Before the King’s tent flies the banner of Astria: three golden eagles atop a deep maroon. So strong, so noble.

So…futile?

A man extends his palm and bades me halt.

“Sir Darren?” I ask. His shoulders are broad and his strong arms practically bulge out of his tunic. He’s also the first person I’ve seen in camp under sixty; the only male of fighting-age who wasn’t fed into the war’s meat grinder.

Darren nods. “I am, but I don’t know your name. No one does it turns out.”

“Ugh, it’s Ethan.” I say it more like a question than an answer, but if Darren is disappointed he doesn’t say so. Turning round he ducks into the tent, then pops out a moment later.

“You may enter.”

The tent is well-lit and spacious all things considered. Enough room for a bed and a table anyway. King Leo stands in loose brown robes that likely fit him better when he was a younger man.

“My Royal Majesty,” I begin, trying to remember what the appropriate in-game title was.

The King sits at the table. No jewelry, no crown. Just another old man in camp taking a seat. “It’s Your Royal Majesty actually.” The King motions to the opposite chair. “Unless you want to challenge me for the throne.”

I sit. “Um. No, of course not. Your Royal Majesty.”

The king waves a hand. “Plain old ‘Majesty’ will do fine. My temple clerics insisted on the full title but they’re all dead now so I can do what I please, wouldn’t you say?” He offers me a mug as he speaks. No fancy ballroom china here it seems.

I accept the mug. “Of course,Majesty,”

The king takes a long drink himself. “Ah, that’s miserable.”

I take a drink as well and can attest to its terribleness. Like maybe it was good beer at some point but has clearly morphed into a skunk since then. And I don’t even care much for good beer truth be told.

The king takes another swig and drops of the foamy liquid slip down his bronze skin. His face is wrinkled and strained, with a once tightly cropped beard looking increasingly disheveled. His scalp looks even worse, with a few thin strands of white hair criss-crossing in all directions over a largely bald area. In short, it looks like he’s been through hell.

Which he probably has.

He drops the mug on the table. “I am King Leonin Otmer IV, though most call me King Leo. And you are?”

“Ethan.”

“Just Ethan? No titles? No land to your name?”

“Um. Ethan Gambrils, Majesty.”

“Gambrils? Like gambling?”

“Ugh. I don’t think so, Majesty.”

The king pulls on his scraggly beard. “Never heard of that surname. Must be some undiscovered peasant tradition.”

“I actually don’t know where it comes from, Majesty.”

“Well, perhaps it’s suitable, given the failures of the nobility, that our hero should arise from the peasants.”

My heart thumps harder. “You think I’m a hero, Majesty?””

The king shrugs. “Perhaps. You saved me, anyway. That’s something.”

I lean forward, unable to contain my eagerness. “Did you know I was there, Majesty? I saw you looking at the door. And I wondered…”

The king shakes his head. “I did not. All I had was a fool’s hope and a little bit of faith.”

“Faith?” I ask. “You mean in the Maker.”

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“In what I was told, since I was a child. That in Astria’s darkest hour a hero would arise. A man to restore what others had lost. And as I saw my Kingdom burn around me, I figured the hour was dark enough.”

A fair point.

King Leo sighs. “Or maybe you aren’t that hero and it’s all just a coincidence. Who can say anymore? Regardless, I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine,” I respond. “Mary told me you pulled me from the keep.”

The king laughs. “These old bones can’t pull much of anything by themselves anymore. After the onyx exploded we were all dazed, but I wasn’t close to it like you two. I still had my wits about me, which was more than I can say for Lillian. I think losing the scepter did something to her. Because she wailed, Ethan, wailed like a mother losing her child. Perhaps I could have done something in that moment. Maybe if I was a better man I would have attacked her, thrust with my own sword at the evil mage.”

The king sighs and takes a deep breath, like he has to gather his strength before proceeding.

“But I am not that man, and I just waited, pretending to be unconscious. Until she ran from the room to Maker knows where. Only then did I act, calling for help for you and myself. Fortunately, Darren had not yet left with the last of my court. He came to check on me and here we are. So you owe your life more to him than me I believe.”

I say nothing. I’m not sure what to say.

The king slurps at his beer again. “Maker, I wish we had some wine left over. I’m so sick of this stale drought. At least the elves should have something better.”

“We’re going to the elves?” I practically leap out of my chair. Like Samwise Gamgee I love the elves, though for different reasons.

King Leo smiles thinly. “We are. And I’m glad to see that excites you because I’m far more ambivalent given recent history.”

I wonder what that recent history could be as the humans and elves were allies in-game.

“Still,” Leo continues, “there’s nowhere else to go at this point, and I have no other option for restoring my Kingdom. So unless I want to convert my slender court into a gang of roaming gypsies, Elfdom it is.”

“Elfdom?” I ask.

The king smiles. “That’s just what I call it. The real name is very elaborate and confusing. ‘The Woodland Kingdom of the Elven Realm’.”

“Oh, do they actually call it that?”

“I certainly hope not.”

We share a laugh at the thought and I feel some affection for this old man. Enough to ask a more personal question.

“Have you ever heard of a woman called Angel, Majesty?”

Leo smiles. “You mean in my entire life? Or just today?”

I fidget under the table, feeling foolish. “Sorry, I mean recently, a messenger maybe.”

Leo narrows his eyes at me. “What are you getting at, Ethan?”

I lick my lips, unsure if I should proceed.

“Out with it, son. You already started.”

“I was told that I should speak to Angel. To better understand my role in all this. To know what I should do next.”

The king is quiet for a minute and pushes some hairs about his head. “‘Understand your role’.” He says the words slowly, letting them roll around in his mouth like they are a fine wine, or maybe just a cough lozenge.

“Yes,” I say, uncertain as to whether I should say anything at all.

“And I suppose the person who told you this did so in rather mysterious circumstances?”

I fidget some more. “Actually, Majesty, it wasn’t a person at all.”

The king scoffs quietly, and turns away, his eyes growing distant. “Perhaps it was not mere coincidence then.”

“You mean,” I start, but cannot finish. The burden of being an actual prophesied hero is too great to utter, even if that is why I’m here.

The king looks back to me. “I mean at the least that you deserve a knighthood.”

“A knighthood?” I ask, surprised at the turn in the conversation.

“Indeed! Both for what you have done, and from the sound of it, what you will do. Will you aid me in my quest to liberate Atria and defeat the sorceress?”

“Of course,” I say enthusiastically.

The king pushes himself up and reaches under his robes. He pulls out a blade and the metal glimmers in the light. “Kneel then, Ethan Gambrils.”

I do so and the king stands before me. “Would you like a new name? Something other than Gambrils perhaps?”

I jerk back a little at this unexpected development.

A new name?

“That’s the only name I’ve known, Majesty.”

The king chuckles. “Hence the word, ‘new’, Ethan. Gambrils is not recognized in noble circles in Astria. Or any circles that I know of.”

The king is smiling cordially, but I can’t help but wonder if he suspects the truth.

Does he suspect that I’m not of this world? What would he do if he found out?

The king is waiting patiently, his sword resting easily in his hand.

“Majesty, I would like to keep my name if you don’t mind. It’s served me well this far.”

The king nods in acceptance. He spins his blade in his hand then brings it down once, twice, upon each shoulder. “I dub thee Sir Ethan Gambrils of Astria then. A title you shall bear as long as you live and which shall be remembered as long as Astria lasts.”

He gives me a wink. “Let us pray that the latter’s future is brighter than it looks.”

It’s dark humor but I can’t help but grin. Leo lowers his sword and bades me rise. “Go now, Sir Ethan. Rest and prepare for the days ahead. Maker knows we’ll need you at your best.”

I don’t think my ‘best’ is all that great yet, but I bow in thanks and leave the tent. I’m grateful for my new title. I just need to find a way to live-up to it.