The Kingdom of Salae was in a time of internal prosper. Since the disappearance of Lester Tayler, one of the few powers who could rival the Royals, legislation and decrees have been created, polished, and minted before outer villages even received word of the new changes. Countless villages and peasant chiefs swarmed to Salae to make their worries known. Many of the new laws were created without the forethought of the common man. It was apparent to the well-informed that Royals, and their most trusted advisor, were only making new laws because they could.

The Royals and in subsequence, their cabinet, did not care. They had longingly been searching for ways to end Lester’s seat of power. For close to a century, they sent [Assassins], [Poison Masters], [Trap Weavers], and even incredibly high-level monsters in hopes to off Lester. But each time his level grew higher and his renown with his city grew. [King] Tobyn Salae would never admit it but Lesterwood, if it continued to grow, would hold more power than Salae ever could. With the disappearance of Lester, however, his spies have already informed him of the lack of direction the city is falling into. Now was the time for Salae to take back control of the continent Salarin.

Peasant uprisings were something [King] Tobyn had lived through multiple times in his long tenured reign. There was the Massacre of the Guards that had sparked outrage some 300 years ago. Hundreds protested outside the castle gates only to be turned away when the harsh blizzards of winter arrived. The Slave Insurrection at the end of the Leshnin Period had caused the King many headaches, but with new laws the hostilities calmed. The most brutal, and deadly, was Geeoff’s Uprising. It was a simple tale of unsafe working conditions and low pay but the leader, Geeoff, escalated things into murder. Countless died in the of Uprising Geeoff. Hundreds of businesses failed. Salae’s coin value fell, thus causing many to starve. [King] Tobyn remembered vividly the smirk Geeoff gave him right before his decapitation.

The current outrage would die just like the Massacre of the Guards. Winter was fast approaching, and the outlying villages would only be able to travel for so long. It was an almost perfect time for Salae. Lester gone, Lesterwood’s fall, peace with other neighboring cities, taxes adding to the pockets of every [Noble] in Salae… The only issue was the reports coming out of Esmel. And the [King] and [Queen’s] missing daughter. Of course.

Esmel’s trade had, for a long while, been an important part of Salae’s economy. It was sad to say, but with Esmel’s current situation, Salae was going to suffer. The information the Royals were basing their estimates from, however, was out of date. Their spies in Esmel had been sending a constant flow of messages and updates about the city. The knew of Vast Empires revival, the team lead by Madam Veline, and the appearance of the one-armed mage. Their spies had been adamant that the leaders of Esmel, the [Arbors], were weak. They had no finesse when it comes to handling any real situation and, in the spies’ opinion, saw Esmel as a city to conquer.

But as of 10 days ago, all information had been cut from Esmel. There were no spy updates, no calls for help from the [Arbors], no news from [Merchants] or [Caravan Leaders] who braved the journey to the dead city. Could the city have fallen? Is anyone alive? Questions were asked all thought the continent. No one knew, and that was what caused so many to be fearfull. The last time this had happened was with the old Dwarven capital. One day a city, the next a tomb.

“That’s why we should send scouts! Two independent parties under orders to only view the city from afar.” Shouted a dark-skinned man who sported a large unkept mustache.

Shouts and cries of argument and outrage sounded from the rounded table. A frail old woman banged her hand gently on the large oak table. The sound pierced though the onslaught of voices clear as a cloudless day. The man next to her rolled his eyes as the rest of the room silenced and looked to the head of the table.

“That is enough.” The [Queen] spoke calmly. “Two parties of no more than four each will be sent tomorrow at dawn. They will take the Spatial Gates under the pretext of Salae worrying about Esmel. They will be under diplomatic orders and thus will be fine.”

The man with the large mustache smiled softly at the frail woman.

“Next!” Roared the elderly man sitting besides the woman. “What is this I read about a…” He turned to look at the report in front of him, “One-armed mage?”

“Ah! That’s me!” Squeaked a young, female, feathered Beastkin. “I-I compiled every report that our people in Esmel sent up. The mage, male, is apart of Veline’s team from Lesterwood. He lost his arm in the battle where Buzluc allegedly died. But his renown through the city comes from him speaking out against a captain of the guard about its low-moral updates. He then introduced [Arbor] Honeygreen.”

“Honeygreen? He actually spoke?” A woman wearing all black asked.

“Yes ma’am. He spoke about his failure of being a leader and a promise to be better.”

“Interesting… Last time I spoke to him he seemed… depressed.” The [King] gave a thought look. “Alright, this one-armed mage. Any information about who he is, other than being tied to Lesterwood and Veline?”

“No sir.”

“Alright. Keep an ear out for any more whispers or rumors. Maybe we could persuade him to join Salae.”

“Yes sir. I will Sir.” The Beastkin said, sitting down.

“Next!” The [King] roared again. “The outlying villagers are asking for an audience again?”

“Yes.” A very tall bipetal frogman said. “The have submitted a list of discussion topics, if you’d like to see them.” His voice croaked with each ‘d’ sound.

“Yes, Un’po, Thank you.”

The [King] read through the small parchment before giving it to his wife. The two Royals regarded each other before the [Queen] gave a small shrug.

“Very well.” The [King] spoke. “Set a meeting for three days’ time. Something in the late afternoon.”

“Yes Sir.” The frogman said before sitting down.

“Next…” The [King] said with a disgruntled face. “Has anyone found my daughter?”

Small grumbles were made though the large room. Everyone seemed to look away from the [King]. Some were embarrassed while others were fearful. The [King] intentionally let the uncomfortable silence linger for many moments.

“I see.” The [King] finally said. “We will spend a favor with The Prophet of the Mountain then.”

“Jell.” The [Queen] spoke. “I want you leading a small team to The Prophet. Do. Not. Disappoint.” She layered mana on her last few words, in hopes to get the point across.

“Yes my [Queen]!” Jell quickly strode out into the castle proper.

A knock sounded from the opened door causing all heads to turn. A small Human male stood slightly slouched and completely out of breath.

“Sire!” The man shouted. “I have an emergency report!”

“Very well, bring it here.” King Tobyn said.

The report was rather long and written in such away for easy mass production. The [King] had read millions of reports over his time in power and it took merely a glace to recognize that this letter had multiple delivery points. Meaning that it was an emergency report that all of Salarin would soon know of.

As the [King] read the report, his scruffy grey eyebrow slowly raised higher and higher. To the dismay of the [Queen], the report’s subject matter seemed to be important enough that multiple reads were needed. Finally, he passed the parchment to his dear, patient wife. Her eyebrows raised in a similar matter.

“Well?” Asked a man who was nearest the King and Queen. Normally such blatant disrespect would be reprimanded but the man who spoke held a special position within the court. Viclear was King Tobyn’s younger brother and his most trusted advisor.

“Veline of Lesterwood and her team have confirmed that Mallor Henbar and Buzluc of Vast Empire are dead. They have the death boxes along. Mallor, prior to his death, set off a horde of undead decades in the making. The [Arbors] of Esmel have enacted a Thorn Wall of Everlasting Growth spell. It is unknown when the dome will fall, but the city has provision and enough [Farmers] and [Plant Mages] to grow their own food for years, if needed.”

Murmurs sounded from the table, echoing of the vaulted ceiling, and falling into inaudible squandering. The King allowed such noise to take place as he leaned in close to his wife. They discussed, briefly, the matter towards the end of the report. Their private conversation ended with a sharp nod from the Queen causing the King to sigh.

“Also.” The [King] said after silence fell over the room. “A call for the Coalition has been sound by Mayor Symer Silverjewl of Lesterwood and Veline, the Shadow’s Deluge.”

A warranted groan sounded from the cabinet.

“It is by my decree that Salae will be present. I think this will be a wonderful task for Eden. Don’t you, my love?” King Tobyn asked Queen Evelynn.

With a long and exaggerated sigh, the Queen nodded. “I shall travel with him, however. I don’t fully trust him after the last outing he had.”

“You cannot be serious!” Exclaimed the King’s brother. “Send me if you must! But not the boy!”

“You will hold your tongue Viclear!” The [King] snapped, imbuing his words with power.

The table went into a shocked silence. No one dared even breath as the two brothers stared at each other.

“All-“ Began Viclean, “I am saying… Is that this is a very important matter. Eden is no suited for this kind of thing.”

“He is almost a century and a half old!” The King retorted, “I am not going to live forever! He needs to learn!”

“Why not start with a simpler job? He can talk to the villagers tomorrow! The Coalition will chew him up and make us look like fools!”

The King seemed to think over his brother’s statements carefully. He trusted his brother with his life, something he could not say about for many others. His mind, however, kept slipping back to Bella. He could feel responsible for her disappearance. If he gave her more attention, or assisted her in her studies… Maybe she wouldn’t have left. But then again, he had to worry about a whole kingdom. He had to make decisions that could cause life to be lost on a daily basis. He had to, for that was his duty as [King]. Bella’s disappearance was one of many mistakes in his life, and he was not going to make the same mistake a second time.

Was it wise for him to send his son, the same son that has never shown one ounce of readiness to take the throne? The same son who would rather spend his days -and nights for that matter- drinking in a dive bar like some lowly commoner? Sharing his bed with any wench who knew of his title? He would much rather send his eldest daughter, Alia, but alas, Eden was the eldest and the one to inherit the title as King and the class [King]. Or maybe there was another option.

“I will meet with the Coalition along with Eden and Alia.” The [King] finally announced, shocking the everyone in the room.

The Queen quickly leaned over and whispered, not as a Queen but as a wife, “Are you sure? You remember what Healer Wynnir said? You shouldn’t take any more trips…”

“I’ll make this my last one. I agree with Viclean. Eden is not ready for the crown. Hopefully bringing Alia with us will-“

“-Will cause Eden to realize his dismay?”

“As cunning as the day, I met you.” The King spoke.

“Oh please.” Purred the Queen.

“Send word that Salae will be at the Coalition. We leave in three months’ time.” The [King] directed.

And with that the gears of the world began to move.

The [King] slowly made his way down the long and cold hallways. He was flanked by his personal bodyguard and younger brother, Viclean. It had been many years since he had been down this particular hallway, ever since the downfall of Vast Empire. The hallways looked like any normal hallway. It was made of white marble with common stone trim. Small tables housed many potted plants or vases of blooming flowers. Large red and gold rugs with depictions of the Legendary Beasts of old, lined the perfectly flat floor.

One might say that the hallway looked like that of any other wing in the castle, but only those who had walked to the far end would know the true secret. Hundreds of thousands of wards and protection runes were drawn ever so lightly into the foundation of the marble and stone. Every table was strategically placed to house complex mana intersections, allowing every single mana line to be interconnected and stationary. The potted plants and flowers were specially bred to be mutated and highly deadly. The hallway was a death trap for any who did not have special access.

The hallway led to a spiral staircase that led down deep. Hundreds of steps were torture to the King’s old bones, but he pushed through knowing the person down below was incredibly important. The bright and fake decorum turned to dark and decrepit. The marble was replaced by reinforced steel and stone. The rugs and vibrant plants were replaced with iron shackles and locks. Rods of a dark red material eventually protruded from the ground to the ceiling. The stares had ended, and the King and his entourage stood before the most secure dungeon in all of Salarin.

The King walked by a few empty cells, a few with skeletons and a few with ghastly creatures that charged the rods they were trapped behind. It was dark memories as the King walked through memory lane. He remembered all of the prisoners. He remembered being proud a few were caught. He remembered the feeling of guilt and hatred when a few failed experiments were locked away. He hated this jail and everything it stood for.

At the far end sat the largest cage. Inside was only a man. Once Human, the man had longed for immortality. He eventually found it but was quickly captured and locked away for centuries. He has sort of become somewhat of a legend on Nava. The man who could not die. The man who lived through Divine punishment. The man who killed millions to live forever.

The man was currently gnawing on his wrist. His hand laid a few meters way covered in dust and dirt. Two bones stuck out of his dismembered arm, sharpened, and almost polished.

The King watched as the man slowly, and painfully, tried to carve into the red rods that held him in. A solid crack sounded through the dungeon and the man was sent flying. He slammed hard into the wall causing another crack to sound. The man did not move for many minutes, but soon black mist started dissolving off of the man’s independent hand. It disappeared as the man slowly slouched into a sitting position. The man stretched his back, popping the miss aligned bones back into place. With a sickening squelch, a new hand appeared on the man’s wrist.

“Mallor Henbar is dead.” The King announced.

“Who?” The man asked through an infrequently used voice.

“Oh. Right. He was after your time.” The King scratched his check. “A member of that organization you founded. You remember? Or did the years take away your memory?”

“I remember.” The man grumbled. “How could I forget the reason I am to remain in this cursed room.”

“You remember the murders then? Ready to serve your penance, is that it?” The King scoffed.

“You know I am.” The man said simply.

“Indeed, you are… Why is Vast Empire making a comeback? They were gone! Left to the winds!”

“How am I supposed to know? I have been in this cage for a long time. Or is your memory failing you, old man?”

The King let out a mighty laugh, to the dismay of his companions. “No one has called me old man in years. The last one had his hands broken by my guard. But no. I remember quite well. I remember the first time I saw you. I was merely a teenager. A baby even. But you! But you had already been here for years! Tell me, how old are you really? I know you have had many names throughout all of history, what was your name before my father captured you?”

It was the man’s turn to laugh. But his expression quickly turned serious. “I will answer why the Empire is back if you still adhere to your promise.”

“And which promise was that?” The King turned to his brother. “Maybe I am losing my memory.”

“You promised to find a way to kill me. Permanently.” The man looked at the man with such longing eyes. One’s not of Human or of monster, but of something else.

“Oh right. Your God, Ikzag, abandoned you. Have you been praying to Ofes? I think that was my advice last time I was down here.”

“Ofes?” The man spit.

“Charming.” The King sighed. “I promise I am still looking for a way to kill you.”

The man stared at the King. He stood up from his sitting position and slowly walked to the red rods. The bodyguard of the King stepped forward, but the King help up his hand.

“Ikzag always makes a big deal of new arrivals. The answer is simple as to why the Empire is resurrecting. There is a new one.”

“A new one of what? A new God?” The King asked.

“A God?” The man laughed but suddenly stopped and in a deadly cold voice said, “A new Lost One.”