Chương 9: The Kingdom of Valeron

The Kingdom of Valeron was the largest in the world. It stretched across more than sixteen million square kilometers, was home to over ninety million people, and possessed an army renowned for its discipline, order, and ferocity. It was ruled by House Hawk, which had sat upon the throne for centuries. The current sovereign, King Oliver, was only twenty years old: light brown hair, green eyes, a neatly groomed beard and a body weighed down by excess and indulgence. A young king, yet already weary.

Valeron was engaged in a crucial war against a powerful coalition formed by the people of the Southern Lands and those of the Central Lands. With each passing day, the Kingdom lost more territory, and with it, its stability. Oliver sat at the table with his most trusted advisors. To his right was his mother, Teresa, thirty-six years old, with long curly brown hair, green eyes and a vigilant gaze.

Facing him sat his younger brother Oscar, seventeen years old, with the same hair and eye color, but an athletic build and a rigid, nervous posture. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Your Majesty", said Serjey, a bald advisor with a thick beard, "numerous witnesses report having seen mages and other anomalous creatures fighting among the coalition's ranks. They could be mercenaries. That would explain why we are losing so many territories: our soldiers are not fighting only human beings". Oliver spoke with his mouth still full.

"Mages and strange creatures?" he scoffed.

"You don't truly believe such nonsense, do you, Serjey?" Teresa slightly tilted her head.

"And what if the rumors are true, my dear?" Oliver finished eating and wiped his lips.

"Until I see it with my own eyes, I won't believe it. Send reinforcements to the southern regions. And dispatch the Golden Knights as well". A murmur spread across the hall.

"The Golden Knights?" asked Karl, an advisor with an extremely long beard.

"Are you certain, Your Majesty?"

"Absolutely certain. Send them at once", Oliver said, rising from his seat with a yawn.

"Now I'm going to sleep. This whole matter has tired me". Oscar stared at his mother with a look full of disappointment, then abruptly stood and left the hall without saying a word. Meanwhile, in the southern lands, among deserts and rocks split apart by the blazing sun, a massacre was unfolding. The soldiers of Valeron fought and were slaughtered. A very tall man walked among the corpses. He wore a black tunic, his face partly hidden beneath the shadow of a hood. One eye was milky white, the other icy blue.

Small white flames were born from his hands. He hurled them at the soldiers. Upon contact, their bodies exploded into a rain of blood and bones. The man lowered his hood, revealing long white hair falling over his shoulders. He looked around, observing what remained of the battlefield.

"Humans…" he murmured.

"So fragile". Then he cast more flames and more men exploded. The war had chosen its side, and it was not Valeron's.