From a vast plain, one could behold an extensive wall that enveloped the borders of the immortal capital of Artizan. Here, warriors and artists were born, forged in iron bathed in the blood of kings who built the bastion where humans had prevailed since the times of the ruthless Great Caligula, and into the days where technology and magic converged in harmony—the Age of Thunder.
Houses and structures were manufactured in a blend of metal and wood. Most had antennas that caused gentle flashes of light, like radiant fireflies scattered across the moors. At a double gate in the center of the towering wall, an extensive brown cobblestone path connected, piercing through the city ascending a hill where the palace of industrial architecture known as "Inmortalis" resided. A structure at the edge of the ocean on the other side of the wall. It blended the strength of an iron shield and the elegance of a statue. Impenetrable and beautiful.
Built upon the corpse of an ancient dead god named Thor. A divine entity defeated twenty years ago in the past, during the invasion known as The Last Thunder, which had put Artizan in check. The union of the three great nations was able to halt the threat. Kraxus, home to engineers and thinkers where progress is the creed. Seraph, a celestial world ruled by divine elves, the predominant realm to which Artizan pledged vassalage after receiving their support in healing from the war.
Using the remnants of the colossal being, they constructed the fortress, giving it the appearance of power and authority that distinguished it as a global wonder. The immortal realm, cradle of men and the pillar of civilization among all races.
An event would occur that would define the future of Artizan. From different parts of the country, even from neighboring lands, people came to visit the place. Nobles and commoners. Prominent soldiers crowded in front of the building. The delegation of power to the new king. Streets filled with people crowded on the sidewalks, descending from heavy mechanized transports and urban trains stopped at stations crowded with crowds coming and going to take their place in the festival.
Street vendors set up stalls to take advantage, days when all commerce flourished due to the jubilation of the people. Taverns, restaurants, and hotels filled with people. Not only residents of the capital, but also foreigners who came to join the great celebration, unhappy to be mere witnesses through the screen of a household droid that only a wealthy family could afford.
In the bars, tankards of beer and mead were raised to toast the long life of Vlad Tepes. Bards and circus performers took to the avenues where they unleashed their show, songs were written about the next great king, promising greatness and prosperity in a difference that set him apart from his predecessors. There was no death of the father; he would retire and take the position of advisor from the monarch's hand.
It might be thought that the prince would fall into the rank of a pawn, something far from reality due to the nobility and strength that distinguished the king, a warrior of strong personality who ensured proper upbringing for his children. He believed that the best ruler would be the one who engaged in practice and preferred to rest in peace knowing that he had firsthand experience of his offspring's days of regimentation.
The last ruler of the bloodline, King Orlox Tepes Dracul of Artizan, a man who despite his years of war still possessed that ironclad resolve, with a face as hard as rock, masculine features adorned with a thick beard as black as night, much like his hair streaked with white strands. He wore elegant garments, including a chainmail shirt alongside a sword and pistol on his belt. Despite his age, the warrior aspect remained latent in the monarch, reflected in the crown of black swords that adorned him, crafted from the armored flesh of Thor.
Stolen novel; please report.
Like all monarchs, a queen sat beside him; Alexandra Von Shintris. The rose of the realm, known as a woman of incomparable beauty, undiminished after two pregnancies in which she gave birth to two boys. Physical attractiveness was barely a part of her persona; her true power resided in her mind. With a calculating, cold demeanor, she took the place of her husband's advisor. Like in the game of chess, the queen positioned herself as the most powerful piece, once a warrior herself, her robotic arm plated in gold replacing flesh was evidence of her warlike past.
A path of trumpets played and the crowded masses fell silent. The people of Artizan were characterized by their pale skin, clad in overalls or dirty shirts for the men from the armament factories. Maidens wore loose dresses covered with aprons. Those working in administration, far from being laborers, wore elegant vests, shirts with ties, and carried rifles at their belts for protection.
From a horse-drawn carriage, the royal couple traversed the streets of the capital, Bloodheim, beneath dirigibles and flying ships. Roses fell from the skies, tossed from windows of every building. The banner of Artizan fluttered from the machines; a black dragon profile embraced by a coat of arms featuring crossed sword and rifle. From the beast's jaws with white eyes, bleeding magma poured.
A handful of elite soldiers on horseback escorted the carriage, led by one of the knights of the guard, Sir Garland, known as the Pearl Colossus; a bastard without a surname who was favored as the queen's bodyguard. A burly man standing over two meters tall, broad torso and arms like tree trunks encased in heavy, pearl-plated armor, with the black cloak of the royal guard draped over it. Fully protected, with a chainmail shirt in the crevices bulletproof. Two blue lights shone from the helmet visor, as small as olives. Unlike his companions, the armor stood out with runic emblems, adorning him.
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"Long live King Orlox!" shouted the civilians with fists in the air.
"May Jenovan illuminate and bless them!"
Orlox waved from his window in a reserved manner, a faint smile hiding the coughing fits that plagued his health. He tried to ensure that no one outside of that carriage saw him in such a state; the wounds suffered in the past and his bad habits were taking their toll. He easily lost his breath, and the blood he coughed up once returned.
"I'm not as young as I used to be..." Orlox muttered heavily.
"To me, you'll always be that handsome young man I fell in love with..." Alexandra, seated beside him on the cushioned seat, took his hand and they intertwined their fingers. "The strong warrior with a kind heart... capable of hearing more than just the clash of iron. Imperfect, of course... you tended to be stubborn and reckless from time to time."
"I hope that stubbornness keeps me from dying soon... that's why I stopped drinking and made sure my boys were more responsible with alcohol." He cleared his throat. "Vlad needs guidance too, just like you guided me. He's a good lad... perhaps too good. But for this job, he needs to have good judgment, to make them fear you without hating you, a strong backbone, and a woman to keep you from doing too many stupid things. Finding him a wife who meets those expectations won't be easy."
"There's that girl Agatha... maybe we could..."
"Absolutely not, woman! The rumors surrounding those two and their strange relationship make me nervous, not to mention the elder... he's a womanizer who has no respect for associating with savages... if he were king... he'd probably turn Inmortalis into a brothel." Orlox waved his hand, dismissing his wife's idea. "The last thing I want is trouble with that egomaniac Samael... there are suspicions that..."
"And now I silence you..." She put her finger to her husband's lips. "There are many ears here. Let me take care of the women our boys bed... you focus on ensuring Vlad understands what it means to be king."
"He will..." Orlox adjusted his coat. "That's why I sent him along with his brother to be raised among soldiers and weapons."
...