May Thy Enemies Flowers Never Blossom

The balcony was dimly lit, the night air had a cool chill, and the sound of the ongoing banquet that Aric left behind could be faintly heard in the background. Aric stood at the edge, gazing down at the vast and magnificent sprawl of the imperial city, lit up and abuzz with life.

Its beauty contrasted the darkness slowly creeping into his mind. If he considered it, perhaps the person he had become since his regression surprised him as well, but he knew all too well the necessity.

"I need to work faster," Aric mumbled to himself before sipping on the glass of red wine he held in his right hand, while his left hand clenched his silver cane.

He could acknowledge the effect of the system's exercises, although not by a profoundly significant margin, he was stronger than he usually was. Normally, attending this banquet with his illness or even standing for lengthy periods would have been impossible.

The quiet moment of Aric's thoughts was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps as Serina joined him. He hadn't turned back, but he knew it was her.

"I'm quite lucky to be in the imperial city when the Forgotten Prince decides he does not want to be forgotten any longer. Watching you expose your cards has been quite entertaining, to say the least."

Aric shook his head in disagreement, listening to Serina's words, and without turning back to look at her, he replied, "I haven't exposed anything, actually. Underestimation is a powerful weapon, Miss Marceli, and I plan to use it to its fullest." He finally turned to look at Serina, her dress the same black as her hair, both fluttering in the gentle breeze.

"I might have changed how some view me, but I am still a powerless prince, so what significance is there in that?" Aric asked.

"Well, you have shown potential. With that, if you adopt a more friendly and less oppositional demeanor, you might get some people on your side," Serina stepped closer, standing at the balcony's edge beside Aric as she gazed down at the city aswell.

"I knew a woman; she always told me to rule others, you must shower them with enough kindness and love that opposition becomes an inconvenience." Serina added

Aric chuckled dryly. "Another flawed strategy, perhaps even worse than the lord's theory of compensation."

"Is that so?" Serina glanced at him.

"It took a while and a painful event for me to understand, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you please and concede... you can't make everyone love you." A flash of sadness could be heard in Aric's tone as he reminisced about his last life.

"An act of kindness for one might be viewed as a slight by another. A king who lowers taxes might be seen as a hero in the eyes of peasants, but an inconvenience for the nobles."

Serina's expression betrayed her intrigue. "So your plan for the crown's battle is just to oppose everyone?"

Aric raised and shook his walking cane dismissively. "I never said I intended to join the battle for the crown. However, I have come to truly understand that a person's success mostly lies in their ability to suppress whatever it is that speaks against it, in eradicating any antagonism before it even realizes what it has transgressed... such a bloody and dishonorable road is the only path to absolute victory."

Aric's words were not empty or unfounded ideas; in fact, they were anything but. He had lived most of his life as an observer, and he had seen many battles—intellectual, political, and even physical. He had seen who won those battles along with what those victories took.

Yet the depth of this knowledge was a privilege he could not fully share.

As silence fell between them, the music that had been playing from the banquet hall behind them shifted to a slower tune. Guests had risen and begun to share dances.

Aric, leaning his cane to the side, in a rare display of charm, offered his gloved hand to Serina.

"Lady?"

She glanced at the prince for a moment before taking his hand, and as the distant music played its melody and the lights of the sprawling city over the balcony's edge offered illumination, they danced in the rhythm of the perfect violin.

"I might have remarked on this already, but you are a very different prince than what I was told," Serina said, swaying side to side, gently held by the prince.

"You too have surprised me, Miss Marceli," Aric replied.

"Not just my name, you must know the kind of mage I am as well, right?" she asked.

"I know a lot of things," Aric responded simply, maintaining the air of mystery that now surrounded him.

As they danced, Serina subtly placed her hands at the back of the prince's neck. In doing so, her touch began to glow with a soft green light.

Aric, sensing the warmth and the intent behind the gesture, asked, "Well?"

"It is possible to heal you completely, but it won't be easy or quick," Serina confirmed to him, words he had been waiting to hear.

"I understand," he muttered in her ear.

The burden of the challenge hung between them, unspoken but very much understood.

Suddenly, the moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, nearing the balcony.

The figure stepped into view—the Valerian Emperor: Xavier Valerian.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Serina swiftly excused herself, leaving the father and son alone.

The Emperor stood before Aric, regarding him with nothing but curiosity and intrigue.

"It's been a while, my son," he said, his voice carrying wisps of unspoken history and expectations.

"Yes, it has," Aric replied, his tone unreadable.