Side by side, both men slowly strolled along the shaded halls of the castle courtyard; the regal figure was trailed by his personal guard, a few feet behind.

The courtyard boasted the finest and most elegant garden in the land. A spectacle of color and soft, natural fragrances, the garden was filled with exotic flowers and shrubs. There was also a variety of large trees which offered shade from the otherwise delicate morning sun.

“For a country without a champion to have unexpectedly bested Tenri's chosen, it's truly astounding, an absolute accomplishment,” the King continued. “You won the war, and that makes you our greatest asset, which is why I don't want you fighting any more battles.

“Everyone keeps mentioning a war, but all I did was win a battle.”

The King assured him, “It was no mere skirmish. It was the decisive one, against Tenri's chosen champion.”

“And that's another thing," Sigurd raised his voice in exasperation. “This is the second time I've heard that name. Who even is Tenri, anyway?”

The King stopped in his tracks upon hearing those words. He did a double take and asked, in a soft voice, “Were you not briefed when you were scouted and drafted, or before you were sent to battle, during training?”

He took a hand to his face and covered his open mouth in shock. “I'd heard education was lacking out towards the farmlands, but I didn't know it was this bad.”

Frozen, Sigurd scrambled to rectify, “No, I did know and was properly educated, but I…”

Realizing this was his chance to learn more about the world, Sigurd seized the opportunity and told a half lie.

“...I suffered a fatal blow to the head, on the battlefield, and I can't remember much of anything.”

Instantly changing the tune of his eyes and voice to a more sympathetic one, the King kept walking as he said, “Ah, that's right. The medic in your group mentioned you had risen from the dead.”

Feigning embarrassment and modesty, Sigurd scratched the back of his head.

They passed from the courtyard to one of the many long corridors that lined the interior. Within, there were several butlers and maids, each working their day away. Whether it was wiping the windows, dusting the busts and vases, or cleaning the ridiculously long red rug, they were all busy.

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As the King and Sigurd passed them by, the former began to explain.

“Tenri is the goddess of the kingdom directly adjacent to ours, bordering us on the East. They waged war on our fine country for the same reason that any provocation is started with us: we don't believe in the same things they do.”

“What god do we believe in?" Sigurd interjected.

“That's the thing," the King wiggled his mustache. “We don't believe in gods. Our great country of Oatheven is a secular one; we believe in the power of humans, in our own potential.”

“I’m starting to understand why this was such a big deal," Sigurd nodded. He followed up, “So if Tenri had Archibald, then who is our champion?”

“You are…” The King stared directly into Sigurd's eyes. “But that's not what you want to hear, I know. Before naming you our champion, we had none.”

Their saunter led them to the end of the hall, to a large wooden door. The King's guard made haste to open it, and they all stepped inside. They entered a narrow, enclosed space with a large spiral staircase.

They began their descent and the conversation continued.

“Had that monstrous man made his way to our base camp at the top of our hill, defeat would have been definitive," the King confirmed, speaking of Archibald.

Joyce chortled at the humorous and inapt description of Archibald.

“It's all the more reason why I can't stop praising you with accolades, young Sigurd. What you achieved, especially given you were mortally wounded, is unheard of.”

They descended two flights of stairs until they reached the ground floor. Opening the door again for the King and Sigurd, the king's guard let both men pass.

All four of them stepped out into the grand hall that served as the entrance to the castle. The large moat door was at rest on the ground, and the gates were spread open.

The King's voice echoed in the exceptionally tall room, and it mingled with the far-off din from the rest of the capital beyond the gate.

“And that's precisely why I am honoring you, our champion Sigurd, with a title and a safer position. I wouldn't want any harm to befall you, and who knows when the next war will break out.”

“I see," Sigurd replied, as all four of them stopped at the gate. He dropped to one knee, and lowered his head, “I hadn't realized how far it all went. I was hasty in my reaction. I apologize, my liege.”

The King grabbed Sigurd gently by the shoulders to stand him back up. Face to face, he smiled at the young hunk of a soldier and smiled warmly.

“There's no need to apologize or prostrate yourself before me. If anything, I am to blame for pushing this on you without consulting you first," he had the look and tone of a doting father. Placing both of his hands on Sigurd's shoulders, he asked, “I know you might prefer to remain a warrior, but with all that said, will you accept the position?”

Resolute, though still hesitant, Sigurd nodded.

“Good," the King replied. He then snapped his fingers and in the next instant, out of nowhere, one of the guards brought them a key and a large sack.

He handed Sigurd the key and motioned at the guard to hand him the bag as well, “This is the key to your manor, and that hefty sack contains an advance on your salary. You'll need it to start your duties.”

Taking the key and the bag, Sigurd noticed he was able to carry the latter with ease, yet it also weighed significantly.

“How much is in here?”

“300,000 gold coins.”

Sigurd's jaw dropped.

“Additionally, your manor is still being furbished. As I've already said, your victory was... unexpected, and thus it wasn't fit to be readied,” the King hurriedly explained. “So, considering I also gave your comrades the day off, I'll do the same for you. It's only fair, and... you've earned it.”

Glee filled Sigurd's face, akin to that of a child who had been gifted candy.

“With that in mind, go and enjoy yourself for the day, before you start your new official duties tomorrow. And make sure you return by sundown! That's when the carriage will depart to take you to your manor.”

With pride in his gaze and a newfound determination, Sigurd left the castle. He walked towards the glaring light of the outside, which gradually softened as he passed the gates.