The Fallen Kingdom (1)
Axel carefully picked his way through the fog, moving away from the forest and the plains, through trampled fields that used to house crops and crumbling villages that used to be lively and bright, towards where his memory said a castle stood. Tall walls protected a huge town and a massive bright palace, with farmland stretching into the distance and bright flags waving from every steeple. Axel let out a long sigh. Draiken had kept him in his little underground home for quite a while, chattering on about weapons and things that Axel wasn't particularly interested in. Luckily, Draiken had fed Axel some raw meat and random plants from the forest (then looked really confused when Axel engulfed the meat in white fire to cook it), otherwise Axel would have been both hungry and bored. In fact, Axel could barely remember anything Draiken said. His brain seemed to automatically tune him out whenever Draiken started rambling. His mind kept flashing to an image of a tall, well-built man with a light-hearted manner of speech who kept rambling on the same way Draiken did.
Except worse.
Whoever it was in Axel's memories was far more annoying than Draiken. When Axel heard Draiken's rambles, it was like a parent listening to their child talk about their day. Axel wasn't really paying attention, and was instead enjoying how happy Draiken looked. Something about a small dragon going on and on about random things amused him. But when the figure in Axel's memories appeared, pure annoyance would well up inside his chest.
Dimly in the distance, a loud bang interrupted his thoughts, as if the air itself had exploded somewhere across the mountains. The sound was so dim that Axel could barely make it out, but the echoing of the sound through the forest and across the relatively flat plains managed to reach his ears, breaking him out of his thoughts as he passed through the small wood and stone outer city and arrived at the castle gates, towering over the ruined houses and dirt paths in a silent vigil.
Looks like I'm here now. Let's see what my memories have in store for this place.
Axel looked up at the castle walls looming through the mist. The once-proud and sturdy architecture was beginning to crumble. Various dents in the even masonry, the crumbling arched gateway, and the violently bent and broken gate were evidence that the castle had long since fallen. As Axel stepped over the shattered portcullis that had been cleanly sliced open and left in pieces on the stone ground, he drew his sword slowly and began to move forwards steadily. He passed through the massive collapsed gates that had been torn off their hinges into the inner city.
The houses almost immediately shifted from wood and stone structures to mainly stone, with sturdier and taller structures. The street turned from dirt and brick to light gray stone lined. If not for the fact that it was all in ruins, Axel would have noted the extreme wealth disparity that the buildings showed. Tall, three-story houses with shops on the ground floor had their windows smashed in, doors ripped off their hinges, holes blown through their sturdy stone walls, and debris scattered throughout their interiors. The once-smooth road was littered with craters, rubble, and the remains of soldiers and civilians who fled in vain from a onslaught long since past.
Axel picked his way over piles of bones, torn clothes that had long since lost their color and shine, damaged swords, shields, and spears, and dented metal armor that had long since lost its sheen, carrying the crest of a faded yellow sun rising over a dull field. Axel found himself frowning sadly at the sight as he bent down to retrieve a sheath from a corpse. It was a little too long for his sword, but it would do better than how he had been thrusting it into his belt. Axel let out a long sigh as he looked at the remains of the soldier. The corpse was not rotting - by some strange phenomenon, none of the corpses were. There was no smell of death or blood. The wounds on the bodies had dried up. The blood splattered around on the stone road had faded to faint stains. The corpses themselves had shriveled up, as if drained of all life by some unseen force. Further up the road, Axel could see the number of corpses diminish greatly. Axel followed the trail through the city, inwards for a length of time he didn't dare to estimate before arriving at the palace gates. A mountain of soldiers who must have been defending the palace lay en masse amidst the devastation that was the scars of battle.
Axel's body moved involuntarily, standing perfectly still and bowing his head in a quiet salute towards the brave souls who defended the city with their lives. He closed his eyes and let the faint whistle of the wind through the fog and fallen buildings wash over him.
Axel opened his eyes and buckled the sheath he was holding to his belt, sheathing his sword in one smooth movement. He stepped past the corpses and walked into the palace. Images began to appear in his mind's eye, overlapping with reality.
A bright stone tile courtyard with a tall and proud fountain, lined with neatly trimmed hedges. Bright flowers and arches of vines creating a path through the gardens at the edges of the courtyard and wrapping around the palace.
A cracked courtyard with a fountain that had stopped flowing long ago. Dying hedges and withered flowers. Wilted vines falling down on the path through the once-majestic garden.
A magnificent gold-trimmed wooden gate leading into the palace, framed by tall Corinthian pillars and gradually ascending stairs that gave the palace a sense of majesty.
A gate that had long since lost its luster surrounded by half-broken pillars and shattered stairs.
A lavish royal hall with a bright green and gold carpet, banners with the royal crest hanging on every pillar, armored soldiers standing guard on either side of the king's walk, a tall and extravagant throne standing on the far end seating a tall and proud man holding a long, elegant spear.
A long and tall hallway with a tattered grayed carpet, ripped banners hanging lopsidedly from broken pillars, a floor scattered with rubble, and a throne that survived the onslaught, covered in dust, with the royal crown sitting in the center of the seat, basking in the fading light of a dead kingdom.
Axel let out a long breath as he reached the throne and grabbed at his chest with his left hand. His chest was tightening, aching with a phantom pain. He gritted his teeth against the pain and bowed his head. Voices began to clamor in his head. Indistinguishable voices filled with emotion. Hope, excitement, slyness, happiness, and doubt filled the air. Words of encouragement, expectation, and debate washed over him. Eyes full of skepticism, wonder, pride, and admiration gazed at him. Axel tightly gripped the hilt of his sword with his right hand.
"What- who are you people?" he growled.
In the midst of his incoherent thoughts, he heard a voice speak clearly. A familiar voice which Axel couldn't put a name to.
"Hey, everyone be quiet for a sec, 'kay?"
Axel looked up. He was standing the middle of the extravagant royal hall which he always felt out of place in, in front of the royal throne. On it was King Creon, a powerfully built man with brown hair that had started to gray, piercing green eyes, and a neatly trimmed brown beard that screamed authority and dignity. On his head was a majestic golden crown that despite its richness, still maintained a somewhat modest and clean look. He wore a gray military uniform with green trim and gold designs, and held an elegant golden spear that gave off a powerful aura. At his side, a little behind the throne, Axel knew stood the king's two sons and one daughter in similar clothing - rich, befitting their status, yet practical. Although he couldn't see them for the shadow that seemed to cover the edges of his mind, he knew that they were preparing to go into the garden and train for the afternoon.
Axel looked around. Next to the king, he could make out a royal advisor with slicked-back hair and an overwhelmingly neat appearance. Royal soldiers in golden plate armor lined the hall behind him, but none stood at the king's side. None were strong enough to stand at the king's side.
Axel looked to his right. Standing there leisurely in a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers that looked about as out of place as a cow in a banquet, was a man who was tall enough to make Axel feel short, and muscular enough to make Axel feel weak. His blue eyes that were clearly not taking anyone seriously were framed with light brown hair and a cheery face that Axel wanted to punch. The only thing that didn't seem out of place about him were the two wickedly curved, glowing blue daggers that he had thrust into his belt.
"Kyle," Axel hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't do anything stupid."
Kyle just gave him a look that said "I know what I'm doing."
"Do not speak so insolently in front of the king," the advisor commanded.
"Shut it, man, I ain't talking to you," Kyle said, turning to the king and continuing his rebellious attitude before the advisor's reddened face could spout whatever angry words that were threatening to explode out of his mouth.
"Oi, king man. So you're saying that you want us to be your royal guards since we ever-so-nicely beat up all your soldiers in that practice match, yeah?"
Axel's face twitched briefly in amusement, but he didn't dare show it. Kyle loved pulling out an excess of slang he picked up from random people on the street when someone else was trying to take things seriously and formally. The effect was almost always the other bursting out in anger and accusations of "Are you mocking me!?" The king held out a hand to silence the advisor, who was clearly about to explode at Kyle's informal speech, unbefitting the majestic hall in which they stood. His face maintained a serious and dignified air, but his eyes were sparking with amusement.
His deep voice reverberated throughout the hall despite its size. "That's right."
"And you're offering us a place to live at the palace in return."
The king nodded. "Correct."
"And here's where you lost me," Kyle said, "Everyone here's going on and on about how strong their king is and how unworthy the soldiers are to even think about protecting you, yeah?"
The advisor tried to butt in here. "A mere soldier cannot dream of protecting such a powerful-"
The king silenced the advisor with a glare.
"Alright," Kyle said, blatantly pointing at the king. "I'll take that as a yes. So why do you think you need royal guards now? It's almost like you're saying need protection from something."
This caused the advisor to almost explode in anger, but the king's glare shut him up before he could say anything.
"You misunderstand my intentions," the king said. "You value freedom and need a place to stay. I value my people and need someone to lead the war against the Dark Lords. This is a deal, not a responsibility. The position I'm giving is equivalent to a mercenary with the authority of a general."
Kyle grinned. "That sounds a lot better than whatever that stuffy old dude over there was saying."
"Are you saying you accept?"
"Sure thing, bossman." Kyle drew his daggers with a skillful flourish and made an exaggerated bow with them in his hands. Axel followed suit, drawing his sword and standing tall with it sticking point down into the carpet in front of him, both hands on its simple hilt.
The king's face broke out into a wide smile. He burst into laughter. He stood up out of his throne to a height that even towered over Kyle and strode over. He whirled his spear around his head, making it crackle with lightning, before slamming it into the ground, point up, discharging electricity around the royal hall in a powerful shockwave.
"I hereby proclaim Axel and Kyle the first Paragons of the Kingdom of Argean!" he shouted. His powerful voice resounded through the halls loudly, and all the soldiers whirled their weapons into salutes as well. Axel met the king's gaze. King Creon's bright green eyes that held as much energy as a young man despite his age were looking at him as an equal rather than a subordinate.
Axel couldn't stop a smile from breaking out across his face.