The trial was over, the sentence was given.
But the echoes of that chaotic throne room still clung to Eustass's skin like smoke.
When he returned to his chamber, he found his mother already there, pacing the floor with anxious steps. Her face lit up the moment the door creaked open.
"Kairus!" Elizabeth's voice cracked as she rushed across the room, gathering him into her arms so suddenly that his small body nearly stumbled backward. "Where were you? I've been searching for you everywhere!"
Eustass blinked at her, momentarily startled. "Mother… I just—"
She pulled back enough to look him in the eye, her expression sharp with worry. "You weren't in your room. You weren't in the gardens. Even the guards couldn't tell me where you'd gone. Do you know how worried I was?"
Eustass inhaled deeply. He could lie. But lies, he'd learned, were just time bombs waiting to go off. Better to lace the truth with control.
So he said it straight.
"I was at the trial."
Elizabeth froze. "…What?"
"The trial of Ser Dwayne Cliffmond," Eustass continued, his tone calm, almost casual. "I was there. I watched."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She could only stare, disbelief painted across her face.
"Why would you… why would you go there?" she whispered at last, her voice breaking. "Trials are no place for children, Kairus. They're grim, brutal. That's for adults, not for—"
"I wanted to see it," he cut in, shrugging with the careless air of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. "I think it's… interesting."
Elizabeth's breath caught. For a moment, she looked as though she might argue further, but then she simply stopped, pressing her lips into a thin line.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders, her voice quieter now.
"If you ever go somewhere like that again… tell me first. Please. I deserve to know."
Eustass held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright."
It was enough to calm her, even if only slightly. She exhaled, brushing a hand over his hair, before finally leaving the chamber.
The door closed behind her.
And Eustass walked to the window.
The moon hung heavy in the night sky, casting pale light into his room. He leaned against the sill, eyes locked on the stars, but his mind spiraled elsewhere.
"Now that I've prevented my death… did I change something I wasn't supposed to?"
The thought cut sharper than the night air.
In his past life, as the royal advisor, Ser Dwayne had never touched the royal family directly. His downfall had come from greed and quiet treason, yes—but murder? No. That wasn't in the history he remembered.
So what was this? Had his interference created new cracks in fate?
"Someone who should've died years from now… and I've just pushed them to die earlier"
He replayed it all: the whispers, the bruised soldiers, the terrified maid. Dwayne's parchment with the rival crest. It all aligned with treason. But poison? That part had never existed in the pages of history he knew.
Which meant reality itself was already bending.
He clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his calm mask.
The moon sank lower, the sky bleeding into dawn. He didn't sleep. Not that night.
He had spent countless sleepless nights as a royal advisor, and though his mind was still as sharp, his body wasn't the same. He was only ten. Fragile. Small. But even so, his thoughts never wavered.
Tomorrow would come. And with it, the execution.
---
Morning rose golden over the kingdom, but the mood was anything but warm.
The courtyard was already filled to the brim by the time the sun peaked. Nobles, merchants, peasants—everyone had come. The execution of Ser Dwayne Cliffmond wasn't just punishment. It was a spectacle. A warning. A declaration of what betrayal cost.
Even the generals were present, their stern eyes fixed on the platform.
At the center, the royal family sat in their elevated seats. King Alexander and Queen Viviane sat tall, stoic. Beside them, Lady Reona, her face unreadable. The royal children were lined up as well: Lucas with his jaw clenched, Leigh gripping his chair tightly, Alexandra and Celestia shifting nervously in their seats.
And then—Elizabeth, her hand placed protectively near Eustass.
The boy sat still, quiet. His gaze didn't waver from the platform where Ser Dwayne was bound, kneeling before the kingdom.
Edward, the king's loyal butler, stepped forward, a scroll in hand. His voice boomed across the courtyard, calm but cutting.
"Ser Dwayne Cliffmond. Once trusted envoy of the crown. Today, you face judgment not only for theft, corruption, and the mistreatment of those beneath your station—but for the gravest crimes of all: treason against your king, and an attempt upon the lives of the royal bloodline."
Murmurs surged through the crowd.
Edward continued, his tone sharp as a blade.
"You sold our secrets to foreign hands. You tarnished your honor and spat on your oath. Worse still, you sought the life of our youngest prince and his mother—the very blood of the crown you swore to serve. Such crimes cannot be forgiven. Such betrayal cannot stand."
The weight of his words settled like a stormcloud over the square.
The guards tightened their grip on Dwayne.
Eustass's siblings shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Alexandra reached for Celestia's hand, both trembling. Lucas's face was pale despite his effort to look strong. Even Leigh, usually steady, couldn't keep his legs from shaking.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, unable to watch.
But Eustass…
He didn't look away. Not once.
The executioners, two armored kingsguard, stepped forward with their blades raised.
The crowd held its breath.
Dwayne lifted his head one last time, his eyes bloodshot, voice hoarse with venom.
"You'll regret this. Every last one of you! Especially you, boy!" His glare cut straight at Eustass. "This kingdom will burn, and it'll be your fault!"
The guards forced him down.
The blades came down swift and clean.
And Eustass—he didn't blink. Didn't flinch. He watched every second as Ser Dwayne's head fell, rolling across the platform before coming to rest in silence.
Gasps erupted through the crowd. Some nobles turned away. Children sobbed. Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.
But Eustass simply rose from his seat. His small frame cast a long shadow in the morning light.
He walked down from the platform, past the nobles, past the guards, past the blood-soaked wood.
His voice, low but sharp enough for those nearest to hear, cut through the whispers.
"That's the price of messing with me"
A pause. His lips curved, but it wasn't a smile—it was something darker.
"And I'm just getting started."
Eustass didn't care. His heart thundered, not with fear, but with satisfaction. He had pulled the strings. Exposed the traitor. Changed the course of history with his own two hands.
And in that moment, under the bloodied sun, the youngest prince of the crown looked less like a child—
And more like the villain of a story just beginning.