There was a time when the king of Landfor and his closest ally sat in the royal banquet hall.

Anger, anxiety, and other feelings of doubt had bubbled in the king long before the annual battle against their main rival kingdom.

“Damn it all,” yelled the young king, slamming his fist into the grand table packed with exquisite meals before him.

Leoren, the old man known as High Invoker asked the king in a concerned manner, “What is it, my lord?”

“It…” he murmured exhaustedly in reply, “it is nothing. I just cannot keep my mind off what has happened.”

“My lord, my heart truly cries with sorrow,” the old man spoke, getting up from his chair then bending the knees to his king.

“Stand up Leoren and stop calling me lord. I’ve been Rene to you for my entire life, I had hoped that it will remain that way for the rest. Do not disquiet yourself with my woes. No one could have predicted events such as this,” he disbanded the concern that had hung around the old mage ever since that day, “no one could have predicted what has happened.

You know you are like an uncle to me, I know I can share these uneasinesses I carry with me.

It has not been long since I dawned the title of king and I have doubted myself every step of the way but I thought that drawing or winning the annual battle would solidify my courage but with that man…”

“Tranquillise, young Rene,” Leoren got up with no difficulty a man his age should have already befallen a decade ago, “perhaps it carries truth that thou hath not had the seat of king long-lasting, the seventeen of years I spend affixed to thine side have given me the understanding that thine reign will be great.”

As boy king, Rene felt confident, being praised by someone he saw as close family though his eyes were those sadden and burdened with responsibility, “I thank you for your confidence in me.”

There was stillness for a while.

“Who was that man?” The king began.

“He proclaimed himself to be Asher Burell,“ Leoren answered as fast as his aged mouth allowed him.

“Firstly he claimed himself to be Seiya,” Rene continued.

“Never have I heard of such a man, neither ones of the twice named. He was of great power.”

“Not greater than yours,” the king looked at the old mage.

Hesitant the mage had to challenge what he had said, “there is true regret in these words but, I cannot agree.”

“What do you mean?” The king had not expected his words to be refuted.

“Reflect at the first skill he hath set against us, the light which had smitten at least fifteenscore men on the field. Not once in my life had I seen such a spell.”

“How are these men by the way? This Asher man told he did not actively try to kill.”

“None one dead.”

Again there was a silence.

“I must share my disquietude with you who is my king. When first you called me to lay my sword upon him you saw yourself that he split himself into multiple.

When first they came they were no match of mine and I dispatched them but when twice the next time they were almost of mine own strength, maybe equal. I fear when he appears next, his chaos will be unseen before that day.”

“What shall we do?”

There was a glint in the eyes of the old man, “we could try to talk to him next time we meet.”

“That is insane. Talk to that man? I’ll kill him first, next time my eyes lay upon him.”

“That would be a grave choice. Dismayed I must say what else is there do to? Before we will be given the chance to stop him once and for all he will have wreaked havoc among all the world.”

“We shall try to find out anything about him before he’ll do anything. He said that his king is named Cyrus and his goddess is Alexandra.”

“There are a myriad of goddesses with that name, some long ago forgotten. Not one under the stars to praise their names in darkness or shadow.

Knowing who he meant is like finding the right corn of sand in a desert.

And to me in my long and aged life, none king has been named Cyrus.”

Deep in thought, the king asked himself,

“Who is that man?”