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Thy Destined Heir

When the world's most powerful king dies of old age, and the world falls into chaos, who will the people turn to? The king's right-hand man is tasked with finding the king's son, who left the kingdom years ago, using a device that tracks those with the king's blood, but there's something wrong—the device is showing ten different indicators.

ValkyrieChoreBoy · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
6 Chs

Chapter 3

A couple of hours before the pivotal meeting of our characters, Aamash and Jornn walked side by side down one of the long and spacious passageways of the kingdom of Navar. The grand arches and flickering torchlights cast dancing shadows, giving the corridor an almost ethereal glow. Jornn, his curiosity piqued, broke the comfortable silence.

"I was wondering, Aamash, how do you know so much about the war between the dragonkin and the kingdom?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

Aamash remained silent as they approached two large wooden doors, intricately carved with scenes of ancient battles. Jornn, ever the impatient one, grabbed the door handle while Aamash stopped, waiting for him to open it. Jornn continued, unable to hide his bewilderment.

"Considering you were absent for the entire duration of the war, you shouldn't know as much as you do, even as the king's right-hand man." Jornn studied Aamash's closed eyelids, searching for any sign of hesitation or deceit. When Aamash finally opened his eyes, they gleamed with a silver hue, meeting Jornn's gaze with a penetrating intensity.

"Jornn, have you ever wondered why humans are considered the weakest among all races?" Aamash asked, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy. He paused, his gaze drifting to one of the large windows framing the starry night. "It's because we lack imagination. Elves are deeply connected to nature, dwarves channel their emotions into invention, and even demons are bound to the studies of the cycle of life. But as humans? Magic? Swordsmanship? Land and riches? It's all rather amusing, isn't it?"

Jornn grunted in frustration, realizing Aamash had skillfully dodged his question. He decided to let it go for now, his thoughts racing with unspoken questions. He opened the door, and they stepped into the room together.

Inside, they found a huge summoning circle with two majestic horses standing atop it, surrounded by figures cloaked in mystery. Aamash's eyes narrowed as he spotted a man with a long white beard, standing in front of the circle and overseeing the other mages. Aamash called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

"Grandmaster, I received your message that the well is ready for transfer."

The Grandmaster's face lit up with glee. "Oh, sir, I'm delighted to be of service. Yes, the well is prepared to be transferred to the town of Illonia."

Jornn, looking puzzled, turned to Aamash. "Illonia? But aren't the farms located to the west? Why travel east?"

Aamash's expression turned serious. "There has been a surge in bandit activity, but suddenly it ceased. It seemed as if a powerful force thwarted their endeavors. If there's any place to start, it would be there."

Jornn laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room. "Did all of this happen in just one night? We've stumbled upon another summoned hero!" He walked towards the horses, examining them with an expert eye. Aamash and the Grandmaster followed suit. Jornn took one of the horses, giving a nod of approval to the Grandmaster.

"Grandmaster, you're doing an excellent job, especially considering that your predecessor was killed only three years ago," Jornn remarked.

"Thank you, sir. Your words mean a great deal, especially coming from one of the late king's true friends," the Grandmaster replied with a humble smile.

Aamash mounted his horse, and the Grandmaster stepped out of the spell circle. He signaled the other mages to commence the spell, and they began chanting, their voices weaving a tapestry of ancient power. The spell circle brightened, engulfing Aamash and Jornn in a warm blue light. In an instant, they vanished, leaving the room in an eerie silence.

In the town of Illonia, a spell circle surrounded by tall white pillars shimmered with light. Aamash and Jornn materialized within the circle, but their horses did not accompany them.

"Damn it! I actually thought the Grandmaster was making progress with his magic. Well, I had planned to give the horse to the locals anyway, but it's a shame to waste a good horse," Jornn muttered, scratching his head as he surveyed the abandoned town. Aamash remained silent, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"Well, Aamash, I hope you find a horse soon. Unfortunately, this is where we part ways," Jornn said, looking at Aamash with a mix of camaraderie and regret.

Aamash, already smiling, replied, "I wish you luck on your journey, my friend. See you soon."

Jornn gave Aamash's back a hearty slap and walked away from the platform, while Aamash slowly walked in the opposite direction, observing the empty city. He then pulled out a device, noticing that one of the indicators was glowing more brightly than the others. With no other direction to follow, Aamash decided to pursue the indicator, leading him toward the path that led to the forest.

As the sun rose, Aamash entered the forest and immediately caught a whiff of a putrid stench. Following the smell, he discovered a row of bodies lined up along the side of the road. Although intact, the corpses were decaying as if they had been there for years. One of the bodies had been split in half, its entrails spilling out and the remains almost completely withered. Upon witnessing this gruesome sight, Aamash knew he was closer to his destination than anticipated.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Grandpa, Grimore, and Aamash sat together. Grandpa had many questions but opted to remain quiet, attentively listening to what Aamash had to say.

"As you may know, the late king recently passed away, plunging the land into chaos. However, you..." Aamash looked at Grimore and placed the device on the table. "You are the greatest hope of this land. You are the child of His Majesty and Her Highness, destined to keep the flame of the kingdom of Navar burning brighter than ever." Grimore's emotions swirled, a mix of excitement and fear. Aamash and Grandpa anxiously awaited Grimore's reaction, and as the weight of it all settled in, a broad, unsettling smile spread across Grimore's face.

"Of course, I won't force you to assume kingship immediately. I would like to observe from the sidelines if you don't mind," Aamash said, seeking Grandpa's approval. Grandpa made eye contact and understood the request.

"What will you do if you find him unworthy of kingship?" Grandpa questioned. Aamash recalled being asked the same question by Jornn, and his answer remained unchanged.

"I don't know," Aamash confessed, lacking confidence in his response. Grandpa nodded in approval.

"I have a spare bedroom upstairs to the left. You'll find all my old clothes and a shower. Make yourself at home," Grandpa offered.

"Thank you, sir. I promise you'll be well rewarded, and you won't regret this," Aamash said.

And so, at that moment, Grimore's trial began. In the kingdom's general quarters, a messenger burst into the office where Ash sat behind his wooden desk, engrossed in paperwork. Ash looked up, perplexed, as the exhausted messenger entered.

"Sir, the outer gates have been breached by an opposing force. They are decimating our forces at an alarming pace!"

"What?!" Ash swiftly rose, retrieving his great sword from the wall. "Alert the inner wall guards to deploy the anti-invasion golems and notify the Grandmaster immediately," Ash commanded, walking out of the office with the other guards following him. With the kingdom in crisis and Grimore's trial underway, the fate of the Kingdom of Navar hung precariously in the balance.