Throne War (1)
The cross-shaped continent Rap. On its western outskirts lies a small nation called Rok. A fledgling kingdom that's nearly a full century old.
Surprisingly, Rok currently has no king. The previous sovereign died without naming a successor, leaving his three princes locked in fierce rivalry for the throne.
First Prince Hi Os Estial (str). The supreme warrior who's mastered swordsmanship and martial arts from across the world. Despite his noble blood, he pushes his body to the brink every day in brutal training. A macho through and through, he's such a battle maniac and war fanatic that people joke even his brain is made of muscle.
Second Prince Hi Os Int (int). A strategic genius with unparalleled talent in finance and diplomacy. He has a sly, cunning side— the classic schemer. Famous for beating a continent-renowned chess champion five games straight when he was just two.
Third Prince Hi Os Jal (jal). The underdog among the brothers, but no one dares ignore him—he's the de facto kingmaker. Stunningly handsome, he leaves everyone spellbound at first sight. He excels in singing, dancing, even charming people with his words. If the first prince is combat's genius and the second strategy's, the third is the genius of looks.
With these three princes at odds, the throne sits empty. The royal court echoes daily with endless bickering.
Bang! The table cracks with a thunderous split.
First Prince Estial, who'd slammed his fist down, bellows through gritted teeth.
"Obviously, the eldest inherits the throne! Don't you know right from wrong?!"
Second Prince Int replies coolly. "What matters more than ability when it comes to the crown?"
Third Prince Jal pauses filing his nails and looks up. "I'll pass that right along to Second Bro, then."
A terrifying glare passes between the brothers.
"This is about the kingdom's fate at stake!" Estial roars.
"Survival, you mean. Brother."
"This constant squabbling is so tiresome. Can't we wrap it up quick? I've got a skincare appointment."
"Hmph! You're both too soft! Only raw power like mine can lead a nation!"
"This isn't some academy bully fest. In this era, brains beat brawn. The world belongs to the smart ones, right?"
"You're all wrong. A true ruler needs max charisma stats first. That's what draws people in. Haven't you played any Three Kingdoms games?"
The princes tout their strengths, refusing to yield an inch. And why would they? All three wield equal power.
The kingdom's divided into three factions, each prince commanding one knight order.
Kingdom First Knight Order: Red Bulls. Estial's loyal enforcers. They don't care about origins or status— just strength and loyalty. They're the kingdom's unbreakable shield, handling all defense with unmatched might.
Kingdom Second Knight Order: Black Yack. Int's followers, all elite offspring of high nobility from the officer academy. Not only skilled, but proud and haughty. Models of noblesse oblige, sticklers for principle and protocol.
Kingdom Third Knight Order: Gold Lion. Jal's devotees, unique in that every member is female. Another standout: their prowess in guarding and protecting him surpasses even the Red Bulls. In every other field, they match or exceed the other orders.
Caffeine, colonel and leader of the Red Bulls, speaks gravely. "Hmm. I believe First Prince Estial should take the throne. He's the eldest, after all."
Outdoor, colonel of the Black Yack, counters. "If First Prince ascends, it'll be war every day. A small nation like ours needs a diplomatic master. Second Prince is perfect."
Finally, Fandom, colonel of the Gold Lion, states her position. "Third Prince must rule. He's so handsome. Imagine a photoshoot on the throne... Ah, just thinking about it makes my nose bleed..."
The three central knight orders back different princes, sparking fierce tensions among their leaders.
"I should be king! Any meddling neighbors get smashed!"
"Long live First Prince! Red Bulls follow Estial to the end. Real men walk the path of dominance!"
"The crown's mine. The age of brute force is over. This is a battle of wits."
"We fully endorse Second Prince. Black Yack, bearers of tradition and history, stand with Int."
"Anyone can see I'm throne material. A king needs visuals first."
"Wu! Yut! Bit! Kkal! Sam! Wang! Ja! Prince Jal! So handsome!"
Princes 1, 2, and 3 stand unyielding, brimming with confidence. Their knight orders echo the sentiment, each praying their champion claims the throne.
The bloody succession storm rages on.
After endless clashes...
"How about this?" Estial growls. "We settle it strength against strength. Strongest takes the throne. Life's survival of the fittest, right?"
Int opposes. "Sounds fair at first glance, but it'd weaken us all. Planning to spark a civil war and ruin the kingdom?"
Int secretly plans to absorb his brothers' forces once crowned. No point in them clashing early.
"A war among us hands opportunities to outsiders. We'd borrow from foreigners, and if invaded...?"
"Smash 'em all!"
Estial and Int deadlock— brawn versus brains. An ancient rivalry, no quick end in sight.
Then Third Prince Jal offers compromise. "Brothers. How about this?"
Jal had to think smart. Weakest in arms among them, better to play kingmaker than risk rivalry.
He presents a paper, neatly detailed schedule.
"Hmm. What's this? Sports day?" Int asks after scanning it.
"Instead of civil war, we compete in a tournament. No needless losses, and it shows who's strongest."
Not wrong.
"Great! Straight-up clashes to decide!?" Estial leaps up, thrilled. Sports and competition— his favorites. He nods at the list.
"Mounted combat, dodgeball, jump rope, why'd you come to our house... All intense, brutal events! Haha! I can already see it— blood and flesh flying on the battlefield!"
Sports banned continent-wide for danger. The faint-hearted might convulse just watching.
"Princes compete directly!? That amps the thrill!" Estial whoops.
"Of course. I want in too." Jal beams unexpectedly.
Int frowns. "Little bro, you hate physical stuff. Why join these bloodbaths?"
Jal straightens. "Who said I'm competing?"
"...?"
"I'll be cheerleader and round boy."
"..."
Thud. Int facepalms.
"That's for entertainers— clowns! A royal debasing himself for the rabble?"
"N-no... I just... love the spotlight. Wasting this face cooped in the palace feels wrong..."
"Quiet! Royals act royal! No clowning around... Absolutely not!"
Int snaps; even Estial nods agreement.
"The tournament idea's solid, but you dancing and singing for peasants? Drags the royal dignity through the mud."
"..."
Jal slumps, dejected. Gold Lion's Colonel Fandom watches his back with heartbroken eyes.
Meanwhile, Int distrusts the tournament itself. "Deciding the throne with games? Too frivolous. Let's deliberate more..."
Then—
Int's aide bursts in. "Your Highness!"
He whispers in Int's ear.
Int's face twists.
"...What? Who's back?"