THE TRASH PRINCE'S BLUEPRINTS SYSTEM

In the vast and powerful Kingdom of Thaloria, where iron laws and older magics ruled the land, there lived a man who should have been a legend.

Instead, he became a problem.

Third Prince Cain Vailtair Thaloria was born with everything, royal blood, a brilliant mind, and magical talent rare enough to reshape battlefields.

He could have become a Forbidden Mage, one of the few who wielded multiple elements and secret arts outlawed by the Holy Church.

He could have been a protector of ordinary mages, a shadow guardian against the Church’s purges.

He could have been great, yet he chose not to be.

Instead, he became the greatest headache of King Alexander Cain Thaloria and his calculating second brother, Second Prince Theron Valeheart Thaloria.

Once, long ago, Third Prince Cain had been serious, focused, & dangerous in a different way.

He studied everything a prince was supposed to master: magic theory, commerce, warfare, logistics, finance, martial arts, weapon design, political strategy, & governance.

He learned how kingdoms rose, how empires collapsed, how men were controlled, & how wars were won before they were fought.

Then somewhere along the way, he stopped caring.

Books were replaced by bottles.

Training halls were replaced by brothels.

Strategy maps were replaced by bedsheets tangled around sweating bodies.

Every night became alcohol, fights, and girls who had just turned eighteen.

Every insult became a duel.

Every duel became a short & brutal fight.

And every fight usually ended with someone dead on the floor.

And every time, Prince Cain walked away without punishment.

Because he was a royal.

His father & second brother covered for him.

The guards bribed the witnesses to keep silent, and the Royal Supreme Court pretended nothing happened.

Only one person never stopped calling for his exile.

Crown Prince Alaric Vaelen Blackmoor-Thaloria, backed by House Blackmoor and the Holy Church, demanded again and again that the third prince be banished to the most dangerous frontier of the kingdom.

The nobles mocked him.

The Church despised him.

Half the commoners hated him.

But tavern keepers and brothel owners loved him more than gold itself.

Because Prince Cain spent money like a burning empire.

And the cycle repeated every single day.

Today is no different.

“Man, it feels good to do the same thing day after day, with no problems to solve.”

Prince Cain thinks as he pushes open the doors of his favorite establishment in Thaloria City, the Gilded Goblet, a tavern that is also a brothel, famous for strong mead, expensive girls, and violent customers who can afford not to be arrested.

Warm air hits him immediately, thick with roasted meat, honey, sweat, perfume, cheap incense, and spilled alcohol baked into old wooden floors.

Cain smells like indulgence even when dressed like royalty.

He wears the softest damask and brocade, but carelessly.

Sapphire silk is stained with old mead.

His emerald tunic is half-unbuttoned.

Gold chains hang around his neck like trophies.

Fine black leather boots are scuffed from tavern floors and alley fights.

Blue silk gloves cover hands that look elegant but are capable of breaking bones with frightening efficiency.

He walks in and the entire tavern slows.

People stare, girls whisper, & the men pretend not to look.

Cain doesn’t look at anyone.

He walks straight to the counter with a straight posture, slow and confident steps, like he owns the building, the city, and everyone inside it.

He sits.

A serving girl approaches immediately.

He grabs a tankard of mead, takes a long drink, then orders an entire honey-glazed roasted chicken covered in crushed chillies and black pepper.

The girl turns to leave.

His hand stops her.

He pulls her closer, & slides his hand under her clothes.

His fingers move without hesitation.

She gasps & bites her lip:with pleasure.

Her body shakes as he forces her to stand still while he plays with her like she’s something he bought instead of a person.

He makes her pull down her breeches all the way to her legs, pushes two fingers into her wetness, & watches her face twist in pleasure and embarrassment.

Then he lets her go like nothing happened.

She walks away on trembling legs.

Cain leans back and scans the tavern with sharp, predator eyes.

Then he sees Anya Hill, the owner of the Gilded Goblet.

She is around forty years old, yet she looks barely twenty.

She has sharp eyes, & perfect posture, like a woman who climbed from poverty to wealth with pure ruthlessness disguised as elegance.

He walks over to her while she is serving wealthy patrons.

“Fancy seeing you serve your tavern customers, Anya. You could have let these lovely serving girls of yours run the tavern while you sit collecting the money.”

He smirks.

She smiles politely, but her eyes are sharp.

“So you’ve come to your usual haunts and still haven’t changed, Your Highness. Yes, I may be a wealthy woman now, but I haven’t forgotten my roots. Unlike you, Prince Cain, who’s been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, I started out dirt poor with next to nothing. Doing what you consider menial labor reminds me of what I was before I became rich. I had to claw my way to where I am now. Enjoy your meal and drink. And if any of the girls here catch your fancy, just call them for some after-meal fun in bed. Have a nice afternoon ahead.”

She curtsies gracefully and leaves.

Cain smirks and returns to his table just as the tavern doors open again.

Cold air enters first.

Then a man in red.

Red coat with double-breasted front. Red sash. Red trousers. Red boots. High collar. Epaulets. Tassels. Authority in human form.

He shows the badge of a Defense Minister to a serving girl.

The girl immediately leads him to Third Prince Cain’s table.

Third Prince Cain continues eating his chicken like nothing matters.

“Defense Minister Lucius Hayes? What are you doing here, my lord?”

Lucius looks around the tavern with visible disgust.

Naked girls sit on patrons’ laps.

Men drink while being pleasured openly.

The sounds of laughter, moans, & drunken shouting can be heard all over the tavern.

“Third Prince Cain Thaloria, your father the King summoned you to the Throne Room later tonight. I believe it has something to do with all this constant eating, drinking, binge-fucking these attractive serving girls, and getting into one fight after another.”

Cain keeps eating.

Lucius leans closer.

“I advise you to prepare yourself, for what happens next will not be pleasant. Consider yourself forewarned, Your Highness.”

He turns and leaves immediately.

That night, the Throne Room is empty except for the royal family and the council.

Cain walks in and gives an exaggerated bow.

“You call for me, Father? What do you need from me this time, Your Majesty?”

King Alexander’s eyes burn with anger.

“You dare to mock me, boy? Your actions have greatly shamed me, your brothers, and the entire Council. You bring nothing but shame on the dignity of the Royal House of Thaloria.”

The room is silent.

Then the King speaks the words that change everything.

“I called you here to inform you that henceforth, you shall be banished from the royal court and forbidden to enter Thaloria Royal City. After much discussion with your brothers and my council, it has been unanimously decided that you shall be sent to the distant and wild Frostmark Province. You shall govern Frostmark as its Lord Governor. You will keep your royal title and privileges, and you will have access to the royal treasury to do what needs to be done with no questions asked. You leave tomorrow at first light. This decree is effective immediately.”

Cain opens his mouth to protest.

The King nods once.

The Royal Thalorian Kingsguard step forward and block Cain with crossed spears, forcing him toward the exit.

As he is escorted out, he hears laughter from half the council.

The Crown Prince smiles, and the Second Prince wears a half-smile that means absolutely nothing.

The other half of the council watches like statues carved from ice.

The doors close behind him.

And just like that, Prince Cain is exiled.

Far away, in another world, New York City glows in the night like a dying constellation made of glass and electricity.

Inside the massive headquarters of Nahori Weapons, beneath steel beams and fluorescent lights, Raphael Laurent sits alone.

He is 29 years old, brilliant, yet exhausted & burned out.

He stares at a screen showing the blueprints of the Barrage Storm 1.

It’s a sniper rifle capable of firing explosive submachine rounds in rapid succession, with high-velocity micro-explosive ammunition stabilized through recoil compensation and reinforced barrel cycling.

If a scope fails in combat, recoil destabilizes, & measurements are wrong, soldiers die.

Raphael checks every measurement again.

Finally, he sends the email containing the final blueprints to the United States military.

He exhales slowly, not out of relief, but emptiness.

His body collapses forward onto the desk.

Computers hum.

Fluorescent lights buzz.

New York continues moving without him.

His last thought is simple and bitter:

If I’m to die, let me return not as a tool, but as the hand that reshapes the world. Let me be the forge, not the flame.

Then everything goes dark.

Cold wind howls across Frostmark Province.

Snow covers everything like a burial shroud.

Inside Frostmark Castle, Cain Vailtair Thaloria wakes up suddenly in a luxurious bed surrounded by velvet curtains and carved ashwood.

He gasps and inhales the smell of smoke, wool, old meat, perfume, and cold stone.

His heart is racing.

But something is wrong.

He sits up slowly.

The memories are not just Cain’s.

They are Raphael Laurent’s, who is an engineer, weapons designer, and modern elite soldier in his past life.

Two lives collide inside one mind.

He looks around the room.

Silks, goblets, half-eaten food, & expensive mess are everywhere.

Then he looks out the window to see snow, torches, and a frozen city below the castle named Frostmark City.

He dresses slowly, choosing simple dark clothes instead of royal silk.

His movements are different now.

It is efficient, controlled, and observant, yet somewhat lazy.

Then suddenly, a transparent blue screen appears in front of him, floating in the air like a hologram only he can see.

“ Ding. Congratulations, Raphael Laurent. You just activated the Blueprints System. “