Royal Blood: Wyverns Den

Chapter 1: House Elrod.

It is said that fate does what it wills, and that no man has the power to change its predestined course, but what would happen in a world where people believed in powers beyond their own, and put their trust in gods of old and new; would they be able to change their very future?
In the realm of Asleandra where numerous nations thrive, there lies at the top of them all “Reigngord”, a prosperous and bountiful kingdom home to whoever wished it so, especially the “Wyverns”. Giant creatures as large or even larger than city towers, with scales as strong as armor, and powerful wings which swept the earth with gusts of wind whenever they were in flight. But their most intriguing gift, one that fascinated and as well frightened many, was their ability to create flames from within themselves and spew it out on whatever or whomever they pleased.
Their kind was both feared and respected throughout Reigngord, and there was peace between both humans and these fire breathing creatures for many years…that was until the reign of King Cyrus Elrod, the seventh generational ruler of Reigngord. and son of Malakai Elrod; Cyrus would soon go on to be known to kingdoms far and wide, as the “god king”, for in the fifteenth year of his marriage to lady Serene Eragon, he was visited upon by tragedy…at the claws of a Wyvern nonetheless. The lady was attacked and burnt alive by one of these beasts, but what broke the King's heart even more was the loss of his unborn child;Cyrus mourned for days, but soon realized he couldn’t stay in that state forever, he’d have to defend his people and ensure something like this never happened again.
Hence he set out on a conquest with over six thousand soldiers behind him, to hunt down the very beast which took his beloved from him. The journey to find the beast took well over four weeks, and the battle against the creature lasted twenty days and twenty nights, an endeavor that cost him half of his army, but at the end of it all he had the head of the Wyvern to prove his victory and show his efforts not wasted, but this victory had done something to the king, it had engraved in him a lust for Wyverns blood, a lust which led to a six year long conquest, to find and kill every last Wyvern that was foolish enough to call Reigngord home.
It would have been a seven year conquest if the king had not fallen terribly ill a year later. A crippling disease had struck his majesty due to the stress he underwent during the six years, and he was forced to step down from the seat of office; the crown was then passed on to his son, Alexander Elrod of age 21,he wedded a young girl from the kingdom of Sinfonia, Lady Demeter of House Cronstrow, and she birthed five beautiful children, Agatha the eldest, Myranda the second, Alaric the third, Edith the fourth and young prince Raven. Alexander sought to be nothing like his father and gave each of his children importance in his heart and mind; he married his daughter Agatha to the captain of his royal guard which would mean she’d want for nothing, a prince soon to be crowned King of the kingdom of Maelstrom sought the lady Myranda's hand, and she accepted, he let his first son Alaric oversee most things business relating to the kingdom and its borders, while he left Edith and Raven to explore the continent. But with each passing year, the King grew old and would soon have to step down from the throne, which led his court to ask questions.
Now in Alexander’s royal court room, he was joined by the four members of his council. They had not informed the King about the meetings purpose, but Alexander already knew; it was regarding his heir and succession,
“Greetings your grace, we are glad to see that the court meets you well.” Said the King's most trusted advisor, Lord Marcus of House Bateman; a tall man with white skin, brown eyes, shoulder length Auburn hair, as well as a beard and mustache, while he wore a dark red and black leather jacket, along with black leather trousers and dark brown boots. The court murmured in agreement and then Alexander spoke,
“You praise me still, Lord Marcus, yet I know what you are all here to discuss.” he replied with a smirk; Alexander himself was rather tall, with white skin, brown eyes, short blonde hair, as well as a beard and mustache: he put on a gold robe which had twilight star patterns sewn into it, while rested on his head, was a golden crown. The murmuring continued for a moment then ceased almost instantly, another rose up from his seat and spoke,
“your grace, if I may?” Said the King's Physician, August Bridge; an old man with white skin, pale blue eyes, a few remaining strands of gray hair on his head and wrinkles on his face, while he had on plain brown robe which as well had a cloak. August rose to his feet,
“you may.” Alexander replied, urging him to sit, he remained standing
“I have served you many a year and I will continue to serve you for as long as I can, but we must face the reality of things, you are not the young man you once were.” August said folding his hands together,

“I am not even as old as you lord August, you might well pass before me if I might add.” He said, relaxing back into his chair. A slight laugh escaped from a woman sitting at the edge of the table wearing a long green dress,

“Does the lady Priscilla have something to say?” August asked as he sat down with a look of annoyance,

“I apologize August, it is just wonderful to hear the King speak sometimes.” She said as she faced the King smiling, it was the lady Priscilla of House Eragon, niece of late lady Serene Eragon, and Alexander's cousin; a beautiful woman with white skin, green eyes, long pale blonde hair, and a slender figure,

“You flatter me, my lady.” The King said as he laughed. A cupbearer poured wine for him, and the room went quiet till Priscilla spoke again,

“But your grace…I have to agree with August, your golden years are past you and soon you will need to step down and let another ascend the throne eventually, you have five suitable candidates, so you must make a decision.” She said as she sat back into her seat,

“hmm, I’m surprised you haven’t once said anything Gregor.” The king said looking at a man in silver armor seated beside lord August. The attention of the court shifted to him, he rose,

“I do not speak for the lady Agatha when I say this your grace, but I do believe you need to choose an heir, before it leads to a later anarchy amongst your children.” He said sitting down, it was Sir Gregor of House Spinehower, the King's captain of the guard; he was taller than most men, with white skin, hazel eyes, shoulder length dark brown hair, a stubble beard and mustache, as well as a muscular figure. There was a brief silence in the room, then the King spoke,

“I do not want to make it seem like I am choosing my heir in a haste, I am aware that soon I will find it difficult to go about my kingly business, and when it is time for me to relinquish my throne…I will, and before any more of you speak up, my heir will be chosen before we see the new year, the gods allowing me live that long. But for now this meeting of the King's council has ended.” Alexander said as he rose from his seat and walked to the balcony. The court separated, but Priscilla walked over to stand beside him,

“the way those men speak these days, one would think they’ve forgotten you’re the King.” She said brushing her hand against his in a comforting manner,

“Sometimes I indeed wish to forget that I am King, but alas I cannot, cousin.” He said relaxing himself into her embrace,

“But you do have a choice for an heir do you not? I could tell from the way you spoke you had already made up your mind about something.” She said looking at him with a thoughtful gaze,

“there is never hiding anything from you is there?” He asked with a smile,

“I do not believe so.” She replied with a laugh. He moved a few feet away from her, back into the courtroom,

“I have not chosen an heir yet, but I do have a means by which I’m going to select one.” He looked away into the distance.