Ramposa II
The royal study was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a dying fire and the scratching of quills in the corner. Scrolls and parchments lay across the desk before King Ramposa II, ledgers of coin, reports of grain shortages, and letters heavy with noble seals.
Ramposa rubbed at his temple as he studied yet another report of grain shortages, the ache in his head growing heavier.
Surprisingly, despite being the most fertile and terrain-advantaged land among its surrounding kingdoms, city-states, and empires, grain and food shortages remained a constant problem.
The reason lay not with the soil. Though the crown controlled nearly fifteen percent of the kingdom's land, it was nothing compared to what was held by the noble families, the Church, and the guilds.
The nobles in particular hoarded surpluses for their own coffers, selling to merchants at inflated prices rather than releasing them to the markets.
Caravans laden with grain often left the countryside, bound for foreign ports where profits were richer, while villages in their shadow starved. Even in times of bountiful harvest, corruption ensured that little ever reached the common tables.
The king had thought of reform, but he knew his limitations. Even as the highest legitimate authority in the realm, his power was nothing compared to the collective might of the nobility.
Generations had come and gone, each leaving its quiet mark on the royal line. Yet with every passing era, a troubling pattern emerged subtle at first, then unmistakable.
The blood of kings grew thinner, their influence dimming, while the nobility beyond the palace walls swelled in strength and ambition. What began as a mere shift in balance had, over centuries, become a looming threat.
Rampossa II sat in solemn contemplation, the weight of history pressing on his shoulders. Only now did he fully grasp how deeply the decay had set in. The weakening of the royal lineage had not happened overnight; it crept in slowly, almost invisibly, until it could no longer be ignored. If nothing was done if no decisive action was taken then in a few more generations the crown would hold little more than ceremonial value, a relic of a bygone age.
For the first time, the king truly deliberated on the failing strength of his bloodline and the legacy he might leave behind.
Ramposa feared that should he push for reform, the nobles would feast on his throne and his blood. Perhaps not immediately, but civil war was the worst and likeliest outcome.
Sometimes, he even wondered why he had been chosen to wear the crown. No… it was not why he was chosen, but why he had ever desired it at all.
In his younger years, he had believed he could do it all. But now, all he wanted was to leave it behind to live peacefully with his family, without thought of the realm or its balance.
Yet his musings circled back to one thought.
My son. Something is off about him…
Yesterday
His thoughts wandered back to the boy's recent birthday. The great hall had been filled with nobles and their families, their laughter echoing against marble pillars while servants carried in platters of roasted meat and sweetmeats. Goblets clinked, and words of congratulations poured as easily as the wine.
Ramposa remembered watching his son seated at the high table, his small frame dwarfed by the heavy chair. Where another child might have been dazzled by the celebration, young Ramposa's gaze had wandered across the hall with a sharpness far beyond his years.
His eyes, bright blue like the summer sky, studied each noble as if he were weighing their worth instead of admiring their finery.
Later that night, when the hall had quieted and only family remained, Ramposa had presented his son with a gift a small dagger, finely crafted, far too large for his hand but meant as a symbol for the years ahead.
He had expected a childish grin, perhaps a boast, or even fear at holding steel for the first time. Instead, the boy had taken it with both hands, bowed deeply, and whispered:
"A dagger is kept at one's side because it protects best when close. Perhaps a king is the same… strongest when he stands beside his people."
King Ramposa II stared at his son in silence for a moment the words had struck him still. The words were thoughtful for a child his age, but with his performance over the years it isn't strange at all.
Then, a faint smile tugged at his weary face as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"…You've thought deeply for someone so young. A dagger may be small, but in the right hand, it can change fates." His voice lowered, carrying a weight that pressed into the quiet chamber. His sharp eyes lingered on the boy. "Tell me, my son why does a boy of six speak with the mind of a man? Are you… possessed by a demon, boy?"
He held the dagger with both hands, his gaze fixed on the polished steel.
"…No, Father. I only… listen. To people, to the world around me… I've seen how even the smallest things matter. A crumb of bread to a hungry man, a kind word to someone in despair… or a dagger in the hand of a king. I may be young, but I don't want to waste the years I've been given. And if one day I must rule, then I will prepare myself for that duty."
Ramposa II fell silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his son as if trying to pierce through the boy's soul. There was no arrogance in the boy's voice, only conviction strangely calm. Then, slowly, his stern expression softened into something closer to pride.
"…So be it, if that is the truth. then I can only thank the gods that they've given me a son with such eyes."
But strangely enough, he agreed with the prince in his thoughts. To be blessed with a prince with wisdom. It seems like the decline of his family will stop, or so he hope.
A knock at the study doors broke his thoughts.
"Your Majesty," came the muffled voice of a servant. "The evening meal is prepared. Her Majesty and the young princes await you in the dining hall."
Ramposa II let out a slow breath, rubbing his temple once more. The ache in his head had not faded, but duty called him as surely as any crown. He closed the ledger, the wax seal of a noble house staring back at him like an unblinking eye, then rose from his chair.
The halls of the palace were quiet as he walked, his footsteps echoing against polished stone. Oil lamps lined the walls, their light chasing away shadows but not the doubts that followed him. When he reached the great doors of the dining chamber, guards swung them open with practiced ease, revealing warmth and light within.
The long table stretched before him, glittering with silverware and steaming dishes. His wife sat poised at his right, her gentle smile lifting slightly as his eyes met hers. At her side fidgeted his younger son, barely able to sit still. Across the table, waiting with proper posture far beyond his years, was Ramposa III.
The boy rose slightly in his seat and inclined his head. "Father."
And just like that, the memory of the dagger and those troubling words returned to him, sharper than ever. With measured steps, the king took his place at the head of the table.
"Let us dine."
The words carried authority, and at once the servants moved like clockwork, pouring wine, carving meat, and setting warm bread upon the silver platters.
Ramposa III kept his back straight, his hands folded neatly in his lap until the first dish was placed before him. Outwardly, he was calm, the very image of a dutiful prince. Inwardly, however, his mind churned.
He still remembers last night… those words I spoke with the dagger. I saw it in his eyes.
Did I push too far? Or… did I gain something?
"Your Majesty," his mother's voice broke the silence, soft and measured, "you seem weary again. Was it the ledgers?"
Ramposa III glanced at his father. The king's hand lingered on his goblet, his brow shadowed with the same quiet heaviness that followed him from the study.
Even Mother sees it. He carries more than this kingdom will ever understand. If I am to win his trust, I must speak carefully… no, not as a child. As his son.
The boy picked up his spoon, stirring the broth gently before speaking. His voice was quiet, but steady.
"Father… forgive me, but if the reports trouble you still, perhaps you might allow me to help someday. Even a child can count grain, or tally ledgers."
The table stilled. His younger brother blinked, his mother tilted her head in faint surprise, and his father's eyes locked onto his once again.
Too much? Cold sweat tickled at the boy's neck. But he forced himself to meet the gaze.
The silence stretched a heartbeat too long. Ramposa III's small hands tightened on the silver spoon, but then his father finally spoke.
"…Help, you say?" King Ramposa's voice was low, curious rather than scolding. "You've already shown me sums and measures far beyond your years. At five, you corrected the steward's tallies without pause. And yet, you are still but six. What more could you possibly offer?"
'Even if he is smart even far beyond the adults, its best not to feed his ego.'
The boy's lips curved faintly careful, measured, never smug.
Numbers, Father. They do not lie. Grain, coin, soldiers… they can all be counted, measured, compared. If one knows how to divide and multiply, one can see more than words on a page. One can see patterns."
His mother blinked at him in surprise, but Ramposa II leaned forward slightly, interest glinting in his tired eyes.
"Patterns, you say? And what patterns have you seen, little one?"
The boy stirred his broth again, feigning thoughtfulness, though in truth he had already prepared his answer."For every feast we have in the capital, three villages lose bread. If ten nobles keep more than they need, then a hundred farmers go hungry. But if one noble gave up a tenth… then ten families would eat. Isn't that simple, Father? Addition and subtraction."
Queen's expression stiffened ever so slightly. The king, however, sat still, his goblet untouched.
Did I go too far again? the boy thought, heart hammering beneath his calm expression. Then
[System Notification]Achievement Progress: Wisdom Beyond Era (3/5)Skill Unlocked: Analytical Insight (Lv.1)+2 Intelligence
The numbers steadied him.
Ramposa II finally let out a breath, a shadow of a chuckle slipping from his lips. "A child who speaks of division and hunger, as though he's seen the kingdom's ledgers himself…" He shook his head slowly, but there was no anger in his eyes only wonder, and the faintest trace of unease. "Perhaps the gods favor you more than I deserve, boy."
The king leaned closer, his gaze sharp."Tell me, my son. Do you truly understand what you speak of? Or are these words you've overheard and stitched together?"
Ramposa III met his father's stare, every instinct in him urging him to bow his head and play the fool. But he swallowed the fear, forcing his voice steady."I understand, Father. Enough to know the people matter more than coin. A dagger close to the hand… and a king close to his people. You asked me once why I speak with the mind of a man." His small fists clenched lightly in his lap. "It is because a prince cannot afford to remain a child forever."
The words hung in the air, heavier than the steam rising from their dishes.
The king's expression shifted suspicion, pride, and sorrow mingled in a way the boy could not untangle.
But then, slowly, Ramposa II leaned back in his chair, a faint smile breaking his sternness.
"…Then mayhap the throne will not starve when my time is gone."
The queen's gentle voice cut through the heavy air."Enough of ledgers and burdens at the table," she said softly, though her eyes lingered on her eldest son with quiet wonder.
"A child should enjoy his meals, not weigh himself down with the hunger of the realm."
Ramposa III looked at her and gave a small, respectful nod. "Yes, Mother."
His younger sister giggled, cheeks stuffed with roasted meat. "See, brother? Food is for eating, not counting!" She waved her fork like a little soldier, drawing laughter from the servants standing discreetly along the wall.
The tension eased.
Even the king allowed himself a low chuckle, shaking his head as he finally reached for his goblet. "Hah. Perhaps your mother is right. Let the kingdom's burdens remain on my shoulders, at least until you are grown."
The boy bowed his head. "As you say, Father."
But inside, his thoughts were not so simple.To protect you, I must bear them sooner than you think. The kingdom won't wait until I'm grown.
He suppressed a small smile, hiding it behind a sip of broth.
As the courses passed roasted pheasant, spiced roots, honeyed fruit the conversation drifted toward gentler matters. His mother asked about lessons and play, his sister boasted about chasing a knight's hound through the courtyard, and the king, though weary, allowed himself to simply listen.
Yet every so often, Ramposa II's gaze would flicker back to his eldest son, lingering with the weight of a man who had seen something he could not name. Suspicion, yes. But pride, too. And perhaps… hope.
When the last platters were cleared and the servants bowed themselves away, the family rose. The queen gathered the younger prince by the hand, already humming a lullaby as they left.
Ramposa II lingered a moment longer at the table, his eyes fixed on Ramposa III. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry both exhaustion and resolve, he placed a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You speak too wisely for your years," he said quietly. "If that is a blessing, then may the gods keep you. If it is a burden… then may they give you strength to bear it."
The boy bowed his head, the weight of his father's hand steady upon him. "I will not fail you, Father."
And for the first time that evening, the king's tired smile reached his eyes.
That night, as Ramposa III was led back to his chambers, the System whispered once more:
[System Notification]Achievement Unlocked: Trusted Heir (Hidden)Reward: 1 Int]
Ramposa III exhaled slowly, his small fists tightening at his sides.
The boy walked on, eyes sharp, the weight of tomorrow already pressing upon his small shoulders.
Stat sheet
Name: Rampossa
Race: Human
Stats:
Str: 5
Agi:4
Int: 18(+1)