The walk from the gate to the square in front of the palace was not a long one, but for Agathor and the thousands of other Hatalian warriors, it seemed to take an age.

Once all the warriors had filled up the square, the drums and trumpets ceased, and from a balcony in the palace, an elderly man covered in elegant garbs and wearing a magnificent golden crown appeared.

"Eternal glory to His Majesty the King!"

"Eternal glory to His Majesty the King!"

All in attendance bowed and chanted in unison.

The man was Guthor II, the King of Hatalia. Accompanying him, two steps behind, was his wife, the Queen Consort Irene. And by his side was a handsome young man and a beautiful young lady, namely the Crown Prince Enrik and the Princess Marianne.

Despite commanding authority as their King, it was hard for the eyes of the warriors to not wander to Marianne. Especially so for Agathor. It had been four months since he had last since her, not since Marianne had snuck out of the palace to meet with Agathor before he was to return to the frontlines.

While he had grown more scarred and worn, she had become more radiant and beautiful, he thought. As his mind wandered, his eyes followed, and he soon found himself locking eyes with Marianne. The faintest smirk, repressed but there, animated her face.

Agathor's stupor was soon interrupted by the King's declaration.

"My good men, rise!"

He paused, waiting for them to rise, before continuing.

"No amount of thanks or honour or reward could ever repay the debt we all owe to you brave heroes. If I could wrap you all in the finest silks from Gravik and fill your pockets with gold and silver, I most certainly would."

A hush came over the crowd. The King continued.

"Fortunately, I am the King."

As if on cue, the grand doors beneath the balcony that opened up to the courtyard swung open, revealing the interior of the palace. From within swarmed dozens and dozens of servants carrying chests and baskets filled with fine silks of all colours and a great many coins.

The King resumed.

"And I can do just that".

Gasps echoed from among the crowd. They could never have expected such generosity, especially given the troubles that plagued all of Oros since the Great Demonic Host's arrival. But they certainly would not complain.

The King continued his speech, applauding the deeds of his men and reiterating his joy. At the conclusion of his speech, before his servants divided up the rewards among the soldiers.

He then called on the heroes, Agathor and Gatmore, as well as a few other distinguished warriors, to join him in his throne room in the palace.

Those men who were called upon quickly shuffled into the palace and waited for the King and his entourage to return from the balcony. The wait was not long, as soon the King, Queen, Crown Prince and Princess entered and took their seats.

Agathor and the others bowed.

"Your Majesty!"

King Guthor waved away the gesture and spoke.

"Rise, heroes."

"You might perhaps be wondering why I have called you in here to meet with me. Or perhaps you are not. In any case, the reason is simple: I wish to honour your exceptional service in a special manner. If any of you have any request of me, I shall see it done."

Upon hearing this, Gatmore straightened in anticipation and Agathor stirred. This did not go unnoticed by the Guthor.

"First, I shall ask you, Agathor the Gallant, the man who cut off the head of the monstrous Demon King, what is it that you desire?"

Agathor hesitated. He had waited for this moment half his life and now it was within his reach. He had battled the Great Demonic Host and slew the Demon King. He was one of the mightiest humans in all of Oros. And yet here he was, scared of an old man with a gold hat.

Fighting his nerves, Agathor raised his head and held up the satchel in his hand that held the head of the Demon King.

"Your Majesty, in my hand rests the head of that foul creature. I have kept it by my side till now and I offer it to you."

As he finished speaking, an attendant came and fearfully collected the satchel.

"As for my reward..."

Agathor then turned to look at Marianne. Her face gave little away, but her eyes told Agathor all he needed to know.

"...I seek no gold from your treasury nor land from your domain. Instead, I ask for something more precious to me than the whole of Oros."

The King raised an eyebrow.

"Your Majesty, I humbly request for Princess Marianne's hand in marriage."

Silence lingered in the air for a moment.

It was not that Agathor was unqualified for Marianne's hand, but the suddenness of the proposal managed to catch seemingly everyone by surprise.

Princess Marianne had gone flush. Her face was now covered by her hands. As for the King, he simply lent back in his throne and spoke.

"I had expected as much. My darling Marianne, is this something you also want?"

Recovering her composure, Marianne raised her head and responded ecstatically.

"Father, I have dreamt of this moment for so many years. Now it is upon me it is hard to put into words how much I truly want this. Yes, yes, truly yes."

The King smiled.

"Well, Agathor the Gallant, there is your answer. Your wish is granted. There are certainly worse things for a son-in-law than the saviour of the world."

Agathor and Marianne beamed with joy as they stared at each other while hearing the King's words.

The King then ran his gaze across the other awardees, his eyes narrowing.

"You two may excuse yourselves now if you so wish. I am sure you miss each other dearly after having not seen each other for what has to be at least three months now. After all, I am a just King not a tyrant."

Both Agathor and Marianne felt a cold sweat run down their backs with the recognition that their clandestine activities had not been so hidden from the King after all.

"Thank you, father."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

While ordinarily, Agathor would have liked to stay in the throne room to be there when his brothers-in-arms received their awards, he now wanted nothing more than to hold his fiancee in his arms. And to escape the King's sight.

And so, the couple quickly exited the still shocked room, embracing deeply as soon as they had closed the door behind them, before making their way to Marianne's chambers hand-in-hand. As they left, the King continued on.

"Now, Gatmore, what is it that you desire?"

Gatmore opened his mouth but could give no answer.

Shock, disappointment and anger coloured his face.