The Crown Prince is dead. Even the God of War can die.
The news tore through the Crownland like wildfire, spreading grief and disbelief. Xavier Solstice, the young and brilliant crown prince, the "God of War" who ended the bloody war between humans and Lycans, was gone. The kingdom's greatest hero lost forever.
But how? That was the question that gripped the land. The highest Physicians and Arcanists, masters of their crafts, found no poison, no wound, no illness. His heart had not failed. His body had not aged. He simply... ceased.
Even in death, his body was untouched by decay, as if time itself refused to claim him.
The kingdom fell into stunned silence, grief hanging thick in the air. The sky itself seemed to mourn, clouds gathering as the wind howled through the streets.
In the grand chamber, a small boy stood beside the still figure on the bed. Golden hair, once vibrant, now lay in disarray. Eyes that once burned with life were sealed shut. The sharp, handsome features that once carried a warrior's energy were now frozen in stillness.
"Big brother," the boy whispered, his voice trembling. His name was Caius Solstice, the second prince. His golden hair and ocean-blue eyes reflected a grief too large for his young heart.
A figure entered the room, Queen Isolde Solstice. Her dark hair framed a face etched with sharpness, her blue eyes unreadable. She stopped at the bedside, staring down at Xavier's body.
For a moment, she said nothing. Her fingers twitched at her side. She exhaled slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Caius, enough." Her voice was firm, but a slight tremor betrayed her. "You have duties to prepare for."
"But Mother, big brother-"
Her jaw tightened. She turned away before he could see the flicker of something in her eyes. "Xavier is gone. He will not come back. The death ceremony will begin soon. They will move the body." Her fingers pressed against her temple in weary impatience. "Go."
Tears welled in Caius's eyes. "But big brother said he would never leave me," he choked, clutching at that last thread of hope.
Isolde hesitated, then pulled him into a brief embrace.
"I know," she murmured. "But he left. So strengthen yourself, Caius. You must take on the duties of the crown prince."
"I don't wanna!" The boy sobbed into her robes. "I don't want to! Please bring big brother back!"
Isolde held him for a moment longer, then gently pushed him away. Her eyes flickered to Xavier's body, her expression unreadable.
Damn him. Why did he have to die just after Julian was born?
And so, the death ceremony began. As Xavier's coffin was lowered, the first cries of a newborn echoed miles away. Fate had already begun its work.
Far away, in a quiet barony, a new life began.
"Haha! He's smiling! He's already smiling!" Baron Cian Ashford exclaimed, his gray eyes shining with delight as he gazed at his newborn son.
"Do try to act your age," Lady Eleanor Ashford sighed from the bed, though a gentle smile softened her words. "Even Arlan has more sense than you."
Behind her, five-year-old Arlan peered curiously at his baby brother, his dark black hair falling over his eyes.
Eleanor reached out, brushing her fingers against the baby's tiny cheek. "Have you thought of a name?" she asked.
Cian stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "He looks like he'll grow into a fine, strong lad. But what to call him?" He paused, then suggested proudly, "Barnaby Ashford?"
Eleanor's smile vanished instantly. "Forget it. Why did I even ask? You're the same man who named his sword as 'Sword.'"
Cian huffed. "It's a practical name."
"Then Arlan shall choose!" Arlan declared, standing tall. "I'll pick the best name!"
Cian grinned. "Oh? And what brilliant name will you conjure, son? I doubt you can outdo your father."
"Kaiser," Arlan said without hesitation. "Like the hero from my favorite story." But he says the word 'Hero' as he is somehow forced to say that word.
Eleanor's expression softened. "Now that's a good name, Arlan." She ruffled his hair, pride in her eyes.
Cian chuckled. "I concede defeat."
The room filled with warmth and laughter.
"Welcome to the world, Kaiser Ashford, my son!" Cian said, his voice full of pride.
________________________________________
The first thing Xavier felt was discomfort. His body felt strange, small, and weak. He tried to move, but his limbs barely responded. He tried to speak, but only a tiny sound came out.
What's going on?
The air carried a warm, comforting scent, but the room was unfamiliar. It was small, simple, not the grand chambers he was used to. And the world around him… it felt massive.
Blurred faces leaned over him, smiling, speaking in soft voices. Who were these people? And why were they so close?
How dare they approach the Crown Prince like this?
And yet, they looked… happy.
But something was wrong. Why were they so tall? Why did everything seem so much bigger than it should be? Then, a child about Caius's age appeared in his line of sight. He had messy black hair and striking gray eyes.
And then, in his eyes, Xavier saw himself.
Not as a man. Not as the warrior prince.
But as a tiny, helpless baby with the same gray eyes, cradled in gentle clothes.
No… That wasn't possible. That wasn't him. Was it?
The voices around him cooed and murmured lovingly. From the way they spoke, from the way they looked at him, it was clear.
To them, he was their newborn son.
A firm but gentle voice broke through the murmurs.
"All right, you gentlemen, out of this room."
An older woman entered, her tone carrying the authority of someone used to giving orders. From her attire and presence, she seemed to be a nurse, or perhaps a midwife.
The woman Xavier assumed to be this newborn's mother, Lady Eleanor smiled as she gazed down at him. Her green eyes, soft and warm like a sunlit garden, held an affection that made something deep inside him ache. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders, carrying the faint scent of flowers.
Xavier stared at her, tilting his tiny head slightly.
This woman… she's nothing like Queen Isolde.
His mother- his real mother- had died giving birth to him. He had never known the warmth of a mother's arms, never felt this kind of gentleness. A soft laugh broke through his thoughts. "Look at him," Eleanor said, turning to the older woman. "You think he recognizes me?"
"I think he recognized me first," a deep voice interjected.
Xavier's attention shifted to the man with striking gray eyes and bright red hair. He was handsome, perhaps in his late twenties, with a proud, almost smug expression.
This newborn's father?
The old nurse scoffed and swatted him over the head with a cloth. "Out. Let the baby breathe freely."
The man looked genuinely wounded, as if being kicked out of the room was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. But he had no choice. With a dramatic sigh, he turned to leave, guiding the little boy, Arlan, out with him. Even as they exited, Xavier caught the man glancing back over his shoulder, reluctant to go.
Then-
THUD.
"Ow-"
Eleanor burst into laughter as her husband stumbled and fell flat on the ground.
The old nurse rolled her eyes, waving the cloth in frustration. "No one's going to steal the baby, now get out!"
"He was just like this when Arlan was born," Eleanor mused, shaking her head fondly.
Excuse me?! I am here too! Someone take me to the castle!
Xavier tried to speak, tried to demand answers, but all that came out was a soft, gurgling sound. Worse, it sounded like he was smiling. Eleanor's eyes softened even more, filled with nothing but love. "That's strange," she murmured. "Newborns are supposed to cry, aren't they?"
The old nurse Presela, as Eleanor had called her, gently poked Xavier's cheek. "He's a special one, that's for sure."
This is treason! Xavier wanted to yell. How dare you touch the Crown Prince's face so casually?!
But again, all that escaped his lips was a tiny sound, and his mother only smiled. "He's going to be a fine lad, Eli," Presela said, her voice quieter now.
But there was something in her tone. Something that didn't match the joy in the room.
Eleanor must have noticed too, because her expression shifted. "Miss Presela, why do you look sad?" she asked, a trace of worry creeping into her voice. Her hands instinctively tightened around Xavier. "Is there something wrong with my Kaiser?"
Kaiser.
That was the name they had given him.
"No, no, he is fine. More than fine," Presela said quickly, but the weight in her voice remained.
Ashford.
That was how they had introduced themselves, wasn't it? Xavier knew the Ashford family. A minor noble barony, ruling over a quiet countryside estate of the same name. Hardly of any importance in the grand scheme of things.
But why was he here?
The air smelled of fresh linen, unlike the gilded halls of the royal palace, thick with incense and perfumed oils. The mattress beneath him was soft, not the firm, silk-laden bedding of his chambers. This was real. He could feel the warmth of Eleanor's hands, hear the rustling of fabric as she moved. This was no dream. No illusion.
Then...how?
"I'm just worried that… today is his birthday," Presela murmured.
Eleanor's expression faltered. Her gaze lowered. "Yes… I can't even imagine. The news traveled so fast, didn't it?" she whispered. "Our Crown Prince was… dead."
What?!
Xavier's tiny body stiffened. His mind reeled.
What are you talking about? I'm dead? How? When?! Answer me!
A wail escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Eleanor blinked and came to her senses, mistaking his distress for something else. "Oh, is he crying?" she said softly, rocking him gently. "Even he can feel it, huh?" Her green eyes softened as she looked down at him, brushing her thumb over his tiny cheek. "My poor little one…"
Xavier's thoughts spiraled. He had died? No- no, that didn't make sense! He had been the Crown Prince. A warrior. He remembered the battlefield, the weight of his scythe in his grip, the adrenaline in his veins. He had been strong. He had been powerful. There was no way he had simply… perished.
And yet, here he was.
A baby.
A child born into the humble Ashford family.
Eleanor continued to soothe him, oblivious to the turmoil raging in his mind. "There, there… Don't cry, my sweet Kaiser. You're safe. Nothing will take you away from me." She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, holding him close as if to shield him from the world.
Presela sighed, glancing out the window, her expression unreadable. "It is a strange thing," she muttered. "The Crown Prince and this child… It almost feels like fate."
Fate?
Xavier's infant body trembled. No, this wasn't fate. This was madness.
The once-mighty prince, now nothing more than a newborn in a countryside estate.
What in the gods' name had happened to me?