1 The Shattered Crown
"Catch!" Lance's voice echoed across the construction site, and I turned just in time to see the glint of a silver metal chalk line hurtling toward me.
I raised my hand, clutching the ladder for dear life as I caught the line. We perched on the side of a two-story structure with a steep 10/12 pitch, the eavestrough hanging precariously over the roof's edge. My ladder, laden with ice, added an extra layer of tension to the situation. Needless to say, my nerves were on edge.
"You're supposed to yell my damn name before you throw, jackass!" I growled, but Lance just laughed it off.
"Quit being a pussy! We've got 14 bundles to install before the snow hits. Don't you want to get paid?"
I scowled, acknowledging the truth. Despite the risks, I'd been in this line of work for over fifteen years, always chasing the next paycheck. No matter how hard I tried, financial stability eluded me, lost to vices like gambling and drinking that temporarily masked the struggle.
"Mark it, and let's get moving!"
I extended the neon orange caulk-covered line, anchoring it to the mark I'd already made, still clinging to the ladder for dear life. The rest of the day blurred by in a flurry of activity, and as we completed the last side, relief washed over me.
"Are you still enjoying this job?" Lance asked as we packed up.
I paused my audiobook, giving him a sidelong glance. "Does a bear shit in the woods?" I retorted, then sighed. "I'm just tired of the death-defying stunts. I'll be 35 soon, and I'd like to see what 40 looks like."
"Come on, bills need paying. Let's grab a drink and play the slots," Lance suggested as he directed his pickup truck towards Wally's Tavern.
The night unfolded in a haze of alcohol and slot machines. Lance and I moved from one machine to the next, drinks replenished by attentive bar staff. The whiskey hit me harder than usual, whether from the exhausting day or the looming birthday, making each gulp bitter.
"You okay, Dante? You look a little green," Lance nudged me, but I stumbled away, craving fresh air. Rain splattered against my face as I navigated a slick alley.
And that's when it happened.
A golden vortex of light materialized in the alley, captivating and otherworldly. Drunk, and barely able to see straight, I approached it, footsteps echoing in the silence. A black void enveloped me, a deep voice proclaiming, "It is time to…"
The world darkened, pressure closing in. Pain. My body... What was happening? I was no longer in control, my senses overwhelmed. I blacked out.
When I came to, I lay in a lavish bed, surrounded by intricate stone and woodwork. Tapestries adorned the walls, a fire crackled. Confusion gripped me as I tried to sit up, only to realize I couldn't. I lifted my hand to my face, squinting. Reality snapped into place—I was no longer in my adult body.
"Gideon! You have to be careful, my adorable son, and the very first prince of Vienerstien!" A caring voice said to me, and I tried to groan, but it came out as a fart... no... no... Houston, we have a problem…
---
Three years passed, and I could walk, albeit with a sexy maid following me everywhere. My father, King Alphonse, had high expectations, and as the first son, I bore the weight of the kingdom's prestige. Two brothers, Tristan and Gareth, joined my life.
"Gid's! Don't run so fast!" Kylie cried as she chased me, but I didn't stop as I kept looking back to see her dancing breast as she ran. Sue me, I was three years old without any responsibilities.
The truth was, the last three years had been the best that I could have dreamed of. Sure, I couldn't drink or gamble, but sucking on Kylie's tits, and making her chase me all over the courtyard took away most of that heart ache. Honestly, it was just nice not to have to pay rent.
The castle grounds became my expansive playground, filled with blooming gardens and secluded corners perfect for my childish adventures. While my father, the King, was a distant figure engrossed in royal and military matters, my mother, Queen Isolde, showered me with love and support.
However, a peculiar aspect of my new life emerged—my confinement to the castle grounds. The towering stone walls kept me from exploring the city beyond. I had never mingled with the people outside the castle, and the distant view of bustling streets teased me like an unattainable dream.
The castle, a world within itself, became my entire universe. Meals were a lavish affair, served in golden dishes with a variety of delicacies that surpassed anything I had known in my previous life. The rich flavors and succulent textures left me in awe, yet the luxury couldn't replace the yearning for a taste of the unknown city beyond the castle walls.
Despite the grandeur, one void remained—I had never seen other children my age. My siblings, Tristan, Gareth, and Elara, were still infants or very young. The lack of companionship gnawed at me, an emptiness that not even the grandeur of the castle could fill.
My studies of Velum, the continent we were on, intensified. I delved into the history of Corundum, the continent's subcontinent, and its three kingdoms—Bossprinz, Jagar, and our own, Vienerstien. My adult mind absorbed information eagerly, but my physical age of three hindered my ability to articulate and discuss my thoughts.
In the vast library, I explored the pages of ancient tomes and scrolls, piecing together the intricate tapestry of Velum's history. I studied maps that detailed the geography of Corundum, from the rugged terrains of Jagar to the bustling cities of Bossprinz.
As my understanding of the world expanded, a frustrating paradox emerged. My adult mind felt like it was regressing, a consequence of the way everyone treated me as a child. It grated on my nerves, yet I concealed my frustration beneath a facade of compliance.
Weeks turned into months, and my father initiated training sessions with a wooden sword. Each week, the blade became seven grams heavier, a challenge that tested my physical limits. My mother's personal lessons ceased, replaced by Kylie, our maid, who oversaw both my education and care.
The monotony of my days was broken by the birth of my first sister, Elara. Her presence brought joy to the castle, a bright spot in the routine. I cherished the moments I spent with her, a welcome distraction from the weight of expectations placed upon me.
Time passed, and the dynamics in the castle shifted as Tristan and Gareth, the twins, grew older. When they turned five, their childish energy began to match my own, and we became inseparable playmates. Our days were filled with laughter, exploring hidden corners of the castle, and engaging in imaginative adventures that transported us to fantastical realms.
Gone were the days of my solitary existence, and the trio of Tristan, Gareth, and I formed a bond that transcended the differences in our ages. We chased each other through the vast gardens, engaged in mock sword fights, and shared secrets in hushed tones as if the castle itself echoed with our laughter.
I found myself letting go of the weight of adult worries, embracing the joy of being a child once again. My room transformed from a solitary retreat into a hub of shared interests and camaraderie. Gone were the shelves filled with dusty tomes and scrolls, replaced by colorful storybooks and toys that entertained us for hours on end.
My transformation from a single child, once a shut-in anime otaku with a penchant for solitude, felt complete. The castle, once an imposing fortress that restricted my exploration, now echoed with the lively footsteps of playful children. I reveled in the joy of shared experiences, grateful for the newfound companionship that had eluded me for so long.
Elara, my little sister, always liked being around me. Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she observed our antics, and I took on the role of a protective older brother, guiding her through the enchanting world we created. The arrival of more siblings added to the joyous chaos, turning the castle into a bustling haven of familial warmth.
As my eighth birthday approached, the castle echoed with preparations for the celebration. The atmosphere was festive, and my father, King Alphonse, seemed pleased. Despite the looming ceremony at the Church of Classes, my mind remained blissfully ignorant of the events that would soon unfold.
Tristan and Gareth, once playful companions, started treating me differently. Childish whispers and secretive glances became more frequent, and an invisible barrier emerged between us. I sensed a change in their behavior, a shift from carefree play to calculated actions.
As my eighth birthday drew near, the twins' motivations became clear. Their childish minds, influenced by the weight of royal expectations, saw me as a threat to their future. The realization struck like a sudden storm, and I grappled with the complexity of their feelings.
The tension escalated, and on the day of the Church of Classes ceremony, their actions reached a breaking point. In the grand hall, as the priest invoked the gods, a hushed conversation ensued between Tristan and Gareth. Their eyes bore into me, revealing a mixture of fear and determination.
The words "The Master Craftsman" echoed through the hall, and I felt the weight of my fate settle upon me. The revelation sent shockwaves through the room, and my father's reaction mirrored the gravity of the situation. The disappointment and rage etched on his face was palpable.
In the aftermath of the ceremony, my father's once-stern eyes deepened with a mixture of frustration and anger like I had chosen to insult him. He had expected a warrior, a successor to the prestigious Imperial Swordmaster class. Instead, fate had dealt a different hand, and the Master Craftsman class became a symbol of my perceived inadequacy.
The tension that had been building between the twins and me erupted into open disdain. Their actions, driven by a childlike understanding of succession, intensified. The playful camaraderie we once shared was replaced by calculated glances and strategic moves that positioned them against me.
My eighth birthday marked a turning point, and the castle, once a haven of blissful ignorance, now harbored the shadows of familial discord. The twins, no longer fueled by the fear of losing their potential inheritance, treated me with scorn and hostility.
The rift between us widened, and whispers of my father's disapproval hung in the air. The once-perfect life I had cherished seemed to crumble, and the weight of royal expectations bore down on my shoulders. Little did I know that the whims of fate had set me on a path far different from the idyllic childhood I had once embraced.
