Adrian went to the pub to drink after the ceremony. He still couldn't believe what had happened.
Had he really lost everything?
The question echoed endlessly in his mind as he sat alone in a corner of the tavern, a half-empty jar of wine in his hand.
Why did his father hate him so much? Why was he so determined to hand over his birthright to Enzo, all because of some stupid prophecy?
The more Adrian thought about it, the tighter his grip became around the wine jar.
His knuckles turned white, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged from the force.
The tavern was lively when he first arrived.
Men laughed over mugs of ale, merchants celebrated successful trades, and travelers exchanged stories from different parts of the kingdom.
Unsurprisingly, the topic on everyone's lips was the succession ceremony that had taken place only hours earlier.
"Prince Enzo truly looked every bit a king today."
"I heard His Majesty forced himself out of bed just to witness the ceremony."
