We were walking through the halls of Fedarl. The guards let us in, with loads of questioning, but thankfully Sir Brandor and Sir Angsthor came and helped us get through.
The Kingdom of Fedarl was a large kingdom, crafted to practical perfection, the thick walls were white and made of gold. The inside was a long hallway filled with thousands of rooms, a large chandelier of crystal glass hung in the vaulted ceiling, the windows were made of glass.
We walked to the throne room. With one huge shove from Almar, the large golden sliding doors, heaved open leading to a large room.
I noticed a man sitting on a throne room, indulged in a long discussion with a knight. Behind the man on the throne was a portrait of Paladias. My eyes widened at seeing the large, bulky man shrouded in large, thick armor shining more brilliantly than the sun, he had long, luxurious silver hair that fell down his shoulders, his bright blue eyes shone with hope and determination. The same eyes my father had. His face was stern, and he had a long scar running down his eye. His strong arms held the most amazing sword. The hilt was a glossy blue, the guard was long and thick, the blade was made of pure tarador steel, with demonsteel lining. The stainless blade hummed with power, as divine light formed a sharper blade outlining the sword.
I stared at infamous paladin, then my eyes drifted to King Arthur Blamez Paladias the 4th and the knight who spoke with him.
“. . . .Yes, Sulnar!” the King murmured, then his eyes drifted to us. “Who are you three? I’m in a meeting, I never called for guests.”
King Blamez wore similar armor matching Paladias’s and he wore a purple cape, on his head rested a circlet of gold. He had a long, trimmed beard that fell to his chest proudly, and combed silver hair. His blue eyes glared with determination like Paladias’s despite his age. Like his grandfather, King Blamez had many scars streak across his grim face. But what caught my interest were the six sheathed swords on his back. He wasn’t given the title the Six-Armed Swordsmen for the sake of it.
“Forgive me, Your Highness!” I bowed, “you may recognize me. It may sound hard to believe, but I swear on my sword, every word is true! I am the son of King Saran and Queen Crystaine, I am Pentus Highblade IV, the Prince of Calarant! And these are my traveling companions, we have come from Calarant with the business of slaying the Assassin Lord!”
King Blamez arched his eyebrows, “You are correct, traveler! It does sound quite preposterous, forgive me for having a hard time believing you! Now leave my domain before I prison you for impersonating a royal!”
I clenched my fist, this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
“If I may, my King!” The knight named Sulnar advanced to me, then tilted his head, “the boy bears some uncanny resemblance to the prince. And if I recall, then the prince was always so arrogant, yet determined. He honored his blade more than anything, after all this is the son of Saran we are speaking of! To swear upon his blade is a great oath, if he dishonors his blade, then he dishonors his pride as a warrior! That is the code we knights must follow, as well as paladins as yourself. We should hear him out.”
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Dark Magic and Assassins of Akranhor (Book 2 of the Shadow Chronicles)Fantasy
The 2nd Installment to the Book 1 of the Shadow Chronicles. . . A new adventure writ in shadows, wielded by steel, and awaited in betrayal shakes Astrania once more. . . Pentus once again finds himself trapped in an inevitable war between the Emp...