The war between the Kingdom of Apollo and the Demonic Reich came at the perfect time for us.

  With the Apollean nobles busy with their own affairs, the level of raids and direct control gradually decreased. That—combined with my constant archery tournaments—was paving the way for something much bigger.

  I looked at myself in the mirror before leaving the room.

  I had truly grown.

  My features had become more masculine, and my height had reached 1.77 meters—not as tall as in my past life, but tall enough to carry myself with presence among others.

  “I’m about to come of age,” I whispered as I opened the door and stepped into the corridor. “These years haven’t been wasted.”

  The cowardly brat who couldn’t protect the people he loved was gone.

  Soon I’ll have the crown of Etrica—and a lot of things are going to change around here.

  “Brother, good morning!” Halfway down the hall, Alda greeted me. The energetic girl had become a lovely young lady with dark hair and blue eyes that still carried the same purity as before. Although her fencing had improved to a very high level, she still held onto a rather noble, idealistic view of knighthood.

  She wore a brown dress, white slippers, and a red headband. And yet a longsword already hung at her belt—and I was a thousand percent sure she’d also protected herself with a small mail shirt under the dress.

  Alda wanted to prove she could be a fighter, a commander, and a lady of high society—this last part mostly to annoy Yuka.

  We had no training today, because it was our duty to inspect the combat arena outside the city.

  “Good morning, Alda.” I returned her smile, and we walked together toward the dining hall. “Two months left until the tournament. Are you excited?”

  “Of course I am,” she said, fist raised, burning with motivation. “I’m going to win first prize.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “We’ll see about that, dear sister—because I plan to take first place myself.”

  Obviously, we were both talking nonsense. Even if we’d trained hard for the last five years, we still weren’t rivals for Sir Einar or Sir Marte Hogan—two of the greatest swords in the kingdom.

  Just before we reached the dining hall, Ingrid Wall greeted us with an elegant curtsy.

  “Ulric, Alda, good morning.”

  The one who had changed the most—not only physically, but in personality too—was Ingrid.

  Her white hair had gone from being a curse… to being an irresistible charm.

  The White Flower.

  That was the nickname they gave her when puberty hit and she went from girl to young lady. Still, the physical change paled next to the transformation of her mind.

  Mother had shaped her into a high-level courtier. She hadn’t only taught her manners and politics—Ingrid was also well-versed in poetry, oratory, psychology, and the most dangerous skill of all:

  The power to persuade.

  She went from being a timid child who barely spoke at all to an assertive person who could voice her deepest thoughts.

  Girasol hadn’t been joking when she said Ingrid’s training would be hell.

  “Ingrid, you’re right on time for breakfast. Are you ready to go to the outer grounds?”

  “Yes. At last, we’ll give the green light to the plan we’ve had for years. I’ll do my best to supervise the food.”

  “Operation Hamburger sounds fun,” Alda said, “but it’s more serious than it looks.”

  She still couldn’t get over the name I’d given it. I’d chosen it to keep our objective clear.

  Lure people in with free food, make them watch the fencing tournament, and above all else—reach the finals as an anonymous warrior.

  The pieces on the board were slowly arranging themselves in my favor.

  “The coronation will take place when the event ends. I hope I make a good impression on the dukes.”

  I’d already met each of them separately, but never all together.

  To be honest, I felt a little nervous.

  They had known me as a child. But in a few months, I would be their legitimate king.

  This event mattered—because I needed to earn not only their loyalty, but their admiration.

  Everything I had learned about leadership would finally be put to use.

  “Don’t worry.” Ingrid placed her left hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Everything will be fine. We’ve worked very hard.”

  “Yeah… thanks.”

  Thanks to Mother’s training, Ingrid seemed to have gained a strange ability: she always knew when something was bothering me, or when I was feeling off.

  Even so, part of me still refused to see her as a young lady. That was more my own stubbornness than reality. Over the years, I’d come to understand it wasn’t worth forcing the morality of a dead man onto a totally different world. But I still—

  No. Better not.

  “Well, we’ll talk about that at the table. Let’s eat.” Alda cut us off, and we headed into the dining hall.

  From here on, my story as the future poorest king in the world will truly begin…

  THE END