“The capital of Polus, called The Castrum, serves as a safe beacon for the rest of the nation. A variety of different cultures of theatre, music, and dance coalesce to form the largest entertainment district in the world. Here, our grand King resides in a beautiful white marble castle that serves as the headquarters for the knight orders within the kingdom, one of which being our fabled Order of the Seraph—an elite knight order composed of those who have manifested the blessing to grow wings onto their back. With a population of over seven hundred thousand, The King and his dedicated court officials work tirelessly towards the future of the nation and the betterment of its citizens. It is because of their conviction that the people’s faith stands strong. Unity is our strength, and serves as both our sword and shield against those who dare to raise their blades against us.”
Castrum: The Grand Capital, a tour guide passed out at the gates of the city
———
Ascalon
“Is that true!?” The King asks excitedly. “A survivor has been recovered from the forest?”
“Yes my liege,” the messenger replies. “They appear to be a part of the heavy armored troupe from the combat squad. Their mace and back-up swords are the only equipment left on them, and their mind has been considerably disturbed by The Miasma.”
“I see…” The King ponders to himself for a moment, pacing around the room. “For now, keep watch over the forest. If there’s one survivor, then it’s possible that other members of Lorelai’s crew will come out. I’ll send Annalay to retrieve them once they recover.”
“Yes sir.”
The messenger salutes and proceeds to leave the throne room, leaving The King to be buried within his thoughts. A mixture of anxiety and optimism bounces around in the corners of his mind, and a fleeting ember of weakness burrows into his being.
He knows that the survivor’s report will be grim. He felt the connection disappear after all. But still, he can’t help but nurture a small feeling of hope.
Because that is the only thing he can do. Hope.
“Ascalon,” Annalay murmurs beside him, observing the scattered King with concern. “Talk to me.”
“…If Lorelai is dead, then we’re going to be put in a precarious situation. Sarathiel has been relocated towards the main front against the Nox for now, but since we need a Throne to keep watch over The Augurium—as we’ve lost The Alexandria—we have no one to send on expeditions. We are safe for the current moment, but we can’t leave them unattended forever.”
Ascalon stands up and paces around the room, his every step echoes in the surrounding.
“I also have to stay here to protect the capital. While The Seraph are strong, they won’t be able to last if Xeros or Arch Magus Virgil launches an all-out assault.”
He sighs, frustrated at his immobility. He wants nothing more than to lead the charge against The Nox, but the people need him. He is their bulwark, an everlasting shield, and a caged protector. As he always has been. As he always will be.
“At the very least, The Nox seem to have halted their advance. Since Libevich disappeared, Xeros must have sent her towards his eastern front. That would mean Gravitas is either dead or missing.”
He clenches his fist, struggling to contain the rage burning inside of him.
“That damned corvid must have sent him to intercept The Alexandria. I should have known he would use our mortal enemy to obtain The Comet. I...I should have known.”
“Ascalon, you did everything you could,” Annalay says gently. “You sent some of our most experienced knights along with a brigade of Seraph to accompany her, not to mention The Alexandria as well.”
“I know. I-I know. But still.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Annalay lets out an exasperated huff and delivers a powerful kick straight at Ascalon’s chestplate, sending him flying towards the wall with a resounding crash. He lies still for a moment before awkwardly rising up from the rubble.
“Feel any better?”
“…Yes,” Ascalon mutters sheepishly, brushing the debris off of his armor. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Annalay smirks. “I’ll get going and retrieve our survivor. Just remember to stop blaming yourself. Lorelai would go mad if she saw you in this state.”
Ascalon laughs heartily, a soft smile tugging on his face after days of melancholy. She’s right, now is not the time to be consumed by anxiety. His citizens need him, and it is his duty to remain strong in times of uncertainty.
———
The Officer
The officer is in a good mood. After a couple of days, the survivor has managed to regain most of their sanity, and they even offered to help around with various tasks around the camp. Although no others have been found coming from the forest, a small part of him is secretly glad for the current peace. The screams of that day still echo within his mind, and as the young son of an influential chancellor back at the capital, he is not used to the horrors that come with war, only just recently obtaining his position after receiving valedictorian at the officer academy.
Innocent though he may be, he wants to do everything he can to help his nation. Though still shaken by the encounter, he pushes through, wishing to set an example for the other knights and junior officers.
“How’re you doing?” a voice asks from behind.
The surviving knight makes their way towards him, coming back from a guard shift they volunteered to take.
“Same as always.” The officer smiles. “You, on the other hand, look much brighter than before.”
The knight laughs heartily among the bustling camp. Their voice has a seductive quality, as if it can make lifelong friends with anyone upon their first meeting. It makes him feel warm and comforted, soothing his tired gaze with the rich, deep timbre of their words. It has an androgynous tone to it, and after days of working together, the officer still doesn’t know if the knight is a man or a woman, but he doesn’t want to ask at the risk of sounding rude. He knows how precious privacy is, especially after his days as a student.
“Come to think of it,” the knight begins. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
“Oh, it’s Dariel. Dariel Cherubim.”
“Cherubim… you say? Isn’t that?”
Heat rises in his face as Dariel blushes at the comment. To think his lineage would become a topic even here in this small part of the world.
“Yes, I’m part of the Cherubim royal line. I don’t want you to treat me any different, though. I’m just an officer in this little corner of the nation. Nothing more, nothing less. I want to be respected when I prove my worth with my actions, not my bloodline.”
“How noble of you. What made you want to come out here instead of staying in the capital?”
A sad smile escapes his lips, and his eyes convey a tired shadow of conflict within the emerald-green irises.
“I want to gain experience on what it’s actually like out on the battlefield. The nobles and court officials in the capital have good intentions, but they’re ignorant. They try to work together with the knight orders, but cooperation is… clumsy, to say the least, as both sides are inexperienced with what the other is in charge of. The nobles handle the administrative work and form the bureaucracy, but they have trouble understanding the flow of battle and the innate instincts of the veteran knights. Because of that, arguments break out during meetings about how they should deal with the frontline and other areas surrounding the nation.”
”Indeed, it is hard for those that have never experienced battle to understand the deeper intricacies that follow it.”
“On the other hand, the knight orders are… well, I’m sure you know best.”
The knight chuckles at the statement, their laugh seemingly filled with eons of experience.
“Headstrong? Stubborn?”
“Right! They’re also ignorant of just how difficult it is to secure and finance a budget. We can’t just keep taxing our citizens a higher amount every time we need more supplies, otherwise how will the common person survive? They fight upon budget matters the most and my father pops a blood vessel every time they gather for a meeting.”
Dariel groans and rubs the temple of his forehead as the frustrated yells of the court come back into memory.
“Everyone is trying to work together for the sake of the nation, but we’re still so disconnected from each other. Thank The Stars above that The King is experienced in both matters, but even he can’t direct the entire nation by himself.”
Dariel catches himself, slightly embarrassed at his long rant.
“Sorry for talking your ears off. I tend to ramble on about matters like this. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”
“On the contrary, I find the topic very interesting. Besides, how can I rebuke someone who’s so passionate about improving our nation?”
A glowing smile envelopes Dariel’s face. The other knights tend to space out whenever he starts to talk about politics, so he’s excited to find someone who will truly listen to him.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blows through the camp as a winged knight descends near the officer. Their wings glow a jewel-like verdant pine amidst the light of the sun while their armor is covered in a glistening bronze. Their helmet has small, little wings that wrap itself around the neck area of the cuirass, and piercing chestnut eyes emanate from the helm’s sockets. An ornate greenish-brown glaive lies sheathed on their back, and intricate patterns and emblems align itself on the pole of the blade.
Dariel stumbles at the sudden entrance, but quickly recovers and salutes the winged knight, the survivor mimicking him right behind.
“I greet the Throne of Nature, Annalay,” Dariel welcomes. “May the light of the first Seraph guide your path.”