Ancient Empire Calendar Year 1819
Ricardo opened his eyes in a very familiar place.
"The Ancient Imperial Palace... so I am..."
Ricardo saw his elderly self from his previous life in the mirror.
"Yes, the period when I was VIII Harloumen. So, what time am I in now?"
A steward knocked on the door.
"Your Majesty, the Ancient Emperor, if you are available, may I enter, my lord?"
These overly formal words evoked a sense of nostalgia in Ricardo. He also knew who this voice belonged to.
Ricardo remembered all the life habits and nobility laws from his life as Emperor.
He gave an order in an extremely noble and authoritative voice.
"You may enter, Andrew."
Andrew, the Emperor's personal servant, had witnessed everything from the beginning to the end of VIII Harloumen's reign and was the Last Imperial Steward of the Ancient Empire.
"Your Majesty, My Lord, the expedition preparations are almost complete. However, Prince Bartholomeleus refuses to leave his room and is very insistent about not going to war."
Lightning struck in Ricardo's mind; he understood which time period he was in.
"It's impossible for me to forget this day. This is the day my son Bartholomeleus committed suicide."
Ricardo ran with quick steps to Bartho's room.
"If this is a chance, and if I can prevent my son's suicide... if I can save him... if I can free myself from my greatest regret... I don't care if the past changes or if this isn't even the real past but just a product of it. I just want to see him one last time. That's enough."
Ricardo stopped in front of Bartho's door. The servants and guards were trembling with fear.
"Is he going to kill Prince Bartho?"
"He wouldn't, would he? After all, he's his son."
"Given the Emperor shows no mercy even to his own family, I wouldn't be surprised if he did."
Ignoring the whispers of the servants and guards, he knocked on the door.
Those around were shocked once more; they expected the Emperor to barge in directly.
Ricardo paid no attention to the stares directed at him; the only thing on his mind was talking to his son.
"I'm afraid. Even when walking the fine line between life and death on the battlefield, I wasn't afraid, but being afraid of something like this is very strange. But I don't care about anything."
He knocked on the door a few more times with fear and excitement, and finally, he heard a voice.
"Come in."
It was his son Bartholomeleus's voice.
He burst into the room.
"BARTHO!"
This shout made Bartho jump from his seat. He fell to his knees in fear and panic.
He was trembling, trembling from the fear of being beaten by his father again.
"Fa... father, please, I..."
Ricardo hugged his son tightly and let his tears flow freely for the first time in years.
"I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY, MY SON! FORGIVE ME, I BEG YOU, FORGIVE ME! I MADE YOU SUFFER SO MUCH! IT'S ALL MY FAULT! ALL MY MISTAKE! I CAUSED YOU SO MUCH PAIN! PLEASE, FORGIVE YOUR FATHER!"
Bartho and everyone who heard the voices and came were in shock. But Bartho hugged his father tightly and broke down in tears. His heart was pounding wildly, his hands were trembling, and as he struggled to keep his eyes open through the tears, he spoke in a trembling voice.
"I forgive you, Father. I forgive you."
As a beam of light enveloped everything, Ricardo pleaded.
"PLEASE, JUST A LITTLE MORE! A LITTLE MORE TIME! DON'T TAKE MY SON FROM ME, I BEG YOU!"
Ricardo's pleas went unanswered. As the light swallowed everything, Ricardo found himself in another place, in another time.