Chapter 4 Are These Two Princes Just Small Fry?
1096 Words
Dawn broke.
The sky hung heavy as a steady drizzle slickened the ground.
Outside Harmony Hall,
a crowd had gathered, their hushed whispers swirling through the damp air.
"Heard the news? They moved up the Lumina Culturae because Bountia's floods ruined the tribute. His Majesty's summoning talents from across the realm for solutions!"
"Didn't know that. But those barbarians have gone too far—four years occupying our lands, demanding gold and grain. Our coffers are running on fumes!"
"What can we do? Our army's weak, and no one dares fight back..."
"Enough hot air—you lead the charge!"
A tense silence lingered—until a carriage halted.
Samuel descended, his onyx brocade robes glinting faintly in the gloom as he fanned himself with an ivory-folded fan.
Guards rushed forward, canopies snapping open to shield him.
"His Highness, the Second Prince, graces us!"
The eunuch's shrill cry sent the crowd prostrating.
"All hail Prince Samuel!"
His gaze swept over the sea of bowed heads before he flicked his wrist. "Rise."
Guards flanked him as he stepped aside.
Samuel had barely paused when Andy, the sixth prince, emerged from his carriage, prompting another wave of bows.
Clad in black brocade, his hair pinned with jade, Andy's scowl could've outmatched the thunderheads.
"What cursed weather!"
"Raise the damned umbrella higher—or should I break your arms myself?"
Already fuming from the rain, Andy snarled when windblown droplets stung his eyes. He snapped, driving his foot into the eunuch's reed-thin calf.
"Yowch—!"
The eunuch's face contorted in pain, his wrinkles deepening as he hissed through clenched teeth, the umbrella slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. Bullet-like raindrops stung his forehead, streaming down his face in relentless rivulets. He ignored the discomfort, dropping to his knees in desperate pleading.
"Please forgive me, Your Highness! I beg your mercy!"
A nearby guard sprang into action, whipping out a spare umbrella to shield Andy from the downpour. Not a moment too soon—another heartbeat and the prince would've been soaked.
"Get the hell out of my sight!" Andy barked without so much as a backward glance, storming off as the crowd gaped in shock. Though their faces betrayed disapproval, none dared speak against the sixth prince.
"Morning, Samuel!" Andy's earlier fury vanished instantly, replaced by a disarming smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Samuel's eye developed a slight tic.
*Andy changes masks faster than a carnival performer,* he thought, watching his brother's abrupt mood swing with thinly veiled amusement.
"So, little brother," Samuel said coolly, folding his arms. "Think you can finally steal the Lumina Culturae crown from me this year?"
The competition had run for years—with Samuel claiming first place every single time. Andy? Perpetually the bridesmaid.
Andy's grin stiffened. His knuckles whitened.
*f**k, of all things to mention...*
But this year was different. He'd trained like a man possessed. That top spot would be his.
"Let's wait and see, shall we, brother?" Andy replied, his voice icily pleasant.
Samuel nodded, dissecting Andy's expression like a specimen pinned to a board. The princes locked eyes, their rivalry hanging between them like two crossed blades.
Nearby, scholars huddled behind their fans, murmuring in hushed tones.
"Prince Samuel's genius leaves competitors in the dust—so far behind they're choking on it!""For years, the sixth prince has been trying to outdo him, yet he's always stuck in second place. The second prince's prowess is unmatched!"
"Seems the rest of us will have to settle for third place, then."
"Don't lose hope! The Emperor himself will be judging this year's Lumina Culturae competition. Our papers will land in his hands—this could be our golden opportunity!"
"Hey, did you hear? The third prince has miraculously recovered!"
"You mean the one who was comatose for over half a month, running a raging fever?"
"That's the one! Word is he's awake now. Wonder if he’ll show up for the competition?"
"Why would he? With his laughable skills, he’d only humiliate himself."
"Hell, even we could beat him!"
"Shh! Keep it down—what if someone hears?"
Just as their hushed gossip continued, a jarring jingle-jangle of silver bells cut through the air.
Every head whipped toward a gilded carriage pulled by three showy steeds, its frame draped in the finest brocade. These horses were August's signature ride, a spectacle every soul in Yuxiur recognized instantly.
In his wilder days, August had barreled through the capital's streets with these very horses, sending vendors scrambling. Such scenes had become so frequent that folks barely blinked anymore. Rumor had it he'd once brawled with a mountain of a man at Whispering Blossom Hall over some madwoman, turning the place into a warzone.
"Huh? What's he doing here?"
"Other years, he wouldn't bother showing up!"
"Must've heard about the dancing girls and came to snatch one."
"Wouldn't put it past him."
Ignoring the stares, August stepped gracefully from the carriage. His almond-shaped eyes swept the crowd, and he smirked. Gods, what a crowd!
Even in this drizzling rain, his so-called "brothers" had made their appearance.
Clearly, neither would pass up this prime opportunity to gain fame and curry favor.
"August, what brings you here?" Samuel affected an exaggerated look of surprise, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've only just recovered—shouldn't you rest a few more days?"
"Braving the rain like this? What if you catch a chill?"
His performance dripped with false brotherly concern.
As a modern soul, August saw through this hollow flattery instantly.
This "second brother" of his? Reeked of deception through and through.
"No matter. Just taking some air. Might as well claim the top honor while I'm here."
"Ahem! Ahem!"
Andy nearly choked on his own spit, coughing violently.
"Spare us the tall tales, third brother, before you bite your tongue clean off."
"Oh Andy, you're the jester here." August flashed a wolfish grin, canines glinting. "Every last one of you? Insignificant ants. None stand a chance against me."
Did they truly think he'd withdraw from the flood crisis opportunity? Not in this lifetime.
Some vipers in our midst deserved worse than scorn.
A dangerous glint flashed in August's eyes before his lips curled into a predatory smile.
Andy: "..."
Still the same insufferable wretch.
Samuel's eye twitched again.
He'd heard rumors of August's spoiled arrogance, but since that near-drowning, the fool had started spouting pure nonsense.
The dunking must have addled his wits.
CREAK!
The grand doors swung open, a sonorous voice announcing:
"All examinees—present yourselves! The palace examination begins."
- Writer
