Florida might've been hot, but Emberhollow mornings were warm in a different way—soft golden light, chirping songbirds, and the smell of fresh bread wafting through stone corridors.
Kael Drayke, age four and a half, third-born prince of House Drayke, was currently fighting for his life against a far deadlier enemy than a truck or magic beast.
A maid with a mission.
"Young master, you need to look presentable!"
Kael flailed as she tried to tug off his beloved hoodie. "It's clean! Mostly!"
"You have lessons! And your brother is sparring in the courtyard. You must uphold the dignity of House Drayke!"
"What dignity? I'm the third son. I'm basically royal DLC."
Great Sage chimed in, ever so helpfully. "Incorrect. You are the final potential heir and statistically the most adaptable member of the bloodline."
"You're not helping."
After a short, intense skirmish, a compromise was reached: Kael would wear the royal tunic over his joggers, provided he actually showed up to his scheduled lessons. He also pocketed two cinnamon bread rolls while no one was looking.
He strutted through the halls with the air of a victorious rebel. The cook gave him a knowing smirk and handed him a meat bun. "For emergencies."
"You get me," Kael whispered.
Lesson One: How to Not Be a Disgrace to Nobility
Lady Miralis, his etiquette tutor, stood like a sharpened pencil. "Kael. Where does the salad fork go?"
Kael blinked. "What’s a salad?"
"..."
As she launched into a monologue on proper cutlery usage, Kael slouched in his seat, eyes glazed. Inside his mind, Great Sage quietly summarized everything in digestible bullet points.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Correct fork placement memorized. Social ranking tables updated. Diplomatic posture protocol unlocked.
Kael mumbled, "The salad fork goes outer-left, dessert spoon up top, water goblet diagonally right."
Lady Miralis froze. "That is... correct."
"Huh. Must've heard it somewhere."
"Retention rate currently at 97%. Accelerated Thought development ongoing."
Kael: "Can't I just coast a little? I’m four."
Training Yard Smackdown (Sort Of)
The castle yard buzzed with energy. Lorent, the eldest Drayke sibling, was a blur of muscle and discipline as he drilled with the guards. Garron, the second-born, stood nearby with his usual smug focus, barking tactical corrections.
Kael rolled up with his sleeves half-pushed and tunic barely tucked. "Sup."
"You're late," Lorent said, tossing him a wooden sword.
"Had to argue with a bread thief," Kael replied, catching it lazily.
"You stole the bread," Garron muttered.
The sparring began. Kael copied Lorent's stance perfectly. Then Garron's footwork. His body moved like a reflection—not quite perfect, but dangerously close.
He disarmed a guard in three moves.
"...He's copying us," Garron said.
"He improved your pivot," Lorent added.
"Motor memory adaptation rate: 412% above baseline."
Kael quickly tripped over his own foot and landed flat.
"Oof."
"That slip," Garron said slowly, "was too perfect."
Kael gave him a thumbs-up from the ground. "Just talented like that."
Sunset in Emberhollow
Later that day, Kael wandered the castle courtyard. The golden hour painted everything soft and sleepy. Kids played tag near the fountain. Guards chuckled with stablehands. The baker gave a piece of sweetbread to a passing soldier without charge.
This kingdom wasn't strong. But it was kind.
Kael sat on the edge of a fountain, nibbling his emergency meat bun.
"Hey, Sage."
"Yes, Kael?"
"If I do turn out to be some ancient wrath-god or whatever... think I could protect all this without burning it down?"
"Data inconclusive. Emotional volatility remains a risk factor."
"Gee, thanks."
He stared at the reflection in the water—his messy dark hair, golden eyes, crumbs on his cheek.
"I don’t wanna rule it all. I just want it to be safe."
"Acknowledged."
Whispers in the Dark
That night, as Kael snored peacefully in a pile of blankets, two cloaked figures passed through the stone halls near the royal archives.
"He survived the assessment flame before."
"Let us pray the Flame Mirror does not shatter again."
"House Drayke has failed once. It cannot afford another mistake."
Their voices faded into the dark as Emberhollow slept.
And Kael dreamed of cinnamon bread and punching nobles in his joggers.
Maybe tomorrow, he’d sneak past the stables and see how far the woods really went.