King of the Humans!

Chapter: 7 - In Search of the Axe

"...And all heard his shouts, his battle cries, as he descended upon his foes. But they were never just his, but ours. He faced our foes, our would-be killers, with such fury that, as he left the field of battle, the very ground shook with each step. He combined the greatest minds of the Origionals and gave us the means to survive, the means to learn how to conquer the very stone we walk on. And now, as his body lies cold and empty of our leader's daring soul, we pay tribute to his teachings by providing him a tomb of stone, the very material he used to build our first settlement, our home. - General Severing-Swing 's speech at the first King's funeral, 1st Era.

The General's goblet gave a soft clink as it was calmly set onto the stone table, the masonry causing the sound to echo in the grand room. The room was lit by the searing flames of the heath which ran across the entire room, which was surrounded my stone tables and chairs giving warmth to those seated and to ensure none of the furniture would catch alight despite the stone tables acting as barricades. The General's eyes lazily drifted around the room as he looked from one decoration to the next, most being decades or even centuries old. But the oldest decoration in the room, was that hung on the wall behind the General and his seat. A peculiar tapestry, with a deep bond to the entire faction which the General led.

Thousands of years ago, before the first era and when only the Origionals existed, the Fighter's Guild was founded by the First King. The stonework for the building was built strong and proud, rivalling even the King's castle in both strength and appearance. It was built in a similar fashion to the King's own castle, with archways between stoic watchtowers which loomed overhead and sculptures around it's grounds to display the glory of past conflict with the land's worst beasts. The building was completed after almost a year, given that most of the settlement used their surplus of free-time to aid in it's construction, and had a month before it was officially open for all possible warriors to join and train. The Leader was chosen, who later was named General Severing-Swing for his habit of dismembering his foes in single swipes of an axe, and was told that over the month he must prepare the Faction Guild for opening with the help of some loyal servants to the King. The General agreed, and the hallways of his keep shone like the blade of a newly sharpened sword. And then, on the final night before the hall opened for joining, the King presented himself to the General. The adolescent boys met on the Factions building's main balcony overlooking it's courtyard, which is where the King gave the tapestry to the General as a gift.

The tapestry was made of a fine yet firm black silk which had it's edges stitched with a deep red thread to give an edge to the decoration. The symbol stitched onto the silk was there to make the decoration more of a flag, since it had the symbol of the Fighter's Guild stitched on. The symbol being simpler than most with just two crossed broadswords depicted, the simple nature of the symbol was that it was easier and quicker to replicate so that more forts could bare the sign of the Fighter's Guild. And this easier manufacturing allowed the Fighter's Guild to spread all across the continent a decade after the King's death. This allowed the Guild to grow stronger in the King's absence, but the Guild never lay claim to any land outside their fortresses' grounds. This is why though they Guild is strong, other stronger organisations were able to be formed. The worst weakness the Guild has which others used as an advantage to build their own groups is the fact that none of the Guild are able to use magic since ,at the beginning of the 4th era, the Guild completely shunned magic and it's users due to the Guild's now three thousand year old grudge with the Mage's Guild. Though when the King met the General, he was counted as an appropriate exception to the rule. The universal view on magic by most of the humans of old and new was, and is, that magic is a lot less reliable than other forms of attack. Most would rather spend an afternoon learning how to stab with a sword than a month learning a basic fire spell.

The return of this ancient figure somewhat disturbed the wizened General, a sense of dread clinging to the warrior's soul. Someone like the King returning so mysteriously gave the General the paranoid thought that something must be happening behind the scenes, long dead rulers just don't raise from the dead without something behind it. Though such thoughts should cause the Fighter's Guild leader to be wary of the King's reappearance, he can still feel the bond they forged on the battlefield millennia ago when the first humans were forced to take up arms and unite to fight against common foes. Whatever his fate was brewing, the General was ready to face it.

"...Hopefully with my axe..." The General whispered anxiously.

-

"Can you come in here a moment, please?" Asks a young guard recruit.

I sit up into a cross-legged position on my bed whilst turned slightly to the guard with my left arm supporting me, the red velvet covers beneath my supporting hand warm and comforting like the warm flames of a hearth. My newly-washed black mess of hair lays sprawled down the back of my head and reaches the collar of the casual clothes I had donned to rest in. The shirt being a plain white, flowing down to my deep brown trousers. My armour is set on the wooden dresser of my personal room, my blades in their sheaths alongside the protective garments. The room itself, is neither large of decorative. Instead, the room is a repurposed storage room with my lone bed on the far end with a set of drawers at the foot of the bed. A couple storage barrels still stand in the corner opposite the wooden door, which now stood open with the recruit waiting for me.

Twisting around so I sit on the edge of my bed, I equip a pair of regular light-brown leather boots and walk over to the guard. He turns around, the armour adorning his body clinking noisily, before leading me out the door and into the morning sun. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the light before allowing my eyes to wander the small courtyard of storage containers and stone. My eyes spot Lyra receiving some pointers by an elderly archer-guardsman on how to fire magic bolts. Of course, from first hand experience, I know that the guard isn't really training her in magic but more on accuracy, which he should be able to give pointers on due to using bows. She doesn't seem very skilled in accuracy. From here I can see her build-up some arcane energy and release it towards a target-dummy made from a sack of grain with a crude target drawn on with paint, but she loses focus causing it to fire off in a random direction. The energy bolt launches upwards, deflects off a window a couple times and finally impacts with a slightly larger-than-average barrel. The barrel suffers damage leaving a circular hole with dark scorches around the edges, which begins to leak large amounts of rum like a gunshot wound. The alcoholic beverage begins to accumulate into a pool of the liquid, which a nearby guard begins to cry over with his hands against his face in sadness.

"Why is the rum gone? Why is the rum gone..." He begins to softly mutter between sobs.

I chuckle slightly before entering a circular building the recruit stands next to. He salutes me as I enter before leaving to his post on the thick stone wall circling the courtyard. The room is lit dimly by a single torch and a couple candles on the desk in the centre of the room. A stack of books and scrolls are sprawled across the desk with an even large amount of tomes on the set of bookshelves behind the desk. A single window occupies the room, the only source of natural light besides the still open door behind me. A figure sits behind the desk with a thick white robe covering their form with gold thread accenting the clothing's edges. A hood shrouds their face from view, but they still acknowledge my presence by halting their scribbling of a scroll.

Looking up to me, their gender becomes clear as a thick grey beard hangs out from the bottom of the shadows cast by the white hood. The elderly man leans backwards into his chair with a sigh before putting his hands together, his eyes fixed on my form with a cold, calculating glare.

"So, I've heard you're the Ancient King. I remember hearing stories about you from when I was a young boy, about how much of a paragon you were. The least I need for this operation is someone who looks out for those at the bottom of the workforce, but your skills may be useful." He says with a devious tone.

I just watch him with a deadpan look, giving him silence for him to continue.

"Well, I need you to escort a few workers to a beach to the west of here. That's going to be the location of a settlement able to mine the rich deposits of ore this island has. I was sent on this task alongside yours, since the General expects you to aid mine as well as his personal task given to you. He wants an army's worth of metal smelted just as much as an old axe. You shouldn't even need any armour or a weapon, it's only a short trip but the workers need someone to make sure they don't get lost. Best to take a weapon, though. But armour will slow you down, and I want you to report back as soon as possible. So, are you up for it?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I am." I reply steadily.

"Good, there waiting outside at the docks. Don't get yourself, or them, killed." He retorts whilst dismissing me.

Exiting the building, I wander down towards the docks.