A Welcome to the Ten Royal Children
“Respected Princesses and Princes of the World Alliance.”
The ten royals stood scattered a short distance apart, staring blankly at the priest. After all the crowds had cleared and only these ten remained, the scene felt hollow and awkward.
“I welcome you with all my heart to the training competition on Credo Island. I am Valdemar, the overall director of this event and the leader of the priests.”
Valdemar’s gentle, refined features and fluent Common tongue marked him as a high priest. His voice carried far without seeming loud, like a massive drum echoing through the air.
“For the next six months, you will live here as equals, train together, forge friendships, and grow into wise leaders who will guide your kingdoms.”
His crimson eyes glowed with intense red light as they swept quickly over every trainee.
“From this moment, no one will be raised above the others or given special treatment. You will be treated exactly like the training priests of this island. For convenience, we will call you all ‘Trainees.’ Do you understand?”
The sudden drop in register rubbed harshly against Arkin’s ears. He frowned slightly, but said nothing. While Arkin swallowed his irritation, someone behind him muttered loudly enough to carry. Valdemar pretended not to hear and continued.
“Here on Credo Island, we will treat you not as royalty from one kingdom, but simply as humans and participants.”
The priest raised his right hand and pointed to the fifteen priests lined up beside the altar.
“During the competition, these priests will assist you. The green-robed ones are Apprentice Priests who will help with daily living, the blue-robed ones are regular Priests, and the purple-robed ones are Chief Priests. Follow their guidance, and you will manage without trouble.”
Arkin studied the priests carefully. Their smiles were faint, their faces and builds varied, yet their expressions were surprisingly similar.
“You already know this, but you will live completely alone for the first time in your lives—without servants or slaves. From the moment you open your eyes in the morning until you close them at night, you must handle everything yourself. This will continue until the six months are over.”
A collective sigh rose from the group, followed by small complaints. Arkin felt a surge of satisfaction. Someone who had never lifted a finger to do anything without servants would have found this life unbearable. Yet the prospect of solving everything himself was no great trial for the prince of Solinar.
“Furthermore, no one will wear anything luxurious. You will all wear the same simple clothes and the same leather sandals.”
Arkin recalled the various jewels Princess Nefetia had jingled with every movement—long, elegant fingers and wrists, the grace of her ankles… He blinked, erasing the lingering image.
“Food will be basic. You will eat simple meals for six months and sleep in small, plain rooms. But if you adapt, it will be fine.”
A faint smile touched Valdemar’s lips, yet not a single trainee smiled back.
“Well then…”
Valdemar cleared his throat loudly and summoned an Apprentice Priest holding a large silver tray. He took the scroll from the tray and signaled the right side. The assistant priest, drum slung over his shoulder, raised the drumstick high.
Dung… dung… dung… dung.
The slow rhythm of the drum sounded like a heartbeat. It built steadily, then quickened slightly. Arkin watched the Chief Priest finally unroll the scroll.
“……”
The priest stood before the brazier and began chanting an ancient prayer. The drums quickened. Arkin felt his chest tighten strangely. The sensation reminded him of the one he had felt beside Nefetia. Were the others unaffected? He tried a quick glance, but the other nine stood too far behind to see.
When the priest finished the long prayer, he rolled the scroll, tossed it into the brazier’s flames, and turned. Heat rose in his cheeks, and the drums continued. Dung… dung… dung…
The atmosphere reached its peak the moment the priest raised his right hand and shouted.
“Solinar!”
A silvery liquid shot from his fingertips, glossy and viscous like molten silver. The princesses and princes stared up as the liquid streaked across the sky.
The mysterious substance splattered against the nearest marble pillar, then writhed like a living snake, crawling up the thick column. Bright light flared across the pillar, leaving a soot-black trail. Arkin spotted faint characters resembling runes and recognized the names of the previous kings.
“Stonegard!”
“Lakelium!”
“Baylon!”
As each kingdom’s name was called, streaks of light shot across the sky. They climbed the pillars and, at the top, burst into torches before transforming into the kingdoms’ symbols and rising like flames.
Arkin gazed at Solinar’s pillar with reverence. The bright silver leaves at the top of the massive column stirred a fresh wave of hot ambition in his chest.
“Through this training competition, you will learn the truth of your own destiny.”
Valdemar spoke solemnly.
“Of course, some of you may harbor ambitions for the throne yet lack a legitimate claim. Others may have been named successors but have no desire to accept the crown.”
Arkin clenched his fists. The words were absurd. Who would ever wish to give up the throne? Valdemar’s crimson eyes deepened.
“However, the true purpose of this competition on Credo Island is to raise mature, responsible monarchs. We therefore commit ourselves fully to this event, hoping that a great ruler who will continue the peace of the World Alliance will be born among you. That is the purpose of this training. On that day, your future successors will look upon these light pillars and discover your names, feeling deep respect.”
Arkin felt a shiver. His chest grew warm. Imagining his own name engraved on that great pillar sent his heart racing and his breath short.
“As I mentioned, you will receive basic life training and spiritual cultivation here. In the final week, after the training ends, you will each go your separate ways to the holy shrine scattered throughout the sacred forest.”
Everyone turned their backs toward the point the priest indicated. A tall mountain rose in the eastern distance, and the shrine surely stood at its peak.
“When you finally reach the shrine and offer your tribute to the gods, each of you will receive the second oracle of your life—the one you have waited for.”
The sun beating down made the temple difficult to see, yet Arkin’s heart burned. The second oracle, the chance he had longed for above all else, was the only key to reversing all the hardships he had endured.
“The second oracle you will receive upon becoming adults will differ from the first oracle given at birth. It will be more specific, clearer, and may even change your predetermined fate.”
Arkin bit his lip hard. If he could, he would open his heart right now to show how desperately he needed this new oracle. The life he had never imagined—anything other than becoming the king of Solinar—was suddenly within reach.