The Return of the Betrayed Heir

4

I recognized that voice instantly. It belonged to Commander Gareth, the leader of the Blood Knights and my father's most trusted lieutenant. In my previous life, Gareth was the mentor who taught me how to wield the sword and master the lethal Blood Flames.

"Come in," I called out, striving to keep my tone natural for a toddler.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in crimson steel armor. A long dark cape draped over his shoulders, and his weathered face bore a prominent scar running from his left eyebrow down to his jawline. His sharp gray eyes scanned the room before settling on me inside the crib.

Gareth bowed respectfully, placing a gauntleted hand over his chest. "Greetings, Young Master Rhaegal. Patriarch Aenys sent me to inspect your progress."

I climbed out of the crib carefully, using the pillow I had dropped earlier as a stepping stone once again, and landed softly on the rug. Tessarion stirred at the noise, letting out a sleepy squeak before rubbing his snout against my ankle.

Gareth's eyes widened slightly as he observed my agility and composure. "You move with unusual coordination for a child of three winters, Young Master."

"I am merely impatient, Commander," I replied, staring directly into his eyes with an intensity that made the veteran knight stiffen. "Tell me, why has my father sent you here instead of coming himself?"

Gareth blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the sophisticated structure of my sentence. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "The Patriarch is currently presiding over a war council. Reports have arrived from the southern borders. The Phoenix Clan has begun mobilizing their vanguard near the Ashwood Forest."

So it begins, I thought bitterly. The border skirmishes that would eventually spiral into the apocalyptic continental war were already starting.

"I see," I murmured, turning my gaze toward the window. "And where is my brother, Baelon?"

Gareth narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something unnatural about my inquiry, but answered nonetheless. "Young Master Baelon is currently attending his martial lessons in the courtyard with the senior instructors."

'Learning how to hold a sword while planning fratricide in his spare time,' I sneered internally.

"Commander Gareth," I said, stepping closer to the tall knight. "I wish to visit the training grounds."

Gareth let out a short, rumbly laugh, mistaking my request for childhood curiosity. "The training grounds are no place for a infant, Young Master. The steel is sharp and the aura of the knights can be overwhelming."

"I am the son of Aenys Dragonblood," I stated coldly, releasing a minuscule drop of my latent intent—a residual fragment of the bloodthirsty aura I had cultivated through years of slaughter. "I do not fear sharp steel."

The atmosphere in the room temperature seemed to plunge instantly. Gareth's laughter died in his throat, and his hand instinctively dropped toward the hilt of his broadsword. He stared at me in sheer disbelief, his eyes wide as he felt the suffocating pressure radiating from a child who barely reached his knees.

Tessarion, sensing the sudden spike in tension, bared his tiny fangs at Gareth and let out a higher-pitched hiss, his golden scales flaring brightly.

Gareth took a half-step back, sweat glistening on his forehead. 'What... what was that murderous intent?! It felt like I was standing before a seasoned dragon executioner!'

I quickly suppressed the aura, returning my expression to that of a harmless child, and offered a faint smile. "Shall we go, Commander?"

Gareth swallowed heavily, wiping the cold sweat from his neck with his gauntlet. He looked at me not as a child, but as a terrifying enigma wrapped in toddler flesh.

"As... as you wish, Young Master Rhaegal," Gareth stammered, bowing lower than before. "Follow me."

I picked up Tessarion, tucking the little golden dragon under my arm like a cushion, and walked past the commander out into the stone corridor.

My second life had officially begun. I would observe Baelon, uncover his conspirators, master this fragile body, and when the time was right, I would paint the walls of this castle with the blood of those who dared to betray me.