[WP] You, the hero chosen visited by a vision of the princess and chosen by fate, arrive at the gate of the princess' prison only to find a group of men of women. A group of men and women of different skills and backgrounds, also visited by a vision of the princess and chosen by fate.

...

"Release them."

The voice was cold and sharp as the clatter of heavy gates rolled back upon rusted hinges. A scent of grinding iron and dry stone flushed along the darkness where I waited in silence with the others. Shadowed figured of large and armored men stepped forward with the coming light, eyes sharp as edged steel.

This was it, I supposed. All of us were moments from the block, the final precious seconds of life dropping by like an hourglass overturned towards its end. After all I'd survived: the adventures, the trials by combat, magic and fire, I was soon to be meeting my demise. Captured by the actions of half-dead, half-naked priest, and a rather unfortunate vehicle collision with a royal fruit vendor.

Somewhere in the thick of citrus and smoking ethanol, I was confident I must have missed a critically important life-lesson.

Still, it all seemed such a waste. Even accepting my fate, I found it a great difficulty not to take those final mistakes without a level of personal criticism. We could have made it through and escaped the city, been on our way towards less threatening and zealous pastures, but we didn't. Instead we got caught.

I guess that's what people like to call fate.

"So, this is the Legendary Battlemage of the Southern Territories." The voice spoke again as my eyes adjusted to the light now blinding from the cell's doorway.

Thick hands grabbed at my shoulders, lifting me up from the cold stone with ruthless strength, and beyond a slight hiss of discomfort, I provided little resistance as an elegant glove of white lifted my chin. Slowly, my gaze focused on eyes of the deepest gold. Beautiful gold. Not a Soldier this time, I was reasonably confident. Even half-dazed and a few days from starvation, the woman seemed to radiate nobility with the heat of a bonfire's flame.

"Barely a trace of magic- however strange it is, yet famed across the Country." The pale face curled to a regal smile, gold necklace falling into place beside jewel-crested fabric. "I'd have thought any of your companions to be the leader, yet all their eyes fell to you." White teeth seemed to glow as the words reached my ears. "Had I not seen your metal demon crush through half a Royal Battalion with my own eyes, I'd truly believe you nothing more than an imposture."

I blinked, letting a pained gasp as the iron cuffs behind my back clattered roughly to the floor. Distantly, I heard the groans and shouts of the others. None of them seemed to be taking the forced motions with much greater dignity than I had.

"Now, I've let you rot for a full week, just as the High-Bishops demanded. But the week is finally up, and they have no further power on royal grounds." The white-gloved hand pulled at me, heavy hands grabbing my shoulders in unison to drag my body into an weak stance. Around us, lights flared with the strange taste of magic. Several torches filled out along iron pierced stone along the walls with odd flickers. "Come with me." She commanded.

I did so, perhaps more dragged along than by my own footwork or effort. Out into the halls, past the dozens of waiting men in perfect armor, dangerous eyes just waiting for the slightest of movements. A slow turn confirmed that the others followed in a similar fashion: My companions each lifted and carried along, barely capable of nursing their bruised wrists.

Though it couldn't have been more than a few hundred meters in total, it seemed a marathon of distance. In and out of consciousness, my mind flickered, and when those arms released me, I all but crumpled to a rich velvet floor; Gasping for breath. That is a description, but it might give little justice to the truth of my state. My head spun, my stomach curled upon itself, and nothing seemed capable beyond the faintest strength to hold my body off of the floor. A week of cold darkness with barely the smallest portions of food and drink could ruin almost any man.

Then I felt the familiar pulse of healing smash against my non-existent defenses, and awareness took hold of me once more.

A Throne, rich velvet, windows of stained and painted glass rising towards the all but unseen heights of a domed ceiling filled with more detail than even a trained mind could fathom. As the woman who had lead us all to this place took her place upon the rich chair of gold and carved stone, I realized that bonfire of nobility I'd been feeling crisp my skin, was a flame of Royalty.

"Healers, you may leave them." A scepter of ivory fell to match the gloved hand which raised it, as she spoke.

"As you command, your Highness." The quiet steps behind my person softly passed into the distance, before the booming of massive doors.

"Guard, go fetch them some bread." The scepter pointed idly in another direction, face of impatience lifting with a rising scowl of irritation. "Quickly, before they all keel-over and die on the floor."

"Your Highness?" The massive figure of a crested guardian beside the throne turned with the question, deep voice uncertain. The longer I stared at him, the more confident I was that the frame beneath all that armor was at least eight feet tall. A bonafide giant, with a sword to match.

"Go." The expression of irritation grew stormy, and the off-scent of magic seemed to drag out along the air once more.

Idly, I watched a stray fae swirl about on the currents as my companions beside me each seemed to tense. Perhaps quite a lot of magic, I realized. The giant guard bowed carefully, eyes set deeply with respect. "As you command, Princess."

All eyes watched as he stepped away from his place beside the throne, thumps of armored feet seeming the reverberate even through the thick stone. For a second time the doors boomed closed, and I felt the heated pressure of royal perspective fall upon me once more.

"Rise." The stormy expression held on the pale face as golden eyes dug into my skin like knives as I complied, however unsteadily to give my best attempt at a rough bow. "Understand this, and understand it clearly: You have two choices before you, oh infamous Battlemage of the Southwestern Territories." The staff rose, white flare of visible magic rising into the air in the formation that drew further fae to flight, spinning on its currents with wild orbits. "Serve me, or die."

I can tell you now, that was a surprisingly simple choice to make.