Chapter 13: When You Stare Into the Abyss

In the year Rune turned fifteen, the kingdom’s council held a vote to determine the next in line for the throne.

The assembly was a grand spectacle, drawing widespread attention.

“I believe Princess Althea’s magical prowess far surpasses the prince’s. As an elven kingdom, you all know what that means,” declared a noble who valued strength above all.

“I agree. Only a powerful ruler can lead us to prosperity. If the king can’t even protect themselves, how can they protect the kingdom?” another chimed in.

“…”

From the dais, Althea looked at Rune with worry. The boy’s eyes shimmered with tears, but he fought to hide his pain.

She knew how much those words hurt him.
Her brother had always worked hard, but his innate magical limits couldn’t be overcome, no matter how diligently he tried.

For elves, who lived by magic, this was a fatal flaw—especially for royalty.
So, Rune shifted his efforts to technology, studying magical constructs to create accessible tools for everyone.

It was a promising path, and his leadership skills were exceptional.
But under the old guard’s oppression, he had no room to shine.

As the assembly neared its end with an overwhelming vote in Althea’s favor, a masked mage stood up, offering a dissenting opinion.

“Everyone, I believe strength isn’t the sole factor in kingship. The key is whether they can govern well. A ruler with only martial power and no leadership is no different from our last two kings. You all know how they ended.”

The room fell silent. No one expected someone to side with the prince when, to them, the royal heir was clearly the princess.
This assembly was just a formality—the outcome was already decided.

“So what? Didn’t that king die gloriously in battle? What does that have to do with leadership?”

“It has everything to do with it. What you don’t know is that he didn’t die in battle, exhausted and pierced by enemies, as the histories claim. He was poisoned by his own oppressed subordinates.”

The mage’s calm words made the councilors wipe their brows.
“Do you realize what you’re saying? Falsifying history is a capital offense!” a portly noble barked.

“I speak the truth—because I’m his descendant.”

The room erupted in chaos.
“Poisoning a king and speaking so brazenly? We’ll arrest you now!”

But when the mage removed his mask, everyone froze.
Standing there wasn’t some bloated noble, but Everett Morrison, the kingdom’s greatest mage.

Rumor had it he could slay a fire dragon single-handedly. His presence here, so bold, likely meant no one in the room could match him.

“Enough.”
The king’s voice halted the uproar.

“No need for a scene, right? Since Everett has objections, let’s vote again. This time, vote freely, according to your will.”

They caught the king’s meaning—the outcome wasn’t fixed anymore. It was a real vote.
Everett continued advocating for Rune, highlighting his governance and research talents.

Yet, the result didn’t change.
The vote shifted from 300:20 to 250:70.

The princess still won, named the next heir.

“You see, Everett, that’s how it is. The political winds won’t shift just because of a wandering mage with raw power,” a councilor sneered.

“…”

“Meeting adjourned.”

The crowd dispersed, leaving the hall eerily empty.
Everett remained, as did Rune.

“Why’d you help me?”

“I wasn’t helping you—I was helping justice. If you weren’t this dedicated, I’d have voted for the princess too.”

“Heh, well… thanks anyway.”

“I don’t care about that. If the kingdom falls, it’s no skin off my back. As a mage, I can survive anywhere.”

“Let’s be friends, Everett. I think we’d get along.”

“I’ll take you up on that, fallen Prince.”

…

The dream ended there, as did those once-cherished memories.

“Snooping on people’s dreams isn’t exactly polite, you know.”

Rune stirred at his desk, stretching his sore arm.
“Oh? Quite perceptive, Your Highness~.”

A purple-haired woman in a black robe sat by the moonlit window, her eyes dripping with charm.
“Here, it’s Your Majesty. And drop that disgusting look—it’s no excuse for using mind magic on me.”

“Alright, alright, Majesty~ I just saw you having a nightmare and couldn’t help but care.”

“Hypocrite. What do you want? Don’t waste my time.”

“Hmm, let’s see… what did the higher-ups send me here for?”

The tall woman hopped off the windowsill, her figure bouncing as she approached.
“Right! I’m taking over the lab’s array since Uri got himself killed by someone.”

“That’s your business. No need to report to me. I’m just providing a hidden space.”

“Oh, but Majesty, the ritual’s key item went missing on your watch,” she said, feigning confusion with an exaggerated pose.

“What item?”

“A scroll with our cult’s unique magic—critical for the ritual. It was made, but someone intercepted it en route to the kingdom. We don’t know whose hands it’s in now.”

“Your people are that incompetent?”

“Tch, even if they have it, they can’t use it—only we can. But I have reason to suspect someone’s planning a rebellion or has caught onto our plan.”

The woman leaned over the desk, resting a hand on Rune’s shoulder.
“So, I’d like Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly and hand over Uri’s body for a memory probe to see who killed him.”

“That’s it? Archbishop Heather?”

“That’s all. Though, if Your Majesty’s willing, I could…”

“Get lost.” Rune swatted her wandering hand away.
“Remember, we’re only partners for this. Once it’s done, we’re enemies.”

“Aw, so cold, Majesty~.”

Archbishop Heather smirked, returning to the window before leaping out, transforming into a flock of bats scattering into the night.
Her parting words lingered in the air.

“No matter your noble reasons, the day you joined us, you lost your way out, Prince.”