Chapter 2 Duty Before Desire #2
"I don't think anyone should spend their life carrying responsibilities they were never allowed to choose."
For a brief moment, neither prince nor guard existed.
Only two men standing beneath the evening sky.
One born with freedom.
The other born without it.
Rowan realized something then.
Every noble who looked at him saw the future king.
Every minister saw political stability.
Every foreign ambassador saw an alliance.
Every tutor saw a perfect ruler.
Caelan...
Caelan had asked him nothing about succession.
Nothing about engagements.
Nothing about diplomacy.
He had simply spoken to him.
Not as a symbol.
Not as a crown.
As a man.
The realization settled warmly somewhere deep inside Rowan's heart.
Perhaps trust did not appear all at once.
Perhaps it began exactly like this.
With quiet conversations beneath festival lights.
With someone seeing the person hidden beneath the title.
As another firework blossomed across the night sky, Rowan found himself hoping tomorrow would bring another chance to stand on this balcony.
Not because of the view.
But because, for the first time in longer than he could remember, he had spent a few precious moments feeling like Rowan instead of the Crown Prince.
Oaths of the Royal Guard
The Royal Guard took its oaths only once.
There were no second ceremonies, no opportunities to renew forgotten promises, and no allowance for hesitation.
The moment an initiate spoke the ancient words beneath the Moon Altar, his life ceased belonging to himself.
From that day forward, every heartbeat, every decision, and every sacrifice belonged to the Crown.
Caelan had been nineteen when he swore those vows.
He still remembered the chill of the stone floor beneath one knee and the weight of the ceremonial sword resting across his palms. The moon had hung full above the palace courtyard while the previous Commander of the Royal Guard recited words that had remained unchanged for hundreds of years.
"Protect the Crown before yourself."
"Stand between the royal family and every blade."
"Let duty rule where the heart may falter."
"Never allow personal desire to become greater than the kingdom."
At the time, the vows had seemed simple.
Years later, he understood they demanded everything.
The morning after the Moon Festival's opening celebrations, Caelan stood in the palace training yard watching young guards spar beneath the rising sun. Wooden practice swords clashed rhythmically while instructors corrected footwork and balance.
Discipline.
Precision.
Control.
Those three qualities separated a Royal Guard from an ordinary soldier.
Captain Lucien Ashford approached carrying two parchment scrolls tucked beneath one arm.
"You've been requested at the security office."
Caelan accepted the scrolls.
"What's changed?"
"Almost everything."
They crossed the courtyard together toward the administrative wing where maps of the capital covered nearly every wall. Colored pins marked patrol routes, guard rotations, servant access points, and visiting delegations expected throughout the week.
The attempted assassination had transformed routine preparations into a military operation.
Every entrance had been reinforced.
Every servant investigated.
Every visiting noble quietly monitored.
Caelan spread the first scroll across the table.
"Festival schedule?"
Lucien nodded.
"The prince attends five public appearances today."
"Too many."
"The council disagrees."
"The council doesn't protect him."
Lucien leaned against the table with folded arms.
"I already argued that point."
Caelan carefully studied each location.
Morning audience.
Temple blessing.
Merchant reception.
Military inspection.
Evening banquet.
Each appearance increased the chance of another attack.
"We'll double rooftop patrols."
"Already done."
"Archers?"
"Positioned before dawn."
Caelan nodded with approval.
Lucien had anticipated most of the changes before being asked.
It was one reason they had worked so well together for nearly a decade.
The younger captain hesitated before speaking again.
"There's something else."
Caelan looked up.
"What is it?"
"Lord Varric."
A faint crease formed between Caelan's brows.
"What about him?"
Lucien lowered his voice despite the empty room.
"I've noticed something unusual."
Caelan remained silent.
Lucien continued.
"The Chancellor has requested copies of the prince's daily schedule three times since yesterday."
"So have several ministers."
"Not complete schedules."
Lucien tapped one finger against the parchment.
"Detailed movements."
Caelan studied him carefully.
"Specific locations?"
"And exact times."
A quiet unease settled in the room.
"The Chancellor oversees palace administration," Caelan said.
"He has authority."
"I know."
Lucien's expression remained thoughtful.
"It still feels excessive."
Caelan rolled the parchment closed.
"What reason did he give?"
"He said he wanted to coordinate diplomatic meetings."
"Did you believe him?"
Lucien considered the question.
"I believed that's what he said."
Not necessarily what he meant.
The distinction lingered between them.
Caelan had served around politicians long enough to understand that truth and intention often occupied different places.
"Keep tracking every request."
"You think he's involved?"
"I think it's too early to accuse anyone."
"But not too early to observe."
"Exactly."
Lucien smiled faintly.
"You always did trust your instincts."
"They've kept me alive."
"And the royal family."
Caelan gathered the scrolls before leaving the office.
"If anyone asks for schedule changes, they come through me first."
"They already do."
The remainder of the morning passed in constant motion.