Skritch Skritch Skritch
A beautiful quill scratched softly across the page. The King of Drakthar, Alden, sat at his desk with a hunched back, almost as if he had no strength to keep his body upright. The Magic Lamp beside him flickered faintly, casting long shadows over the dark crimson book beneath his hand. He wrote with slow, deliberate strokes, as if each word carried a weight he could not set down anywhere else.
He seemed quite focused on the task but then—
Knock Knock
A knock broke the quiet.
The quill paused.
"It is me, Your Majesty."
A steady, respectful voice was heard.
It was Zephyr.
Alden closed his eyes. For a long moment, he sat still. A heavy silence filled the chamber, only his heavy breathing could be heard.
It seemed as if he was preparing himself to face Zephyr, which, if one looked at it, seemed quite surprising—after all, Zephyr was his most loyal subordinate. Someone he could share everything with.
