For a thousand years, I was a sword. I tasted dragon blood, royal wine, and the final breaths of men who believed themselves chosen. Then my friend said, “Look after my descendants.” I thought that meant guarding their name. I did not expect to wake inside a prince’s chamber, in a body so soft, spoiled, and talentless it looked like a joke the gods had left unfinished. Adrian Leonberk. Sixteen. No discipline. No shame. No future. The court called him a scoundrel. The knights called him a disgrace. The kingdom called him worthless. But when the brat lifted me and screamed for the power of the Dragon Slayer, I saw the truth. The line of my friend had not fallen because fate was cruel. It had fallen because no one had raised it properly. I had raised knights. I had raised kings. I had raised heroes. I could raise a prince. So I took his hand. I took his throne. I took his name. And I became the first prince.
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