A conflict far greater in magnitude than ever recorded had arrived at Eistoriel's gates.
TEN KINGDOMS!
Ten kingdoms had gathered to spoil it. And although the battles themselves hadn't started, the said nations had every intention to carry out their plans.
Their greed had finally climaxed, and the result was a despicable union. One that would cause even a nation as mighty as Eistoriel to tremble on its knees. Hence, the gathering.
Apart from those stationed at strategic points across all provinces, every knight not on duty had been summoned to the regions surrounding Lorshdel—all on standby, as whatever orders the king gave would need to be implemented as swiftly as possible.
Eistoriel only had fifteen days before the said war began, and already, all attempts to somehow talk peace had been shrugged off.
An alliance of ten nations against one meant utter confidence in the former's strength.
Eistoriel's attempts, at best, had been viewed as pitiful tries to ensure survival.
This disregard had led to the greatest gathering in the nation's history.
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High atop "the mountain of Eistoriel," within the golden castle carved into its frame like the sculpting of a god, a gathering of no less than a thousand knights unfolded within a large royal chamber whose walls were coated in pure silver.
Adorned with gold and many gems, bespeaking majesty, the chamber saw a grand throne positioned on its only elevated portion, sitting at the farthest end from its entrance.
Gold, crimson, and emerald were the throne's colors—each one glowing with a radiance that seemed to carry life in its rawest form.
Despite the lack of windows, the air within that pseudo-throne room lacked any staleness.
In fact, those knights swore that they breathed better within that enclosed space.
Behind the throne hung Eistoriel's emblem—a black mountain upon which an equally golden crown sat.
Still, despite the majesty of that throne room, the most striking detail happened to be the figure that sat upon the throne.
INCREDIBLE!
Draped in a purple robe inscribed with violet and golden patterns and a crown that literally shone with many colors, the sight of the king stole the breath of those who were seeing him for the first time.
Despite his position being far from them, none of them could shake off the sensation of his presence looming directly above them; as such, they all instinctively bowed their heads.
Intense pressure dug into their shoulders and chests, now that everyone was gathered. Not even the slightest of sounds was made, for they feared irritating the being on the throne.
Yes, those Silver Commanders could no longer refer to the King as a human. The weight he exuded made even the warlords seem like nothing.
No human should be capable of hosting such a presence. He was an anomaly, and they knew it!
Silver Commanders were men and women who had battled for their lives on many occasions during different tasks.
The gap in experience between them and every lower Knight was immense. They had seen a lot and survived a lot; many had slain terrifying creatures born directly out of folklore…
Yet, their 'King' caused real terror to stir in their hearts. WHAT?
To them, they were before God himself.
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.
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The Ruler sat on his throne, appearing unfazed by the array of knights clad in silver, golden, and obsidian armor.
From his position, he could conveniently see the back of the room, but they couldn't see his face, no, not when he sat in his majesty as King.
Emanating from those Knights was an air of dignity and class that would have instilled awe and even fear in the hearts of any onlooker, but the king only scoffed inwardly.
They were his subjects.
'Do they fancy themselves so grand?' He thought, taking account of every knight's facial features, even though they wore helmets.
Four persons clad in obsidian armor stepped forward. Their armors carried more splendor than the rest thanks to the extra images inscribed into their scarlet capes.
They knelt before him who sat on the throne and took off their helmets.
The King furrowed his eyebrows, but no one saw it.
"Sovereign one, we have come to give account of the war to come," the eldest male began. His voice unfolded evenly within the chamber thanks to the complete silence.
'Why don helmets if you would only take them off?' The king wondered, but before he could further his thoughts, the Knight continued.
Boasting a voice that spoke of honored status, matched by a grace befitting it, the Warlord narrated the events that had played out in the last days, while the others listened with rapt attention.
The King, however... had fallen asleep at some point. Fortunately, none could notice… except for the Warlords who did their best not to facepalm themselves.
"MY KING!" one of the four suddenly called out. She was the oldest woman.
Needless to say, the King shook back into consciousness, trying to behave as though he had not been asleep. He had good reasons, though.
Unfortunately, his act failed, and he didn't need anyone to tell him that his Warlords glared at him. But he was used to that treatment; they were his closest subjects. Interestingly, not even the Golden Generals had noticed.
The formality tired him, especially because it was completely unnecessary.
That entire gathering was nothing more than a demonstration before the masses. At least from his standpoint, it was.
The words of the Warlords carried more weight in the ears of the people than his "decrees" did, and he had grown accustomed to that. Which was why he never saw the need for any grand meetings.
The Warlords could simply discuss matters with him, and whatever decisions he made would be echoed by them.
He saw no reason for all this, but he also couldn't dismiss it. Only an earful of complaints awaited him if he did such.
"Waste no more words," he eventually commanded, and the whole chamber trembled as a result!
The Warlords frowned, but complied.
"We require your wisdom... my Liege."
A long pause followed that declaration, then The King sighed. The entire room longed for him to speak, as simply his sigh had been enough to cast an even harsher pressure on those Knights.
The king thought about several things and put many options under consideration. He could sense the unease in his warlords, and it actually bothered him despite how withdrawn he seemed.
He eventually opened his mouth to speak.
"I have heard your worries, and I understand your intentions," he stated, truly grasping the hidden reason the Warlords had called for that gathering.
The King rose from his throne at that point, and every one of them, from the Warlords to the Silver Commanders, fell to their knees in reverence.
The King saw that sight and felt something within him get stirred up. It had been a long time since he felt that way.
How long?
Maybe half a millennia?
He shrugged off those questions, though. All that mattered was that he experienced that powerful sensation right there and then.
He was king, and this matter required him to reveal himself in grandeur. The union vexed him, but it was also a show of how great a threat Eistoriel was to them.
The union of ten kingdoms was proof that he had not created a weak nation, and that pleased him enough that he felt the need to further display the strengths of his people.
He pondered on an idea befitting his intentions, and a conclusion quickly came to him.
He did not hesitate to give voice to it.
"Engage the enemy for seven days; on the eighth, I shall end the war."
A tremor that shook the whole mountain unfolded in response to those lofty words, as though the words themselves had been infused with life.
Those tremors, as fierce as true earthquakes, rippled through the regions, such that no province was left out!
This event terrified the Eistorians, who feared that their enemies had begun their attacks. But something as insignificant as that couldn't generate such a phenomenon.
The King of Eistoriel had issued a decree, and that itself was enough reason for the earth to shudder.