The Young Prince

The night air in the small town was thick with tension as the battle against the vampires raged on.

Maverick, Louis, and Julius had tracked their targets here, prepared for a fight, but things were not going according to plan.

Louis had been holding his own against one of the vampires until a sudden, brutal kick sent him flying several meters away. His body slammed into a wall with a sickening thud before he crumpled to the ground, unable to move.

Pain radiated through him, and he struggled to catch his breath as the vampire advanced.

Maverick, locked in combat with the other vampire, took a quick glance at Louis, worry flickering in his eyes. "Louis! Are you alright?" he called out, his voice tight with concern as he parried a blow.

Louis gritted his teeth, trying to push himself up. "I'm fine!" he shouted back, though his voice was strained.

But Maverick's worry only grew when he noticed Julius, standing off to the side, watching the fight calmly. Julius hadn't moved, hadn't lifted a finger to help, even as Louis lay on the ground, vulnerable and in danger.

Maverick made his best move, delivering a powerful strike that finished off the vampire he was fighting. The creature crumpled to the ground, lifeless, but Maverick barely had time to catch his breath before the second vampire turned its attention to Julius, seeing him as easy prey.

The vampire lunged at Julius, but was effortlessly kicked away, sent flying by a single, precise strike. Julius's expression remained grim, unreadable. He didn't say a word, only stared at Maverick with those dark, intense eyes.

Maverick wasted no time. He caught the vampire mid-lunge, thrusting his blade into its heart, finishing it off. As the creature disintegrated into ash, Maverick rushed to Louis's side, helping him up and supporting him as they made their way back to the inn.

"Can you get up?" Maverick asks Louis as he shoulders him.

"Yes, I can stand up." Louis replied.

Once inside, Louis went to his room to rest, his injuries making it impossible for him to join the others. Maverick, however, was far from finished. He couldn't shake the fury boiling inside him at Julius's cold indifference during the fight. He needed answers.

He found Julius sitting alone at the inn's small bar, nursing a glass of brandy. The sight of Julius's calm demeanor only fueled Maverick's anger. Without a word, he strode up to the bar and slammed his fist down, the sound echoing through the quiet room.

Julius slowly turned to look at him, his expression dark, his eyes unreadable.

"What?" he asked, his voice low and flat.

Maverick's voice shook with barely contained rage. "Why, Julius? Why did you just stand there? Louis was in trouble, and you did nothing!"

Julius's gaze remained steady, unflinching. "Louis is not my obligation," he replied coolly. "I don't need to help or protect him. If he's part of the special force, he should be aware that not every mission is going to be rainbows and sunshine. One day, he's going to lose his life in the worst-case scenario. That's just the reality."

Maverick's bloodshot eyes bore into Julius's, searching for any hint of remorse, but finding none. "So you're saying if he's weak, he should just quit? And if he dies, it's his own fault?"

"Exactly," Julius said, his tone icy. "If he is weak, Maverick, then quit. No one would blame him."

Maverick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Then why are you even here? If that's how you think, why stay with me all this time? I'm not the type to just watch while others are dying."

Julius's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "That's your resolve, Maverick. Not mine. Do whatever you think is right."

Maverick's shoulders slumped, a look of deep disappointment crossing his face. "So if it were me lying there, you'd just let me die too?"

Julius's annoyance finally broke through his cold facades. He clicked his tongue and turned to fully face Maverick. "Don't compare yourself to others, Maverick. I take you as my partner. Louis is just a nobody to me."

Maverick's heart sank at Julius's words. He turned away, his voice barely a whisper. "If my partner is as cold-blooded as you, then I'd rather go without one."

"Maverick!"

Maverick walked away, ignoring Julius's call after him. The weight of Julius's indifference hung heavy on his shoulders as he headed back to his room, the events of the night replaying in his mind.

But just as he reached his door, Julius was there, catching it before it could close.

"Why do you care so much about Louis?" Julius demanded, his voice edged with frustration. "He's just your subordinate."

Maverick shot Julius a withering look. "Why do you care anyway? Since you just care about yourself."

Julius slammed his hand against the door, his fury bubbling over. "I care about you, Maverick! I like you! I want to kiss you, hold you, sleep with you!"

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Maverick stared at Julius, his heart pounding in his chest. But before he could say anything, Julius turned on his heel and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Maverick stood there in stunned silence, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Julius's words echoed in his mind, leaving him with more questions than answers.

Ten years ago

The grand palace hallways echoed with the sound of hurried footsteps as a young boy with striking silver hair stormed through, his expression twisted with fury.

He walked alone, his small frame tense with anger. As he neared the end of the hallway, his sharp eyes caught sight of a man standing by the balcony, arms crossed over his chest, observing a group of people engaged in blade training below.

The boy approached the railing, his scowl deepening as he hopped up to sit on it, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Without preamble, he called out to the man.

"Lawrence."

The man turned around, surprised to hear the voice. His stern expression softened as he saw who it was. "Your Highness," Lawrence said, bowing slightly. "What brings you here?"

The boy crossed his arms, sulking. "I was just strolling. How's the training going?"

Lawrence walked closer, a fond smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pat the boy's head, ruffling his hair slightly. "Did you accidently turn your hair silver again because of that temper of yours?" he chuckled, the affection in his voice evident.

The boy's cheeks flushed slightly as he sulked, looking away. "It's not because of my temper," he muttered.

Lawrence laughed and shook his head. "You're a prince, Your Highness. You should learn to control that temper of yours."

The boy shot him a defiant look. "What does being a prince have to do with temper? It's not like it changes anything."

Lawrence's laughter filled the hallway, but he said nothing more, turning back to observe the training below.

The prince, now somewhat calmer, followed his gaze, watching the soldiers spar with their blades. After a while, curiosity got the better of him.

"Why did you leave the Royal Knights and form a squad like this?" the boy asked, his voice quieter now.

Lawrence glanced down at the prince, his expression thoughtful. "I want to protect the commoners," he said after a moment. "The Royal Knights belong to the king, and their purpose is to protect the kingdom and the royals themselves. But someone has to look out for the people, those who can't protect themselves." He paused, then added with a soft laugh, "So why not me?"

The prince clenched his fists, a determined look crossing his face. "I'll kill the Vampire King and end this suffering," he declared, his voice firm with resolve.

Lawrence looked down at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He placed a hand gently on the boy's head. "Well, to do that, Your Highness, you'll have to become much stronger. But I'm telling you, the one who's going to kill the Vampire King isn't you. It's my niece, Maverick."

The boy blinked in surprise and followed Lawrence's gaze to a young person sparring in the training grounds below. The boy, Lawrence's niece moved with precision and speed, his blade cutting through the air with deadly grace.

The prince raised an eyebrow, scanning the boy from head to toe. He then turned back to Lawrence, his brow furrowing. "Have you been feeding your niece well enough? Why is he so thin?"

Lawrence jolted, his eyes widening as if he'd just received a grave insult. "Is he really that thin?" he asked, his voice trembling as his eyes grew watery. He moved closer to the prince, his worry evident. "I'm such a terrible uncle, am I? Should I feed him more?"

The prince, annoyed, pushed Lawrence's face away. "Get off," he grumbled, still watching Lawrence's niece below.

A few moments passed in silence before the prince finally spoke again. "Well, he might be thin, but his skill is quite good," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly impressed. "And he's good-looking too."

Lawrence's eyes sparkled with pride as he looked at his niece, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Of course! He takes after his uncle," he said, puffing out his chest.

The prince rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Lawrence," he muttered, though the admiration in his voice was unmistakable.