It wasn't too long afterward when the Warlord and his soldiers returned to the Midlands. By head count alone, they had not lost a single soldier. 3,000 went to battle, and 3,000 returned. There was nothing credible to report, as it was difficult to believe that 3,000 men went to war against a great and powerful city and none of them died. Worse yet, what credited them with such a flawless victory was the fact that they were assisted by two dragons that did most of the heavy lifting for them. Sure, there was an occult following of fable enthusiasts who believed in dragons like they were their bread and water, but reporting it in a battle account felt off. He was conflicted on whether or not he should account for that part of the battle. Still, it would be impossible to explain how no one died in such a war. Soon, he gave up on making up a story and decided to report on what truly happened, though he was afraid that the impulsive young Emperor would thin
When Wayne returned with Natalie, Aurora, and Serena, the palace seemed elated. Richard was happy that Serena had come to be with him, and Cyrus's family had been reunited. Now that everyone of interest was present, it was time for the formal coronation to mark the young Cyrus as sovereign King, and his wife as ruling Queen. They divided the kingdom into new provinces, a few of which Natalie would rule over, leaving the majority for her husband. After signing several scrolls and getting married for the second time in line with Griffindale's royal tradition, the day of coronation finally came. It was a day like no other, but since Cyrus didn't want to lavish the Kingdom's wealth at a time when the city was still being rebuilt, he made it modest, only prioritizing hygiene, food, and wine. Decorations and other accessories were ruled out of the budget, still, it was a day to remember. That day, King Cyrus was formally coronated as King and was no longer acting as one. He reinstated
Three years later... Back at Frostfall, Faora sensed a disturbance coming from the cave at the other side of the village. She came out of her house, looking around with a worried frown on her face, expecting to see obvious threats like she and her husband did the night that Dorcas and the other two dragon Slayers attacked. But there was nothing noteworthy going on outdoors. The weather was wonderful, and the mood was serene. That's why, just past midnight, everyone was still sound sleeping despite the strange feeling in her gut. The only strange thing was that she wasn't alone. At the far end if the village, right where the entrance was, beyond the barricade, she could see Nebula's blue eyes staring back at her. Though they couldn't communicate telepathically at that moment, Faora instinctively knew that they were sensing the same thing. There was trouble, and were sure of it. But Nebula wasn't getting the same sense of fear that Asherah was giving off. It was like Faora was
Queen Regina of Griffindale sat in her room, staring out of the large window several floors above the ground. It was a luxurious and spacious room filled with all the extravagant things a woman in her early forties would want. As a Queen, she did not believe in modesty, considering it dishonest to live like that, so she got everything she wanted until she got tired of chasing after endless desires. She stared out of the window, admiring the star-filled night sky and the brilliant full moon.The cool night breeze was refreshing, except for the fact that it nearly blew out the candles that illuminated her room. Besides the breeze, she enjoyed the sounds of the crickets in the nearby bushes and the howling of wolves in the wild forests just beyond the city's gates. The night was still young, and it was beautiful. However, it was not blissful enough to loosen the knot in her stomach permanently. She would never unwind, no matter how many pleasures she experienced. Although she was having a
“But you would have to come up with a plan for what to do with the bastard son,” Tarquin said to Queen Regina. “I don't think that boy is going to just stand by and watch you use the throne however you like.”“You are right,” the Queen said as she thought about it. “The young boy will be 21 years old in less than two years, and when he reaches that age, according to customs, he will be old enough to ascend to the throne if he wishes to. And I don't see any reason why he would decline the offer.”“Yes, your Majesty,” Tarquin replied, “he would have the right to demand the throne from you if he wishes to, and you would be bound by law to oblige. He would have no reason to refuse to rule as king, as it seems that is what he aspires to be. It might have been a different case if you had a male child of your own, but so far, you haven't had any.”The Queen smiled after he said this, looking down at her somewhat flat tummy before proceeding to ask him a question.“Tarquin,” she called him, an
The next day was one of mourning and silence in Griffindale, as it was announced that the King had died the previous night, giving in to his fever. As the customs demanded, everyone in the kingdom mourned for him from that morning until the next daybreak. It was a sudden edict, and a warning bell was rung to make sure everyone's attention was drawn to it, as violators of the rules stated in the edict would be highly prosecuted. On that day, all the restaurants and shops were closed, and everyone observed the mourn for the late King. All the bustling streets were now quiet, and barely any sounds could he heard from any of the businesses as they were all shut down. Back in the Palace, the body specialists in charge of taking care of the King's dead body had embalmed it so that it wouldn't rot and stink before the day of cremation. As the custom demanded, every member of the royal family was expected to come pay their respects by dropping flowers on his deathbed and taking a bow. Q
It was time to cremate the body of the late king, as the customs demanded. His body was set on a platform covered in straw and light splinters of wood. And by contact from a fiery torch, the whole structure was set ablaze with the King's body in the middle of it. Cyrus and his mother watched, along with everyone else present, with pain in their hearts as the King's body began eviscerating. The event was held at the main town square within the walls of the capital city. It was the largest open area available, able to host several standing attendees who wanted to witness the king's cremation. All of them held lanterns and candles, singing a sad dirge in unison as they watched their king's body burn away. Cyrus watched everything, and though it sickened him to see it, he forced himself to do so, with his mother standing right behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, from watching his father's body get reduced to ashes, an unlikely memory came to his mind. But unlike all
Earlier on that same day, Somewhere not too far from the capital city... Felix, a young boy living on the outskirts of the Highlands of Griffindale, in a region that was not considered part of the Kingdom, sat outside his house with both hands joined together as he stared at the skies. His eyes were red, and huge bags could be spotted beneath each of them even under the dim light of the moon. He was in a small village about a day's distance on horseback from the capital city of Griffindale, with a large forest acting as a natural demarcation between the jurisdiction of the Kingdom [of which it was not a part] and the other territories. That was where Felix lived as a young boy, surviving with his mother, who was now terribly sick, giving the impression that it would not be long before she kicks the bucket. She was barely in her early forties, so she was not dying of old age. He wondered what sort of sickness had taken hold of his mother, drastically reducing her from an actively