In the dead of night, while the rest of the troops had long gone to sleep and only a few where on guard duty, a mage slipped away from the rest of the troops.
Walking softly, so as to not alert the others if her movements, she moved towards the shadow of a towering tree at the edge of the forest. Her hooded cloak, worn and tattered at the edges, concealed much of her figure, and her dark brown hair, spilled over her eyes, hiding half of her face in the dim of night.
Once she was sure no one could see her, she glanced over her shoulder, confirming the soldiers were too busy attending to their duties around the campfires.
Satisfied, she pressed her back against a large tree and pulled out a small, blue orb from within her cloak, its surface swirling with faint blue magical energy.
She took a deep breath and began to murmur an incantation.
"By the stars that guide the night, by the winds that carry secrets through the dark. I call upon the binding of realms, open the veil and let your voice be heard..."
The orb flickered, glowing a soft azure before it pulsed with mana. A low hum echoed from within, and moments later, a distorted, male voice echoed from it. It was deep and commanding, certainly belonging to a man of high stature.
"Report," the voice demanded.
The mage straightened herself, her voice low as she spoke.
"The battle is over. Nythralis has fallen…"
"The emperor... he survived. Not only that, but he wielded a holy sword—one imbued with divine power. It is believed he has been chosen by the goddess of justice and purity."
There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice returned, this time filled with shock and anger.
"What?"
"Nythralis fell? That's impossible!"
There was a pause, and then the man's tone shifted, growing angrier with each word.
"That fool should be dead by now!"
"Dead!"
"And you're telling me that not only did he survive, but he was wielding a holy sword?"
"Chosen by a goddess?"
"Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?"
"If you think you can play games with me girl you are going to regret it."
The mage's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the rising frustration from the man she was speaking to. "I saw it with my own eyes. The beast struck, but the emperor cut through its flesh as if its scales were nothing."
"The soldiers were in awe. They believe he is destined for something greater now."
The man replied in anger, "Destined... destined for what? To rule unchecked?"
"To disrupt our plans? We had everything perfectly aligned, and now this fool is anointed by the gods?"
The mage's grip on the orb tightened, her knuckles white. "It seems the empire has gained a powerful leader. Some of the soldiers are rallying behind him, believing him to be invincible."
The voice on the other side went silent for a moment, then returned with a calm, darker tone.
"No matter. We'll adjust. The capital is still within reach, and if the emperor is indeed chosen, then we'll have to find a... different approach. There is always a way to rid this world of something."
"Even if he may now be a saint."
"Saints have fallen many times before."
"He will be no different."
The mage's brow furrowed as she listened, her eyes glinting. "What do you intend to do?"
"You just keep your eyes on him," the voice instructed. "Stay close and report anything else you observe. It will take you all at least two more days to reach the capital, correct?"
"Yes, two days at most."
"Good," the voice continued, now calmer but still simmering with malice.
"We'll move our pieces accordingly. The emperor may have the favor of a goddess, but even divine blessings can falter. Keep me informed, and do not interfere unless absolutely necessary."
The mage nodded, though the man couldn't see her. "Understood. I'll be ready."
"Make sure you are," the voice concluded, the orb's glow dimming as the connection ended.
The mage exhaled softly, her heart still pounding from the conversation. She slipped the orb back into her cloak and leaned against the tree, staring out at the distant campfires where her comrades laughed and healed. Their fate now rested on the whims of unseen powers.
…
As dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Emperor Arkanos and his weary forces mounted their horses, preparing for the long journey home from the outskirts of the Darkwood Forest.
The capital of the Valtor Empire was approximately 120 miles to the south, and despite their exhaustion and the lingering effects of battle, they were determined to arrive in two days, no matter the obstacles.
After making their way through the treacherous marshlands, battling fierce storms, and fending off lurking mountain wolves, Emperor Arkanos and his forces reached the edge of the Valtor Empire, just 30 miles from their capital.
The had passed through noble territories such as the once lush land of Windspire and the once fertile fields of Greenvale. The noble checkpoints, recognizing their emperor and his forces, granted them immediate passage, but the sight Arkanose saw on his way back made him see the effect of the previous emperor's tyranny.
Excessive taxation on the lower classes, neglect of agricultural support, and failure to address the needs of the populace. Had reduced both to a sorry state.
The lush forests had withered, with crops barely clinging to life in cracked fields. Farmers and villagers, clothed in tattered rags, gathered in small groups by the side of the road, their hollow eyes tracking the emperor's march.
Their faces were gaunt with hunger, their expressions vacant, as if they had long since accepted their suffering. They dared not approach, but their silent gazes spoke volumes—pleas for relief, and unspoken fear.
Arkanos rode through these lands in silence, his expression tightening as he witnessed the devastation. The neglect of the land, the abject poverty of its people, gnawed at him.
How had the empire fallen so far? The tyranny of the former emperor—was heavier with every step forward. He thought silently...
'What kind of monster was the previous emperor?'
The emperor's brow furrowed, and though he said nothing, the darkness in his eyes clearly displayed of his deep displeasure.
He couldn't shake the thought of what it would take to right these wrongs. His grip tightened on the reins of his horse, he hardened his resolve.
'No matter, now that I am in control I'll make things right.'
As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the land, the capital of the Valtor Empire came into view.
The towering walls of the city stood stark against the horizon, flags flying proudly at their peaks.
The imperial standard—two silver dragons intertwined, breathing fire into the sky, against a black and crimson background—flapped in the wind, a symbol of the empire's power.
Arkanos paused, his gaze lingering on the distant walls and the flags that fluttered above them.
He felt a sense of unease gnawing at him. The empire was his now, but the sight of it filled him with a touch of pride.
Noticing his momentary pause, the knight Captain, Seraphine, approached. Her armor gleamed faintly in the setting light.
"My lord," she said, her tone soft, "You seem troubled."
'Troubled? I was just taking in the view... But I guess it would be better to play along.'
Arkanos waited for a moment before turning to face her, "It saddens me to see the empire in such a sorry state. Nearly brought to ruin under my leadership, I can't help but wonder what I was thinking."
'Yes, what was Arkanos thinking.'
"Although it is true I have turned a new leaf, I fear my people he long since lost faith in me."
"So it will take considerable effort on on my part to make this empire great again."
"I know you carry a heavy burden." Seraphine continued, "You may have made mistakes in the past, but I believe in you. You have the strength to change the future—for all of us."
Her words struck a chord deep within him. Arkanos turned to her, touched by her loyalty and faith. He offered her a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Seraphine. Your words mean more than you know."
Gathering his soldiers around him, Arkanos addressed them, his voice strong despite the weariness in his bones. "We return home today, but let us not forget the price of victory. A celebration will be held for the fallen, and graves will be built in their honor. We shall remember their sacrifice. Me they forever remain in our hearts."
"Now, let us return home."