A man with gray hair and piercing sea-blue eyes approached, bowing low.
"Your Highness, I bring news from the north. Our scouts report the barbarians have already begun mass mobilizing… also—"
His head remained bowed. He didn't dare finish speaking as I raised my hand.
Barbarians? What's this old man talking about? Why did he stop?
Granbell stared at his arm—long, pale, and hairless, completely different from what it had been seconds ago.
Was it because I raised my arm..? Surely not..?
Nathaniel—no, the eldest prince now inhabiting this body—Granbell—felt his mind snap into clarity. Strategy, offense, battle—the lessons from countless hours online were suddenly real.
Granbell looked around. A vast throne room. Marble pillars. A crimson carpet split the hall, lined with guards in shining armor.
Am I… dreaming?
[Initializing System…]
System? Wait… this sequence—
[Welcome, Player: Nathaniel Erson]
What… it's almost like—
[New Identity: Granbell Vermillion – Tyrant Prince]
The Iron Empire and the northern tribes?
Half-confused, he tried to pinch himself—nothing. Then, from his left, a trembling voice asked,
"M-My Lord, is everything alright?"
He turned. A pale man with a moustache and brown eyes. The cunning left chancellor of the Vermillion Empire.
"Hreca?"
Hreca immediately bowed. "Yes, M'Lord?"
He glanced down. Sitting on a golden throne—a seat envied by half the empire.
"Mirror. Bring me a mirror. Now."
He raised his hand slowly, yet everyone around instinctively stepped back.
"Y-Yes, a mirror! Someone bring a mirror!" Hreca shouted. The nearest guards bowed and sprinted out.
Moments later, maids burst in with mirrors of all sizes—small, tall, wide, polished.
That was… fast. Am I really who I think I am?
Pointing towards a young maid, short brown hair slipped from beneath her veil.
"You there."
She bowed elegantly, one leg back, then stepped forward. "M'Lord," she said, presenting the mirror.
He took it, raised it to his face—and froze.
Piercing red eyes with a black glow at their edges. Golden hair pulled back perfectly. Pale, flawless skin like porcelain.
It was truly a royal face.
Granbell Vermillion. It's him.. No its.. Me?
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!?"
The entire throne room dropped to their knees.
"M'LORD?!" shouted the right minister. "WHAT APPEARS TO BE THE PROBLEM?!"
He didn't even look at them, just kept staring at his reflection.
A cough escaped me as he realized how silent the hall had grown. His cheeks reddened.
This was it. Jackpot.
No more stress, no more tournaments, no more lousy teammates. Only luxury, power, and peace.
…Or so he thought.
"No, no, not the slightest problem. Vagran."
His excitement cooled looking down at the gray-haired messenger still kneeling before the throne—the one he silenced moments ago.
"You there."
"Y-Yes, M'Lord?"
I'm a prince? And the eldest heir at that… wait.
"Speak. What's your business here?"
"Ah, yes," the messenger said quickly. "The northerners have begun their campaign. Castle Guntze requests an immediate relief army—our forces cannot withstand the barbarian assault."
Like I thought…
He spoke in one breath, trembling, likely fearing death for bringing such grim news.
Granbell just sighed loudly.
One week before my execution huh?..
He recognized the situation instantly. One of the opening events of the game—the brutal tutorial that almost always ended with Granbell's death.
Yet he didn't fear it. Since he was the best Granbell player in the world. One of the few who had cleared the tutorial without dying.
He stood up.
Like hell I'll give up easily, I'm the only person who ever came close to beating this game as an offensive player.
To his left, he barked at the minister of diplomacy: "HRECA!"
"Yes… M'Lord?"
"SUMMON CAPTAIN HALDEN OF THE HOLLOW KNIGHTS, IMMEDIATELY!"
With raised eyebrows, the minister slammed his fist into his palm.
"M'LORD!? UNDERSTOOD!"
To his right, he yelled at the minister of war: "DUNTZE!"
"M'Lord?"
"PREPARE FIVE THOUSAND CAVALRYMEN! BY TOMORROW—PREPARE RATIONS, TACK THE MOUNTS, NO CEREMONY NEEDED. WE RIDE AT DAWN!" Granbell's right arm shot forward, red coat flaring behind him.
To the side, the quartermaster was already moving toward the door with a grin.
"HANS!!"
Turning around, fist against the palm, almost instantly he bowed. "AT YOUR COMMAND!"
"FORGE SPARE SABERS AND SPEARS! DRAG EVERY STRAP AND SADDLE FROM THE STABLES!"
He nodded. "UNDERSTOOD!!" He moved swiftly out of the courtroom—a successful commander keeping his head in an emergency. Everyone was surprised, from maids to knights.
They're probably wondering was this really the tyrant prince they knew? h.. Prepare yourself, court Fretze. From today onwards, our home will be the center of the world's attention. Ill make it be.
The court chaplain opened his mouth, but my gaze silenced him immediately. It was not a look that invited argument.
"FINALLY," Granbell said.
What was his name again?
"C-… COURT CHAPLAIN! I WANT MEDIC TENTS READY. ISSUE FIVE WAGONS FILLED WITH BANDAGES AND BOILED WATER—NOW!"
The chaplain bitterly nodded, arms hidden behind the white cloth, then swiftly left the throne room.
Murmurs rose like a tide as Granbell walked with grace, hand gripping the hilt of his saber around the right hip.
The minister of diplomacy barked after him. "M'LORD! THIS IS A NATIONAL EMERGENCY! THE BARBARIANS HAVE TWENTY THOUSAND, PERHAPS MORE! WHAT COULD WE—"
Granbell turned slowly, a sharp gaze lowering his voice. "My orders stand, and the royal word is absolute. Move at once, keep your head." He was thrown back, head nearly touching the ground.
"MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, I HAVE NO—"
"It's alright, now we don't have time to spare. Make haste."
He then swiftly pointed at the earlier maid, and one another to follow him.
"YES!"
Leaving the throne room he turned one last time towards the throne and said a bit quietly "I'll be in my chambers, do not intrude by any means. Dinner is not necessary. I'll be strategizing for the upcoming campaign, tomorrow at five am precisely the army better be ready. Understood?"
The knights straightened for the ritualistic farewell to the vermillion royals, spear by right side and left arm connected to their right side "SIRE! YES SIRE! WE WISH YOU A GOOD AND GRACEFUL NIGHT, GLORY TO VERMILLIONS!"
The two maids by his side tried keeping their heads down, when Granbell touched their arms.
"Worry not, I don't harm women as beautiful as the two of you."
they both nodded as they blushed a bit, "I simply need an escort towards my chambers." They nodded again, waiting for him to continue.
.. Why aren't they walking?
He straightened his arm and smiled, telling them to go first.
"Ah- You mean us first..?" the brown haired asked sheepishly. "Yes."
She nodded, both turned around and made haste towards his bedchambers, he followed tightly behind since he had no idea where his room actually was.
I was transmigrated into the barbaric game huh..?
he grinned walking past the numerous maids and battlers each bowing their heads past him.
I think I'll have the time of my life!