standing, yes, yes." I wave my hand dismissively, more interested in how her uniform hugs her curves than whatever dusty spell theory she's trying to teach me. "But tell me, dear Shuna, don't you think practical application is more... stimulating?"
With a flick of my wrist, I conjure a small flame that dances between my fingers. The magic comes naturally to me in this world, like breathing. Perhaps it's because of my past life's knowledge, or maybe it's just dumb luck, but I've always found magical theory ridiculously simple.
Shuna sighs, but I catch the slight smile she tries to hide. She's used to my antics by now. All my guards are.
Speaking of guards, I hear the library doors burst open. Rick, another of my protective detail, rushes in. His usually pristine uniform is disheveled, and there's a wild look in his eyes that makes my stomach drop.
"Your Highness!" He's breathing hard. "The Southern Empire's envoys... they're here. And they're demanding blood."
The playful atmosphere evaporates instantly. I rise from my chair, the flame in my hand extinguishing. "Uncle Nasaki's schemes finally caught up to us, didn't they?"
Rick nods grimly. "The Emperor requests your presence in the throne room immediately."
As we hurry through the palace's marble corridors, my mind races. Uncle Nasaki's attempt to destabilize the Southern Empire had been foolish at best, treasonous at worst. Now, father would have to clean up his mess, as usual.
The massive golden doors of the throne room loom before us. Sora and Beni, two more of my guards, fall into formation around me. Shion appears from the shadows – she always does that – completing my protective circle.
Inside, the scene is tense. Father sits upon the Crystal Throne, his crown gleaming, but there's a weariness in his eyes I've never seen before. Mother stands beside him, her face a mask of careful neutrality. And there, in chains, kneel Uncle Nasaki and his wife.
The Southern Empire's envoys, dressed in their characteristic black and gold robes, look like ravens waiting for a feast.
"The Southern Empire demands justice," their leader announces, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "The attempted assassination of our crown prince cannot go unpunished."
I watch as Father's fingers tighten on the throne's armrests. In this world of swords and sorcery, political maneuvering is still as deadly as any blade.
"Justice will be served," Father declares, and I see Uncle Nasaki's shoulders slump. He knows what's coming. We all do.
But something feels wrong. The Southern envoys' eyes hold too much satisfaction, their postures too relaxed for men supposedly seeking just compensation.
I want to speak up, to point out these inconsistencies, but I hold my tongue. In my previous life, I learned that sometimes the most powerful position is that of the observer. So I watch, and I learn, even as my uncle and his wife are led away to their execution.
Little do I know, this is just the beginning. In a few short weeks, everything I've come to know in this new life will burn to ashes. But for now, I stand in my father's throne room, a fourteen-year-old prince with memories of another world, watching the first domino fall in what will become the destruction of the Holy Eastland Empire.
At least I still have my magic. And my guards. And my appreciation for the finer things in life – like how the Southern Empire's female envoy fills out her robes quite nicely...
Some things never change, even across lifetimes.