Mother was a busy woman. We only saw her for a few minutes at lunch and again at dinner. After the terrible incident in which Sora died, Girasol continued managing the court and dealing with enraged nobles who were already calling for full-scale war.

  She didn’t tell me that directly—Sir Marte Hogan did. His concerns about the common folk went beyond simple discipline. The hostility could be felt in the capital and the central towns. Not so much at the border, where fear of the Kingdom of Apollo remained painfully evident due to constant raids and unchecked assaults.

  I wanted to march to war against those bastards too.

  But not now.

  A war against our unfortunate neighbors would only bring death to my people—and to me as well.

  “This isn’t the time to worry about that. First, I need to become an exemplary leader.”

  After dinner, Ingrid and Alda retired to their respective rooms, leaving me alone with Mother. I had asked them earlier during tea to give us some privacy so I could discuss leadership—and stay informed.

  “Mother, may I speak with you about something?”

  “Of course you can. What do you need, my son?” Girasol stroked my head and smiled. The dark circles under her eyes and the exhaustion in her gaze only made me admire her more. She was giving everything for the sake of the kingdom, sacrificing her mental and physical health to leave me a stable country.

  I could only feel admiration for this woman.

  “I’ve been studying and training like I promised, but there’s something I still don’t fully understand. How can I become a good leader?”

  Mother paused thoughtfully, touching her chin before smiling at me.

  “A leader… What does being a good leader mean to you, Ulric?”

  “I suppose a good leader is someone who guides others and is admired by all. An impeccable example of virtue—the strongest, smartest, most powerful person in the country. I’ve always believed a leader must lead by example; otherwise, he’s just a hypocrite.”

  My definition was still immature—these were ideas from my previous life.

  I had bosses, professors, superiors. Each with virtues and flaws. I followed their orders because it was the right thing to do. I always considered myself honorable and willing to follow the rules. Insubordination and indiscipline never appealed to me.

  But how did they make others follow them?

  I had never truly thought about it.

  “Your reasoning isn’t wrong,” Mother said, stroking my head again. “A leader must embody virtue. But there’s something even more important. Can you guess?”

  “A well-grounded ideology?” I ventured.

  She shook her head.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Ideology matters, Ulric. But if you pay attention to your history books, you’ll see that many murderous, despotic kings had countless loyal followers.”

  She was right.

  Why would people follow corrupt rulers? It couldn’t be greed alone. Gold fills pockets, but it doesn’t protect your head from the executioner’s axe.

  “So why?” I asked.

  “Because humans don’t follow symbols. We follow people. Devotion to ideology is like religion—gods are perfect, immaculate, unreal. Ideals to aspire to. But leaders are human. They have flaws and virtues like anyone else.” She stood and walked toward the edge of the table. “But they have something special.”

  “Something special?”

  “Yes. A certain presence. Your father was a natural leader. People wanted to be near him. He radiated security. I don’t consider myself one—but I had to learn from scratch out of necessity. Anyone can become a leader. But the path is different for each person.”

  “Then how do I become one? You learned. I want to as well.”

  “My method…” She paused, then shook her head. “No. If I tell you my method, you might fail. We’re different people, Ulric. If you imitate my path, you’ll stumble.”

  I frowned. “Then you can’t help me?”

  “I can. Just not the way you expect.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And perhaps it’s better that way. Let’s do this instead…” She gave me a calculating look. “I owe Duke Steven a favor. And perhaps you’re the right person to repay it.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “He governs vast territories and deals with greedy nobles. He personally educated his first three sons, but his last two children have been… neglected. The girl is eleven, the boy ten. Too much free time. Problematic personalities. They don’t meet Etrica’s standards.”

  “So the favor is letting them come here to be educated?”

  “Exactly. I planned to wait before accepting them. But if you’re determined to become a leader, perhaps you can correct their behavior.”

  She looked at me challengingly—the same look she had worn at Sora’s funeral.

  “As king, you’ll face ambitious, ill-mannered nobles. This will test your temperament—and teach you leadership through experience.”

  Learning by doing.

  Not my favorite method.

  But perhaps necessary.

  “It’s decided,” she concluded. “They’ll arrive within two months.”

  “Thank you, Mother. I won’t fail.”

  She smiled warmly.

  “I still have work to finish. Good night, my son.”

  “Good night.”

  Before returning to my room, I took a quiet walk through the castle.

  I stopped in front of Alda’s door.

  I didn’t need to enter.

  I pressed my ear against the wood.

  “Sora… I miss you.”

  Alda was talking to herself, sobbing quietly.

  All day she smiled for my sake.

  At night, she broke.

  Sora had been more than a friend to her—almost a mother figure. Someone who joked, read, guided her without ordering her.

  Loss like that never truly heals.

  I listened for twenty seconds more until exhaustion silenced her.

  I won’t let this happen again.

  With that vow, I returned to my room.

  The following days passed the same—training, studying, no breaks. Alda’s nightly sobs were my reminder that I was still no match for Vlad II.

  Physically, I was improving. My muscles no longer ached constantly. My endurance grew. My palms hardened around the wooden sword’s handle.

  I still couldn’t wield a real blade—but someday I would.

  Then, during a weekly royal council meeting, something changed.

  We were discussing future taxation when the doors burst open.

  A man clad in full plate armor stepped inside.

  He was intimidating—about 1.77 meters tall, muscular, bald, his face scarred and partially hidden by a dark beard.

  “Sir Einar, it is a pleasure,” Mother greeted.

  He bowed.

  “I’ve finished training the troops in the Duchy of Draco. I return to fulfill your request.”

  “You arrive at the perfect time. My son has shown martial promise. Only you are worthy to guide him.”

  Master of War.

  The title Alda dreamed of.

  “It will be my honor to train His Majesty in military tactics,” Sir Einar declared. “I will turn King Ulric into a great commander.”

  His gaze met mine.

  Unlike Sir Marte, there was no warmth in him.

  Only steel.

  “Call Lady Alda as well,” he added. “I’ve been asked to train her too.”

  Then he left.

  We resumed the meeting—discussing roads, wells, disease among the peasantry. Many kings delegated such matters. I refused to.

  Once the assembly concluded, Alda and I headed toward the barracks.

  Our first lesson with Sir Einar awaited us.