The King was ensconced in the inky depths of his vacant throne room, lost in thought as he absently fiddled with the fractured crown that typically adorned his regal head. The stillness of the chamber enveloped him like a warm cloak, and he savored the tranquility as he drifted through the murky recesses of his mind.
The Dark King seldom found himself in such a state of vulnerability. But such is the existence when one is deemed the eternal adversary of all who have lived, currently live, and will ever live. Even the haziest recollections of his past were rife with his desperate struggles to endure against a world that thirsted for his demise.
Lacking the sagacity he now possesses, he failed to recognize how his violent retaliation only served to further cement the widespread perception of him. Yet, one positive aspect of this ordeal was that he never encountered the wearisome sensation of boredom. How he longed for the mere option of being able to choose between the two extremes.
The great doors of the throne room groaned as they slowly swung open. The feeble glimmer of light from the hallway trickled in, illuminating the drab gray stone that had been used to erect the somber chamber. A knight donning a suit of gleaming black armor strode forth towards the king, their sword a shade as dark as the lightless room, rendering it almost invisible to the untrained eye, but not to the monarch's. Upon reaching the throne, the knight swiftly knelt before their ruler, their armor clattering with the hastened motion echoing through the hall.
"My liege," a woman's voice emanated from beneath the helmet.
The king remained silent, merely adjusting the fingers that rested on the arm of his throne.
Taking this as a signal to proceed, the knight spoke, "Reports have been streaming in from our outposts, your highness. A colossal army has been spotted scaling the mountains and is headed this way."
The Castle of the King of Darkness stood in the very heart of a mountain range that was notorious for its treacherous terrain, riddled with steep inclines that posed a considerable challenge to anyone attempting to traverse it. Exacerbating the situation were the countless monsters that called the mountains their abode, acting as a formidable barrier to the castle. As a last line of defense, demi-humans had taken up positions on the more viable paths and cliffs that could be used as campsites by travelers.
"I see," the king muttered as he tried to recollect the memories flooding his mind. He had hoped to bask in the serenity of his peace, but the vexation of having to battle once more acted like an anchor that tethered him to the world of wakefulness. Unaware of their lord's lack of enthusiasm, the knight proceeded with their report.
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"I have already instructed our troops to prepare for battle, awaiting only your command to launch an attack."
For a moment, silence reigned between the two.But then both figures in the dark jerked their heads to the left of the throne room. The King was wide awake now.
"The hour is dark," the King spoke solemnly, "for he has arrived."
"Indeed, sire. Scouts have spotted HIM among the enemy forces. Some speculate that he may even be leading the charge against us."
The King nodded in agreement. "It is plausible. He has spent years uniting the nations of the world against us, and now he seeks to claim our home as his own."
The knight's armor clattered as they seethed with anger. "He shall pay for his audacity, my liege. I will not rest until his head is mounted on a spike."
But the King's hand rose, quelling the knight's fury. "No, my loyal sword. We must not act out of emotion. We must be strategic and level-headed if we are to succeed."
The knight took a deep breath, exhaling their rage. "Of course, my liege. What is our plan of attack?"
"We must bide our time and strike when the moment is right," the King explained. "Alert our troops to prepare for battle, but do not engage the enemy head-on. Instead, position them behind the enemy and launch a surprise attack from both sides, weakening their forces before they can reach our gates."
The knight nodded, impressed by the King's tactical prowess. "As you command, my liege. We will be ready to strike when the time comes."
"Good," the King said with a nod. "Report back to me once the enemy is in sight."
The knight bowed and made their exit, leaving the King to contemplate the upcoming battle and the fate of their kingdom.
The king sat back on his throne, shrouded in the peaceful darkness of his castle. But the impending threat of the enemy army approaching left him unable to savor the moment completely. He tilted his head, peering through a small opening in the corner of the wall that served as ventilation for the room. The thick walls prevented any light from slipping in, leaving the corner in a perpetual shadow.
The notion of his own home being invaded did not affect him as much as it should have. His minions knew that even the slightest mistake would result in a swift death. Though his knight had shown outrage at the enemy's disrespect, the king knew better than to let emotions cloud their judgment. Not when they were this close to their goal.
His heightened senses picked up a rumbling from deep within the castle basement. The king's plans were nearing completion. Everything had been orchestrated with precision for a specific purpose. The stark difference in their approach had left their enemies confused and uncertain. The king expected resistance, but he was prepared for it. This was a do-or-die situation, and the fate of the world hung in the balance.
The king had lived long enough to witness this day, the culmination of his grand scheme. This was the biggest of them all, and he had played his part perfectly. As always, he was ready for anything, even if it meant risking it all. The fate of the world was at stake, and he knew that fate would be against him.