Chapter 1: 1. Pass through to become a prince

Roland felt that someone was calling him.

"Your Highness, wake up..."

He turned his head away, but the voice still didn't disappear, instead it got louder. He felt someone reach out and gently tug at his sleeve.

"Your Highness, Your Royal Highness!"

Roland opened his eyes abruptly, the familiar screen was gone, the desk was gone, and the walls covered with notes were gone, replaced by a bizarre scene - a low masonry house, a round square full of people , and the gate-shaped gallows erected in the center of the square. He sat on the high platform opposite the square, not a soft swivel chair under his butt, but a cold and hard iron chair. There were still a circle of people sitting around, staring at him intently, and among them, several women dressed as ghostly medieval ladies were covering their mouths and snickering.

What the hell is this place? Shouldn't I be chasing the drawing schedule? Roland's mind was at a loss. Working overtime for three consecutive days had pushed his mind and body to the limit. He just remembered that in the end, he couldn't hold it any longer, and his heartbeat became fast and slow.

"Your Highness, please announce the verdict."

The speaker was the guy who secretly tugged at his sleeves. He looked old, about fifty or sixty years old, and wore a white robe. At first glance, he looked a bit like Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings.

Am I dreaming? Roland licked his dry lips, verdict, what verdict?

But he soon learned that people in the square were all looking in the direction of the gallows, waving their fists and shouting, and occasionally a stone or two would fly towards the gallows.

Roland had only seen such an ancient torture tool in movies—the columns on both sides were about four meters high, with a wooden beam on top of which was inlaid with rusted iron rings, and thick yellow hemp ropes passed through the iron. One end of the ring is fixed under the gallows and the other end is wrapped around the neck of the prisoner.

In this strange dream, he found that his eyesight had become amazingly useful. He could not read the words on the display screen without glasses, but now he can see every detail on the gallows fifty meters away. Clearly.

The prisoner was wearing a hood, his hands were tied behind his back, and his rough gray uniform was as dirty as a rag. She was thin, and her exposed ankles seemed to be broken by hand. The front chest bulged slightly, and it appeared to be a woman. She shivered in the wind, but struggled to stand up straight.

Well, what crime did this guy commit, so that so many people were waiting for her to be hanged with righteous indignation?

Just thinking about this, Roland's memory seemed to be suddenly connected, and the answer appeared in front of him almost at the same time.

She is a witch.

Fallen by the temptation of the devil, the incarnation of the unclean.

"Your Highness?" urged Gandalf cautiously.

He glanced at the other party, um, it was not Gandalf, Barov was his real name, the assistant to the Minister of Finance, who was sent to handle government affairs for himself.

And himself, the fourth prince of the Kingdom of Greycastle, Roland, came here to guard one side. The residents of Border Town caught the witch and immediately sent it to the police station—no, it was sent to the courthouse. The warrants for the execution of witches are generally issued by local lords or bishops. Since he is in power here, issuing warrants is also a matter of his own.

The memory presents the questions he most needs to answer one by one, without screening or reading, as if it was his own experience. Roland was confused for a while. There is absolutely no dream that can achieve such details. So, is this not a dream? He traveled to the dark ages of the European Middle Ages and became Roland? From a drawing dog who worked all night to a dignified fourth prince?

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Although the kingdom's possessions may seem so barren and backward, the name of the Kingdom of Greycastle has never been seen in the history books.

So, what should we do next?

How such absurd things happened can be studied later, but this farce must be stopped - it is the normal state of uncivilized civilization to attribute disasters, misfortunes, and misfortunes to some poor ghosts. Hanging people to satisfy the dark psychology of the onlookers is really unacceptable.

He grabbed the warrant that Barov was holding, and threw it to the ground, stretched out, "I'm sleepy, I'll be sentenced another day, it's all gone today!"

Roland did not act recklessly, but carefully recalled the behavior of the prince in his memory, and reproduced the playful spirit of going his own way. That's right, the fourth prince himself is so fucked up and has a bad personality, and he thinks that it will come out as soon as he thinks of it. Then again, you can count on how well-educated a prince in his early twenties is, who is uncontrollable.

The nobles who were sitting on the high platform looked at all odd, but a tall man in armor stood up, "Your Highness, this is not a joke! Once the identity of the witch is confirmed, she should be executed immediately, otherwise other witches will be invited to rob her. What should I do if I leave? The church will not sit idly by if it knows.”

Carter Lannis, this decent-looking man is actually his chief knight. Roland frowned and said, "Why, are you afraid?" The naked sarcasm in his words was not entirely acting. A burly man with thicker arms than other people's body was worried that he would be imprisoned by the other party, did he really regard the witch as the devil's spokesperson? "Wouldn't it be better to have a few more to catch them all?"

Seeing that he was no longer speaking, Roland waved his hand and beckoned the guards to take him away. Carter hesitated, but kept up with the team and walked beside the fourth prince. The other nobles stood up and bowed to greet him, but Roland could see the unabashed contempt in the eyes of this group of people.

Returning to the palace—that is, the castle south of Border Town, he ordered the guards to stop the anxious minister assistant from the hall door, and he was a little relieved.

As someone who deals with computers 90% of the time, being able to perform such a show in front of everyone is already a super-level performance. Roland found his bedroom according to the location in his memory, and sat on the bed to rest for a while before suppressing the violent heartbeat. The most important thing at the moment is to clarify the situation. As a prince, if you don't stay in the royal city, what are you doing in this wasteland?

It's okay to not want to, but as soon as the thought came to him, he was stunned by the answer.

Roland Wimbledon actually came to compete for the throne.

The origin of everything came from the wonderful will of the King of Greycastle, Wimbledon III: to inherit this kingdom, it is not the first born prince who has the highest ranking, but the most capable of governing the country. He sent his five adult children to various territories under his control, and after five years, he decided who would be the crown prince according to the level of governance.

It sounds like a very advanced concept, and the ability to live first, plus equality between men and women, the problem is that the actual implementation is completely different. Who can guarantee that all five players will start with the same conditions? Again, this is not playing a real-time strategy game. As far as he knew, the territory that the second prince got was much better than Border Town—well, in this way, there seems to be no worse place than Border Town among the five people. It was a terrible start.

Also, how to evaluate governance level, population? military? economy? Wimbledon III did not mention any standards, nor did it limit competition in the slightest. What if someone played assassination in private? Could it be that the queen watched her son kill each other? Wait... He thought about it carefully, okay, another bad news, the queen passed away five years ago.

Roland sighed, it was obvious that this was a barbaric and dark feudal era, one or two can be seen from the wanton hunting of witches, dressing up as a prince is already a very high starting point. Even if he didn't get the throne, he was still the bloodline of the King of Greycastle. As long as he could survive, he would be considered a lord if he got the title.

And... what's the point of being a king? Without the Internet, without the nourishment of modern civilization, would he have to be like these natives, burn a witch to play, live in a city where feces are dumped at will, and finally die of the ravages of the Black Death?

Roland suppressed the chaotic thoughts in his heart and walked to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bedroom. The person in the mirror had light gray curly hair, which was the most distinctive feature of the Graycastle royal family. The facial features are still correct, but the face is not straight, and it looks like there is no temperament. Slightly pale, lack of exercise. As for whether he was addicted to alcohol, he recalled it, and it seemed that it was okay. There were several lovers in Wangcheng, all of whom were voluntary, and had never done anything to force others.

As for the reason for his crossing, Roland also guessed a general idea - it should be the sudden death caused by Party A's inhumane urging and the boss arranged to work overtime overnight.
Well, no matter how you think about it, this is at least an extra life, and you really shouldn't complain too much. In the days to come, he may be able to slowly reverse this kind of life, but the primary task at present is to play the role of the fourth prince well, and not let others find flaws and directly tie him to the stake as a demon possessed.

"In that case, live well first," he took a deep breath and whispered in front of the mirror, "From now on, I will be new Roland."

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