Ansgar stretched lavishly from his favorite spot on the castle balcony, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the marketplace below. He sipped the hot chocolate from his steaming mug and offered a rare smile as the warmth warded off the slight morning chill. He decided that he'd give himself a few more minutes of luxury, admiring the kingdom he loved, before donning his heavy tunic and cloak emblazoned with the royal coat of arms. He made it a point to wear the official uniform anytime he set foot in public. And today, of all days, he'd promised to view the blacksmith's newest creations and see if the wares could hold up in combat. He could almost feel himself turning into a pool of sweat just thinking about being around the open flames.
Just when he was about to turn his back on the magnificent view and make his way to the smithy, he heard it: a voice calling his name from the floor below, a series of shuffling steps ascending the spiral staircase, and a small yelp as the last step was, predictably, missed. Ansgar shook his head, took another sip from the mug in his hand then rested it on the ledge of the balcony railing. The little fellow reminded him of a clumsy fawn, stumbling around on shaky legs.
"Isn't it a little early for our steward to be running around the castle?" He addressed the young man with a hint of sarcasm. Crio took a moment to recover from his fall before answering.
"Sir Ansgar, something's wrong. I need your help. Call it a…"
"Gut feeling?" the head of the Royal Army replied with a wolfish grin. "Please, enlighten me with another one of your mysterious visions."
"It's not just visions," Crio countered as he fished a folded parchment from his satchel. "I've received word from the Fates. Here, I'll show you." Crio cleared a spot on one of the tables near an inner staircase and set the hot chocolate pitcher out of the way behind a stack of books. Ansgar reluctantly left his spot at the balcony and entered the adjoining room cluttered with piles of gear and clothing. Crio quickly spread the map across the oak finish.
"Take a look, Sir Ansgar." He followed the steward's advice and peered at the familiar map of Everealm. Veins of black ink, sparkling with a touch of magic, covered the coastland kingdom of Fortiteer, the shadow extending into Lluas and Faisney like spidery tendrils. "It's the Fates showing us what's to come. Verlox will attack Fortiteer first then make his way inland, toward Saenctum."
"It can't be. Verlox has returned?" Ansgar pressed. Crio could only nod, though the commander's eyes were still glued to the ugly black marks on the map. "When?"
"I can't say, Sir Ansgar."
"How big is his army? Do we have enough men?"
"I don't know, Sir Ansgar."
"WELL, FIND OUT!" Ansgar barked. Crio stood to one side patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. The commander took a deep breath to steady himself. "We need to warn Fortiteer of the attack and assemble the Runesguard. Any word from the other Dreamers?" He knew those blessed with visions, like Crio, occasionally communicated between kingdoms. The steward shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I haven't heard from the others." Ansgar pounded the table with his fist in frustration.
"Have you informed the queen?"
"Of course, I—"
A series of bells resounded from the courtyard, signaling the end of their conversation. The call to arms snapped Ansgar and Crio to action and they bounded down the spiral staircase in haste. Once they reached the cobbled street, Queen Ralia approached them with worry etched on her face.
"What is happening, Sir Ansgar?" she inquired. Before he could reply, a swish of robes announced the arrival of the Grand Vizier who bowed before the queen theatrically.
"We've received word from our Runesgard posts on the eastern borders. Ships, of great size and strength, are advancing on Fortiteer. They'll reach the shoreline within hours." He lifted his head to lock eyes with Ansgar. "Perhaps we should send our strongest military leaders to assist in their defense?"
"The Fortiteese are fierce warriors on the sea and they draw strength from the Runesgard and Faisnain mages. What Saenctum will provide is shelter and aid. I've spoken with Crio about his visions, and, though I didn't want to believe it at first, I can't deny it now. Verlox the Darkness is upon our lands once more, leading the war ships to Everealm."
"Impossible!" the Grand Vizier snapped and struck his scepter against the ground with a loud thud. "The land has been peaceful for many centuries. Perhaps the steward misinterpreted his dreams."
"It's true," Ansgar interjected and held up the map as proof. "The Fates will show us which kingdoms Verlox will go after next. It's not a lot, but this small advantage will save more lives than we can count. We can evacuate the children and the sick and wounded too weak to survive under Verlox's reign."
"This is folly! If Verlox has truly returned, where are the paladins? Where is the One True Hero? My lady, please forgive my misgivings, but I cannot put my faith in false hope."
"Then choose to place your trust in me," Queen Ralia said calmly. She gestured to the map as a series of twelve names, in glossy, golden print, endorsed the parchment before their eyes. "See? The Fates have answered. These are the names of our paladins, our heroes. Do you still doubt, Grand Vizier?"
"Those names mean nothing to me," he replied coldly and turned on his heel. "Allow me to take my leave, Queen Ralia. I will reach out to the magic community in Faisney and get an update regarding their resources." Ralia allowed the magic weaver to depart while the steward and commander inspected the map with greater interest. One name was listed for each kingdom in beautiful scrawl. Foreign, unfamiliar names. Patrick, Shondo, Lina, Leticia, Bonnie, Jim, Andrew, Ashley, Jasmine, Christian, Adria, Katie.
"It's the Sun Prophecy," Ansgar whispered.
"The paladins will arrive from a world beyond our own. Never in Everealm's history has such a thing ever happened," Crio added in awe.
The trio stood together for a few silent moments. Someone among the paladins would rise as the One True Hero. But when would they arrive? And what if they were already too late?
"Another emergency, your highness!" one of the foot soldiers from Ansgar's troops cried and scrambled to the commander's side. "The creatures of Marwood have been spotted venturing close to the city! Ogres, wolves…even the banshee's cries can be heard from Marwood's depths! Something is unsettling them."
"Verlox is manipulating the darkness in their hearts. Quickly, Sir Ansgar, help the Runesguard hold off the attacks. Crio, with me. We need to ration the food and medicine. Saenctum may very well become the last safe haven in Everealm," the queen said sadly, putting an encouraging hand on her steward's shoulder. "Be careful, Sir Ansgar." Ansgar was already falling in step beside the foot soldier, reaching for armor and a heavy bundle of chain mail.
"Fear not, my queen. I'll take out the ogres single-handedly and be back in time for supper."
"No one's ever defeated an ogre by themselves before," Crio quipped.
"Then maybe I'll be the first," came the gruff reply as he headed toward the Marwood boundary, praying to the Fates that the One True Hero would rid Everealm of Verlox's evil for the final time.