Royal Court, Tristinia Royal Palace
It was an empty hall. A large, ancient hall with some of its structures having seen better days. The metal chairs had their sides peeled out in some places and the cushions looked worn out. The windows were large and airy with an old man sitting at the throne.
The king’s back was a little hunched and his shoulder-length white hair was thin at the front of his head. His beard was unkempt and his robe seemed too big for his thin build. He was resting tiredly with his back to the throne and his hands on the armrest. His stare directed towards the door was distant and empty.
Suddenly a man came swaggering in and broke the bleak and depressing atmosphere of the hall. The man was tall and well built. His aura was a little unstable pointing to his recent breakthrough. His dark hair was cut short and he had a long scar on his right cheek. As he got closer to the throne he reined in his aura and bent his knee.
“Your majesty!” He called out respectfully.
“Jorg, good of you to come to meet me.”
“Your majesty, I have something to say regarding-”
“Did the magic stone I gave to you was of any help?” The king interrupted Jorg's words and asked while coughing.
Jorg, a little surprised by the question and the timing of it, had a frown on his face. “… Certainly, your majesty. I have broken through to 6* level.”
“Good, good… You are the most talented awakened warrior of our kingdom, it's good that you have had a breakthrough in your strength. The Goddess will be happy!”
“Yes, your majesty. I have something urgent to-”
“Will you be joining me in my prayers tonight?”
“Your majesty?” Jorg asked, confused at the sudden mention of the royal evening prayers. He had been part of it a number of times and knew that it was a long and tiresome process. He didn’t believe that they had time for such things now.
An army nearly five times their own size was right on their doorsteps, about to attack and raze them to the ground. This was no time for praying and making merry. He instinctively decided to ignore the king's question, though it may seem disrespectful, now was not the time to worry about such unimportant matters.
“Your majesty, would you not reconsider your decision?” Jorg pleaded.
The king didn’t seem to be bothered by the apparent disrespect and spoke in a wheezing voice, “The goddess has already spoken.”
“But, your majesty!” Jorg stood up and raised his voice. “Half the soldiers have deserted our ranks and the ones remaining are too scared to face the enemy. Most of the nobles have defected to enemies' ranks already. Please reconsider, your majesty! There’s still time left to surrender and save ourselves from mass destruction.”
The king sighed and had a bout of coughing attack, when Jorg tried to go help, the king gestured for him to stop. “The goddess spoke to me. This is to be our test. On the other side lies prosperity and happiness. I even heard Rolof's voice, he seems to be happy while staying with the goddess. He seemed really happy…”
Jorg started at the mention of young prince Rolof's name. A young boy with blonde hair, and a cute smile surfaced in his mind. It was quite unfortunate that the young prince passed away in a hunting accident.
“Your majesty-”
“It's time for my rest.” The king said and waved off, signaling for Jorg to leave his presence.
Jorg was crestfallen as he exited the throne room. All his efforts turned out to be for naught. He had failed to convince the king to surrender even at the last moment. He could see that he, along with the rest of the kingdom was headed for doom. He hadn’t abandoned his position and deserted the army because he loved his birthplace, his family, and his job. More than that, he remembered a much different king, one who ruled magnificently and with an iron fist, it was before that incident when young prince Rolof passed away.
“It's not all over. I will have one chance. One chance to kill that arrogant prince of Kylaf and maybe that will be enough. Or at least it would be my revenge!” Jorg muttered to himself with conviction, a steely gaze in his reddened eyes.
