King Lyras had been staring at the table before him for hours while his advisers and several of his generals waited quietly and patiently for him to address them. The massive table in the middle of his castle’s war room was a solid piece of steelwood. Legends say it was carved from the club of the Titan that the first king of Ald killed in single combat to secure this location as the center of his new kingdom. At this moment, however, Lyras wouldn’t have cared if it was made from his mother-in-law’s reforged chamber pot. All that mattered was what was on the table: maps showing a military spread too thin, names of fallen soldiers whose families were still owed the gold he swore to pay, treasury reports documenting the kingdom’s income from taxes and other sources, various expense reports covering things from guard salaries to equipment costs for the new recruits being sent to the front lines as quickly as possible. Likely too quickly and with too little training for boys who’ve never held a weapon before, much less seen any real combat. Lyras thought to himself grimly. His advisers had strongly suggested that he not follow through with his plan to give the families of fallen soldiers a year’s salary as a lump sum in the event of their death, but he would have none of it. The enemy was the embodiment of evil-cruel, uncaring, and incredibly ugly from what he’d heard from those who had come from the front lines to report. There I go thinking about my mother-in-law again. Lyras probably would have chuckled to himself if not for the grim reality of their situation…

Whether out of hubris when considering the strength of the Aldan army or an idealistic, bordering on naive, sense of obligation to the families of his soldiers, he refused to listen to reason and made a royal proclamation with regards to the payments, binding him to comply under threat of inescapable death per the magics that made him king. At the onset of war, Ald was able to attack a few locations to concentrate their forces, which allowed them to minimize casualties. The enemy countered by sending additional troops to other locations-spreading the Aldan military thin and inflicting a devastating number of casualties in the first few battles. The effect this had on the treasury was immediate, with gold being depleted at an alarming rate.

Ald was fighting a losing battle that it soon would be unable to afford.

Lyras knew that the nothing short of a miracle could save his people and, by extension, the rest of the world from the terror that threatened to end everything. Unfortunately, the gods had been silent for centuries. They refused to intervene with mortal matters or grant any blessings or favors until the day The Others showed up. Lyras feared that if the prophecy was true (and accurate by claiming The Others were adventurers with near limitless potential) that they would arrive only to find a barren wasteland devoid of anything that could be referred to as good or pure. Even knowing they would never hear him, Ald began a silent prayer to the gods of old asking for a miracle to save the kingdom.

A commotion in the hallway outside pulled Lyras from his attempts to reach the divine beings. “YOUR MAJESTY” the royal messenger screamed as he burst into the room before freezing at the sight of the glares he now received from the powerful men and women arrayed before him. Lyras recognized the messenger immediately and demanded to hear what he had to say before an overzealous general could yell some nonsense about propriety and respect and all the other absolute horseshit that got in the way of a king being able to talk to anyone or seemingly accomplish anything during his day.

“Your majesty,” the messenger began, still trying to catch his breath after what was likely his incredibly long run to the spot where he now stood. “they’re here.”