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The sun glinted brilliantly in the sky, casting a warm glow over the world below. The air was alive with the sweet melodies of birdsong, each note more beautiful than the last. The flowers swayed gracefully in the gentle breeze, their vibrant colors painting a breathtaking scene.

Butterflies danced through the air, their delicate wings carrying them from one flower to another, while bees hummed their busy buzzing tune as they collected nectar from the blossoms. It was a perfect depiction of serenity, peace, and tranquility.

The trees rustled softly, their leaves dancing in unison with the wind as it blew through their branches. The sound of crunching leaves and soft whispers could be heard in every direction, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

In the distance, majestic mountains stood tall, their peaks capped with glistening snow that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. Below them were verdant valleys, teeming with lush greenery and dotted with charming little homes. Everything seemed perfectly harmonious, a symphony of nature at its finest.

On the vast green grass field, Reinhold and his army were marching steadily towards the heart of Laruthar.

Reinhold rode atop a majestic white stallion, its hooves pounding against the soft earth as his gaze focused ahead and his body relaxed. His army marched in perfect formation behind him, their steps matching his rhythm perfectly. The sounds of armor clanking and horses snorting echoed throughout the forest. Birds chirped loudly above as they flew overhead, adding to the chorus of sounds.

The sun beat down on them, casting a golden glow over their determined faces. They were a sight to behold, a force to be reckoned with as they moved as one entity, their minds and souls focused solely on the task at hand.

Reinhold's eyes scanned the surroundings, his gaze landing on the familiar sight of the castle walls in the distance. His heart raced at the thought of finally being able to set foot in his city once more. Ahead of them stood the majestic city of Lion's Mane, a bustling metropolis that seemed to pulse with life.

As they approached the city, its grandeur became more apparent. The stone walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted legendary battles and heroes of old, making them seem almost alive in the morning sun. The gates, plated with shining gold, stood tall and proud, a formidable barrier against any potential intruders.

Within the city, colorful banners representing various noble houses and guilds fluttered above the cobblestone streets. The air was filled with the tantalizing scents of exotic spices and freshly baked bread as merchants haggled over prices and children played games.

Despite the looming threat from outside, life within Lion's Mane continued on—a vibrant tapestry woven with threads of tradition and ambition.

"What a magnificent city, Reinhold." Thorin busted out.

"Yes, indeed. The City of Lions. This was the most glorious and prosperous city of the land of Laruthar, the capital of the kingdom itself. It is the heart of the land."

"I haven't been here in ages." The dwarf reminisced with a slight sigh. "I can still recall the first time I stepped through these walls, how everything seemed larger and more impressive than I had imagined, although not as big as ours. But there was something about the air, something that made it seem more magical than anywhere else I'd ever been."

Reinhold's eyes gleaned with pride as he gazed upon the city's walls once more. He had missed this sight dearly.

As they drew nearer to the gates, an imposing figure emerged from the shadows atop them. Its face was hidden behind a mask, yet its glowing yellow eyes pierced through the darkness and locked onto them.

With a slim and graceful form, this mysterious character's oversized brown cloak billowed in the wind, revealing gleaming black armor that caught the sun's rays. The intimidating figure seemed to be made of shadow and steel, a perfect blend of darkness and strength.

"Halt! Who dares disturb the slumber of the sleeping lion?" A deep voice bellowed.

Reinhold raised his arm to halt his men as he gazed up at the masked stranger.

"The lion itself," he declared boldly.

Without hesitation, this character jumped straight into Lionhold, hugging him so violently with such force that her hood was sent flying back, revealing her striking features: porcelain white hair cascading down her back, pointed ears framing an ethereal face, skin as pale as freshly fallen snow, and her golden eyes shimmering like the sun-kissed waves of a tranquil sea, casting a mesmerizing glow that seemed to hold the secrets of centuries within their depths.

Her name is Larume, one of the last remaining dark elves on the continent, and she is currently serving Lord Reinhold as an Inquisitor of the Circle of Darkness, the second legions.

The memories of her people are painful and tragic, and they haunt her every waking moment. The Wood Elves, arrogant and territorial, deemed the Dark Elves mere pests to be exterminated from their precious forests. But the Dark Elves refused to go down without a fight, and war erupted.

For Larume and her kin, survival is a daily struggle against extinction, as they are slowly pushed out of their forests and forced to fight for every inch of land on the tiny continent of Laruthar. But even as they clung to what little remains, the attacks were relentless and constant until there was nothing left but ash and ruins.

As the chaos of destruction swept through their settlements, the survivors scattered like leaves in a storm. Each individual sought sanctuary wherever they could find it, desperate for protection from the horrors that surrounded them.

Eventually, only a few remnants remained, huddling together under the protective shelter of Reinhold. He had opened his doors and welcomed them with open arms, offering not just physical refuge but also a sense of belonging and purpose.

Among these survivors was Larume, a young and broken child who was personally taken in by Reinhold as one of his own.

"Father!" She cried, tears streaming down her face as she clung tightly to the fabric of the human king.

He held her close in his embrace, stroking the back of her head and whispering reassuring words to the crying elf. His touch calmed her nerves, and she felt safe and warm in his arms. It was almost as if all the pain, sorrow, and loss had disappeared, replaced only with the comfort and affection of a loving guardian.

Releasing herself, the dark elf wiped away her tears and stared up at the king with eyes full of adoration.

"Finally, you have returned home, father. It had been years since I last saw you, and your return was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the darkness to me." She said it in a mumbled voice mixed with a bit of shyness.

"Indeed, I am. But when did you become so poetic?" He asked with a smile. "And why aren't you wearing the hood properly? As an inquisitor, it's important to conceal your identity in public, my dear child." Reinhold's eyes were filled with concern and affection for the young, dark elf.

"Oh, I was waiting for you and wanted to greet you in style." She exclaimed joyfully and threw herself into her father's embrace once again. "Well then, welcome home, father! I have missed you dearly.

Reinhold smiled at the girl and patted her head.

"I am home, Larume." He returned the warm greeting. His gaze wandered from his adopted daughter to the city before them.

The gates swung open slowly, revealing rows upon rows of soldiers clad in gleaming bronze armor with crimson capes billowing behind them in the sun, standing at attention in front of their city, ready to defend it at all costs against any threat. Behind them were the citizens who lined the streets to greet them, their eyes full of hope and excitement after not seeing their king for two years.

As they walked past, cheers rose from the crowds, filling his heart with warmth and joy. This was what he had missed the most about his kingdom. The feeling of camaraderie between the people and their king, the knowledge that their ruler truly cared for them and wanted the best for everyone, no matter their social or economic status,.

The sound of trumpets blared, announcing their presence to all who heard it. The crowd roared with approval, celebrating Reinhold's return with thunderous applause. It was an overwhelming sight to take in, and Reinhold felt overwhelmed as he waved back to the cheering masses.

"Long live the King!" They shouted in unison as one. He was truly home at last.

As Reinhold made his way through the bustling city, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from his people. The warm sun cast a golden glow upon the cobblestone streets, illuminating the vibrant colors of the festival decorations.

Flower petals drifted down from the balconies above like confetti, creating a colorful rain that danced in the gentle breeze. Children skipped and ran alongside his entourage, their high-pitched giggles blending with the lively music that filled the air like a symphony of joy in his ears.

The air was thick with the scent of spices as vendors lined the streets, selling their wares and tempting passersby with delicious aromas.

A group of performers gathered near the center plaza, putting on an entertaining performance for those watching. A young boy juggled flaming torches with a grin as wide as the ocean. A woman spun plates on sticks, keeping them balanced effortlessly with one hand as she wove in and out of the crowd.

There were even several street musicians playing their instruments in harmony, providing background music for the spectacle. The whole city was alive with activity, buzzing with a contagious excitement that Reinhold could feel deep in his bones. A symphony of sounds added to the sensory overload: music playing from every direction, mingled with laughter and lively chatter.

Reinhold's eyes eagerly took in every detail of his kingdom, roving from one end to another and drinking in all that he had missed during his two-year absence. Despite being away for two years, it felt as if time had stood still here—everything was just as he remembered it: vibrant, full of life, and bursting with energy.

It was a joyous homecoming for Reinhold, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him as he took in the sights and sounds of his beloved city. He was where he belonged, amongst the very people he had sworn to protect and serve until his dying breath. He had never felt prouder to wear that crown than he did in this moment.

Larume sat neatly in front of Reinhold on the horse, her long hair blowing in the wind and her cheeks flushed with excitement. Her lips were constantly curved into a joyful smile, and she hummed sweet, melodic tunes that seemed to dance through the air. Reinhold couldn't help but look at his adopted daughter's face, the smile never fading.

He gazed at her beautiful face, taking in every detail—the curve of her nose, the sparkle in her eyes, and the dimples that appeared when she smiled. "You seem particularly content today, my dear Larume," he remarked, smiling back at her.

She turned to face him, her golden eyes shining with adoration as she flashed a toothy grin before returning to her cheerful humming. "I'm always happy when I am with you, father!" she exclaimed, radiating pure love and contentment.

"That is true." Reinhold nodded, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his daughter. "You're always so full of happiness that it's impossible not to be affected by you. Your energy fills the room and brightens my day, even on the most difficult of days."

Larume smiled, her cheeks flushing with a warm glow. "You know, father, I've never felt this way about anyone," she confessed, her voice low and gentle. "Especially considering our history together. There's something about you that makes me feel safe and loved, like a warm blanket that wraps around my heart."

Reinhold's expression softened as he looked at his daughter with pride and love.

"You are the greatest gift I ever had, Larume," he said sincerely. "When we first brought you in from the wilds, I thought you would die in my care. Back then, you were small and frail, with nothing but skin and bones. Your hair was unkempt and your eyes were lifeless, as if the whole world had collapsed before them."

He paused, his eyes shining brightly as he reminisced. "But look at you now, my dear. You have grown into a strong and beautiful child who has filled our lives with joy and love." Reinhold's voice cracked with emotion, tears threatening to spill forth. His chest swelled with pride, and a lump formed in his throat as he spoke the words.

He reached out and cuddled her soft cheek affectionately. "You have become everything I had ever dreamed of for you and more. Every day is a blessing because of you." His words were spoken with such tenderness that she felt her heart skip a beat at hearing them.

She placed her hand on top of his, her golden eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, father. Thank you so much for everything." Larume whispered softly. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, betraying how deeply moved she was by his words, and she swallowed hard against the rising tide of emotions within her.

Reinhold leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss atop her head. His touch was warm, and Larume closed her eyes, basking in the comforting sensation of having her father nearby. She felt safe, secure, and loved in his company, a feeling that had been absent from her life since her parents' untimely demise.

"You don't need to thank me, Larume. Just keep being yourself and continue bringing light wherever you go," Reinhold said gently. "That is more than enough for me."

Larume nodded silently, too emotional to say anything.

They continue to ride through the streets of the city together, basking in their closeness and enjoying every moment of their time together. It seemed like nothing could ruin this special day for either one of them as they traveled side-by-side along the paved roads that snaked through the city.

Their pace quickened slightly, and they were soon greeted by the majestic sight of the Royal Palace.

The palace rose before them, its towering spires glistening in the bright sunlight like jewels in a crown. As they approached, Larume couldn't help but admire the intricate details of the grand entrance—carved marble columns depicting scenes from the kingdom's past.

The guards stationed outside immediately straightened their spines and saluted the royal entourage as they neared. Their eyes shone with fierce devotion, and they wore expressions that conveyed a deep sense of honor.

It was like a scene straight out of a fairy tale—knights clad in shining armor, mounted on majestic horses, marching in perfect formation. The sight made Larume's heart race with excitement as she imagined herself in their shoes—a gallant warrior riding into battle on a noble steed to save the kingdom.

"Welcome home, Your Highness!" The guards' voices boomed as they saluted in unison, their pride evident in every movement.

As they passed through the grand entrance, statues of fierce warriors seemed to come alive under the sun. The heavy steel doors were adorned with elaborate golden designs, each one telling a story of triumph and glory. As they crossed the threshold, their footsteps resonated on the cool marble floors, leading them deeper into the heart of the palace.

"It's good to be back!" He announced, smiling at his loyal men, before proceeding towards the throne room at a leisurely pace.

The hall stretched out before him, a grand and awe-inspiring sight that took his breath away. The interior of the palace was just as majestic as its exterior, with walls adorned with extravagant tapestries depicting scenes of triumph and unity.

Above, elaborate chandeliers hung from the lofty ceilings, casting a warm and inviting light over everything below. Gilded ceilings arched high in all their splendor, embellished with breathtaking mosaic murals depicting pivotal moments in the kingdom's past.

As they navigated through the labyrinthine corridors, they passed by luxuriously decorated rooms, each one filled with priceless treasures—jewelled crowns, golden scepters, and ancient artifacts that spoke volumes about the rich history of the kingdom.

At one point, they entered a room with a massive fireplace at one end and a huge stone table in the middle. Around it was a collection of ornate chairs. The floor was made of red carpet, and the walls were decorated with portraits of past heroes. In front of them was a staircase that led down into a basement full of bookshelves and other things, such as weapons and armor.

"Welcome home!" A voice called from above, causing everyone to look up. Standing before them was Queen Ethelda, her face radiant in the glow of flickering candles.

"My love," she breathed, throwing herself into his arms.

He held onto her with a lackluster grip, his body language showing little enthusiasm. His face remained cold and impassive, his eyes dull and lifeless, even as he gazed upon the woman in front of him, who radiated beauty like a blooming flower in the sunlight. Though she was captivating, he could not muster any excitement or warmth towards her.

Ethelda Estmon. Her house holds the reins of power at the fortress of Wintershold, nestled deep within the territory of Wolfenstein. Despite their noble status, they are not blessed with the bloodline of the chosen ruler, and as a result, her brother sits on the throne—a man known for his selfishness and cruelty.

According to ancient custom, in order to prevent their heirs from uniting two great families into one, Lionheart and Wolfenstein made a contract that dictated their children or successors could not marry each other.

Instead, they must wed one of the children from the opposing realm's esteemed nobility, ensuring alliances and strengthening ties between the two powerful houses. This decree stands as a reminder of the long-standing rivalry between Lionheart and Wolfenstein despite their alliances, keeping their relationship on thin ice even in times of peace.

This tradition has been followed faithfully for centuries. The House of Estmon is one of many houses vying for influence in the court of the King, and they seek to use marriage as a political tool, a way to strengthen the family's position in court and ensure its survival against the other great families.

However, the union between the two kingdoms was meant to bring peace and stability, but it only seems to have brought more tension. The strained relations between the two great houses have created a rift that seems impossible to bridge.

Despite the efforts of their leaders, the animosity between their nobles and lords continues to grow. Everyone can feel the tension building, like a storm on the horizon waiting to break. Whispers among the people speak of a looming conflict, fueled by years of simmering resentment. And now, it seems like any small spark could ignite the flames of war.

But the thought of going to battle against a once-close ally weighs heavily on both sides. The consequences of such an outcome would be devastating for all involved. Yet, with tensions rising and trust dwindling, it seems like conflict is inevitable.

Reinhold let out a deep sigh and avoided making eye contact with his wife. He hated this part of their marriage—the forced pleasantries and the unspoken tension between them. "How have you been, My Queen?" he replied stiffly, his words heavy with resentment.

The queen's smile wavered slightly as she registered her husband's lackluster response. "Did your journey go well? Were there any challenges along the way?" She asked, masking her disappointment with polite curiosity.

Reinhard shook his head. "It was nothing out of the ordinary. The weather was fine, and our trip was uneventful. We arrived ahead of schedule, just as we had planned," he stated in a detached manner, unable to hide his conflicted feelings towards their current state of affairs.

Beside him, Larume's body tensed with discomfort as Ethelda's presence loomed over her. Her golden eyes flickered nervously, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

Reinhold noticed her unease, but he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he focused on maintaining a stoic facade in front of his wife, knowing that any vulnerability shown would be used against him.

"That's good to hear." Ethelda's voice was soft, dripping with hidden agendas and ulterior motives. "Now that you're back, we can finally discuss matters regarding the kingdom and its future."

Her sharp gaze bore into Reinhold's skull, searching for any hint of weakness or deceit. But he met her scrutiny with a steely resolve, determined not to let her gain the upper hand in this dangerous game they played.

"Yes, I'd be happy to discuss those things later," he responded dismissively, avoiding direct eye contact with the queen.

But deep down, he knew that their conversation would only lead to more manipulation and betrayal from both sides. He knew what she was after: the throne and the control it held over the realm.

It had always been this way, and he suspected that it would only get worse as the years passed. The constant struggle for power and influence left both of their hearts hardened, leaving them unable to trust anyone but themselves. They were like two lions circling each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move, ready to strike if necessary.

He needed to spend a moment alone with his daughter before facing the treacherous world outside. Gathering his composure, he spoke in a monotone voice, "But now, if you please, my Queen, I must request a moment with my daughter alone."

Ethel's frown deepened into a scowl, but she nodded curtly, her eyes flashing with unspoken threats. "As you wish..." She bowed slightly before turning to leave, her heavy footsteps echoing through the room like impending doom.

 

Larume in her childhood;