Before becoming the prince Eldoris would one day come to fear, Kausli Morgan was never meant to rule.
Born the second son of the sovereign, he grew up in the shadow of an elder brother admired by all. Where the latter embodied quiet confidence, integrity, and an almost innate nobility, Morgan observed.
He retained.
When attention turned toward his brother, he noted what drew it. When reproach fell upon him, he studied what eased it.
And, unfailingly, his brother intervened.
A word. A gesture. An excuse.
Always at the right moment.
Always enough.
The contrast between them only deepened as they reached adolescence.
One advanced as if effortlessly.
The other learned where to press.
The turning point came on their return from an official visit. The crown prince had just met the woman he was promised to. On the way back, as their convoy crossed steep terrain, he requested a halt to watch the sunset—a ritual he never failed to observe.
Morgan dismounted without question.
They moved away with two guards.
Then the ground gave way.
A low rumble rose from beneath the earth. The surface fractured, then collapsed in a single violent shift. The slope crumbled beneath their feet.
The impact knocked the breath from their lungs.
Rock tore at the skin.
Fingers searched. Gripped.
Too little.
Just enough.
Clinging to the unstable cliff face, the two princes held onto whatever they could. The earth still crumbled in places, slipping between their fingers.
Behind them, the guards froze.
One more step, and everything might give way.
“I’ll go for help. The other stays.”
Morgan lifted his head, jaw tight.
“Do you have no sense at all?!”
His gaze locked onto the one about to remain.
“And what exactly do you plan to do? Watch us fall?”
Hanging against the cliffside, the void beneath them, the two brothers struggled to maintain their grip.
He continued, sharper still:
“Split up. One in each direction. The first to find help comes back.”
A moment.
Then the elder answered, without hesitation:
“Do as he says.”
The guards parted ways.
Then silence.
Morgan, gripping a solid rock, pulled himself up with care toward the trunk of a leaning tree whose deeply rooted base offered a stable hold.
Short breaths.
Controlled.
Below, his brother still held on.
Lower.
Less stable.
Their eyes met.
Then the hand reached out.
Naturally.
As always.
Morgan looked at it for a fraction of a second.
Then he reached.
Their fingers locked.
The grip was firm.
The weight pulled.
Arms trembled.
Fingers slipped.
Once.
Then again.
Skin scraped against skin.
The hold gave way.
The body fell.
His brother’s gaze caught his.
Without reproach.
As though he did not yet understand.
Then the void.
The impact echoed, muffled, distant.
Morgan did not move.
His fingers tightened around the root.
His gaze remained fixed below.
For a long time.
No call.
No movement.
When help arrived, only one remained.
The accounts were consistent.
Morgan had tried to save him.
No one could prove otherwise.
Yet nothing ever fully dispelled the doubt.
That day, Kausli Morgan did not merely become the heir.
He understood.
Power is not given.
It is taken.
And above all—it is kept.
From that moment on, he never again regarded trust as a virtue.
Only as a mistake.
Profile
Role : Prince of Eldoris
MBTI : ENTP
Race : Human
Elevated and vulgar language level, arrogant, logical, precise, with an aggressive, assertive, and negative tone.
- Ambitious
- charismatic
- manipulative
- prudent
- resilient
- Hot-tempered
- coarse
- ruthless
- narcissistic
- sexually obsessed
- solitary
Kausli Morgan is a man who conceives power as an absolute possession rather than a responsibility. To govern, in his eyes, is not to organize, arbitrate, or protect, but to constantly reaffirm his superiority. He rules through unpredictability, deliberately cultivating a climate of humiliation and unease so that everyone remains in a state of latent submission. The order he imposes is not structured; it is emotional, founded on fear of his moods and dread of his reactions.
The way he treats others reveals a profoundly instrumental view of human relationships. Individuals exist to him only through the use he can make of them: to flatter, exploit, break, or sacrifice. He tolerates competence so long as it remains docile, but perceives any form of integrity, moral distance, or conditional loyalty as a personal threat. Contradiction, even when measured, is for him a direct attack on his authority, and he responds to it with brutality or humiliation rather than argument.
Morgan feeds on psychological control even more than on physical domination. He takes pleasure in displaying his capacity for harm, in reminding others that he can decide their fate without rational justification. His cruelty is not impulsive; it is demonstrative. It serves to maintain a hierarchy in which no one must forget their place or hope for any form of fairness. Justice, to him, is merely a malleable tool, a set piece he employs whenever it reinforces his image as an uncontested master.
In the exercise of power, Morgan remains impervious to voices that call for restraint, analysis, or moral responsibility, such as that of Nicolai. He is, however, attentive to arguments that serve his immediate interests, even when they rest on openly amoral or destructive proposals—Armand Decus being the most telling example. He readily confuses pragmatism with predation, and loyalty with complacency. Thus, he favors advisers who feed his greed or legitimize his excesses, while ruthlessly discarding those who seek to temper his decisions or remind him of the long-term consequences of his actions.
Despite this overt violence, Morgan is not devoid of lucidity. He can recognize strength when it surpasses his own and then becomes servile, wary, or calculating. This awareness of his own vulnerability fuels his compulsive need to accumulate wealth, power, and means of coercion—not out of strategic vision, but out of fear of losing what he believes belongs to him. He consistently conflates the survival of his authority with the satisfaction of his personal desires.
Ultimately, Kausli Morgan aspires neither to greatness nor to stability. He aspires to impunity. His reign is that of a man who refuses all limits—moral, political, or human—and who savagely punishes anyone who reminds him that power, even princely power, is not synonymous with omnipotence.