Numerous shrouded figures marched forward in unison, passing through one hallway to the next. The group was being led along by a single, older sage. A familiar-looking man, Aldor, who had been hiding his expression beneath his hefty cowl. With each step came a loud crack as his wooden cane smacked firmly against the floor.
Contrary to his physical appearance, one could’ve easily have mistaken him for a powerful brute based solely upon both the speed he moved at along with the strength he wielded his cane with. It was rather odd then how he walked with a heavy sway as if his legs had begun giving out from beneath him.
It wouldn’t have been an understatement to claim that he could most likely have cracked the stone floor beneath his feet with merely his wooden walking stick if he tried.
A man both considered physically weak and at the peak of his life. That was the sort of figure he was. A towering foundation for the country, and an ardent servant of the people.
Accompanying him from behind stood a large entourage of his fellow sages and sorcerers, each of whom barely held their breath from sheer exhaustion after having pushed themselves so far so recently.
It was understandable. After all, they had only moments ago completed one of their countries’ most intricate and dangerous incantations. One uncovered and attempted for the first time in what may have been centuries. If it wasn’t for this incredibly important next step, they most likely would’ve collapsed by now.
However, what came next was something they all were not just looking forward to, but needed for the survival and benefit of their benefactors. You see, this wasn’t just for themselves, but also for their families and respective guilds. Anyone who had previously sponsored and supported them would soon find themselves rewarded, after all, their dear disciples had just succeeded in the summoning of their kingdom’s champion.
This was a rare moment to earn both fame and adoration from the great masses and noble lords of the court, and perhaps even his majesty himself.
As they stopped before a massive decorative double-door, two heavily armed guards slowly approached the center of their view, meeting together as they both grabbed at one of the metallic handles in front of them. These brutes were clad in heavy, steel-smithed armor. With a heavy grasp on both sides, the passage began to creak open, revealing the sound of revelry from the other side.
The old sage to the front exhaled outward as he slowly lowered his hood, which caused everyone else to follow suit. As he led them further onward, the view changed dramatically as the attention of everyone present inside immediately fell upon them. They walked in, entering into the massive hall.
The group of sorcerers looked from one side of the hall to the next, their excitement not completely hidden behind their expressions. That was understandable, however, as this was the great hall, their nation’s highest court.
Along the walls stood numerous pillars of stone, intricately and beautifully carved upward, like fine art. Ornate banners hung heavily from the ceiling, draping down over ten meters as they nearly touched the ground. On them decorated a large symbol, the face of a lion roaring out, caught in the embrace of the sun.
Light invaded throughout the room from behind these enormous flags as huge stained-glass windows cornered the hall, creating an illusion-like effect as if the sun itself was present within the vast chamber. A warmth spread through the air, as the light overlapped nearly all the shadows of the court.
Gathered around the large hall were countless people, each wearing both flamboyant and bizarre costumes and suits, an expression of both their grand wealth and influence within the capital.
At the head of the grandiose hall stood a single gilded throne, positioned at the epicenter of everything. Sat upon this throne was both an all-powerful and able monarch, a man whose expression beckoned both loyalty and devoted admiration. His eyes stern and solid, without giving even a single moment of rest for darkness to take form. Simply by looking at him, one could sense how he had wielded such power befitting only the mightiest of kings.
Approaching the throne, Master Aldor's stride came to a halt as he lowered his head. He now stood the closest he could possibly be to the throne while still remaining beneath the steps leading up to it. With a moment to gather his thoughts, he proclaimed through the hall in a respective tone, befitting one of the king’s closest allies, "Your humble servant greets his majesty, King Leander!"
Following his lead, the other sorcerers lowered their heads as well, outstretching into a respectable bow as they quietly awaited the king’s declaration.
Sat upon his throne, his majesty turned his sight downward. Leander released an amused grin as his voice boomed outward. Both deep and demanding, he needn’t shout for everyone present to hear his words. “Eldest enchanter of my court, Aldor. I’ve been expecting your arrival upon sensing that explosion of energy.”
With a mere moment to look upon the group before him, Leander raised his eyebrow as he continued, “I can only hope that you’ve brought excellent news for me.”
“Ah—” Aldor emitted, replying with his head still lowered, his voice proud and dignified, “Of course, my liege. I came along with my fellow sorcerers to pass onto you the wonderful news. Through my many, countless years of study and effort, I have—no—we have succeeded. My great lord, a champion has descended from the gateway, blessed with an aura of magic, to lead us against the darkness that is to come!”
Upon his declaration, a flurry of voices murmured throughout the court, coming from the group of nobles and lords, followed by even the lower-rungs of influencers who had gathered elsewhere within the chamber, toward the side.
Leander formed a firm grin as he pondered this news, having already confirmed the eruption of magical energy the moment it occurred, he could only take his dear friend's word for it.
“This is wonderful news,” Leander spoke out, rupturing his voice outward, over the bumbling crowd. He turned back to look upon his friend, his companion. Aldor was exhausted, that much was clear to see, but he also held an air of grandeur. Truthfully, Leander was proud of his court sorcerer, for he knew more than most just how long Aldor had been preparing for this day.
“I suppose this calls for a celebration. Not just for my court, but the entirety of my kingdom! Let us celebrate the arrival of our champion, a child born of light.”
The air rippled upon his declaration. Pure bliss, that was what everyone present was feeling.
Leander and Aldor both knew more than anyone just what it meant to summon forth a champion, a hero. An enemy was quickly approaching, one that desired to blacken the sky and destroy all that was good. For that was what the great prophecies foretold, at least.
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There would come a day where humanity would need to take hold of their fate, and bring forth a hero to save them. A threat enclosed, moving within the shadows to destroy all they held dear. That was, of course, the gist of the legends that had been consecutively passed down from one monarch to the next.
Leander, known by his moniker as the Gilded King, wasn’t the sort of man who’d simply sit around and do nothing. Even if he couldn’t see this enemy or put a face to it, he knew that to survive he’d need to strengthen not only his own but his people’s resolve.
“Alistair,” Leander called out to the youthful-looking squire stood atop one of the many steps leading to the throne, which caused the man to jolt to his side as he spoke up abruptly, “Make the preparations for our celebration… make sure they’re worthy of this wonderful news.”
“Of course, your excellency,” Alistair responded with a heavy bow, his arm wrapped in front of his chest as sweat began faintly dripping down his forehead. To plan such an event was an enormous task, and for it to be thrown onto his lap so suddenly was truly unfair.
“...Let the courts rest,” Leander roared out after a moment of hearing his squire’s acknowledgment. “Court Sorcerer, Aldor, come with me… we must speak further on this in a more private manner. Dismissed!”
As he ordered, the crowd of nobles and lords turned to their side and began discussing fervently, clearly fascinated by the turning tides. Leander stood from his throne and carefully made his way down the steps as Aldor, his court sorcerer, remained in a lowered position. Placing his heavy hand upon his friend's shoulder, he beckoned the mage to accompany him out of the hall.
The soldiers all earnestly separated, making way for the Gilded King as he led Aldor through a passage, leaving behind the loud crowd of voices behind them.
Only now did Leander’s face change, turning more modest and humble. “Aldor, my friend, are you truly…” he hesitated momentarily before continuing, “Did you truly succeed? When I felt such an occurrence… I worried that my closest friend had been vaporized by some unseemly magic.”
“My liege... “ Master Aldor exhaled out in expectance, “What I spoke was true. From the catalyst came out a human being… a young man. He didn’t know our language, but the magic I felt from him was, absolutely—without a doubt—otherworldly.”
As they spoke, a lone chamber made its way into view, the door heavy and metallic. They had been traveling swiftly all this time through this darkened hallway that had been absent of any other people beyond themselves.
Entering this new room without pause, Leander brought the door shut behind them, only moving further into the area upon hearing a heavy latch of the lock.
“We must be certain…” Leander spoke out, his voice was still firm and demanding, but only now did it introduce a hint of coldness hidden beneath. “The prophecy foretells of darkness taken form, enveloping the world and corrupting all that exists…”
“Leander…” Aldor replied briefly, using the king's name without a title rather casually. “Our world may know peace now… no, even then we still have those damned fiends to contend with. We must move with caution. Every step we take could cause some unseen tragedy if we make any sort of mistake.”
As he spoke, Aldor brought out a heavy-looking cloth and laid it flat atop the singular table sat in the center of the room. He brought his finger down upon it and continued, "As we've discussed in the past, if we are to truly counter this evil, we must push the military into the fields of battle. For some time now, your armies have been holding the line here, but any further provocation could result in an open declaration of war, which may very well force us backward into our own territory as the line thickens.”
“That cannot happen,” Leander responded in kind, “We have yet to find the source of this darkness… I’m not going to sit idly by and wait for those damned elves to bring upon the prophecy. No, I would rather see them all undone before that happens.”
The two men held firm to their beliefs, through thick and thin. Both of them near ancient beings in comparison to most, living for countless decades at the peak of their positions. The Gilded King Leander was renowned as a legendary commander, and an even more frightening swordsman.
Most sword masters wouldn’t have been able to comprehend much in the arts of magic, and yet he had not only completely understood it, but had even heavily utilized these techniques alongside his fighting styles.
Aldor was similar, but more so in regards to the art of sorcery and magic incantations. A man older than his dearest friend, he had previously roamed the world in order to uncover any secrets that remained a mystery to him. He was the sort of man who would, without hesitation, single-handedly delve deep into terrible and cursed tombs in the hopes of uncovering even a single magical tome.
They were, without a doubt, at the apex of their respective fields.
“Make your preparations Aldor… for we need this newly summoned champion to be battle-ready before long. I’ll accompany you on your visit with—” He paused, hesitating. “Do we have any name for him? Is it up to us to name him, like some sort of animal?”
“The summoned possesses some form of knowledge, perhaps he still holds onto a name from his previous world.”
Leander nodded, “Excellent. This is all rather exciting, don’t you think? My father handed me this task of protecting the people, just as his father did before him. A prophecy that has no known date… it could all be for not even now, an event foretelling something that won’t happen for another hundred years.”
“Either way, we must be prepared. The elven nations won’t give us reprieve just because we request it, so we must always be prepared to face whatever this world has to throw at us. A challenge from God itself even, we’ll be ready.”
The two men lowered their heads and looked upon the map. The position they found themselves in wasn’t too regrettable, truth be told. Instead, they grew only more excited upon the prospect.
“There is only one certainty. Wherever this darkness of prophecy originates from, we shall ensure it faces destruction untold. Even the blackened world of Erebus is an unworthy place for whatever evil lurks out of view.” With that, Leander continued speaking in private with his friend, pointing from one spot to the next as they plotted their next moves.
…
Meanwhile, within the small chamber prepared beforehand, the summoned champion Luther Draven continued studying. Upon the table in front of him sat dozens of novels and stories, each foretelling countless war-tales and past events. One book in particular even held within it a few commonly-designed arcane incantations, which of course held a minute magical presence even after so many years.