Chapter 307: Chapter 306

The boy curled into himself, clutching his knees up to his chest. The beatings would start soon, he knew they would.

“If you are going to let yourself be useless,” Alexcent said, “then I have no reason to let you live.”

The boy waited for the hits to come, but they didn’t. Slowly, he looked up, his eyes meeting the prince’s.

“Find a reason for me to let you live,” the prince told him, his voice deep and tone even.

The boy gaped. Then, he mustered all his courage and managed to ask, “A reason?”

“Yes,” said Alexcent. “Prove your worth, just like you did when you slayed all those men.”

“I don’t understand,” the boy shook his head.

Alexcent sighed. “I will not restrain you so long as you are within my palace,” he told the boy. “Do whatever it takes to prove yourself. I will not let you leave otherwise; it would be far too troublesome.”

The boy’s eyes widened with realization. They would not beat him here. They would not touch him here.

Alexcent turned to the door. “Pon!”

The man called Pon walked in, a butler to the prince from what the boy could see.

“You called, Your Highness?” Pon said, approaching.

“Did you check?” Alexcent asked.

Pon nodded, handing the prince a piece of paper.

“Gerald Artin?” the prince read out loud.

“Yes,” Pon said. “He is my cousin thrice removed from my aunt—”

Alexcent held his hand up. “Enough,” he said. “Is he missing?”

Pon nodded. “Yes,” he told the prince. “His whereabout are unknown.”

“Good,” Alexcent said. “That will do.”

The prince turned to the boy, returning the piece of paper to Pon. “It is difficult to use the names of the dead because the temple handles the God’s guardian list,” he explained. “It is easier to use the names of those that have gone missing outside the Empire.”

The boy nodded slowly. He believed he knew where the prince was going.

“You are Gerald Artin now,” Alexcent told him. “Act like it.”

The boy mumbled a quiet, “Yes.”

Alexcent frowned but, realizing this was as far as he could get, he turned and walked away, leaving the boy alone once more.

The boy nodded to himself, thinking about the prince’s words. He had to prove himself. He could not be useless.

“Gerald Artin,” he said, listening to his name. “Gerald Artin!”

With a renewed vigor, he stood up and finally looked around the room he had failed to notice this whole time.

He found that there were shelves filled with books, so tall they reached the ceiling. There was a bed, a large bed set in the middle of the room where he had slept his first night there. The walls were lined with armor and… swords.

He walked towards the swords and picked a longsword. He swung it around and stared at the refined elegance of its blade, feeling the same rush he had felt the day that he had fought back against his oppressors.

Alexcent was informed of Gerald’s progress. They told him that the boy showed interest in the swords.

“Of course,” the prince said. “My eyes are keen.”

He mulled it over, the thought of the boy finally standing up from the corner where he cowered and holding a sword in his hands made the prince smile.

“Keep my schedule free at dawn from now on,” Alexcent told Pon. “I have found something fun to do.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” was all Pon could say. He hoped that the prince would not be too harsh on the boy.

With each dawn, Gerald found that, while the beatings had stopped, he was made to suffer anew.

“Gen!” Alexcent barked. “You’re unguarded at the bottom!”

Gerald looked down and found that what the prince had said was true. “Sorry.”

Alexcent frowned. “Don’t do anything you’d be sorry about!” Then, he lunged forward with his sword. “You missed again!”

Gerald apologized repeatedly but, as time drew on, he realized that there was no winning in these lessons. Alexcent’s teaching methods were far too ruthless and, if Gerald hadn’t been used to beatings, the boy would have been dead already.

Alexcent shouted as Gerald dropped his sword after another merciless attack.

“Sorry!” Gerald yelped.

The way Alexcent taught had no leeway. He didn’t allow for a single mistake. And it didn’t end at swordsmanship.

“Again,” Alexcent drawled, pointing at Gerald’s scratchy writing. “The spelling is wrong!”

“I’ll write it again,” Gerald told him, trying his best to scribble the words down.

Alexcent huffed. “I would have thought you were smarter at the very least.”

Gerald felt his frustration grow. He had barely learned the language of the Empire and he was already being forced to learn the languages of Boron and Kestenia. The worst part was that there was still so much more he was yet to learn.

He was convinced that this was a new form of torture.

“Do I really have to learn all these languages?” Gerald demanded as they continued with their lessons.

“Of course,” Alexcent told him. He pointed at a word Gerald had just written. “You’re wrong there.”

Gerald held in a growl, angry at both himself and the prince. “Do you know all these languages?”

“Of course,” Alexcent answered again. He pointed at another mistake.

“Is that possible?” Gerald asked.

The prince stared at him dully. “How can you not know this?”

Gerald could feel himself begin to cry. The beatings had been terrible, but they always ended. All these lessons, however, felt like they could go on forever.

He was miserable and Alexcent could see it in his eyes.

“Gen,” the prince sighed. “If you don’t want people looking down on you, you must be good at something. That is how you protect yourself.”

When Gen did not respond, Alexcent pursed his lips. “I can’t bear a person being stupid.”

Gerald blinked at his words.

The prince had just called him a person. A person. He was a person. He was Gerald.

Of course, the prince never called him Gerald. He called him Gen. He was always Gen.

If he was going to call me whatever he wanted, why did he even give me a name? Gen rolled his eyes, stuck on memories from the past.

Caught in his thoughts, he almost didn’t realize he was about to run into a pillar. He laughed at himself as he quickly pulled away.

Then, he stopped and turned around. It was the wizard who had been staying in the Duke’s guest house.

“Pian.”