The Callibean Kingdom is truly prosperous; every corner of the palace speaks of wealth and progress unlike anything I ever imagined possible. It is a masterpiece of architecture, with marble floors that gleam like still water and windows made of glass so clear they might as well not exist at all. To a man who knew only mud, blood, and rough timber, this place feels like something out of a dream. This must be what heaven looks like, I often think.
It has been a few more days since I shared that meal with Cael, and I have learned more about the world outside these walls from him than from any noble or high-ranking servant. He brings me scraps of news along with my meals: whispers from the market squares, tales from travelers passing through the capital, and bits of information that never reach the royal court. He is a remarkably talkative child, and despite the hardships he has faced, he remains cheerful and easygoing.
But from these snippets of conversation, I have learned something that makes my blood run cold. I did not just wake up in Vernom's body; I have turned back in time ten years before the great war that would eventually take my life.
Which means I am not twenty-eight years old anymore. I am eighteen again.
Somewhere out there, my past self is already training or fighting on the battlefield, serving in the wars waged by the Custodian Kingdom. Back then, our conflicts were not against Callibean, but against the Kingdom of Bastil instead. Custodian has always been a nation built on war hungry for land and resources, sending boys like me to die for kings who sat in comfort far from the front lines.
I died without ever knowing who ultimately won the final war between Custodian and Callibean. I never learned if my homeland conquered this prosperous kingdom, or if Callibean rose up to crush the warmongers I once served. But now, knowing what this place is like… I dearly hope this land was the victor.
And now… now I know exactly what is coming. I know that in ten years' time, these two kingdoms will clash in a conflict that will leave thousands dead including me, if history repeats itself.
The question hangs heavy in my mind, weighing on me every time I look out at Callibean's peaceful gardens. It presses down every time I see Cael's face light up when he talks about his little sister back home. It stings every time I catch my reflection in the mirror and see Vernom's gentle features staring back at me. I feel confused, and a strange, twisting sensation in my stomach won't go away. Is this what they call anxiety? Or fear?
I know the future. But do I want to change it?
Or should I just live as I am now enjoy the quiet, safe life Prince Vernom was meant to have and not interfere with the course of things? Could I simply watch it all happen again, and then die at the same moment my past self dies?
I do not want to live and die on a battlefield again. I have already walked that path, and the memories still haunt my sleep. But wars feel inevitable like storms gathering on the horizon. No matter how much you prepare, or how much you wish them away, they always come.
As I stand by the window, watching the sun set over the palace towers, Cael knocks softly and enters with fresh tea. He sees the look on my face and pauses.
"Is everything alright, Your Highness?" he asks quietly.
I turn to him, and for a moment, I consider telling him everything about who I really am, about the war coming in ten years, about the impossible choice I have to make. But what good would it do? He is just a servant boy; he cannot change the fate of kingdoms. Only I can… if I truly want to.
"I was just thinking about the future," I say, my voice low and distant.
Cael sets down the tray and steps closer, looking out the window beside me. "My mother used to say that the future is like a garden," he says softly. "You can choose which seeds to plant, but you never know exactly how they'll grow. Sometimes, even the smallest flower can change the whole look of the place."
I look at him, genuinely surprised by his words. Maybe he is right. Maybe even a prince who was never meant to matter can change things. Maybe I don't have to choose between fighting a war or running away from it. Maybe there is another way.
But how? How can one person especially one who is still trying to figure out how to properly be a prince stop a war that seemed written in the stars of my memory?
A horn sounds in the distance deep and clear, echoing through the palace grounds. Cael's face pales slightly.
"That is the royal summons," he says. "They only blow that when something important is happening."
I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. Whatever is about to happen, it might be the push I need to make my decision.
"Then let's go see what it's about," I say. And for the first time since waking up in this body, my steps feel steady and sure.
In my previous life, I was a soldier confident in my strength, able to march for days without breaking a sweat. But now, as I hurry through the palace grounds, I am trapped in the body of a frail eighteen-year-old prince, already panting heavily because this place is simply enormous.
The royal family does not live in just one building; they occupy an entire complex, where each grand structure is called a 'Palace' in its own right. There are separate quarters for the king's concubines, numerous gardens spread across the grounds, and even man-made lakes glittering under the afternoon sun.
The palace where I reside is part of the smaller section of the royal complex, tucked away far from the main hall and front gates. Still, the lake behind it and the garden before it are large and meticulously maintained a peaceful view that never fails to make me forget, for a moment, where I really am and what I truly am.
I glance back at Cael, who walks quietly behind me. I have grown to prefer having only him at my side instead of a retinue of attendants; he feels less like a servant and more like a friend.
"What do you think is happening?" I ask, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.
Before he can answer, we round a bend and I spot the royal carriage waiting by the central gate adorned with the golden crown emblem of Callibean. My brows knit together in confusion.
"Prince Vonce must be back from his post," Cael says, his voice filled with quiet respect.
Prince Vonce the Crown Prince, first in line to the throne. From the fragmented memories I have of Vernom, he is everything Vernom was not: tall, strong, and commanding, with a reputation as both a brilliant strategist and a ruthless leader. He had been stationed at the northern border for the past year, overseeing defenses against potential threats. In my past life as a soldier, I never once met him; men like me were always too far forward, buried in the brutal front lines, while leaders like him remained distant.
As we draw closer, the carriage door swings open and a man steps out. He is broad-shouldered with dark hair cut short, and his eyes are sharp as a hawk's as they scan the grounds. Even from a distance, I can feel the weight of his presence—the kind of authority that comes naturally to those born to rule.
His gaze lands directly on me, and for a moment, his expression hardens. Then he walks toward us, his boots making almost no sound on the cobblestones despite his size.
"Vernom," he says, his voice deep and steady. "I heard you had an accident. You look… different."
I straighten up as best I can, trying not to show how winded I am from the long walk. "I am well enough, Brother." The word feels foreign on my tongue; this is the first time I have met the Crown Prince face to face.
Prince Vonce studies me for a long moment, his eyes seeming to see right through the gentle, timid facade I have been trying to maintain. "Good," he says finally. "The King has called a council meeting. All princes are to attend even those who prefer to hide away in their gardens, as you so often do."
The sharp edge in his voice isn't lost on me. Whatever warmth might have existed between these brothers in the past is long gone, replaced by distance and perhaps even resentment.
"Cael, you may return to my quarters," I say, turning to the boy. He bows and hurries off, casting one worried glance back at me before disappearing around the corner.
Prince Vonce gestures toward the main hall. "Come. We have much to discuss. Word has arrived from the north Custodian's army is moving again. They have finished their campaign against the Kingdom of Bastil, and now they are setting their sights on new lands."
My blood runs cold. So it has already started the slow march toward the war that will one day claim my life.
As we walk toward the main hall together, I feel the weight of my choice growing heavier with every step. I can either stay in the shadows as Vernom always did, letting events unfold exactly as I know they will… or I can use the knowledge I have been given to try and change the future.
But can a frail prince with a soldier's soul really make a difference against the tides of history?