The bells of Bernling Castle did not ring softly.
They roared.
Deep, commanding echoes rolled through the stone halls like thunder trapped inside walls older than memory itself. Servants rushed, knights stood straighter, and even the banners bearing the crest of the Loxley family—two silver lions clashing beneath a rising sun—seemed to stiffen with pride.
Today was not an ordinary day.
Today… was about the prince.
Yet, the prince himself?
He was nowhere near where he was supposed to be.
Aron Kael Loxley sat upside down on a castle balcony rail.
"Yes… I think if I fall from here," he said thoughtfully, squinting at the ground below, "I might survive. Probably."
A guard passing below froze.
"Your Highness—PLEASE don't test that theory!"
Kael tilted his head, hair dangling like dark threads in the wind.
"I said probably, not definitely. There's a difference."
The guard nearly fainted.
Inside the grand hall, chaos brewed.
"The prince is missing?" thundered the king.
King Aldric Loxley stood tall, his presence heavier than the armor worn by his finest knights. His sharp eyes scanned the room like blades searching for weakness.
A knight stepped forward, kneeling.
"We searched the east wing, Your Majesty. He is not in his chambers."
"Of course he isn't," the king muttered, rubbing his temples. "That boy would rather wrestle wolves than sit still for a coronation briefing."
A pause.
"…Shall we check the roofs again?"
The king sighed.
"Yes. And the trees. And the stables. And—"
"—The kitchen ceiling?" another guard suggested nervously.
"…Yes. That too."
Back on the balcony—
Kael flipped upright with surprising grace and dropped onto the stone floor.
"Relax, I'm not jumping today," he said, stretching lazily. "Too many witnesses. I prefer dramatic exits."
A knight standing nearby—tall, armored, and very tired—crossed his arms.
"You do realize, Your Highness, that today's lessons determine your readiness for the throne?"
Kael turned, flashing a grin.
"Sir Dain, you've been saying that every day for the past three months."
"And you've ignored it every day for the past three months."
"Consistency is important."
Sir Dain stared at him.
"…I regret my life choices."
Kael walked past him, hands behind his head, completely unbothered.
"Look, Dain," he said casually, "everyone keeps saying 'future king this' and 'responsibility that'—"
He stopped, glancing toward the distant forest stretching beyond the castle walls.
His voice softened.
"—but no one ever asks what I want."
Sir Dain frowned.
"And what do you want, Your Highness?"
Kael smiled faintly.
"Something… real."
Before Dain could respond—
A loud horn blasted from inside the castle.
The signal.
"Prince Aron Kael Loxley is required in the grand hall immediately!" echoed a voice.
Silence fell for a moment.
Kael sighed.
"…There it is."
Sir Dain straightened.
"We should go."
Kael didn't move.
Instead, he turned back toward the horizon—the wild lands beyond Bernling, where forests whispered secrets and no one cared about crowns.
"I don't care," he said quietly.
Then louder, with a grin returning:
"I really don't care."
Sir Dain blinked.
"That… is not something a future king should say."
Kael shrugged.
"Good thing I'm not planning to act like one."
Below them, the massive gates of Bernling stood firm, guarded, unyielding.
Beyond them lay the unknown.
The Dort Forest.
A place where the Loxley name carried no welcome… and perhaps, no mercy.
Kael didn't know it yet—
But his story… his real story—
Was waiting for him there.
And very soon…
He would run straight into it.