At once, nearly twenty royal guards rushed in, and at their center walked the king. The crowd instantly dropped into bows, but Derkile dared to glance up.
The king's presence was dazzling. He wore flowing blue robes, embroidered with small magic stones that shimmered faintly, casting a glow that matched his piercing blue eyes. His hair was jet black and slicked back neatly, gleaming under the hall's light.
But what captivated Derkile most was the crown upon his head. Forged entirely from a rare dark-green magic stone, it radiated an intimidating aura. From a distance it shone with an almost living brilliance, and Derkile's chest tightened with envy. If only he had been born royal then power, wealth, and anything else he desired would be within reach.
The king ascended the platform and sat upon a throne of gold and marble, flanked by two stern guards. With a flick of his finger, a guard hurried forward, handing him a scroll. The king studied it for a long moment, nodded, then dismissed the guard. Finally, he cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Good day, everyone," his deep voice carried easily through the crowd. "As you all know, I am King Rigurd, ruler of Mehato. I have gathered you here for the royal army selection, which, as tradition dictates, takes place every year."
He paused, scanning the crowd with an unreadable expression.
"Not all of you will be chosen. Only the strongest, the most skilled, the most worthy, will earn a place. After this announcement, you will be led to the barracks where you shall remain for the next two days, until the trials begin, during the first day a training section shall take place, so be ready."
Another pause. His eyes gleamed with a harder edge now.
"Prepare yourselves. This year's selection will be far more difficult than any before."
With that, the king rose. The guards closed in around him as he strode from the platform toward the castle gates. The strange scent Derkile had noticed earlier vanished with him.
So it was coming from the king, Derkile thought uneasily.
"Wow, that was quick," someone muttered near him. Derkile turned it was the short man he had spoken with earlier.
"Maybe it's time I introduce myself. The name's Bane. And you?"
Derkile studied him briefly. The man's sharp eyes hinted at intelligence the kind of person worth keeping close. He extended his hand.
"Derkile. Nice to meet you."
Bane's grin widened as he clasped the handshake firmly.
'This one knows more than he lets on', Derkile thought. Perhaps he could even help me uncover what happened to me…
Before their conversation could continue, another guard stepped onto the platform.
"You will now be escorted to your lodging before the trials. Form lines and follow the guards in an orderly fashion."
At once, guards spread through the crowd, guiding the participants into rows. Soon, the mass of hopefuls was marching toward their temporary quarters.
---
Meanwhile, high within a tower overlooking the castle grounds, a cloaked man stood by a window, watching the procession.
"I have a feeling this year's selection will be… interesting," he murmured.
"You too?" another voice rumbled. In the dimly lit chamber, a man with a long white beard and piercing emerald eyes sat on a couch. His jaw was broad, his features stern, his black hair streaked with age.
The cloaked man turned. "I sensed a strange aura among them. I couldn't pinpoint who, but I know it came from one of the candidates."
"Perhaps a dark sorcerer?" the bearded man suggested.
"No. I would recognize that. This was different, unfamiliar, but not dark." He lowered his voice. "And if it posed a threat, I would know. Best not to trouble the king with shadows."
The bearded man considered, then nodded. "Very well. We leave it… for now."
At that moment, the orb on the nearby table flared red, shaking violently. Both men stiffened.
"The king summons us," the bearded man said grimly.
"Then let us not keep him waiting."
The cloaked man raised a glowing white hand, and in a blink, both vanished reappearing in a grander, brightly lit chamber. Others were already gathered there. At the far end, King Rigurd sat upon his glittering throne, his face red with fury. The two sorcerers bowed low.
"Good. You are here," the king snapped, his voice sharp as steel. He fixed his glare on the bearded man. "Tell me do you recall the Yellow Stone of Power I commanded you to guard?"
The sorcerer's throat tightened. "Yes, my king. I hid it in Mehato Forest, in a place no man would think to look. Beside a mountain. As you know, high-grade stones cannot be buried — but I made sure none would ever find it."
The king leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Then allow me to enlighten you. That very stone… has been reported missing!"
"Missing?!" The sorcerer staggered, his voice cracking.
The cloaked man stiffened as well. "Impossible! Such a stone cannot simply vanish"
But his words faltered. Even he knew what this meant. The Yellow Stone was no ordinary relic. It was a legendary magic stone one the king had selfishly hoarded, unable to wield its full power, yet too greedy to surrender. To protect it from rival kingdoms, he had entrusted it to Aromas, the bearded sorcerer. Now, after years in hiding, it was gone.
King Rigurd's face darkened further. "I never imagined you, Aromas, could prove so utterly useless."
The accusation struck like a blade. Aromas's chest tightened with shame.
"Because of your carelessness, Mehato has lost a treasure beyond price! If our enemies seize it, our kingdom may well be doomed!"
He rose from his throne in a fury. "You will find it. Do not think you will escape punishment otherwise. Fail me again… and the consequences will be dire."
With that, the king stormed from the chamber, his robes trailing like blue fire.
Aromas sagged, sweat beading his brow. The cloaked man placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't lose yourself. We'll find it together. Come let us return."
Light flared once more, and the two vanished from the throne room, leaving only silence behind.
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End of Chapter 4
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