1 Chapter 1: The Ten Lords Assemble

Draken Sephardson blinked his eyes in wonder as his body acquiesced to the feeling of being summoned into a new world. His skin felt as if it were wearing a layer of warm light. His eyes still hadn't adjusted to the glorious curtains of light blazing down upon him from the myriad-colored cathedral-style windows above and in front of him - but in the meantime, through feeling lonely, he was able to sense presences accumulating around him. Extending to the left and to the right. Others, like him, were appearing. Probably around a dozen, he reckoned.

He blinked his eyes calmly. He did not reach for his sword, nor did he panic. Draken felt the aura of the room and realized it was one of bated breaths and anticipation, but of no bloodlust. So he was calm. In this calmness, he finally regained his eyesight, and followed the trail of blood-red carpet from down at his knees where he knelt, all the way forward several meters to see someone's feet. Or rather, some protruding forms that he assumed were feet - they were bumps that as his eyes went upwards, he found to be coming from a robe.

And what an exquisite robe it seemed, it was pure silk and beauty - it felt like each strand was visible under that divine light. And the man whom the robe belonged to seemed just as otherworldly. Draken hailed from a country that had church separation from the state, and he did not often interact with the religious side of his nation - but if he were to guess, the man in front of him was a holy man.

The supposed holy man had a long, white beard, and half-golden, half-greying short-cropped hair. Atop his head was a crown.

Ah. Royalty. He fixed his assumption.

Draken next swerved his head around. He was in a royal chamber - probably the King's royal chamber, although the King of what lands, Draken was unable to ascertain. There were unfamiliar crests and symbols on flags and rugs and shields on the walls, and there were soldiers surrounding Draken and the other men kneeling beside him, dressed in regal purple garb and with seemingly decorative lances and spears and shields. On the second floor's balcony area, some other members of the royal family were watching with astonishment on their faces - though it could have been hope.

The other beings around Draken seemed to have awoken fully as well, although one dark-haired man with facial features Draken was unfamiliar with - dark hair, dark eyes, and a slim face that reminded him half of elves - was yawning peacefully. Draken was apprehensive but did not jump to any conclusions. He didn't notice anything else, before the King deigned to speak.

"You are the chosen heroes who have been summoned to protect our land from the approaching forces of Evil." Said the kingly figure.

The King looked from left to right, and named the heroes who had been summoned in order.

"Naleid. Dython. Zancrow. Lustrain. Draken. Shang-Lai. Urthu. At-hat-kra. Arthur. Dyslovsky. To each of you who is a member of the Ten Heroes' Summoning Pact, we shall bestow a sizable plot of land - a fiefdom for you to rule over. Each of you was in your previous life the ruler of a glorious Kingdom - and not only that, but you were regaled for lifting your regions out of poverty and corruption, and turning them into the beacons of hope for entire continents. The plots of land I now award you are in similar tumult due to the Holy War caused by the forces of Evil. Please - raise these lands well. Train your soldiers. Keep your granaries stocked - and bring glory to our kingd-"

"Blah blah blah blah." The man named Zancrow stepped up from his kneeling position that he was summoned in. "You think I'll sit here and listen to your asthmatic splutters, old man? I don't heed the words of anyone weaker than me. And I could skewer you in the blink of an eye, so I sure as Hell won't heed your phlegmy words, grandpa!" And thus Zancrow whipped out his holy spear, and entered a throwing position - whether for farce or for practical demonstration, would be a point of argumentation amongst historians of the next generation.

The King's eyes bulged. His royal guards stepped forward.

"How dare you commit such an affront to His Majesty-"

"Yield," said the King.

"B-but your majesty!" said the guard.

"Not you," said the King. "Draken, yield."

The King looked at Zancrow. He then looked at Draken, who's divine blade was millimeters from Zancrow's jugular veins, ready to sever them at moments notice.

"I was born into nobility and became a holy knight of my kingdom. I was given the impossible chance of succeeding the King himself, whose seeds were barren, and who looked upon me as a son. And so I looked upon him as the father I never had. But no matter where I am, I am an existence that lives to serve - whether it be a king, or the people. So now, I have just one question, King."

The King rubbed his beard cautiously. Then his eyes opened wide as he saw that Draken was bleeding from biting his lip with violent force.

"Tell me," said Draken. "Is my father alive? Will my kingdom survive?"

"Do not fear," said the King. "For every hero we have summoned, we have taken appropriate measures to bestow blessings upon their land, as per the Goddess Quid Pro Quo Contract. You have our assurances that your land, and your father, are doing well. Although I extend my grievances for taking you away from your loved ones."

Draken cried warm tears.

"That is all I wished to know. My allegiance is yours," said Draken.

"Tch! Get off of me, you cur. I don't lick boots like you do," said Zancrow. He grabbed one of the King's minister's who was standing on the side of the palatial room. "You! You're accompanying me to my new land. Show me where it is and teach me the logistics. I'm going to raise the biggest army this kingdom has ever seen."

As Zancrow left, a guard looked over at the king.

"Is it truly okay to leave that man up to his whims?" he said.

"Yes," said the king. "A brutish man, who was raised as a bandit, and became known as the bandit king. How he came to rule half a continent's worth of land is yet unknown... but the results he produces are immense. We've sent him to the vanguard in the war against the Evil. He will end up serving us just by protecting his own land."

"Boring, trivial, of no merit," said the man named Shang-Lai. "This entire discussion is worthless. I too wish to see the land I have been bestowed. Take me there now, servants." Shang-Lai stood, and flourished a fan with designs of a pink-tree with what appeared to be pink-leaves, scattering like chilly snow in a backdrop of warm spring. The dissonance was beautiful.

All the others - and despite Draken's acute senses, he had only noticed now that one of them was female - now stood up similarly. They all walked towards the corridor to exit the King's Palace.

"W-what are they doing now? They can't be thinking of disobeying us, right?" said the guard.

"It is fine. They have accumulated such experience that they need to hear no more. They are Kings in their own right... it wouldn't do for one King to talk down to another," said the King of this realm.

Draken bowed once more to the King.

"From today, I am no longer a King, but a knight. And I will serve you with my utmost," said Draken.

"That will do," said the King.