In the palace, German Empire stood with his son, Third—the heir to his throne. Pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment, he watched as his son struggled to focus during training. “Third, you are meant to rule after me. How can I trust you when all you’ve shown is failure?” he growled, gritting his teeth and glaring intensely at his son.

Head bowed in shame, Third bit the inside of his cheek, feeling helpless under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. He wanted to retort, but the memory of his father’s belt made him hold his tongue. “I... I’m sorry,” he muttered, though a flicker of defiance lingered in his voice.

The German Empire narrowed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. His son reminded him too much of himself at that age, under the watchful eye of his own father, Prussia. Ironically, that resemblance only fueled his anger.