Chapter 1: Death of a King

The king has died and Dorlas must face his destiny.

Chapter 1: Death of a King

Dorlas paced back and forth, his mother Celebrain sat down on a nearby seat. Dorlas was taller than the average Centurion, he had long brown hair, and he was clean shaven and had green eyes. His mother was a little shorter with long golden locks and bright blue eyes, in those eyes her age was clear but she was still a beauty among her people.  They had been waiting for hours, the fate of a kingdom hanged in the balance.

A door opened, an aged healer stood out. Dorlas stopped pacing and looked at the healer.

“Well? Is he alright?” he asked afraid of what the answer would be.

“I’m sorry my lord” the healer said “We did all we could but your father, the king, has passed from this realm.”

Dorlas didn’t know what to say, he looked towards his mother but she was silent. Dorlas stepped into the room; he rarely came into his parent’s bed-room. His father lied on the bed; he was in white robes his crown on the bed side table. He had a peaceful look on his face, as if he was content with his life. The king’s death was still a mystery, he had returned from a trip to Thardul when he suddenly struck ill. No amount of medicine helped as the king slowly died from the mysterious disease.  

“Father.” Said Dorlas looking away from his father’s pale face, instead his gaze drifted to the gold and black sheath that lied next to his father, the ruby studded pommel shone as if beckoning him to claim the blade. His mother stepped through the door and stood next to him and sensed where his gaze lied.

“You’re not ready to bare that blade, my dear” she said, “But one day you shall claim it and the armies of many races will be at your back.”

Dorlas didn’t know what to make of those words, his mother was often cryptic with her visions. He stared at his father’s blade; it was a blade of legend. It was crafted by King Aedan II too combat the troll armies, it was made out of meteoric iron and forged under an eclipse. Dorlas’ father wielded the blade to end the Dragon War that ravaged north-eastern Medion some thirty years ago.

Narda was the stage for this war, hundreds of dragons from Drakehavne wreaked havoc. The Nardions would’ve all died if it wasn’t for King Aratan who led three whole legions into the Great Desert all the way to Argus to fight the fire-breathing monsters. In the end Aratan slew the leader of the dragons with the very blade Dorlas now looked upon.

Although it was a great victory there were great losses, losses from which the Legion has yet to recover from. But now with peace there have been dark tidings from the north, orc raids have become more regular and calculated and sightings of other darker creatures have spread throughout the land. With evil stirring, many had looked to King Aratan’ guidance and aid, and ambassadors, emissaries, nobles and other representatives had gathered to his side upon hearing of his ailment. But now he was dead, and Centuria was without a ruler.

Dorlas watched as Celebrain gently kissed her husband, and then said “Farewell Aratan, my knight and my lover. Though your death came too soon, may you live on in the halls of your fathers and guide us as we wander this world without you.”

She turned to Dorlas.

“We should go and inform the Council.”

Dorlas nodded his head and followed his mother on what would be his longest walk.

Author's Note

Co-written by Last King Caradin.

Reviews

[Last King Caradin]

There are occasional lapses where you drift between tenses. I don't know whether this is a deliberate choice, but I'd stick to one tense or the other. Nonetheless, a very interesting beginning. Can't wait for more

[Captain Rex]

Thanks, yeah I didn't mean for different tenses. I'll get the next bit up soon.