Harald Ikalot, son of Galion Ikalot, was the eighth Reign Supreme of the Ikalot dynasty. Centuries ago, while the legendary Freye family lived during its renaissance, his ancestors built an enormous capital after receiving Rockfoot Keep as a fief. Serving as gates in the middle of the greatest trading route, located on both the eastern and western banks of the Grand Maiden River, Rockfoot was the most prosperous place in the whole kingdom. It came as no surprise that Hugo Ikalot, Harald's grand ancestor, became the richest man in Grailand, collecting customs duty and taking money for safe passage outside of the official books.

The more money the Ikalot family made, the more power it demanded. Vassalage was too diminishing, too unworthy of their riches. Soon enough, they began a plot against the Reign Supreme. Funding most of the other vassals and controlling the main trade route on the Grand Maiden River, the Ikalots set up a trading blockade. For fifteen months, they had been cutting off all the veins and arteries that flowed into the Greystone Forest. Until the Reign Supreme Odius Freye finally surrendered.

Legends say the blockade was so merciless that when Hugo Ikalot marched into the fallen city, blinded by his triumph, he saw nothing but bones, for those who survived ate their fallen friends.

The Freye dynasty had fallen, and within the following year, every known descendant was captured and cast into oblivion. Most of the vassals agreed to bow to the new Reign Supreme; some preferred to spit at his feet, choosing death in battle over a king who bought his throne.

The initial plan Hugo chose was to conquer all three great towers; three, for mechana would appear only two hundred years after Hugo Ikalot. However, the Council of Citadels warned Ikalot that should he decide to make enemies of those touched by the stone, his fall would be inevitable and quick. A businessman first, Hugo chose a more profitable option - to preserve the Council untouched, serving as the main decision-making body in Grailand.

For six hundred years, the Ikalot dynasty had been sitting on the United Throne, and for six hundred years feudal disputes had been tearing Grailand.

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Harald Ikalot - the youngest son, was never meant to sit on the throne. His father favored the older brother, Michael, to be his successor. An unfortunate accident left Michael paralyzed, and soon Galion Ikalot buried his elder son and heir to the throne.

Harald, who had always been jealous of his brother, finally achieved his deepest desire. However, his father was blessed by five gods with an extraordinarily long life. Galion Ikalot breathed his last at the age of one hundred and ten. Harald Ikalot, once a young prince, now an old man, was crowned the next day, while his father's body was still in preparation for burial.

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Since ascending to the throne, Harald was driven by the idea of restoring the true meaning to the title of Reign Supreme. He envisioned Grailand united once again under one rule. However, the times changed - free tribes appeared in the North, the mountain people proclaimed their independence, and the Islands were no longer considered a part of the kingdom.

Even within the King's court, not many people truly believed in Harald Ikalot's ambitions. Behind the thick curtains and on the sidelines, his advisors, hands, and servants called him the Chaotic King. They thought he was too obsessed, hell-bent, mad even, to see the true state of the realm with its problems requiring the King's attention.

They all were wrong.

Harald Ikalot was obsessed and never showed true wisdom, but he was never chaotic. He took his steps carefully, weighing each one. He knew how to play games people of power play, and he made some mighty friends.

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Lady Gwendolyn stood in front of the mirror in her guest chambers at the Royal Palace. Her silk dress perfectly repeated the curves of her body. Despite her age, she was attractive, and no smoke from the giant furnaces used to melt metal in the Iron Steeple could hide her pale skin of moonlight color.

The door to her chambers opened behind her, and a man walked in. Lady Gwendolyn didn't turn to see who it was, as if expecting a visitor at this hour of the night.

"I was informed you are leaving tomorrow?" said Harald Ikalot, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, Reign Supreme. My stay here is no longer necessary," said Lady Gwendolyn, taming her blond hair.

"You are always welcome at the Palace," the King said, looking at her under the dim candlelight.

"Of course, I am always welcome, Reign Supreme. I am a part of the Council," she said with a strict, yet playful tone. The King let out a laugh.

"I don't care about your Council," he replied, taking a few steps towards her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice. "There's a certain promise you gave to your King."

Lady Gwendolyn kept taming her hair.

"I shall keep it. And you are not my King."

Harald grabbed her arms and spun her around, his fingers wrapping around her throat, squeezing her soft skin.

"Where are your new soldiers?" he grunted. Lady Gwendolyn smiled, disregarding the King's fist on her throat.

"Careful, Harald Ikalot. I am a fragile woman," she said and bit her lower lip. They stood in absolute silence, watching candlelight reflections dancing in each other's eyes. Then Harald smiled and began laughing, still holding Lady Gwendolyn's throat.

"Your soldiers will be ready by the Harvest Festival, if you wish for it," she said. Harald placed a finger to her lips.

"This is no wish, but a command," he whispered. "And be quiet, the walls have ears."

Harald let Lady Gwendolyn go and turned to her nightstand, glancing at a pile of metal and an unwrapped leather bag of silver tools.

"This is your palace. Doesn't it make them your ears?" Lady Gwendolyn said, returning to the mirror. "You'll get everything, Harald Ikalot, if you keep your part of the deal."

Harald left her remark without a response. He picked one of the tools - a thin metal stick with a flat, sharp tip - raising one eyebrow, wondering what peculiar actions it could perform.

"You should stay for another night," he said, tossing the tool back. Lady Gwendolyn stopped taming her hair and turned to him. Her silk robe rustled softly as it brushed against the floor

"Is it a wish, or a command?" she inquired in a playful tone.

"I am a Reign Supreme. My wish is my command."