Dawn of the Forgotten

Chapter 7 From Dawn to Dusk (Part 1)

The doorway of the throne room was shut behind them, echoing and shaking the ground.

King Derek sat silently above his great throne, staring down at them as their entry met his ears. Across each side of the path to his throne was aligned with guards; or, particularly, the King's guard, all in garments of steel woven in linen with fine intricacy of a shining grey and white, embedded with the King's emblem.

"You." King Derek stood up with a slow, demeaning voice. "You've returned so late, and to what end?"

"We apologize, your Majesty. We've spent far too much on other affairs to rekindle the one that matters most: yours." Zoran said as they all bowed to their knees.

King Derek stepped off his throne with a violent rattle; the weight of a great beast in his every stride across the marbled floor. They bowed, but their hearts felt like running, trembling even.

"Do you mock me?" Derek asked with a demanding tone, the tensions between both parties growing ever firmer as the guards glanced toward their king.

Zoran began to shake, the others looking to him for guidance.

"Get up." Derek yanked Zoran's hand as he pulled him forward. "Forgo your bows and come with me."

Derek gathered them, walking to a room behind the throne, signaling his guards to remain at their posts as he grabbed a lantern from a nearby pillar.

"Is..is it safe to request a pardon, my King?" Zoran hesitated to ask, the echo of noise and wind rushed against them as the doorway was firmly shut behind.

"Yes, yes: speak." Derek guided them further through a dark and damp hallway of stone brick: dust and cobwebs alike.

"Where are you taking us?"

"This is King Eronahn's quarters; the first of my name. Some might call it a ruin, but I call it a story." Derek turned to look at Zoran once more, a stoic gaze that would leave most unsettled, especially in such a dark place. "It would be quaint to speak so empty of this place, boy."

With a somber pause, the others looked at one another silently: fists gripped.

"Are you well, my King?" Theodren bluntly asked. "Might I be so brave to recall, but aren't you known not to savor the past, as it's not been kind to you?"

They continued walking on footstep after footstep through the dark, but through each passing moment grew an emptiness of voice: it was as silent as could beyond their stride and voices.

"Pardon my brother, my King. He holds no ill intent." Zoran said with awkward haste.

King Derek stopped in his tracks, leading Carrion to bump into him, and then the others behind to swiftly follow. In the silence, King Derek opened another door, leading them to what seemed to be a relatively large and well-lit stone brick room as clean as could be: a stark contrast to the path prior.

King Derek stepped further ahead. The others, still confused and tense, looked at the place in awe of its beautiful features; a bath house with laminated white marble, four separate bedrooms with reinforced doorways, the sounds of a lute in the distance, and a long gold-plated wooden dining table with a colorful linen cloth placed towards the middle above it.