Welcome, Dear Readers!

*First of all, thank you for clicking on "The Prince's Rise from the Shadows.". This story is a project I have poured my heart into, and I am thrilled to finally share it with you.*

Before we begin this epic journey, I have a small request: Please be patient with the first 5 chapters. These early chapters serve as a crucial foundation for the world-building and the complex political landscape Prince Ken has to navigate. While they might feel like a slow burn, I promise you that from Chapter 6 onwards, the pace quickens, the stakes rise, and the true "Dark Political Fantasy" begins.

You may also notice that some early chapters are around 500 words. These are intentional, fast-paced setups designed to lead you into the deeper, longer chapters that follow.

In this world, power is never given—it is taken. I hope you enjoy watching Cain take what is rightfully his.

Buckle up, the rise starts now!

For behind-the-scenes content, character art, and live updates on the story, follow me on X [@S__Aether]. I would love to hear your theories and interact with you there!

In a world where kingdoms were built on the pillars of glory and tradition, where every prince was born to be a symbol of his nation's future, the Kingdom of Orvallis proudly displayed its golden thrones and majestic palace. Its corridors stretched like passageways holding the secrets of generations past. Colossal cedar doors, decorated with gleaming copper, and marble staircases reflecting the sun at every sunrise, served only as a stage for showing power—not for rest or peace.

Four years ago:

Early one morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tall palace windows, illuminating the carefully laid tiled floor, the fourth prince, Ken Val Orvallis, walked hesitantly across the great hall. His body was thin, his black hair falling over his eyes, hiding the constant fear and confusion within. His head was bowed, hands clasped in front of him, as if each movement carried the weight of silent guilt.

When he entered the hall, all eyes fell upon him for a brief moment—a mix of curiosity and surprise—but Ken didn't respond. He made his way to his seat in the corner and quietly set his plate before him. Around him sat his five siblings:

Adrian Val Orvallis, the eldest, 25, tall and strong with natural dignity, dark brown hair and sharp eyes. He commanded attention without needing to speak.

Leon Val Orvallis, 22, tall and handsome, with a confident gaze, known for both intelligence and skill in battle.

Darius Val Orvallis, 19, athletic, with blue eyes sparkling with competitiveness, and a voice full of confidence and ambition.

Iliana Val Orvallis, the youngest, 15, green-eyed with long blond hair, intelligent and kind, though she rarely interfered in her brothers' disputes.

The conversation between Leon and Darius soon turned to the upcoming Knight Festival, and their discussion was heated:

"I can't believe last year's festival went like that," Darius said, panting, a wry smile on his lips. "The new knights weren't up to par, and even the Royal Guard didn't live up to expectations."

"Don't exaggerate, Darius," Leon replied, raising an eyebrow. "The knights who participated proved themselves. I remember Sergeant Cairn clearly. If it had been just a show of strength, he would have shined."

"Ah, Cairn… yes, but he wasn't the strongest. Don't forget the knights from the northern lands—they were fiercer and more resilient," Darius said, absently stirring his soup.

Ken, sitting nearby, remained silent. He ate slowly, feeling the weight of their unspoken judgment.

Suddenly, Leon glanced at him, his tone a mix of mockery and curiosity:

"Hey… I didn't notice you, Ken."

Ken didn't reply, keeping his head lowered.

After a moment, Leon added:

"By the way, if you don't finish your food quickly, for someone as skinny as you, that looks like a huge portion."

Darius chuckled softly, then shoved the plate of meat toward Ken, spilling stew onto his chest. Leon and Darius laughed loudly. Darius added sarcastically:

"Hey, I was just offering you some meat… maybe it'll help you finish your meal faster."

Ken froze, unable to respond. Minutes later, everyone finished eating and left the hall. Ken remained, overwhelmed with bitterness and embarrassment, while the servants looked on with a mixture of pity and disdain, their whispers nearly reaching his ears.

Back in his room, Ken closed the door and collapsed onto his bed, crying bitterly. His personal servant, an elderly man named Marvin, with a gray beard and kind eyes, entered quietly and tried to comfort him:

"My lord… don't let them trouble your heart… you're stronger than they think."

Ken didn't move, crying silently until his tears dried on his pillow.

In the middle of the night, he wandered the dark palace corridors, passing narrow alleys. He overheard servants whispering about him:

"Weak… a joke… he'll amount to nothing."

He returned to his room and sat on the windowsill overlooking the royal garden, where tall trees and ornate flowers had once adorned his late mother's garden. Memories of childhood flooded back—how Iliana would scream with joy while playing with their mother, and how his heart had been full of happiness and respect.

But after their mother's death from illness, everything changed. Fear and bitterness took hold, and he gradually lost confidence in himself. He began blaming himself, whispering:

"Why wasn't I stronger? Why didn't I stand up for myself? Every day I feel smaller and weaker… Will anyone remember me? Or will I remain just a shadow among my brothers, nothing more, nothing less?"

Ken gazed at the moonlight reflecting on the palace fountain, feeling a strange stir within—a voice urging him to rise, though he didn't yet understand its meaning.

End of Chapter One.

Ken woke up at dawn, as he had for years, only to witness the same familiar scene: the first rays of sunlight slipping through the curtains of his room, a cold breeze drifting in from the garden, and the ornate walls reflecting the palace's false tranquility—while his heart remained heavy with fear and unease.

He rose slowly from his bed, his frail body stiffened slightly, and his hesitant steps carried him toward the grand dining hall. Upon entering, he greeted softly:

"Good morning…"

But, as always, no one answered.

Leon smirked mockingly.

"Ah… seems Ken is still lost in his little dream."

Darius chuckled softly and shoved a small dish toward Ken, spilling the soup onto the floor.

Ken remained silent, head bowed, enduring the daily humiliation. Everyone finished their meals and left the hall, while he stayed behind, weighed down by embarrassment and bitterness. The whispers of the servants behind him, dripping with pity and disdain, reached his ears as always.

Returning to his room, Ken paused for a moment before breaking down in tears—his eyes had caught an envelope lying on the table. With trembling hands, he picked it up and asked his loyal attendant, Marvin:

"What is this envelope?"

Marvin, struggling to contain his excitement, replied softly:

"I believe it is an invitation, my lord…"

Ken stared in surprise.

"An invitation?"

He opened the envelope and read its contents:

"It is our honor to invite you to the celebration held tonight at Duke Greif's palace."

Ken froze, his heart stirring with a mixture of shock and fear.

Marvin tried to reassure him:

"I will inform the servants to prepare the carriage, and we will choose your finest clothes, my lord… This is your chance to break the monotony of your daily life."

Ken sipped his tea and sat in thought, anxiety gnawing at him.

*If the invitation has reached me\, then surely my brothers will be there… What new humiliation awaits me this time?*

As the sun set, Ken boarded his carriage, heading toward the duke's palace.

Along the way, he asked Marvin:

"What is the occasion for this celebration?"

Marvin replied:

"My lord… there is no particular occasion, just a simple gathering. Though there are side reasons—such as the success of Duke Greif's family project, and the return of his son from a three-week field expedition."

Minutes later, Ken arrived at the palace, where lavish carriages lined the gates. Nervous, he stepped down and approached the guards, handing them the invitation through Marvin.

As he passed the gate, the duke's son—a young man in his mid-twenties—approached and asked:

"Why have you come?"

Ken froze, confused, while Marvin whispered anxiously:

"What…? Didn't you send him the invitation?"

Suddenly, a familiar, mocking voice echoed from behind:

"Hahaha… looks like someone brought an invitation that wasn't meant for him."

Marvin turned to see Prince Darius smirking, while Ken kept his gaze lowered, the words carving deep into his heart.

Darius said :

"The invitation wasn't for you. But if you were so eager to attend, why not simply ask instead of taking someone else's place?"

Ken froze, shame and anger boiling inside him, especially as the insult was delivered publicly before the nobles.

Marvin whispered:

"My lord… what should we do?"

Ken gave no reply. He climbed back into the carriage, head bowed, fists clenched tightly in humiliation and fury.

Back at the palace, he rushed into his room and shouted at Marvin:

"How could you let this happen!? Is this how you serve me? Did you expect me to endure such disgrace in broad daylight?"

Marvin, flustered, tried to explain softly:

"My lord… I meant no harm. I thought it might be a chance for you…"

But Ken did not listen. The anger within him surged, and the inner voice that had long whispered now thundered:

*I will not remain a shadow any longer… I will not allow them to disgrace me again… This is the time to rise.*

He collapsed onto the floor, clutching his head, bitterness and rage rising. The inner voice shouted louder:

*Power… Rise… Revenge… Prove yourself.*

The next morning, in the capital's military center, someone called out:

"Marshal! Are the rumors about your retirement true?"

The marshal laughed.

"Hahaha, in fact, I have just retired."

The soldier replied:

"So the rumors were true… but why?"

The marshal answered:

"Why, you ask? Do you expect me to continue at sixty? I have already given forty years of my life. Perhaps I shall return someday."

The soldier grinned.

"Really? Then when you return, I'll prove myself worthy and join your unit!"

The marshal laughed heartily.

"Hahaha… when I said I might return, I didn't mean to my rank. Perhaps to some simple work where I can still serve… or perhaps I won't return at all."

Disappointment flashed across the soldier's face.

The marshal left the center, and as he opened the door to depart, two things greeted him:

the warm rays of the morning sun…

and the sight of the fourth prince—Ken.

End of Chapter Two