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Three years had passed since the day that had forever changed their lives. The explosion in the palace, which occurred during the celebration, had not been an accident. The culprits were quickly found, but it brought no peace. Even now, the shadows of the past lingered over the palace. Grand celebrations had become rare, and even those took place in semi-silence — no grand fireworks, loud music, or carefree laughter. Guards patrolled the palace and gardens around the clock, their footsteps echoing through the long corridors.
Eugene sat at his desk, studying the report on those years. His face appeared focused, but his eyes were clearly tired.
"Reading this again?" Ivan's voice rang out.
Eugene looked up. His brother stood in the doorway, holding a training sword. His posture was full of energy, but his expression betrayed hidden concern.
"Sometimes it's useful to remember exactly what happened," Eugene replied, returning his gaze to the documents.
"Why? We already know everything," Ivan shrugged. "They wanted to kill father. And we just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"And survived because uncle's train was delayed."
Ivan snorted and paced around the room, as though trying to release some pent-up energy.
"It was just luck. What else is there to analyze?"
Eugene closed the folder and stood up.
"You always make it sound like it was just a coincidence."
"Isn't it?"
"No," Eugene frowned. "It wasn't just a coincidence. It was a lesson."
Ivan stopped, looking at his brother.
"A lesson about what?"
"About the fact that we don't live in a fairy tale," Eugene said calmly, but his voice was firm. "The world around us is full of threats."
"And what are you going to do with this information? Read books about it?"
"And you? Fight the shadows?"
Ivan clenched his fists but said nothing. Silence filled the room, but this time, it held no hostility.
"You still think about that day too, don't you?" Eugene finally asked.
"Sometimes."
Ivan turned to the window, watching as the sun began to break through the low clouds over the garden. His hands rested on the windowsill, his fingers nervously drumming on the wood.
"Do you think they'll come back?" he suddenly asked, without turning around.
Eugene, who had been flipping through the pages of a book, froze.
"Who?"
"Well, the ones who did this." Ivan turned to face him, meeting his brother's gaze. "You do understand they could try again."
"They were caught," Eugene replied, but there was uncertainty in his voice.
"Yeah, the ones responsible were caught. What about the others?" Ivan took a step to the side, as if unable to find a place to stand. "This isn't over. Every day someone, somewhere is planning something."
"And you're going to stop them all?" Eugene scoffed, closing the book.
"Someone has to."
Eugene looked at him, slightly furrowing his brows.
"Do you think we can change anything? We're kids, Ivan."
"Exactly!" Ivan snapped. "That's why we have to learn. They'll strike again, Eugene, and can the guards protect us?"
Eugene didn't respond immediately. He knew his brother was worried, and he understood him. But in his eyes, the reality seemed a little different.
"We can't control everything," he said quietly, standing up. "Even the adults can't."
Ivan fell silent, frowning.
"You're always saying that nothing can be done."
"No, I'm saying we should do what we can," Eugene replied firmly. "And that's not just fighting or checking every corner of the palace."
Ivan stopped for a moment, contemplating what he had just heard. His gaze returned to the window.
"You've always been smarter than me."
"No, just calmer," Eugene smiled.
Ivan sighed and stepped away from the window, briefly rubbing his face in exhaustion. His emotions still had no outlet, but arguing with his brother always ended with him falling silent.
"You know," he began, sitting on the edge of the desk, "sometimes I think: what if we hadn't made it? What if everything had gone... differently?"
Eugene didn't look up from his book, but Ivan knew he was listening.
"We made it. And that's all that matters," Eugene finally responded, turning the page.
Ivan smirked, but there was no real humor in it.
"You make it sound so simple."
"You sometimes act like everything depends on us," Eugene said quietly, tilting his head to the side.
"Maybe it does," Ivan retorted, but there was no anger in his voice. More like fatigue. "Who else will think about it if not us?"
"Father? The council? All these people who work here?" Eugene gestured toward the door.
"And where were they three years ago?" Ivan turned, his gaze tense. "If it weren't for the train delay, we wouldn't even be standing here."
"Well... Yeah." Eugene replied calmly, interlacing his fingers. "But what are you going to do about it?"
Ivan stopped, his hands trembling.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I can’t just sit here and pretend everything’s under control.”
“No one expects you to,” Eugene sighed. “You’re not obligated to save the world.”
“But I am obligated to protect you,” Ivan replied sharply.
Eugene raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.
“Do you really think I can’t take care of myself?”
“I think you rely too much on books and smart conversations instead of actions.” Ivan scoffed, but then his voice softened. “I just want to be sure that I can do something if this happens again.”
Eugene leaned forward, his expression turning serious.
“We’ll never be fully ready, Ivan. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
Ivan was about to reply when the door to the library suddenly opened. Their mentor, Wenwin, stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of respect and irritation.
“Why are you two arguing like children?” His voice was cold. “If you have time for empty talks, find a way to make it useful.”
Ivan bit his tongue, while Eugene stood up and dryly remarked, “We’re discussing how to make it useful.”
Wenwin glanced at them.
“Then show it in your actions. In a few minutes, the lesson starts.”
The brothers exchanged glances. In the silence that followed Wenwin’s departure, there was unspoken tension.
“Well, genius?” Ivan smirked, trying to break the tension. “Discussed everything?”
The silence between them softened a little, as if the brief argument had cleared the air.
“Alright, enough,” Ivan suddenly said, standing up. “Let’s go to Wenwin before he decides to execute us for being late.”
Eugene snorted but followed his brother. And in that moment, though the memories still hung over them, they left them behind—at least until the next conversation.
When the brothers entered the classroom, Wenwin was already standing at the table, reviewing maps and notes. His posture was perfect, his gaze cold.
“You’re late,” he remarked without a hint of irritation, but that was enough to make both brothers tense up.
“We had… a discussion,” Eugene replied, trying to smooth things over.
“I hope it was a constructive one,” Wenwin responded, raising his gaze. “Because you both need to understand: there’s no more time for childish talk.”
Ivan was about to say something, but Eugene stepped on his foot lightly, signaling for him to remain silent.
“Today we’ll continue studying strategy,” Wenwin continued, pointing to the maps on the table. “You need to understand how to make decisions quickly and effectively.”
“Because kings can’t afford mistakes,” Ivan muttered, approaching the table.
“Exactly,” Wenwin nodded. “And you’ll have to learn how to handle that.”
The lesson began, and Wenwin moved from one map to another, asking questions about possible actions in crisis situations. Eugene answered clearly, sometimes correcting Wenwin when he pretended to make a mistake. Ivan, on the other hand, remained mostly silent, occasionally throwing out short phrases that sounded more like challenges.
“Ivan, did you want to add something?” Wenwin asked unexpectedly, noticing his silence.
“No,” Ivan replied shortly.
“Are you sure?” Wenwin raised an eyebrow.
“I just think it’s pointless,” Ivan said, staring at the maps. “No one knows what could happen.”
Wenwin stepped closer, his voice becoming softer but still firm.
“And that’s exactly why we prepare. To be ready for anything.”
Eugene shot a quick glance at his brother, but Ivan just pressed his lips together.
“Let’s continue,” Wenwin said, returning to his explanations.
He traced his finger across the map, marking important points. His voice remained confident, even when asking difficult questions that required an immediate response.
“You’re commanding troops at the border. You receive reports of enemy activity in two locations at the same time. What do you do?”
Eugene answered first:
“You need to assess which threat is real and which one might be a diversion. I’d split the troops but keep enough reserves to support the main front.”
Wenwin nodded slightly.
“And then what?” Ivan asked, his tone skeptical.
Eugene paused, considering the situation.
“After evaluating the threats, I’d direct the reserves to the more immediate danger while maintaining a defensive posture at the secondary location. The key is to stay flexible and not overcommit to one front.”
Wenwin nodded, impressed.
“Good. And Ivan? What would you do?”
Ivan looked at the map, his eyes narrowing.
“Split the troops, but send a small force to create a diversion at the secondary location. That way, we can keep the enemy guessing while focusing the bulk of the force on the main threat.”
Wenwin studied Ivan for a moment before speaking.
“An interesting approach. It’s more aggressive, but it could work. You’re both right, but Eugene’s idea offers more caution. Ivan’s approach is bolder, but it risks overextension.”
Eugene’s gaze flickered toward his brother, but Ivan just shrugged, unwilling to elaborate further.
“We need both approaches,” Wenwin said. “The key is knowing when to use which strategy. Both caution and aggression have their places.”
He moved to the next scenario on the map, pausing for a moment.
“Now, what if your forces are outnumbered and you’re forced to retreat? How would you maintain order and prevent a complete collapse of your position?”
Eugene responded immediately.
“You’d need to establish defensive lines, use the terrain, and execute a controlled withdrawal. It’s important to avoid panic among the troops, and the retreat must be organized, not a rout.”
“Exactly,” Wenwin said with approval. “And Ivan?”
Ivan thought for a moment, then spoke.
“I’d set traps on the way back, slow them down as much as possible. The goal isn’t to defeat them, but to make them pay for every inch.”
Wenwin nodded again, acknowledging the merit of Ivan’s suggestion.
“Both responses are valid. The situation depends on timing and resources. Never forget, sometimes you must retreat to fight another day.”
Eugene and Ivan exchanged looks. Both understood the lesson, though Ivan’s expression seemed more skeptical.
“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Wenwin said, signaling the end of the session. “You both have a lot to learn, but you’re getting there.”
As the class concluded, the brothers stood up, but there was a lingering tension between them, a weight that had not been fully lifted.
“So, we’re ready for anything now, huh?” Ivan asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
Eugene gave him a look, not responding immediately.
“Ready as we can be,” he said finally. “But nothing is ever certain, Ivan. Remember that.”
The two of them left the room in silence, the weight of their mentor’s lessons hanging heavy in the air. They were ready for the challenges ahead, but only time would tell if they were truly prepared for what the future held.
"Logical, but risky. What about you, Ivan?"
Ivan lifted his head, looked at the map, then at his mentor.
"I'd attack the place with the higher threat probability immediately. Fast and hard."
"What if it's a trap?" Wenwin asked.
"If we don't move in time, everything will be a trap." Ivan shot back, crossing his arms.
Eugene glanced briefly at his brother but didn't intervene. Wenwin held his gaze on Ivan a little longer than usual.
"Do you think impulsiveness is better than analysis?" he asked, leaning in slightly.
Ivan remained silent, staring back at him. His face was calm, but his fingers unconsciously clenched into fists.
"I think sometimes we don’t have time for long deliberation."
Wenwin straightened up and looked at both brothers.
"Discuss it. Together. Decide which plan is better."
They both fell silent, leaning over the map. The silence in the room felt tangible, but it was a silence of work, not conflict.
"If we look at reserves and possible backups..." Eugene started, pointing to one of the spots.
"But what if they're ready to strike here?" Ivan interrupted, pointing to another place.
The conversation continued for several more minutes. Wenwin watched their interaction, occasionally correcting or adding details. When they were done, he stepped closer.
"Your approaches are different, but both are important. Remember: a king must be able to think and act simultaneously."
The lesson lasted almost another hour. Wenwin asked questions, guiding them toward the answers, but never gave direct instructions. His teaching method was strict and demanding, but effective. By the time he released them, both brothers felt as if they had been wrung out like sponges.
"That was… exhausting," Eugene muttered, rising from the table and rubbing his neck.
"He loves torturing us," Ivan remarked, glancing at the mentor, who was already heading for the door.
"He's just doing his job," Eugene replied.
Ivan just scoffed. When the door closed behind Venwin, the room fell into silence. The brothers remained quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Do you really believe our knowledge will help?" Ivan finally asked, breaking the silence.
Eugene frowned slightly, leaning on the table.
"You yourself said that training doesn't solve everything. The same applies to knowledge."
"So what does solve it?" Ivan crossed his arms over his chest.
"Balance," Eugene said seriously, looking at him with an intensity not typical for their age. "We must be prepared for everything. That means both thinking and acting."
"Balance..." Ivan repeated, as if tasting the word.
Eugene shrugged.
"That's what Father is trying to teach us. And Wenwin."
Ivan didn’t answer, his gaze once again turning toward the window. But his brother’s words lingered in his mind.
"Maybe you're right," Ivan said at last.
"Maybe?" Eugene smirked as he stood up from his seat. "Looks like you're getting softer."
"I'm getting used to it," Ivan replied, grabbing his training sword.
When Eugene headed for the library, Ivan stayed behind. He didn’t want to return to his quarters. He felt trapped there. Instead, he made his way to the training grounds, the place he usually went when no one was watching. Quiet, slightly dusty, with weapons neatly stacked against the wall, it was where Ivan could, at least for a while, feel needed.
He took the training sword and ran his hand along its wooden surface. Just yesterday, he had overheard Father talking about him to Venwin.
"Ivan lacks discipline. He’s too impulsive."
Those words cut him, lingering deep inside his mind. He took a few steps into the center of the field, then raised the sword, recalling every movement he had practiced over the last few months. His steps were quick, the strikes precise, but each movement felt tense.
"Not like that," he muttered to himself, irritated.
He repeated the strike, then another. With each swing, his breathing grew heavier, but he didn’t stop. At that moment, the door to the training ground creaked open, and Eugene appeared in the doorway.
"Still training?" he asked, leaning against the door.
"What’s it to you?" Ivan responded without looking up.
"Just surprised you haven't gotten tired of it yet." Eugene smirked.
Ivan shot him a quick, annoyed look but stayed silent. Eugene stepped closer, sat down on a bench, and studied his brother intently.
"You’re not doing this just for Father, are you?"
"Of course not," Ivan replied sharply.
Eugene tilted his head slightly, examining him.
"It’s just strange that you spend almost all your free time here. Like you have no other interests."
"What do you suggest? Singing songs like you?" Ivan dropped the sword to the floor and glared at his brother.
Eugene tensed, but replied calmly:
"Why not? At least it’s interesting."
"And useful?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Father said it’s pointless."
Eugene crossed his arms over his chest.
"Are training sessions useful? Or is this just your way of proving you’re better?"
"Maybe so." Ivan snapped, though his voice sounded unsure.
For a moment, there was silence, then Eugene sighed.
"You know, you may be the older one, but sometimes you act like you need to prove it to the whole world."
"And you act like you don’t care." Ivan retorted, throwing his arms up.
"I don’t not care. I just want to do what I enjoy, not what’s ‘necessary.’"
Ivan smirked, but there was a flicker of envy in his eyes.
"Pity Father doesn’t think like that."
Eugene smiled, but it was tinged with sadness.
"Yeah... pity..."
Eugene remained seated on the bench, watching as Ivan tossed his sword onto the rack. His movements grew sharper, as if his brother was irritated not only by the conversation but by his own thoughts.
"You know Father won’t stop demanding more from us," Eugene said, trying to ease the tension.
"Do you think I don't understand that?" Ivan spun around sharply. "It's just that at least I understand what he wants."
Eugene smiled faintly, but there was weariness in his eyes.
"Yes, you understand. I don't."
Ivan froze, his gaze softening.
"Is this about your singing?"
"What else would it be about?" Eugene shrugged. "To him, it’s a waste of time."
"And you still sing." Ivan squinted slightly. "Secretly."
"Because I don't want to completely forget what I enjoy." Eugene spread his hands. "You don’t train just for Father, do you?"
"No." Ivan reluctantly admitted.
Eugene nodded as if confirming his point.
"Then why are we both pretending we live only for his expectations?"
Ivan snorted but didn't respond. For a moment, the room was silent. Then Ivan, as if changing the subject, grabbed his sword.
"Are you going to show me how you sing, or are you going to hide in your room as usual?"
Eugene looked at his brother in surprise, then smirked slightly.
"Try to convince me."
Ivan, smirking, lunged towards his brother, but Eugene stepped back just in time. They both knew the argument wasn't over, but for now, it seemed irrelevant.
The brothers walked down the long corridor of the palace, which led out of their training room. Ivan walked ahead, slightly swinging his practice sword in his hand, as if debating whether to turn back and continue training. Eugene, on the other hand, walked slowly, softly humming to himself as his gaze wandered over the windows.
"Did you notice?" Ivan suddenly stopped and turned to his brother.
"Notice what?" Eugene responded, stopping his humming.
"The guards. There are more of them now than in the morning," Ivan nodded toward the soldiers standing guard at doors where usually no one was stationed.
Eugene glanced quickly at one of them but immediately looked away.
"Maybe Father is just being extra cautious?"
"Or something serious has happened," Ivan leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"And you want us to find out?" Eugene asked sarcastically.
Ivan shrugged.
"If we don’t find out ourselves, he certainly won’t tell us."
"And you're ready to get in trouble again?" Eugene squinted, his voice sounding more concerned than mocking.
"It's better than sitting and doing nothing." Ivan replied, continuing to walk.
Eugene paused for a second but then, relenting, followed him.
They were approaching the central staircase leading to the living quarters when footsteps interrupted their conversation. One of the courtiers approached them with a bow.
"Your Highnesses, the sovereign has requested your immediate presence in the council chamber," the courtier announced in an even tone.
Ivan and Eugene exchanged glances. The sudden summons was unusual. Typically, they were notified in advance if their presence at the council was part of their training.
"Has something happened?" Ivan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The courtier gave a brief nod and added, "Please, make haste."
They followed him in silence, the tension mounting with each step. Ivan felt his hands grow cold but maintained an outward calm. Eugene walked slightly behind, avoiding eye contact with the passing guards.
When they reached the towering doors of the chamber, the courtier gestured for them to enter. The guards stationed at the doors opened them, and the brothers stepped into the familiar yet intimidating room. The large table, the council members seated around it, and the vaulted ceilings that echoed every word—all of it commanded respect. At the center, as always, sat their father.
"Sit," he ordered curtly without looking up, his eyes fixed on a map spread before him.
Ivan and Eugene quickly took their seats. This time, they weren’t invited to speak, only to listen. Though this role seemed simple, it was unnerving now. The brothers could feel that something significant was concealed beneath the surface of the discussion.
The grand hall filled with muted voices. Ivan and Eugene sat along the far wall as dictated by protocol. Their presence was part of their upbringing—a way to familiarize them with responsibility and state affairs. But neither of them had expected the topic of today’s council to make their blood run cold.
Their father, Alexander, sat at the head of the table, his stern gaze sweeping over those gathered. The general, a robust man with a thick mustache, stood near the map. A red cross marked a bridge on it.
"The plan was simple, but delays in execution caused it to fail. The culprits have been intercepted," the general said evenly, though tension laced his voice.
"Nevertheless, the assassination attempt was thwarted," someone from the other side of the table added. "Your Majesty, the immediate danger has passed, but we must remain vigilant. More attempts should be expected."
Ivan stole a glance at his brother. Eugene was pale, his gaze fixed on the map.
"Where are the arrested now?" Alexander’s voice was so quiet it felt menacing.
"They are being held at the Peter and Paul Fortress, Your Majesty," the general replied. "But they remain silent. Interrogations are ongoing."
Alexander nodded, closing his eyes briefly.
"Double the security measures," he commanded, opening his eyes and surveying the room. "No one must sense any weakness in our authority. The people must see order. And you," he looked at his sons, "listen and remember. This is a lesson for you."
The council continued for a long time. The voices of the men alternated between rising in heated debate and quieting to murmurs, like distant thunder. Ivan tried to focus, committing the words to memory, but one thought kept repeating in his mind: Whatever happened, it was dangerous.
Eugene sat hunched, occasionally stealing glances at their father. His expression remained cold, almost carved from stone, and that was the most unsettling part.
When the discussion finally concluded, Alexander rose. With a barely perceptible nod, he signaled that the meeting was over. Everyone stood to acknowledge his departure.
"You two, stay," he said curtly, looking at his sons.
Ivan felt his heart drop. Only they remained in the room now, along with their father and two courtiers clearing papers from the massive table.
Alexander approached the map, his hands clasped behind his back, fingers tightening into fists. He stared at the red cross marking the bridge in silence.
"Do you understand what you heard today?" he finally asked without turning around.
Ivan was the first to try to answer, but his voice faltered. "Yes, Father."
"Then tell me what it means." Alexander turned slowly, his gaze heavy.
Ivan glanced at his brother, but Eugene remained silent, as though afraid that any word would be a mistake. Ivan drew a deep breath and said, "It means you’re in danger. Those people… they won’t stop."
Alexander studied him for a long moment before shifting his gaze to Eugene.
"And you, Eugene? Do you think the same?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Eugene replied, avoiding his father’s eyes.
Alexander stepped closer, his face now mere inches from theirs.
"Remember this: you are not ordinary children. Eyes are on you. You are being judged. Every mistake you make could become a weapon for those who seek to destroy us." His voice grew quieter, but it only made his words more chilling. "I hope you understand that."
Ivan nodded, his gaze unwavering. Eugene mumbled, "Yes, Father."
Alexander turned away, dismissing them with a gesture.
"Go. You have time to think."
After the council meeting, they walked down the long corridor in silence. Every word spoken in the hall still echoed in their minds. Ivan walked ahead, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Eugene trailed behind him, as though afraid to break the silence.
“Why did they even invite us there?” Eugene finally muttered, staring at the back of his brother’s head.
Ivan stopped and turned to face him.
“To remind us who we are,” he said, his voice hollow. “And that we’ll never be like the others.”
Eugene frowned but said nothing. He didn’t want to argue, but Ivan’s words struck a nerve.
“I wonder if Leonhard and Kai know what it’s like for us,” Ivan added quietly, not moving.
“I don’t think they do,” Eugene replied after a pause. “They don’t have this... pressure. Their kingdom is different. The people there live more peacefully.”
Ivan gave a mirthless smile.
“More peacefully, sure. They don’t have to sit through councils, hear about conspiracies, or count every mistake as a threat.”
“Are you jealous of them?” Eugene asked cautiously, stepping closer.
“You not?” Ivan shot back, his gaze piercing.
Eugene didn’t have an answer. Jealousy lurked somewhere in the corners of his mind, but admitting it, even to himself, felt wrong.
“They’re not us,” he finally said, trying to steer the conversation back to seriousness. “They have their lives; we have ours.”
“Our life always feels like it’s on the brink of collapsing,” Ivan muttered darkly.
“But it’s still ours,” Eugene said quietly, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Ivan didn’t reply, nor did he pull away. Their silent agreement felt fragile, but for now, it was all they had.
When the brothers reached Ivan’s room, the silence remained. Ivan stepped inside first, tossing his coat onto a chair and walking to the window. Outside, the palace grounds looked serene: snowdrifts sparkled in the moonlight, and the wind carried faint wisps of smoke from distant chimneys.
Eugene shut the door behind him and, still in his coat, sat on the bed. He wanted to say something to break the tension, but words felt unnecessary. Ivan, still gazing outside, broke the silence himself:
“Have you ever thought about what it would be like to live without all this? Without the constant fear?”
Eugene raised his head but didn’t get a chance to answer before Ivan continued:
“I imagine us in Granzreich. Sitting at a table with Leonhard, Kai, Bruno, and Licht. They joke, laugh—no one forces them to carry this... this burden.”
Eugene looked away, studying his hands.
“Maybe it’s hard for them too,” he finally said.
“Hard?” Ivan scoffed, but there was no warmth in his voice. “You’ve seen how they live. No one wants to overthrow their father. No one’s plotting to blow up the bridge he’s crossing.”
Eugene shrugged.
“Maybe so. But we can’t change that. This is our life, Ivan.”
“I know,” Ivan muttered, stepping away from the window. “It’s just... sometimes, I wish it were different.”
He sank into a chair, running a hand over his face. Eugene watched him, feeling his own anxiety rising.
“Do you really think we’ll never be able to live peacefully?” Eugene asked cautiously.
Ivan lifted his head, meeting his brother’s gaze.
“Maybe someday. But not now.”
After a brief silence, Eugene stood and approached the window.
“You do realize this will never end,” he said softly, staring into the darkness.
Ivan, still seated, rubbed his face with both hands.
“Do you know how many assassination attempts this makes?” Ivan asked suddenly, without turning.
Eugene frowned, puzzled.
“Four, maybe five. I’ve lost count.”
“Five,” Ivan corrected quietly. “And still, they don’t stop.”
“Why do you think they keep trying? Even though they’ve failed so many times...”
Ivan scowled, turning to look at his brother.
“Because they hate him. They hate power; they hate what it stands for.”
Eugene leaned against the windowsill, folding his arms.
“Then they probably won’t stop until they succeed.”
Ivan flinched at those words. He knew Eugene was right, but hearing it out loud was terrifying.
“And Father knows it,” Eugene continued, seemingly unaware of Ivan’s reaction. “That’s why he says danger is always close. He expects that one day, it will end differently.”
“With his death,” Ivan murmured, lowering his gaze. “And it terrifies him.”
“But he’ll never show it,” Ivan added. “Not ever.”
Eugene bit his lip, lowering his head.
“And us?” he asked softly, almost in a whisper.
“What about us?” Ivan frowned.
“It involves us too. If they get to him... what happens to us?”
Ivan looked at his brother but didn’t immediately answer. His hands dropped helplessly to his sides.
“We’ll be next,” he finally said.
The words felt like a sentence. Eugene shuddered but said nothing. They remained silent, listening to the faint sound of distant footsteps echoing through the palace.
A sudden knock on the door startled them. Ivan stood, exchanging a glance with Eugene, and approached the door.
“Come in,” he said cautiously.
A servant appeared on the threshold.
“Your Highnesses, I apologize for disturbing you,” the man began with a slight bow. “His Majesty has asked me to inform you that tomorrow’s training schedule has been altered. He requests you focus on studying the city’s map.”
“City map?” Ivan repeated.
“Yes.” The servant hesitated for a moment before adding, “That’s all. Good night.”
Eugene frowned but said nothing. Ivan gave a brief nod.
“Understood.”
The servant left, leaving them alone once again.
“A map of the city...” Ivan muttered. “What do you think it’s for?”
Eugene pushed himself away from the windowsill and returned to his bed.
“Maybe he wants us to know where it’s dangerous. Or maybe… where danger might find us.”
Ivan shrugged, but his face remained tense.
“Or where we might be found,” he added grimly, sitting down on a chair.
Eugene stayed silent. The thought that their father could become the next target no longer seemed distant or impossible.
Morning came faster than expected. Ivan and Eugene sat at a large table in the study room. Before them lay a massive city map, marked with red and black symbols. The room was cool, but the tension emanating from their mentor made the air feel heavier.
“As you can see,” he began, pointing to one of the markings with a slender stick, “these are the key locations where suspicious activities have been recorded over the past two months.”
Eugene frowned, trying to focus. Ivan, on the other hand, listened intently, gripping his pencil so tightly it might snap.
“This is the bridge where the last attack occurred,” the mentor continued, pointing to a spot marked with a red cross. “Here, the perpetrators attempted to use a bomb. Fortunately, the plan failed due to the clumsiness of the executor.”
“‘Fortunately,’” Ivan repeated under his breath, gripping the pencil even tighter.
“However, you must understand that the threat remains.” The mentor raised his gaze to them. “This attempt won’t be the last, and your task is to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Eugene couldn’t help but ask, looking at him in surprise.
“For any possible outcome,” the mentor replied dryly, as if it were obvious. “You are heirs. Your lives will always be under threat.”
Eugene turned away, staring at the map. His fingers nervously drummed against the table. Ivan remained silent, absorbing the information.
When the lesson ended, the brothers lingered in the room, still studying the map.
“Did you notice how many marks there are?” Eugene asked quietly, tracing a line along the streets.
“Yes,” Ivan replied. “And this is only what they’ve shown us.”
Eugene froze for a moment, then looked up at his brother.
“How many more times do you think they’ll try?”
Ivan didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the map for a long time before saying, “As many times as it takes. Until they succeed.”
The calmness of his words was chilling. Eugene shuddered but didn’t argue.
They fell silent again, each lost in their thoughts.
After some time, Ivan, still staring at the map, sighed and got up, walking over to the window.
“Do you remember when Mom showed us this map?” he asked, leaning his hands against the windowsill.
Eugene looked up, not immediately understanding what his brother was talking about.
“How could I forget?” he finally replied. “It was her way of distracting us when everything was falling apart.”
Ivan nodded but didn’t turn around.
“She used to say that knowing your home is like knowing yourself. That if we knew every street, every corner, we’d always feel safe.”
He fell silent, gazing at the streets outside, which now seemed foreign and dangerous. Eugene remembered that evening too. They were about ten years old. Their mother had brought out the map and spread it across the floor. She sat with them, pointing out each street and telling stories about the places.
“It felt like a game back then,” Eugene said softly. “But now...”
He didn’t finish, but Ivan understood.
“Now it’s all we have left,” Ivan said grimly.
Eugene lowered his gaze, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of the table.
“Do you think she knew?” he asked.
Ivan turned to him, surprised.
“Knew what?”
“That things would turn out this way. That Father would become… like this. That we’d be living in constant fear.”
Ivan thought for a moment before walking back to the table.
“I don’t know. But I think she always felt something. Do you remember how she used to look at Father when he talked about politics?”
Eugene nodded. Her gaze back then was heavy yet calm, as if she understood she couldn’t change anything but still needed to stay by his side.
“It was different with her,” Eugene said suddenly. “She could calm us down. Even Father seemed different.”
“Because he listened to her,” Ivan added. “She was the only one who could stop him.”
They fell silent, lost in memories. Visions of her kind eyes, soft voice, and warm hands that always embraced them—no matter how cold and hostile the world seemed—flickered in their minds.
“Sometimes I feel like if she were alive, she could have stopped all this,” Ivan said, breaking a pencil in his hands. “Or at least protected us.”
Eugene lowered his head, bitterness rising in his throat like a lump.
“But she’s not here,” Ivan continued, his voice quieter now. “And we’re on our own.”
“We’re not alone,” Eugene said, lifting his eyes to his brother. “We still have each other.”
Ivan smirked, but there was no joy in it.
“Together, yes, but stuck in this cursed palace where every day brings new threats.”
“And yet, we can still remember her,” Eugene said, trying to sound resolute. “And try to be the people she wanted us to be.”
Ivan looked at him and slowly nodded.
“You know, sometimes I dream she’s back with us. That she walks in here, smiles, and tells us everything will be alright.”
Eugene sighed, feeling a sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.
“I do too.”
They fell silent again, but this time the silence was warm, reminiscent of the moments they had shared with their mother.
Ivan sat at the table for a long time, staring at the map, as if trying to find some kind of solace in its lines.
“Do you remember how she used to read us bedtime stories?” he asked suddenly.
Eugene nodded, his gaze softening slightly.
“Of course. She always had the gentlest voice. Even when we knew the story was made up, she still made us believe everything would turn out fine.”
Ivan smiled faintly, but his smile quickly faded.
“And do you remember how she organized picnics for us right in the garden? Even in winter?” he continued, tracing a finger along the line marking the palace grounds.
Eugene chuckled.
“She always said the cold was no excuse to stay indoors. And we’d whine about being cold until she brought us hot tea.”
“Yes...” Ivan said softly, his voice tinged with longing. “It feels like it was so long ago.”
They fell silent again, but now the quiet was filled with memories. Eugene rose and walked to the window, looking out at the garden his brother had mentioned. The trees stood still and majestic in the snow, but he almost thought he could see a familiar figure in a long, dark green coat.
“Do you ever think she’s still with us?” he asked quietly, without turning away from the window.
Ivan looked at his brother, frowning slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“Well...” Eugene hesitated, searching for the right words. “Sometimes it feels like she’s watching over us. Like she sees how we’re living and hopes we’ll make it through.”
Ivan lowered his gaze, considering this.
“I hope she’d be proud of us,” he finally said.
“She would be,” Eugene replied firmly.
Ivan nodded, but his expression darkened again.
“But she wouldn’t have liked that we live in fear. That Father...” He trailed off, but Eugene understood.
“He just doesn’t know how to do it any other way,” Eugene tried to justify their father.
“Maybe,” Ivan agreed. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
Eugene moved back to the table and sat across from his brother.
“We’ll get through it, Ivan,” he said, looking him directly in the eyes. “If she taught us anything, it’s that in the hardest times, we have to stick together.”
Ivan looked back at him and slowly nodded.
The silence hung between them again. The brothers remained seated, each lost in his thoughts. Outside, the sun had risen a little higher in the gray winter sky. It barely broke through the thick layer of clouds, casting a faint light over the palace gardens.
“Lunch will be soon,” Eugene said without lifting his eyes.
Ivan glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Another thirty minutes,” he muttered.
They both knew lunch wouldn’t be a quiet family affair. It always meant formalities, enduring stares, and maintaining a silence that was expected of them.
“Do you think Father will join us?” Eugene asked, staring out the window.
“Probably not,” Ivan replied. “He’s busy with council matters.”
Eugene slowly stood, stretching.
“What do you think will be served for lunch?” he asked, trying to sound casual, though tension still lingered in his voice.
Ivan shot him a strange look.
“Are you serious? After everything that happened this morning?”
Eugene shrugged, folding his arms behind his back. Ivan sighed.
“Something simple, I guess. Soup, potatoes...”
“Hopefully not that fish we had last time,” Eugene muttered, grimacing at the memory.
Ivan smirked, the first hint of amusement that morning.
“You always say that, but you still eat it.”
“Because we have to. Otherwise, Father starts giving us that look...” Eugene attempted to mimic their father’s stern expression, but the result was more comical than intimidating.
Ivan chuckled quietly.
“Yeah, he does have a way with looks.”
Eugene smiled, feeling the tension ease just a little.
“Are you sure he won’t come?”
Ivan frowned slightly, glancing at the clock again.
“I don’t know. But even if he does, just act like everything’s fine.”
“Act like...” Eugene echoed as he sat back down. “Sometimes it feels like that’s all we do.”
Ivan didn’t reply. He gazed out the window again, where the sun was slowly breaking through the clouds, casting a faint light over the still, snow-covered trees.
When they entered the dining hall, they were greeted by the familiar scent of fresh bread and roasted meat. The servants stood silently along the walls, as always, but at the table, an unexpected guest awaited them.
“Uncle Alexander?” Eugene said in surprise, stopping in the doorway.
Alexander of Hesse, their mother’s younger brother, looked up from his plate with a broad smile.
“Ah, my dear nephews!” he said, rising to his feet and spreading his arms wide.
Eugene glanced at Ivan, who, despite his usual stern demeanor, couldn’t suppress a faint smile.
“What are you doing here?” Ivan asked, stepping closer.
“Passing through,” Alexander replied with warm amusement. “And I thought, how could I not visit my favorite nephews?”
Eugene chuckled, stepping closer as well.
“You came unannounced. Does Father know?”
“Of course he knows,” Alexander assured him as he sat back down. “Though he seems far too busy to spare me any time. But I have you, and that’s far more important.”
Ivan took his seat, and Eugene settled next to him, feeling the weight of the past few hours lift slightly.
“Will you be staying long?” Eugene asked, spreading a napkin over his lap.
“Not too long,” Alexander replied, cutting into a piece of meat. “But I hope to spend at least a couple of days with you.”
“We’re glad you’re here,” Ivan said quietly, his tone sincere.
Alexander looked at him with a hint of sadness.
“You’ve both changed so much since...” He trailed off, but the brothers knew what he meant.
“We’re trying,” Ivan said at last.
“I know,” Alexander replied softly, raising his glass of water. “You’re doing all you can, and your mother would have been so proud.”
His words hung in the air, filling the dining hall with a warmth that had been missing for over a year.
As the table was being cleared, Eugene looked up at Alexander hesitantly.
“Uncle,” he began, his voice steady but quiet, “do you ever think about... about that day?”
Alexander raised his eyes from his glass of water. His face, usually kind, turned serious for a moment.
“You mean the explosion?” he asked gently.
Eugene nodded. Ivan gave his brother a dissatisfied look, as if the question had been inappropriate, but Hesse only smiled faintly.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I try not to dwell on it too often.”
“How?” Eugene asked, leaning forward slightly. “How do you stop thinking about it all the time?”
“Because it’s in the past,” Hesse replied. “And most importantly, you were safe back then. That’s all that mattered to me.”
Ivan, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke up:
“But it could’ve ended differently.”
Hesse sighed, his gaze lingering on the boys.
“Yes, it could have,” he said honestly. “But it didn’t. We were far away, you were guarded, and your parents did everything to keep you safe.”
Eugene quietly added, “But Mother left.”
Hesse fell silent, his expression softening.
“She left to help your father,” he said at last, his voice calm. “Because she knew you were under protection. She trusted me and the guards.”
Ivan lowered his eyes to his plate.
“You saved us back then,” he said quietly.
Hesse smiled, but the sadness in his eyes remained.
“No, boys,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just there with you. Your parents are the ones who saved you.”
Eugene nodded slightly, though his eyes were still lost in memories. Ivan, on the other hand, frowned, staring at the remnants of food on his plate, clearly wrestling with his thoughts.
“Are you ever afraid, Uncle?” Eugene suddenly asked.
Hesse seemed a little surprised but smiled gently.
“Of what exactly?”
“Coming back here,” Eugene clarified, avoiding eye contact. “After everything...”
Hesse paused, as though considering his answer.
“I am,” he said finally, not hiding the truth. “But being afraid is normal. The question is what you do despite that fear.”
“Is Father afraid too?” Ivan asked quietly, without lifting his gaze.
Hesse studied him carefully, his smile fading.
“I think he’s not afraid for himself but for you.”
Both boys froze, digesting his words. Eugene raised his head slightly, unsure how to respond. Ivan, on the other hand, frowned even deeper.
“Then why is he...” Ivan began but trailed off without finishing his thought.
“Strict?” Hesse suggested. “Because he knows the weight you’ll carry and wants you to be ready.”
“But we’re still children,” Ivan muttered, finally tearing his gaze from the plate.
Hesse chuckled, though there was no humor in his smile.
“Children who have already endured what many adults never will.”
Eugene sighed softly, feeling the weight of his uncle’s words pressing down on him.
“Does that mean we’re not allowed to be scared?” he asked weakly.
“It means you can’t let fear control you,” Hesse corrected gently. “But being scared is normal.”
Ivan seemed like he wanted to say more, but the door to the dining hall creaked open, and one of the guards peeked inside.
“Apologies for interrupting, Your Highness,” the guard said, addressing Hesse. “But His Majesty has requested a moment of your time.”
Hesse nodded and rose from his seat.
“Well, boys, it seems we’ll have to pause our conversation. But we’ll continue it later,” he said warmly.
Ivan and Eugene watched their uncle as he left the room. The dining hall fell into silence once again, this time feeling heavier than before.
“What do you think he wants from Uncle?” Eugene whispered, staring at the door.
“I don’t know,” Ivan replied. “But I have a bad feeling.”
After lunch, the brothers went to their next lesson. The day passed in its usual routine: studying maps, reviewing routes, recounting recent events relevant to their education. Everything proceeded as usual, but the uneasy shadow lingered over them.
By evening, the silence of the palace seemed almost eerie. Eugene lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, while Ivan sat at the table with a book that he seemed to be barely reading.
“Do you think Uncle really isn’t afraid?” Eugene suddenly broke the silence.
Ivan didn’t answer immediately, but after a moment, he put the book down.
“He said he’s afraid. But I think he just doesn’t want us to see it.”
“And you?” Eugene asked, turning his head towards his brother.
Ivan looked at him but remained silent. The answer was obvious, but he didn’t want to say it out loud.
A few days passed. Alexander Hesse left as unexpectedly as he had arrived. Life in the palace returned to its usual routine: lessons, training, and rare meetings with their father. But something had changed. The brothers began to pay more attention to what was happening around them, noticing details that had previously slipped their minds.
They often recalled their uncle’s words—about fear, about support, about how they themselves needed to be strong. And although they didn’t speak about it aloud, both felt that those words had left a mark.
Time went on, but the atmosphere in the palace grew tense. The guards became even stricter, especially after a council meeting where the latest threats had been discussed. The brothers noticed the smallest changes: new faces among the guards, additional patrols, even the servants seemed quieter than usual.
Lessons continued, but they felt more mechanical. Ivan and Eugene understood that they were being prepared not only for leadership but also for life under constant threat.
One day, when the cold had intensified, the brothers went for a walk in the inner courtyard. The snow creaked under their feet, and their breath turned into steam. Eugene pressed his hands to his chest, trying to warm up.
“This is all so strange,” he said, glancing at the high walls that seemed even gloomier under the winter sky.
“What do you mean?” Ivan asked, looking ahead.
“Everything. Father, the guards, even Uncle Alexander… They seem to know something they’re not telling us.”
Ivan stopped for a moment but then continued walking.
“Maybe they do,” he replied. “But you know Father. He won’t say anything until he thinks we’re ready.”
Eugene fell silent, staring at the snow-covered trees.
“What if we’re never ready?”
Ivan turned to his brother, his expression serious.
“Then we’ll just pretend we are.”
They didn’t speak again.
A couple of months passed. Spring slowly began to arrive. On this day, the brothers’ father, Emperor Alexander, was to leave for another meeting. As always, his route was heavily guarded. The brothers knew their father rarely deviated from his schedule, but this time something felt off. That morning, before his departure, Ivan overheard a conversation between the guards.
“What if there’s another attempt?” one said quietly.
“We’re ready,” replied the other. “This time, no one will get close.”
These words stuck in Ivan’s mind like a splinter. At breakfast, he watched his father, who seemed strangely calm.
“You’ll be back, right?” Eugene suddenly asked, breaking the silence.
Alexander looked at his younger son with a slight smile.
“Of course,” he said, but there was something in his voice that Ivan couldn’t ignore.
When their father left, the brothers were left alone. Eugene looked worried.
“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly.
Ivan nodded, gazing out the window where their father’s carriage was disappearing.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But there’s nothing we can do.”
The morning was cold, the sky clear, and the air sharp and biting. The brothers went about their usual tasks, but the feeling of unease didn’t leave them. Every creak of the floorboards in the corridor made them alert. Eugene stood by the window, almost pressed against the glass.
“He should have been back by now, right?” he asked softly, turning to Ivan.
Ivan, sitting at the table with a book, looked up at his brother with a tired gaze.
“He might be delayed. You know how he is.”
Eugene sighed and looked back out the window.
“What if he’s not?”
“Stop overthinking,” Ivan snapped, trying to focus on the pages.
A loud knock made Eugene jump. Ivan quickly got up and walked to the door. On the threshold stood one of the palace guards.
“Your Highnesses,” the guard said, his voice muffled. “Please come to the Emperor’s private chambers.”
Ivan tensed but nodded, gesturing for his brother to follow.
“What happened?” Eugene asked, trying to keep up.
The guard didn’t answer, merely quickened his pace.
When they entered their father’s chambers, they were met with an unnatural silence. The air was heavy with the smell of medicine and blood. On the bed, under the folded covers, lay Alexander. His face was pale, and his breathing was labored.
The doctors were leaning over him, the bandages on his legs already soaked with blood. One of the medics was whispering something to another, but the boys couldn’t make it out.
“Vanya… Zhenya… you’re here. That’s good…” their father’s weak voice sounded.
Eugene froze, his eyes wide with fear. Ivan glanced quickly at him, then stepped forward.
“Father…” he began, but his voice faltered.
Alexander raised his head slightly, but grimaced in pain.
“Come closer…” he said softly.
Eugene took a step forward, staring at the blood seeping through the bandages.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, struggling to hold back his tears.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Alexander exhaled.
“How can it not matter?” Ivan suddenly burst out. “You’ve... you’ve been so badly wounded!”
Alexander closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength.
“This is the end, son,” he said. “I knew he would come.”
“No,” Eugene whispered, shaking his head. “You... You always...”
“Quiet, Zhenya,” Ivan interrupted him, though he himself could barely speak.
“Listen...” Alexander said, his voice growing a bit firmer. “Live in a way that no one can break you. Don’t let fear... take control.”
He raised his hand, struggling to touch Ivan’s fingers, then Eugene’s.
“I’m proud of you. Remember that.”
After these words, his hand fell, and the room was again filled with an oppressive silence.
Eugene stood, staring at his father’s body, as if hoping that he would open his eyes again. Ivan, standing nearby, gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly to hold back his tears. The silence was deafening, and it seemed like even the doctors had stopped whispering, giving the brothers some time.
“We couldn’t do anything,” Eugene said quietly, his voice trembling.
“We couldn’t,” Ivan replied sharply, but his words didn’t sound like reproach, more like an attempt to deal with his own pain.
Eugene lowered his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. Ivan turned away, pretending to look out the window, but in reality, he just didn’t want anyone to see how hard he was fighting to keep it together.
“What now?” Eugene whispered, turning to his brother.
“I don’t know,” Ivan replied shortly.
Eugene still stood by their father’s bed, unable to take his eyes off his face. Ivan stayed nearby, his expression stern, but his hands were slightly trembling.
The silence was broken by one of the high-ranking officers stepping forward.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing his head to Ivan.
The words struck like thunder. Ivan sharply turned his head to the officer, his eyes widening.
“What?” he gasped.
“The Emperor is dead,” the officer replied evenly, “and that means the power passes to you.”
Eugene straightened suddenly, his gaze darting between Ivan and the officer.
“But... he just...” he started, but his voice faltered.
Ivan remained silent, the tension in the room mounting. Finally, he clenched his fists and looked at the officer.
“You want me to...” he began, but his voice broke.
“It’s the law, Your Majesty,” the officer responded, still bowing his head.
Eugene finally found the strength to speak:
“He just died. You can’t say that right away.”
“It’s not my will,” the officer replied calmly. “It’s the way things are.”
Ivan sighed heavily, looked at Eugene, and then turned his gaze to their father’s body.
“If this is true,” he said, trying to sound firm, “then wait. We... are not ready yet.”
The officer nodded, stepping back, but his words had already settled in their minds.
The room fell silent. Eugene sat by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the flag slowly being raised over the Winter Palace. The black mourning banner fluttered ominously in the wind. Ivan remained in place, his gaze fixed on the bed, where only a few hours ago their father had lain.
They fell silent, and at that moment, the door quietly opened. A servant entered, followed by a guard officer.
“Your Majesty,” the officer began, bowing his head. “The people have gathered in front of the palace. They are waiting for you.”
“Why?” Ivan asked, turning around. His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed an inner struggle.
“You must take the oath before them,” the officer said.
Eugene shot a worried glance at his brother, but Ivan seemed to have gathered his resolve.
“Alright...” he said shortly.
As they stepped out onto the balcony, the cold wind immediately burned their faces. Ivan took the first step, feeling the sting of the wind across his face. Eugene followed behind, his gaze flickering between the crowd and his brother’s back. Hundreds of people stood in front of the palace, their eyes focused on the young emperor.
Ivan stopped at the edge of the balcony, his fingers trembling slightly, but he clenched his fists to hide it. He could feel every gaze directed at him.
He took a step forward, straightened his back, and spoke:
“Today, we have lost a great man, my father. The emperor who dedicated his life to Romano.”
The crowd was silent, every sound he made was as clear as the beats of a heart. He paused, took a deep breath, and continued:
“I am too young to be his equal.”
He paused again, feeling the weight of his words press down on him. Then he lifted his head, meeting the gaze of the crowd.
“But I swear, I will do everything in my power to serve you and our nation.”
His voice wavered at the end, but it only added sincerity to his words. For a few seconds, there was silence, then a single cry rang out from the crowd:
“Long live the emperor!”
That cry was picked up by hundreds of others. The roar of the crowd grew, people shouted and raised their hands, welcoming their new ruler.
Ivan slowly stepped back, his face remained calm, but inside, everything burned. Eugene stepped closer, his hand briefly touching his brother’s shoulder.
“You did well,” he whispered, making sure no one else heard except Ivan.
Ivan nodded, looking at the flag fluttering above the palace. His face remained calm, but his eyes showed tension and something resembling fear.
“This is just the beginning, Zhenya,” he said.
He turned back to the crowd, letting the moment engrave itself in his memory. When he stepped back, Eugene followed him. They returned inside, the wind fluttering the curtains and bringing cold air into the room.
“This is our life now, isn’t it?” Eugene quietly asked.
Ivan stopped, glanced back at his brother, and said:
“Yes. And there’s no turning back.”
The wind carried his words away, but in that moment, they both knew: their childhood was now truly over.