An imposing storm.

That would be the best way to describe what sort of intense pressure had been built up and wound tightly throughout these four walls. There was nothing else to it as many of the kingdom’s mightiest leaders and aristocrats, from military generals to simple members of the nobility, had all gathered into one place to discuss the future of their great nation.

The room was of simple yet elegant design, bearing down majestic banners of the kingdom’s insignia as the sun’s rays instilled themselves through the silk, encapsulating the lion’s proud demeanor perfectly in the light.

“Your majesty—” A giant of a man spoke out as his arm passed over his chest. “I respectfully state my dissatisfaction in the Court Sorcerers' actions… to commit such a dangerous and unpredictable magical technique not only so close to the very chambers to which you reside but without concerning the rest of the council…”

As he continued, most of those within the chamber who shared his opinion silently nodded in agreement.

They too felt betrayed by Master Aldor, as his decision to not involve them came as not only a shock but as a failure on their part. Not only that but to wield what could only be described as a dangerously unknown magical incantation within the palace itself, where many of them lived with their children. Such an insult was unheard of at their noble stature.

Among the members of this political council were several familiar faces, including Aldor himself to whom was unofficially on trial by the other members.

“I do believe that this council will need to take a much stricter stance in this regard, as these are times of concern and threat. The elven nations have shown signs of unification to the east and north, weighing immense pressure upon the young Prince."

In response to the man’s concerned shouting, a now humbly dressed Leander replied. “I do understand your concerns Lord Ingram, but please do not misunderstand…” Leander paused for a moment before lifting his head and altering his tone to appear more domineering. “The court sorcerers, along with Sir Aldor, were acting under my instructions, to question their actions is to bring into question my own.”

“Ah—” The stoically dressed Lord Ingram paused momentarily as King Leander declared, bowing his head as he humbly spoke. “I meant no disrespect, your Grace.”

“Mmh,” Leander murmured in reply, not giving the concern any further thought. “Our military might is not to be questioned, nor will a few insignificant elves push us to such extremes as to throw each other on trial. Even my youngest son is strong enough to handle himself against the likes of them..." He paused for a moment, continuing only after some consideration. "And if not then so be it, my line will be further cleansed of such weakness. Rather, my true concerns lie elsewhere, as they always have.”

Slicing through the awkward tension of silence was Aldor, who spoke out with an intelligent yet aged tone. “The Prophecy of Dawn.”

“The prophecy of…” Lord Ingram repeated quietly to himself several times, as did most of those gathered here today. “Such a thing… your highness can’t possibly—”

"Yes, the prophecy handed down by my father from his, and his onward. A declaration of war that would bathe the human world in bloodshed. Did you all think me so shortsighted as to neglect my inheritance for such trifling concerns as elves?"

"Your Grace," Lord Ingram once more stood forward and bowed from the waist. "Does this mean that the evils of legend have come at last?"

In response to Ingram's query, Aldor spoke up. "The gathering of sorcerers along with the high table's predictions has led his majesty, along with myself, into believing that to be the case."

"Ah, I see." A simple response was all Lord Ingram could give, as this news had shocked him greatly, as it did most who sat around the council chamber.

The Prophecy of Dawn, a declaration from what was most likely centuries ago, from the first founder of their kingdom. It foretold of dreadful lords rising from Erebus to lay waste to the world of man, led by the greatest devil of them all—A Grand Deceiver.

The founder of Leander's bloodline had nearly sacrificed everything to forge this prophecy, as a warning from the past to the future. And thus, his majesty took it upon himself as an order from his father, King Armand, to prepare for this eventuality.

Everyone within the council knew of the tales, but most never considered it a legitimate means of concern, nor did they even give these worries the time of day.

Lord Ingram questioned. "Your Grace might I inquire—if the threat that the Prophecy of Dawn has warned us about has truly come then should we not, as the council, be handling these incidents with the elven races with the utmost interest and caution? For we do not know where this enemy may strike nor do we even know where it hides in the shadows."

"Tsk," suddenly interrupted a grayed noble, his wrinkled face and snow-white hair showing itself beneath his regal mantled cowl. The sort of man to whom would situate himself on the opposite end of his monarch, King Leander.

"You have something to say, Lord Richmond?" Lord Ingram pondered aloud, bringing attention to the noble's dissatisfaction.

As several eyes fell upon Lord Richmond, who hadn't expected to be called out so suddenly, he found himself in an awkward position. "Very well, Lord Ingram," standing, he elegantly motioned as he spoke, clearly quite accustomed to the art of diplomacy. "I pay my respects to his Majesty, of course... however I do find this news concerning, to say the least."

"Oh?" Leander responded, hand waving the attention back toward Richmond as he did so.

"Yes well, as a noble and feudal Lord of the East, I find this lack of interest in the elven uprising to be of some worry." Lord Richmond straightened his shoulders as he continued, his voice picking up and garnering the attention of those throughout the room. "With the reinforcements from the young Prince's army, my Eastern forces have been able to resist a full-scale confrontation as of late, but if war breaks out..."

"Are you telling me that the full force of our Eastern armies while united with Prince Samuel's forces are still inadequate against those measly elves?" Lord Ingram spoke up abruptly, shooting eyes of disdain toward Richmond. "Perhaps Lord Richmond shouldn't be trusted to command the Eastern front if he's that... incapable."

"Ingram!" Lord Richmond bellowed out, not being able to withstand the disrespect to his name and position any longer. "Do not challenge my ability to command, for you may find yourself without a single ally to turn to if the day ever were to come!"

"Hmph," Ingram mocked. "The day that I am forced to surrender myself and rely upon your skills as a leader to survive shall also be the day that I volunteer to fall upon my blade. That is, to save me from the torturous hell that I will no doubt be facing by the enemy once you undoubtedly fail—"

Because of this, Leander found himself stuck with a frown, his patience growing thinner by the second as he suddenly ordered out. "Silence, the both of you! You're no longer children, so quite bickering as such."

Hearing the two of these old and experienced men bickering between each other was a sort of mental strain for King Leander. Even though these two held differing political opinions, it was almost ironic that they were both arguing for the same thing, yet they hadn't even noticed—reinforcements. In truth, the topic of their argument meant very little to them, as the true focus was simply to embarass the other. Neither of these two Lords were even listening to what the other was saying, or what their point even was.

Both Lords Ingram and Richmond bowed in regret and gave their sincerest apologies to his majesty, silently glaring at each other in disdain as they took to their seats.

"Old wounds just don't heal that easily, do they..." Leander muttered out to where no one could hear him, letting out a sigh as he did so. "Lord Richmond, if you believe the military strength provided to you is inadequate in securing the Eastern front then there is nothing to it. I trust your judgment and shall appoint an additional five thousand soldiers to your command. I can only hope your fellow Lords have no concern over this decision."

"Thank you, your Grace." Richmond stood momentarily to bow, returning to his seat more enthusiastic toward the future than before. As he did so, a third figure quietly nodded in his seat, seemingly accepting of these new orders to dispatch reinforcements as he stroked his fingers through his long beard.

Five thousand soldiers to add to their front-line was not an insignificant amount, after all. Those numbers would most likely be pulled from the neighboring cities from the Northern and Southern regions.

It wasn't unheard of to lower the defenses in one region in exchange for another, but they had to be careful to balance it, for there existed many concerns that their weakened regions would be targeted as well.

Several nations had fallen victim to such plots in the past by a combined strike from several angles, with their other regions being assaulted only after they had sent reinforcements away. It was an effective ploy and one that had forced many of such commanders to abandon their forces out of fear of being duped.

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Just as Leander was about to speak outwardly toward the group of councilors, the heavy wooden doors at the entrance flew open, a band of soldiers pushed through and separated in haste.

As they did so the young and lordly Alistair made his appearance. voicing out clearly so that all may hear. “Announcing the arrival of Sir Luther Draven, accompanying Lord Renaut of the Northern realms!”

…

A few minutes earlier.

"Not too much longer now," the mage claimed as he led Luther along through a labyrinthine of passages. The walls were sturdily carved from stone and marble as the occasional painting could be seen comfortably hanging around. One could grasp the extraordinary value of these pieces with but a glance.

To Luther however, these arts told a story. Each one, the tale of knights charging against a beast, or perhaps the landscape shot of a majestic castle overlooking the sunset. Either way, they were all nearly the same. A way for political nobility to play around and earn esteem while flaunting their vast wealth.

'To have such naive opinions of knights and glory,' Luther internally mocked. It wasn't that he hated art inherently, but instead that the depictions before him were of bad taste. To him, it was the same sort of sneer as one would have at a child's art being hung up in a museum.

"His majesty is a very kind and just man," the mage said, interrupting the silence. "I've been asked to escort you to the council chambers and to mentor you on proper noble etiquette. I do hope I'm able to serve my Lord justly, without fault."

"I'm sure your Lord will be pleased," Luther replied quickly without giving it much thought, which caused the mage to pause momentarily.

"My... Lord?" He murmured out as if only now realizing the misunderstanding. "Ah, allow me to explain. You hold the title of Hero, one that has not been held within our kingdom's lifetime, not even once. We're not exactly sure how to handle these proceedings..."

Turning to face him, the young mage calmly and passionately continued. "It is my great honor to be able to serve you, my Lord. I'm very privileged."

Luther understood rather quickly as he nodded along. "Of course, my apologies for the misunderstanding. I look forward to your service, then. What should I call you by?"

"This servant's name is Corbett, for I am a disciple of the High Table and student learning under Master Aldor's influence." He explained with a bow, his arm crossed over his chest while his face aimed downward. This action was well-rehearsed and practiced.

"Very well Corbett, I welcome your services and hope that I live up to your expectations," Luther similarly bowed. "Something has intrigued me, however. Perhaps you can alleviate this?"

"Of course," Corbett replied. "If this concern is in regards to political etiquette, magical inquiry, or perhaps even historical events, I do believe that I can be of assistance."

"How wonderful," Luther let out a sigh of relief as he continued. "You see, my interests are more so aligned with political civility and magical cultivation. I've never met a king, and I'd like to avoid embarrassing or offending anyone during the proceedings. I do hope you can be of some assistance... Also, it's shameful, I do hope you can show me a bit of privacy in this matter."

Corbett seemed perplexed. For you see he had been secretly ordered to report back everything that happened between the two of them to his master, Aldor. This is an issue, however, as he also does not wish to betray his new Lord, especially over something many would deem a small concern. In the future, his life, as well as the lives of everyone within the kingdom may very well rest in the hands of the man before him, so how could he be asked to trust them if he couldn't even handle this simple request with care.

"A private lesson on political behavior as well as magical knowledge? Beyond my current station as an aid?" Corbett considered this deeply, concern showing on his now pale face. “I should be able to guide you vaguely in regards to your concern about political etiquette, but any discussion on the magical realm can’t be rushed. Even if I’m able to help you, it must be prepared in advance.”

With a pause, Corbett continued, finally revealing a glint of a smile. “If this is acceptable, my Lord, I can see what I can manage.”

"Excellent, this is highly acceptable." Luther thanked him as a smile shot across his face. Seemingly much more at ease as time went on. Internally, however, he pondered. 'It seems they've got a powerful grasp on information here, for him to struggle even slightly breaking protocol like this.'

The other voice chimed in. "To avoid informing you of anything that they deem unimportant... Or dangerous to their believed position of strength. To render upon another your weakness, no matter how insignificant it may seem, could be the very thing used to stab you in the back."

'Perhaps they didn't wish to corrupt my knowledge in regards to their home, beyond what was left for me in that chamber.' Luther reasoned. 'To test my resolve, perhaps? Or my abilities and skills?'

Once more, the voice replied, "A reasonable assumption. If these pathetic humans find that your personality, knowledge, or even your base intentions do not align with their own, they may very well have designs to eliminate you. Anything foreign beyond what they have specifically chosen could drastically change the results, after all." The voice sneered as it finished. "Perhaps this insect does not know the true intentions of his betters? You would be clever to take advantage of this."

Luther glanced toward the mage with a smile, only a moment or two passing between them before he replied. "I simply wish to make your kingdom and its people proud. It wouldn’t be respectable for me to act without a certain level of elegance and grace before this countries’ great King. I wouldn’t want to act impudently, you understand?"

The young mage nodded his head in agreement, seemingly being swayed by his words.

"I see the wisdom in your words," the young Corbett reasoned, nodding his round head as a hint of understanding and acceptance flashed over his face. Whether or not his Lord meant what he said, he had simply not paid any concern and hoped for the best in his heart.

After all, he was a hero summoned by his greatest master, Aldor. How could he possibly have any doubt, "Ask, and I shall answer to the best of my ability."

"Wonderful." Luther continued to show a smile as he nodded.

The two of them quickly went over the basics of etiquette. Things such as when it was acceptable to bow or to raise one's head. What sort of grand titles were appropriate to use for the lords of the court.

Such common sense things were already completely known to Luther, of course, but he used this opportunity to slowly forge bonds with Corbett, all the while testing his temperament. The further he could push him, the easier it would be to acquire a loyal servant in this new, mysterious land.

After a relatively short burst of time, the two continued on their approach. A new sense of kinship between them having been forged successfully. In truth, Luther had forced this bond, hoping it would hold value in the future. Having so many eyes placed upon him, he knew that to act independently, he'd need allies. Even ones as small and simple as the young mage, Corbett.

One can not ascend a mountain without first taking a single step, no matter how small.

As the two approached a heavy set of wooden doors, several figures came into view. First, an assortment of guards and armored men covered in bright, illustrious steel. A burning lion crested insignia carved upon each of their chests. This group numbered nearly a dozen as they each stood to one side of the passage, their center focused around a single sharp-dressed man.

This man was currently busy discussing with a smiling youth.

“Lord Renaut,” the mage to Luther’s side called out suddenly as the two quickly arrived at their location. Hearing this, the older gentleman turned around with a look of expectancy. His eyes jumped from Corbett to Luther as he showed a calm expression. Without making it obvious, the man named Renaut glanced Luther up and down, taking his figure in and nodding in return, clearly satisfied.

“Little Corbett, it’s a pleasure,” Renaut spoke next, welcoming the two into the center of these guardsmen. Corbett entered without hesitation, but Luther seemed cautious internally while ensuring his concerns hadn't been noticed by those who saw him. Lord Renaut continued as his attention flashed from the mage to Luther. “You must be the man of the hour.”

“My Lord,” Luther replied in kind, a faint smile showing as he gently bowed. Not too far, yet not too little. “It’s a pleasure as well to meet you. A true blessing.”

Seeing this, all three of these figures seemed completely satisfied as well as impressed. Corbett hadn’t expected his new Lord to pick up on such fantastic behavioral etiquette so quickly, but he was in no way disappointed. Quite the opposite.

Paying close attention to one's temperament and behavior was an important role in politics, like an invisible thread that pulled everything together. Even though Luther's actions seemed common sense, it still carried with it this sense of confidence and intelligence.

The main thing Luther had been hoping to achieve through such actions was to lower the level of unease these Lords had. All the while earning both their favor and respect. Only small mental-threads would form at first, but over time they'd grow numerous and sturdy. Before these Lords knew it, they'd start to form attachment and interest in their new champion—over time they'd attach their futures to him and rely solely on his existence.

Such thoughts coursed through Luther's mind but had yet to even begin formulating any plans on carrying this out.

If not for the books he had perused, his actions would be far less directed. Of course, the information held within the dark intelligence within his mind hadn't hindered his plans, either.

With such limited knowledge, all he could muster for now would be to observe, taking in everything. Only then could he decide where to go from there.

With so many hidden invisible shackles placed upon his future paths, Luther could only tread lightly moving forward. He was a stranger in a strange land. Surrounded by masters and their families who have lived here for ages, long before he was reborn. Caution had become vital in order to learn to survive in this new place.

Noticing their Kingdom's champion take such good care of his image, the attentive youth quickly turned to fully face Luther, bidding his respect while providing an introduction. This third figure was, of course, the King’s squire and aid—Alistair. Though he had been busy with the arrival of their summoned hero, his main focus was, as always, placed upon serving his King.

As a council-meeting had been gathered that required King Leander’s attention, how could Alistair dare turn his interests elsewhere?

“Lord Renaut, Sir Alistair.” Luther greeted, memorizing the two men before him. As he did so, he too provided an introduction, one that he knew they were hoping for.

After all, they did not have a name for their summoned champion, so they had no idea how best to call him. This was a point of interest and concern for them, as trying to provide him with a name themselves could be seen as degrading and insulting. Without understanding this man’s temperament first, how could they so casually act in such a manner?

“Luther Draven,” he bowed, a hint of glory escaping his demeanor. Great potential irradiated from him, instantly being noticed by all three figures with but only a glance.

“Master Draven!” Alistair declared, satisfied with the name and etiquette. “I believe it’s about time—” As he said this, the youth turned to face one of the main guards who remained sturdy, positioned before the doorway. Like Renaut’s entourage, he too was fashioned with a lion on his chest. The main difference, however, was the golden-forged helmet that sat atop his head.

“Great Kingsguard,” Alistair nodded. “I do believe we’re ready. We mustn’t delay his Majesty any further, after all.”

As he stated, the two Kingsguards moved forward and grabbed at the doors before them. Tightening their grips around the metal hinges, they pulled apart. A massive chamber came into view as a heavy creaking resounded.

“Lord Draven, I do hope we get another time to speak in the future… Please don’t hesitate to look for me whenever you’re free.” Lord Renaut said with a nod, turning his attention away afterward as he followed Alistair further inside. His guards moved in unison alongside him and assembled into the hall as the young squire declared.

“Announcing the arrival of Sir Luther Draven, accompanying Lord Renaut of the Northern realms!”