Farmboy becomes King with the Lust System Chapter 1: Attack on the castle

Prince Solas was enjoying a peaceful slumber in his chambers at Rimbdon castle, but his rest was abruptly shattered by someone roughly shaking him awake. Initially, the prince resisted, murmuring without opening his eyes, "Leave me be."

Nevertheless, a gruff voice, tinged with an urgency that instantly banished Solas's drowsiness, responded,

"You must rise, Prince Solas," the voice stated. "The castle is under attack as we speak."

Solas sat bolt upright, blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering remnants of sleep. He turned to face the speaker, an elderly man who trembled slightly as he struggled to fasten armor he likely hadn't donned in years, his hands unsteady as he attempted to secure it.

"What is happening, Eliot?" Prince Solas inquired, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "How are we being assaulted?"

"I know not, my lord," Eliot replied, his voice retaining its clipped tone. "They appeared without warning. However, our most capable warriors are arming themselves even now to mount a defense, which is why you must proceed to the basement and seek shelter."

"Shelter?" Solas echoed, a note of bewilderment in his voice.

Prince Solas held the position of seventh son to the King of Rimbdon. Amidst a lineage of remarkably capable princes, Solas stood out as the weakest.

He possessed no magical aptitude. He was inept with a sword. Lacking any strategic acumen for military formations, he could offer no martial contribution to the kingdom's defense.

For a considerable time, the royal family, and indeed the entire kingdom, had harbored hopes that he would eventually reveal some latent talent and prove useful. Yet, after years of fruitless waiting, they had resigned themselves to Solas's reality: he was without power and utterly useless.

Many among them expressed gratitude that he was not the heir to the throne, nor even remotely close to it.

Now, with the castle under siege, while mages, knights, strong retainers, and his own brothers bravely moved to protect their home and repel the invaders, Solas found himself descending to the basement where the women and children had taken refuge in fear.

His steps faltered across the floors, his posture conveying a deep shame, like a beaten animal. He felt entirely without worth.

He pushed the door open, its hinges groaning as it swung inward, revealing two distinct groups huddled together—one of women, the other of children.

Prince Solas entered. All eyes turned to him, their gazes silently appraising his presence among them, judging him for cowering here when he should have been on the front lines. A few of the younger children, who had desired to fight, had been forcibly brought here; it was even more unfathomable for an adult, who was legally obliged to participate in the defense.

Solas disregarded their stares and reproachful looks. He located an unoccupied corner with a small seat and sat down, remaining silent to preserve the sliver of dignity he had left.

As he sat, his thoughts drifted to his life, how he had constantly been the target of mockery from his peers, the object of condescension from his family, and the subject of pity from the common folk. His existence had been a tapestry of misery, all stemming from his powerlessness.

He longed for a different life. He wished for the strength to be of service, to aid his castle by defending it.

Above them, the cacophony of battle raged: the clash of steel against steel, the heavy tread of feet, the guttural roars and screams of pain.

The sounds of conflict drew nearer and nearer until, abruptly, Solas perceived only silence.

The quiet was too profound. Too unsettling. He rose, scanning his surroundings with apprehension.

Then, as suddenly as the silence had descended, it was shattered by a tremendous crash! The basement door was violently kicked inward, torn from its hinges, and landed with a thud on the floor.

Four mages strode into the room. Their eye sockets pulsed with a violet glow, and they advanced as if relishing the sight of the 'prize' before them.

Without hesitation, they raised their hands toward the children, but Solas instinctively leaped in front of them.

"Leave them be," he commanded through clenched teeth, attempting a ferocity he did not possess.

However, the mages easily saw through his facade, erupting in laughter. One of them casually stepped past him, a predatory grin revealing sharp teeth.

"Silence, boy," he snarled, plunging his sword into Solas's abdomen.

Solas cried out as the blade sliced through his entrails as if they were mere parchment. The agony was excruciating. He felt an inferno consuming him from within, each breath intensifying the torment.

After a period of intense suffering, he collapsed onto his knees, blood flowing from the wound and his mouth.

Then, the searing pain gradually receded as his awareness faded, and darkness inexorably enveloped him.

Around him, the wails of the women and children intensified, a sound that brought Solas a sorrow deeper than the fatal wound; the agony of dying as a man utterly without purpose. He could not protect them. Not even for a fleeting moment.

"If I am granted another chance," he thought with bitter resolve, "I swear I shall not be so weak. I will possess power, and I will shield those I hold dear."

With this final, fervent thought, he closed his eyes, his form collapsing onto the floor as the darkness claimed him completely.

He was dead.

Or so Solas believed would be the outcome.