Unlike every single one of his siblings, Tim had actually been born a noble. Not a prince, no, but the child of a marquis was still educated in courtly matters, etiquette, dancing, fencing, and all that. He'd already been a proper young noble when King Bruce adopted him.

So, you would think this meant Tim commanded the most respect out of all his royal siblings among the court. You would, of course, be sorely mistaken.

Tim wasn't the most charismatic, or the strongest, or the most agile, or the most magically gifted, or the child by blood. No, Tim was known for being the smartest of the royals. The tactician, the strategist, the genius. Able to see three moves ahead in any scenario.

Just kidding. Nobody seemed to care about his strategic mind; he was constantly talked over during meetings and ignored. He was the one the courtiers and the military men laughed at, because his strategies were too complicated, his plans too intricate. They called him arrogant, pretentious. And the kingdom being at peace meant nobody wanted to bother with things like optimizing supply lines, or preparing for seemingly farfetched worst-case scenarios. Even if the king agreed with him most of the time, it was difficult to implement his suggestions without the nobles' support.

So here he was, the third prince, a prodigy with the best education money could buy, and the most he could do was make a fool of himself.

"I don't understand," he lamented, tapping at the map on his desk. "This is clearly a weak point. If the empire attacked us from this route, we'd be at a severe disadvantage. You see it, right? The valley is difficult to traverse, but they have dragon riders. Dragons are mountainous creatures by nature and would be able to use the high ground to their advantage. Also, this here? The river is a natural chokepoint, but dragons can fly, so they could easily outmaneuver us—"

He groaned, running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry. You're my knight, not my advisor. It's not your job to listen to me ramble."