Chapter 8.1. Siege of Slother.

Queen Elizabeth sat upon her throne, resplendent in golden armor, her crown resting atop her head like a halo. To either side stood Prince Adrian and Princess Amara – young heirs to their mother’s empire. The trio watched with proud eyes, as paladin apprentices knelt before them on bended knee.

– Today, – Queen Elizabeth began, her voice ringing out clear across town square packed full of spectators: – We honor those who have dedicated themselves to upholding truth, justice, and righteousness in this world.

She rose from throne then, striding down towards kneeling figures, waiting eagerly below. One by one she touched each apprentice lightly upon shoulder with tip of her shining blade – an ancient ritual bestowing divine favor upon worthy souls.

– Arise now, – Elizabeth commanded softly – yet still audible even at backmost rank: – As knights and champions of the light itself! Go forth into darkness unyielding.

Trevor felt his heart swell as royal touch imbued him with sacred power – years spent training finally coming full circle in this momentous occasion. He glanced over briefly, towards prince and princess seated high above, wondering what fate lay ahead for these children, who would one day inherit throne.

– And know that we, – Elizabeth continued: – Your sovereign queen – stand always behind you!

Loud cheering and applauses rise from spectators. Trevor got up and looked around. He finally has become a paladin. A heroic warrior, protector of innocent and one of the swords of gods themselves.

As the newly minted paladins spilled out from town square, their laughter and cheers echoing off cobblestones. Ronan, a grizzled hero of many battles, caught sight of young Prince Adrian amongst royal retinue.

– Your Highness, – he murmured, bowing low before the prince: – A word if you please – in private?

Adrian glanced back at his mother’s throne, seeing only Princess Amara and attending guards. With a shrug, he followed Ronan towards secluded alcove, where no ears could overhear their whispered exchange.

– You’re getting old, – Ronan began without preamble – voice low yet intense: – Thirty years of life, while your mother remains ageless – how long until she passes crown to your sister instead?

Adrian stiffened, eyes narrowing at implication, behind those poisonous words.

– My mother will choose heir in due time, – he said carefully, struggling to keep tone even: – It’s not for commoners to question divine right.

Ronan scoffed softly.

– Divine right or no, – he hissed – eyes flashing dangerously: – You’d best start making yourself useful, if you want any chance at all, of sitting on throne someday.

With that, hero strode away abruptly, leaving Adrian alone with tumultuous thoughts, swirling through princes’ mind.