The trapdoor led Arnold to a room. A throne room to be specific. However, the room looked as if it had been abandoned for decades if not a century. There was dust and dirt everywhere. The paint was coming off of the walls and the cobwebs seemingly covered the entire room. Though strangely enough, the torches hung on the walls were still lit as if they had been left untouched by time.
In the middle of the room was a throne that oddly enough had been turned to face away from the entrance. The path to the throne had been marked with blood that seemed to have been dried long ago. Countless gold and silvery armours were scattered on the floor. It looked as if the armours were trying to fight against someone or something but failed miserably.
Arnold didn't know why but the throne room was giving him some odd vibes as if someone had been waiting for him there. No, it wasn't that. The place seemed too familiar to him. Arnold was sure that he had been here before.