Within a grand expanse of Rothrosia cathedral, a vast and sacred space filled with air of reverence and mystery.
Sunlight pours through the intricate stained-glass windows, casting a myriad of colors onto the polished marble floor. The central window, a magnificent masterpiece of colored glass, radiates with ethereal brilliance, its light bathing the altar in a celestial glow.
Kneeling before the altar is Akimitsu, his head bowed low, one knee on the ground while the other leg is bent in humble supplication. The light from the window caresses his form, casting him in a surreal aura, as if the heavens themselves have descended upon him.
Behind him, the Royal Mage Angus stands, his arms outstretched in an almost ritualistic gesture. His staff, an ancient and intricate piece, gleams in the light, a beacon of arcane power. His eyes are closed, his face serene, yet his presence radiates an intense, focused energy. He is caught in a deep trance, his very being attuned to the mystical forces swirling around them.
Further back, the King of Rothrosia King Theodor watches, his expression a mixture of calm and awe. The weight of the moment seems to press upon him, his regal bearing momentarily overshadowed by the magnitude of what he is witnessing. His gaze is fixed on the kneeling boy, his mind racing with unspoken questions and uncertainties.
Beyond King Theodor, a small group of mages and maids stand in silence, their faces a canvas of intrigue and apprehension. The air is thick with anticipation, each breath held as if the very atmosphere might shatter under the strain of what is unfolding before them.
The light, ever radiant, seems almost alive, its brilliance pulsing in time with the unspoken rhythms of the ritual. The silence within the cathedral is profound, a sacred stillness that envelops all present, heightening the sense of the otherworldly.
The Royal Mage Angus abruptly broke free from his trance, his eyes snap open, his face alight with a mixture of revelation and shock. He stood motionless for a heartbeat, his gaze transfixed on the radiant beam of light streaming through the glass in front of the altar. His lips parted, and with a voice that resounded through the cavernous space, he proclaimed,
"This is the word of the goddess!"
The echoes of his voice reverberated through the cathedral, each word imbued with a palpable certainty that commanded the attention of all present.
"This boy, Akimitsu," he continued, his voice unwavering, "who came from the land of the light, the land of the rising sun, is our savior long awaited."
A collective gasp rippled through the room as the light pouring in from the stained glass seemed to swell, its brightness intensifying until the entire cathedral shimmered with an almost otherworldly radiance. The ethereal glow enveloped Akimitsu, casting him in a surreal luminescence that left everyone in awe. Faces reflected pure amazement and disbelief, the revelation hanging heavy in the air, almost suffocating in its magnitude.
But amid the astonishment, Akimitsu's face told a different story. His brows furrowed, eyes darting around the room as if seeking an explanation. Beads of sweat appeared on his cheek, glistening in the blinding light. He opened his mouth, the words escaping his lips in a soft, bewildered murmur, "I'm what—"
...
Bells rang out from the spires of small church-like buildings scattered throughout the town, their jubilant peals echoing off the cobblestone streets. The townsfolk, who had been going about their daily routines, now paused, their faces painted with confusion and curiosity as they tried to make sense of the sudden commotion.
Then, like a spark igniting dry tinder, a lone figure came dashing through the crowded square, his voice rising above the noise.
"THE SAVIOR! THE SAVIOR IS HERE! The time has come! We will be saved!" His words rang out, cutting through the air like a clarion call. Heads turned, eyes widened, and the murmurs of confusion swelled into a tidal wave of astonishment.
In an instant, the atmosphere transformed. Shock gave way to joyous disbelief as the news spread like wildfire. It was as though an invisible current of elation surged through the town. Cheers erupted from every corner, rising up like a chorus of jubilation. People dropped to their knees, their faces uplifted to the heavens, hands clasped together in fervent prayer.
Children, their laughter bright and carefree, raced through the streets, their small feet pattering against the cobblestones. They darted around like excited birds, their eyes wide with the wonder of the celebration unfolding around them. Musicians appeared, seemingly from nowhere, their instruments in hand. A lively melody filled the air, the sounds of flutes, fiddles, and tambourines intertwining in a joyous symphony.
Confetti, crafted from colorful scraps of paper, rained down from above, swirling through the air like a rainbow-colored blizzard. It danced on the breeze, glittering in the sunlight as it fell upon the laughing faces of the townsfolk below. People embraced one another, their hearts light and spirits lifted. Strangers shared smiles and laughter, their joy uniting them in a celebration like none Rothrosia had ever seen.
Everywhere, people flocked to the streets, the vibrant tapestry of their clothing forming a kaleidoscope of colors against the backdrop of stone buildings and market stalls. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats mingled with the fragrance of flowers as vendors joined the revelry, offering treats and delicacies to the celebrants.
It was a festival of hope, of renewed faith and unbridled joy, the town awash in a sea of vibrant hues and jubilant noise. Flags and banners were unfurled, their brilliant colours fluttering in the wind. Laughter, music, and cheers filled the air, blending into a harmonious cacophony that carried on the breeze, spreading the news of the savior's arrival to every corner of the town.
A commanding officer, his posture rigid and authoritative, stood with a stern expression as he faced another soldier, who stood at attention before him. The officer's voice was firm, his words direct and unyielding. "Spread the news immediately. Deliver it to every commander and knight throughout Rothrosia. No delays." The soldier saluted sharply, his face resolute, and then turned on his heel, sprinting off to carry out his orders. He wasn't alone; from the castle gates, several other soldiers on horseback galloped out in haste, their figures disappearing into the distance as they spread the revelation far and wide.
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Meanwhile, at a defence post on the north-eastern outskirts of the city, a handful of soldiers lingered in the shade, some leaning against their posts with weary expressions. One of them let out a long yawn, his shoulders slumping as the calm breeze rustled the leaves overhead. It was a rare, quiet moment in a time of mounting tensions, and the soldiers seemed to savour it, even if only briefly.
Suddenly, a watchful gaze shifted to the horizon. Far off, a lone rider appeared, the silhouette growing larger as the soldier on horseback approached at breakneck speed. Dust kicked up behind him as he neared, the urgency of his mission apparent in the way he urged his steed forward.
In the main camp, within a large, canvas tent, a soldier burst through the flap, his breath coming in quick, urgent gasps. "Sir Francis!" he called out, his voice breaking the stillness. "The King has ordered every commander and head knight to the castle!!"
Sir Francis, caught mid-bite, froze in place. A bewildered, shocked expression spread across his face, his eyes wide with confusion. A large, juicy chicken thigh dangled from his mouth as he blinked, trying to process the sudden, unexpected news. "What?" he mumbled around the mouthful, his voice muffled by the food as he stared at the soldier, the shock of the moment captured in that single, incredulous word.
...
The grand cathedral, its imposing structure rising majestically above the throng of jubilant townsfolk. Colorful confetti rained down like a shower of vibrant petals, drifting through the air as people flocked towards the grand entrance. Guardsmen formed a long human barrier, their stoic expressions contrasting sharply with the overflowing joy around them. The crowd surged forward, eager to catch a glimpse of their supposed savior, their voices a cacophony of joy and reverence, echoing through the city streets.
Away from the main congregation, in a shadowed corner of the cathedral's expansive courtyard, Sir Francis stood with several knights, his posture tense and his expression sour. "This is absurd," he muttered, his voice edged with frustration.
Beside him, Sir William stood with his usual composed demeanor, his calm eyes observing the scene. His lips curled into a slight, almost amused smile as he glanced at Sir Francis. "The goddess has spoken, He is the savior that the legend foretold," he said, his tone measured and even.
Sir Francis scowled, clearly unconvinced.
"How do we know he's not with the witches?" he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just because he appeared out of thin air, that doesn't make him our savior." His eyes were still fixed on the cathedral, a storm of doubt and suspicion brewing within them.
Sir Francis huffed, still pouting, his expression one of stubborn disbelief. He had fought too many battles, seen too many deceptions, to accept such a proclamation without question. As a soldier and a knight, his instincts were honed to detect threats and dangers, and something about this sudden revelation made his gut twist in unease. He wasn't alone in his doubts. Glances exchanged between other knights suggested they, too, harbored reservations about the boy's miraculous appearance and the prophecy's abrupt fulfilment.
Yet, Royal Mage Angus's word carried weight. He was the King's trusted advisor, a man who had served the royal family longer than anyone else. His judgment was rarely questioned, and his interpretation of the prophecy would be hard to dispute. For many, his declaration that Akimitsu was the savior was more than enough to quell their doubts.
The grand doors of the cathedral creaked open, revealing the procession of mages. They filed out with solemn grace, their robes flowing as they took their positions on either side, creating a clear path down the center. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they strained to catch a glimpse of what was to come. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation, a collective breath held in reverence.
From the shadows of the grand hall emerged the Royal Mage Angus, his presence commanding. He was clad in resplendent ceremonial attire—a long, flowing robe of pristine white adorned with intricate golden embroidery that wove through the fabric like divine inscriptions. The front of his robe was secured with a broad belt of embossed leather, and from his shoulders draped a long, heavy mantle that gave him the appearance of a high priest or ancient sage. His left hand, gloved in fine leather, rested on the staff he carried, its headpiece a marvel of craftsmanship, spiraling upwards to a polished gem set within, radiating a subtle, otherworldly light.
He raised both arms, the rich fabric of his sleeves catching the light as he addressed the gathered throng.
"Today, the Goddess's blessing is upon us!" His voice was clear, imbued with a tone of delight and gravitas that resonated through the square.
"For thousands of years, the prophecy has awaited fulfilment," he continued, his words sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd, "and now it has come to pass."
The people gazed at him in awe, their anticipation almost tangible as they hung on his every word.
"Our savior has come, and our land, the kingdom of Rothrosia, has been chosen to bear witness to his arrival." A deafening cheer erupted, the sound rolling through the city like a wave.
The Royal Mage Angus paused, his expression solemn as he gestured towards the cathedral's entrance.
"Behold, from the land where the light shines the brightest, the land of the rising sun—our savior, Akimitsu."
With a graceful movement, Angus stepped aside, his head bowed in respect. A hush fell over the crowd as Akimitsu emerged from the shadows within, walking steadily into the light. The mages and guards stood tall and attentive, their eyes fixed on the boy's approach, while the townsfolk leaned forward, eager to see the one who had been heralded as their savior. Akimitsu continued his measured pace, the sunlight reflecting off his form as he made his way stepping forward to confront the sea of expectant faces before him.
Akimitsu stood before the jubilant crowd, his attire resplendent under the midday sun. He was dressed in a regal ensemble that seemed almost ethereal in its elegance. The long, flowing robe was crafted from fine white fabric, trimmed with gold that shimmered like sunlight. Intricate patterns, reminiscent of celestial symbols and arcane runes, were embroidered in delicate silver and gold threads, swirling along the hem and cuffs. A mantle, lined with soft, sky-blue fabric, draped over his shoulders, its edges adorned with more golden embroidery.
Every detail of his attire spoke of his divine status, a savior from distant lands. Despite the grandeur, Akimitsu appeared tense, his smile forced as he waved cautiously at the cheering masses. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, betraying the inner turmoil beneath the composed exterior.
To his side, King Theodor and Princess Alicia stood with radiant smiles, their joy unmistakable as they basked in the crowd's adoration. From the shadows of the crowd, Sir Francis observed, his brow furrowed with unease. He crossed his arms, still wearing that familiar dissatisfied look. Beside him, Sir William watched with an amused grin, clearly enjoying Sir Francis's apparent disapproval.
As the crowd's cheers reached a crescendo, Princess Alicia stepped forward. A maid followed close behind, carrying a small red pillow on which rested a golden necklace adorned with an intricate pendant. Akimitsu hesitated for a moment, then bowed slightly as the Princess took the necklace and carefully placed it around his neck. The pendant gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol of his new role and the hope he was meant to represent.
Princess Alicia smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting genuine kindness. The crowd roared with approval, their cheers now louder and more enthusiastic.
Akimitsu and Princess Alicia turned to face them, waving together as the celebration reached its peak.
Sir Francis, felt his heart sink. His expression turned pale as he watched his beloved Princess stand beside this stranger, the so-called savior. His face was a mask of shock and jealousy, his mouth agape as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Beside him, Sir William stifled a laugh, thoroughly entertained by Sir Francis's reaction.