Unlike the last of the moment lucid golden morning, the moment they saw him get crowned the dragons are away, the mist of colors fades away.
The cart they bought, for most hundreds of them, from the north to the south they are carried back by the servants. The freshly rutted wooden means of transport are at the side of the royal tracks of the king and being engaged in the muddy pile of conflict.
Watchers put on the side, not thousands of them. The watchers at the high machicolation seemingly approaching the borders between the guards formed within it, one servant woman nearly falls headlong at the stone fence on how much enlivened she wants to see the new King march into the inner bailey. Cooks, Cleaners, and servants, mostly the people who never came at the Arena, the Coronation; they all stood before the barbicans, peaking onto the arrow loops, ceasing and guards holding one's horses.
The lone farmer of the south, clothes slightly torn and hair gone haggard, Ritchler; face disgusted, no words but very intense, thinking that a deception is already been made. A deception fitly accidental and unnatural, but he also reached an acceptance of being at the ropes of breach and kiss of dirty tricks.
While the gush of rage is in his heart, big wooden tabors and horns, affectionate, unruffled and never muffled, roaring at the top of the curtain walls, linking chords for the King's arrival while he walk his way below the borders of the barbican. Flutes faint but mellow he can apprehend, the sound of joy of the people is mention in the same waves as the music played by the Castle troubadours, thrilling martial melody began when the King is close to the drawbridge.
Flutes faint but mellow he can apprehend, the sound of joy of the people is mention in the same waves as the music played by the Castle troubadours, thrilling martial melody began when the King is close to the drawbridge [https://img.wattpad.com/5f9ee1cf4b4c40dccc37c4861f387be22599c5f4/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f787547336b2d4f326d47665764773d3d2d313132373336383730362e313661353237646138633231623031333235393432343733383839392e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
All the way from the strip, soldiers are formed infinite straight behind the silent proud servants, bending the knee as their King pass by. Full resounding iron tapping on the arch of swords atop the good fade ground while the King, his King's guard and the singularly lucky but noblest expressive councils are mounted on their horses. Raven's face conceited, gratified of his fulfillment.
The Drawbridge is already brought down for him as well as the banners, the biggest one hanging below the bartizan. The movable metal barrier, heavily spiked and bounded by chain moves up at hid for the ambitious Divine Raven, the Stallify; the serpent roars no more. Ritchler gathered himself up, and put away his eyes from the parade. He saw the king unmount, as well as the truly independent counsels, followed and guarded by skilled and extremely calm swordsmen; the King's guard.
Now, he followed like his eyes followed them, from below the guardhouse as they move across the bailey onto the fountain garden of the castle, by virtue of the ethereal beauty he walks towards the right stairs to the throne room; the mouth of the creature, the seat lays await.
At the moment the time try to nip, when he saw the King got inside the castle, he run towards the open hole of the corbel, down he goes stepping fast, direct and swift like a cat chasing a rat. Lightsome move, his shadow on the walls of the black keep inside the chemise he's close to go.
He muffled and whispered the turn of tag he think about like a wind of flutter, in just a crackle,
Ritchler: If he didn't believe me nor listen to me, I don't know what will happen to our country.
Crowded, equally disorganized. Surely, I'm the only southerner on foot, he thought. Luxurious cut and dried, high up and moving round in circles. Dark and warm, he sight them marching towards the Throne room. Round up he goes, great scores on the dust, the footprints all the way on the narrow helix like a horde of buffalo marched up the royal hall; sun is the candle, darkness like hell dead in the cradle. A reconstructed Royal Hall, luxurious to see the line of golden candleholders the vestal fiery yellow up the whole hallway. The gods of light, illuminates it all prepared for the King.
The carvings of Rayna Yustha is within the bounds of the wall, carved thirty years ago before she disappeared into thin air, allegedly murdered, raped and thrown to be the one with the tides of the ocean, abandoned. The fearsome dragons she tend to remember seeing, they said. The knights of the rebellions, onto the wall as well the fragments of different precious stones resembles the ocean bound the islands known.
A colossal being standing on the middle of what is known a sea, a mutant with its head full of tentacles like multiple serpents body of a much bodacious human; standing blankly like a splinter broken inside the vast blue abyss and a glimpse of the extent drowned kingdoms. Amazed, he never saw this before, he should not be in the place of nobles but for a cause of a case he throw over counter upon the beauty inside the castle.
Lamentably, castle guards by the walls blocked his way, occlude cross of steel impede beyond his eyes. They are tall and unhelmed, their strength are in impressive spare,
Korin: What is it you came here? Does the King invited you to his place?
Ritchler: No, I am not invited on any occasions but I demand to express myself to the King [https://img.wattpad.com/47a7a80f5e1809cdbbdf99591560fbf8ddec4e5c/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f687464714a4f7750513072706c773d3d2d313132373336383730362e313661353237653061306361353730613135383234303938333931342e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Ritchler: No, I am not invited on any occasions but I demand to express myself to the King.
He bowed slight and faltered, he felt uncertain if the guards will let him into the throne room to give vent to the heated air on his earlier circumstantial case.
Korin: Are you a servant?
A right hand of the crossed swords asked him from the stem of his clothes, a question gleaned from his appearance.
Ritchler: I'm a farmer, not a castle servant so could you please be careful for your words and make me pass. I need a word from the King.
He grunted, while his eyes gaze up to them left and right like a mountain tall, showing aggression in the absence of any threat.
He is about to walk past them, a shadow of his latches and leashing him from his feat, sealed the walls now never the whenever he requires.
Korin: Don't be so hasty without telling us your name, farmer. You are a disappointment on your own city if you talk to the presence of a Castle Guard like that.
Oppose no harm but anger upon their faces, for all that it is still like a stab to the back on how he called him servant. A trade of a man, is a duty no matter what. Ritchler thought, talking to his mind in a secret. They never knew, getting annoyed on the numerous redundant questions for the right of entry, bursting into query, sneak foreboding from the clothes he is wearing. From the mouth that can lie and the eyes talks the truth.
He replied warm, absolutely rainless as the floor he's stepping, every word drops, a mist came follows.
Ritchler: Ritchler, one of the bastard son of House Liroy. I'm from the south, same as the man you kneel at. I live in the city of Shagatar, at the vicinity of Akarelik's mountain range. I work to the farmlands and help my people. My duty is clean as it is, not until I came here to rest my case between me and one of the Men whose been red handed.
The man in leather claimed his origin and beating back silent on the hidden onslaught of the northern realm. The dawning of the man they look down at made Korin look at Arshie, an avowal like an open casted assault after the moment he mentioned the words he spits in.
Korin: We don not think that a servant like you should enter here, we are not afraid to say before his name. Where is the proof of our men being a coward? All of us are trained with strength and dignity~
Ritchler: I am not afraid of yours, and I am not afraid to say that not all of you are sticking to the oath.
Appearance is much more viable for them, he looked fixedly at the strip of armored guards before the doors rather bare and dusty, and inside it where the place he desired to be to speak himself out the dirty mess he already felt. The way of stretch, the hall full of knights; better, high and noble title than him, keeping an eye on the thick-walled room before their vanguard, a huge dead creature truly tamed from the crypt to form a monocracy's keepsake, there sits the man he wanted to talk with.
Ritchler can't cope an eyeshot over them and spat, narrow and vacant to see from his spot; someone, or something coming towards him between the divine aesthetic carvings. Giving an impression of being at the void to be backing, just a wall to lay upon and a grungy floor to sit below.
Compare to the others, an armored steady figure at his left and the other from the glowing smoke and embers of torches he snuck a look for it. A threat it is opposed, a swing of sword about to hit the man whom spoke himself. A killing words but not a threat of a sword for them, until the destiny turn its fate of dream to make him leave away, waking up and almost dying on the land afflict by war and the unbending weapons of chaos, then nearly spitting him out of the awful, dreaded world.
Agaal: What is this argument all about?
A very calm voice on a distance coming forth, an angel or a fallen one, only the light can show the truth beyond a person's eyes. No one has ever peered into the glorious concourse with its heart links fear means nothing at all. From what door the man reaches out like a messenger from among royal rocks.
Clenched his body with a black surcoat covering his chainmail, arms crossed; the armlet keeping an exposure. By means of coming from the door not far off the grandiose room, which means he is one of the King's guard or the Council, he thought. Dressed as casual like them, there is no doubt he is one of the squire or in the circle of the court society.
Agaal: Would you mind my lord? A person needed a word from the King? The grace spare his time for anyone, why not summon him to the presence of my brother?
The man said while upon their eyes his signal be in view. Taking place, returning to the stand point of the guards of his majesty, must at last lay claim to the sheathing of leadership, for the time has come to respect like how they kneel before the king.
Agaal: I apologize those bitter answers from the Castle guards, Ritchler the servant. In a matter of concern, perhaps an urgent concern, my brother is free. He will accept anyone's presence if the issue is within reason of his time. Come with me.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Said him, in a mournful yet high manner like he blazon high up the air by a certain incident, he was just there listening all along. An issue or how the mistress of events, Nefera Roagen, making known for such voice proclaims that even him being jealous of singing the song of war. Agaal Venalia asserted, Ritchler got the urge to follow his lead. Brother of the King, he thought. An upper hand has been raised beyond his eyes, he seem to be thankful for it. Finally, an applicable order to enter the secret room, he said to himself.
He was unable to comprehend the state of being both triumphant and defeated by the sword of the wise and fierce guards, the mind dispersed into motes from madness heat to dainty little smile. The graven image of vile immortal beasts and silvery feathered birds, the savage, fearless men and the voiceless sadistic monsters, all creatures that die and choose to travel pass beyond his sight even more massive and likely. On the heat of the candles up the chandelier, cressets, wooden staves on one end wrapped like a burning head against the wall. Beyond the doors, the pillars erected by either side is a serpent's headstone gazing at the endless void.
Ritchler heard his name being dictated inside the closed doors.
Ritchler, a servant of the castle wanted to have a word with you, brother. He was held before the door by Agaal Venalia until the orders are accepted, with a slight wide of the mark.
The throne room's door, an emblem of a star is the first thing he saw [https://img.wattpad.com/719bfe544bd430a5606a82bcf4631f1a2bd54243/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f393868487144705a364a2d766f413d3d2d313132373336383730362e313661353238313331663262346332663131333731373134363839352e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
The throne room's door, an emblem of a star is the first thing he saw. The councils peer at him as it opens, the talks begin to an end, the council never stand upon his approach, only left standing is the King's guard of the Raven before his throne.
They were lined in front of a rectangular table made out of hardened leaves, smoothened trunks, slippery vines and small perforated corals, distant facing from the throne. It was believed to be a serpent on a spacious opulent room, or a body of it seemingly unburied; but it was all just a little deception. He can't believe his eyes on what he have seen, a petrifying figure appears beyond his eyes as soon as he step onto the 'room' that none shall be in, none shall know until the man of House Venalia give anyone a nod for the door to be unlashed.
This is no ordinary, he thought.
A heart he have not cease to be within him, tickled more than willing; neither an act or an air of joy but inside it was blooming like a sizable and beautiful garden. He was alone, he can express oneself all by himself. Soul never withdrawn, declaration never came back to its spawn, and now he was looking at it. Lit by luxurious light on massive chandeliers, look as though one is a royal ordinary hall like on the other castles but it was huge that it can fit four, making a pile on each other.
At the middle of the huge golden free space is a giant skeleton of a massive dead dragon [https://img.wattpad.com/7bed32d3f12b09975631f5e06e393bf81f937af3/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7847537557365f386943484330413d3d2d313132373336383730362e313661353238316330656162383138353530353736393233303030352e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
At the middle of the huge golden free space is a giant skeleton of a massive dead dragon. Not in a million years the name was buried within its cold and mangled bones, erstwhile glides over scorched forest and ice-bound battlefields. Standing fire alight on both sides of the jaw, the seat is carved onto the dragon's chin, rough and slope to make the king or queen sit on comfortably. The massive spikey head is bridge upon the unpolished coiled skeleton body hardened by ossein. Raven Venalia, fresh on his seat presume he saw this majestic creature before he get there, not at all caring at its presence not like how he care for Ritchler's. From his clothes, the King recognized his origin.
King Raven: You are from the south I see, correct me if I am wrong.
With such amazement and disappointment, in personal he met the ruler, the organizer of every army and every law.
Ritchler: Yes, your grace. Ritchler Liroy from the south, just like you.
He saw the King's not bargained widen eyes, gain an understanding of him.
King Raven: Yes, yes, just like me. I remember the days when I am wearing the same clothes as you, together with my brother as a servant of the Stone Alps. The Liroys, they are very strong and cunning, truthful eh?
He set his eyes at the throne he was sitting earlier, a massive gracious dragon skull which taking pull of a blood monarchy or the pile of marking stones, scale onto the pit of determination seeking a ruler to discern the smooth mythical corpse lies upon the vast room of Lordaeral.
King Raven: Good...Well, welcome to my palace. You, you are the first person without a high title to step onto the throne room that King Stallify the second don not want to make free, unrestricted, and now you are here.
As a matter of gratitude as the same homeland as the silent servant, needless to care for how many scars on his body and dirt within his clothes; his bow of respect is as deep as his kin heart.
As one of kind former retainer, the sort of his kind left Ritchler kneeling on the ground. Fellow feeling of his gracious loving heart, told the servant to rise from his knees. The ground cold and spotless left no dirt onto his informal working brown breeches. While walking towards the bronze and golden interior, rich and incomparable size designs, as far as he can see the head is like eating him whole, particularly lumpy and swollen torso, fierce and belligerently furious set of sword-like teeth leave in ruins.
The dragon's death sealed the departure of life from its outstretched wings, still wears the giant iron shackles taken on a threatening shape of its claws, but on the inside of the creature remains a spirit prisoner that go on being the sentience awake. The ancient power slumbers in the book as well as the others, waking when the chosen one choose to heave the frozen impulse of its heart whilst it shows the illumination within the horde of specter like an escaping heat from a searing hearth.
The ancient power slumbers in the book as well as the others, waking when the chosen one choose to heave the frozen impulse of its heart whilst it shows the illumination within the horde of specter like an escaping heat from a searing hearth [https://img.wattpad.com/e318be9049cd1a271492445017e7a81a28f122f2/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f546657702d45645a577653636b673d3d2d313132373336383730362e313661353238336534306566393039333533393730393935333232302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
King Raven: Stand in front of the Queen regent. I heard you have a concern regarding an issue about something, maybe something that makes the door open even wider for it was open to a discussion. Speak to me, we are here to answer your questions.
There was no seat for him to be at, the council chairs completely occupied. Lady Vhanessa of Sicaris, sat on the throne as the king commands her, the lady he assumed to be his hand lays upon the throne, uncomfortable. From its scaly lap space and feeling awkward by its enormous jaw immensity wide open, scabrous and unwholesome looking mythical beast. He cannot believe what he heard, it echoed the first deferential answer to his calling irked heart. All eyes on him, they bedizen grand clothes for themselves hinge on their positions, he felt pity for himself to array such a dirty farming garments.
Ritchler: Your grace, thank you.
He set his torso forward low for a dignified bow, a stance of admiration on how the king got to the castles like it was above the sky.
King Raven: Alright I see, a little gratitude for me and for her without any speaking of cases. Give your attention to us Ritchler. This is the first time I came close to a scared blood of the southern.
He acknowledged the victim right away with a confused slice of acceptance. A sudden surprise for him without any deal to be emitted. Ragarik Ranel to Renggy Godfrey, their suppressed laughter reflected their helms, into the bargain of the others, Lady Ayena, Lord Nely chuckled while they are on their well furnished unpretentious seats. Ritchler was causing himself to feel small around them and never made a word even so the King spoke.
Ritchler: I am a bastard your grace, not all of our traits can also be mine.
King Raven: That word did not impress me once. Ah, a bastard, yes, but one house is one blood. Being loyal to your vows is not that hard, unless you regret taking it. If that does not lift your spirit then proceed to believe what is within your heart. Do not hesitate to speak, I am not aware of a scared existence especially from the land that I came from.
The King came close to his spot while being on one's boots. Keeping an eye on him, keeping an eye from the squire and the eyes from the table of advisory. Nervous, what will he do, he thought. He stopped right before him, while he spoke, Ritchler glance over the King's Lady behind him, Vhanessa Feriel. She must be damned, he thought.
Muster his mind locked into the timbered municipal roof over their heads.
Ritchler: I hope the Badburns can really burn your grace, that is all I wish for.
Ritchler ranted low and cold as ice. As soon as he emitted, he heard gossips from his place to another in a discourteous or abortive manner, and made them completely quiet. The King, turned his body to him and looked at him fixedly, eyes half close from a dark light awestruck disappointment. His arms dropped, their mouths open by a slight from the upsetting surprise like a burning bombshell from a catapult.
The King whispered at him, slow and deathless.
King Raven: I suppose it was a threat, not a concern.
Ritchler saw the black bird in cape approaches, his hands grabbing the hilt of his Slarkine Steel slowly putting it away on the brown sheet. His heart made him never suffer, his eyes opened wide, he heard King Raven's Kings guard put their ponderous and two-edged sword away from the steel holder. Without a thought and without fear, he faced the council and his demand shouted.
Ritchler: You lot are not going to witness an execution, you are about to witness a murder! A murder of an innocent man who is a victim of stealing. A shameful scene to witness your castle men standing proud before your home and steal from a country servant of your own.
All of them left speechless upon the cry of him. He encountered his nightmarish demise from the hands of regime for a second within the site he never wanted to reach. He continued his heated rant, Ritchler's eyes be ablaze with anger.
The Door is still open, he gaze back between the vast superb golden walls carved a roaring dragons, facing the dead. There he saw the man in need of a drastic words with the council. Sarrig Kent, show true sight upon his eyes. Sarrig's ability to bring an image or idea from the past into the mind without swithering, from his past that haunts him; the magic loomed his intellectual capabilities, an art he cultivated and which ultimately saved his life on the moment that his family was betrayed and slaughtered.
Sarrig himself brought the slaughterers lives to an end with an orange dagger he still carries up on his waist laying rest, the weight of merciless and cold-blooded stain which figure a proof that the world is like a living hell.
He got up of his nature seat and walk forward on the entrance. All of them, wonder if he leaves or not. His encounter rush went the man of the castle and guards left confused, by spirit of state of affairs, he was not found right past the two. The halls are dark and warm, whereas the ice and fire pummeling from the cryptic death and a castle hearth.
Ritchler: Before the coronation have come into existence, I and two of my fellow farmers are on a trip with our horse wagon to give food to the Castle. Your Castle Guard, one of them stole food from our wagon which he lend the bounty into our heads to pay for it, you know its surname!
He loudly bleated, the threat the man gave him is as frightening as digging his own grave.
Sarrig's appearance may give not much of an attention, but never born with a featherbrain that logical magic lights on it. He counted their helms, scarcely any to protect one hall, other guards of the castle are on a roam on the boarders or vanguards of the battlements. While he step out the hallway, warm and grim, he whispered.
Korin Efrileen, Oswal Veradinn, Enva Aneli, Lomprel Johara, there is someone missing. He led to the throne room again, and this time, the news came all along fast as it is. The ratiocination, flew by like a dragon long roar, the lofty and well-fortified set of stones erected monumental before the King's grace carved wooden door; there must be the chief in order to protect before the higher monarchical swordsmen.
Sarrig Kent: Sir Aagaron Badburn, the chief castle guard, he was here lately...he fled away.
The crowned corvine walked towards him, trying his patience to believe an unanticipated thievery, a case shall be having a justice served for Ritchler. A misdemeanor act already took the chains to kill or to free it.
King Raven: Follow the Council to the courtroom Ritchler, for the crime would be settled before you go home...Kings Guard!
He shouted, his roar echoes the entire throne room as if the Raven's dragon suddenly awaken. Sir Ragarik Ranel, Sir Harya Quarin, Sir Morgan Hazer, and Sir Renggy Godfrey brought their eyes to the uncommonly condescending and gracious man of the throne.
King Raven: Bring Aagaron Badburn of the Castle Guards to the courtroom. The inelegant chief is on the loose.