Rays of colored sunshine illuminate a decorated throne. The arms of the throne take the shape of the paws from a lion, followed by the wooden body with carved muscles and ending up with the roof which is the imposing head of the animal.

The nobles gathering at the throne room cannot help but feel shivers at the sight.

Two clear emeralds adorning the eyes of the tiger, sharp white fangs reflecting the light, and a growling face complete the lifelike throne. But what the nobles truly tremble at, is not the throne nor it’s aura.

*Tap* *Tap* *Tap*

Each time the figure seated at the throne raps his fingers against the throne, is followed by a noble nearly slipping, enraptured by the sight.

Straight brown hair, bright green eyes and a stout physique, for most of the nobles present, this was their first time seeing him in full royal attire. Only the old souls could keep their cool, their trained expressions hiding their ever mysterious thoughts.

It took a few minutes for everyone to find their respective seats, puffy red velvet cushions resting their tired bodies.

It wasn’t everyday that a Royal Conference was held, and the trip to the capital was by no means easy or comfortable…

It had to be done though,Royal Conferences were only held every 20 years on average, not coming was seen as an insult to the King, no matter the excuse.

Even more so, as this was the first Royal Conference by their new King after the untimely death of his father.

And so, they continued watching the man sat on the throne.

King Oliver Trins, The Third of his Line.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Oliver languidly watched as the final few of the nobles were led to their seats by their servants.

His hand couldn’t help but gather into a fist, inaudible mutters escaping his mouth.

“Hurry up, you bunch of bastards..”.

Although the Lion’s Throne was comfortable, sitting in the same position for hours on end took a toll on anyone, even a body enhancer such as himself. He knew that the Conference was just getting started and he wanted to end it as soon as possible.

In order to distract himself from thoughts of the future numbness in his buttocks, his gaze wandered over to the massive mosaic adorning the window behind his throne. The reason why the room was bathed in tens of colors and the priceless jewel of his castle.

In it, a man with a bushy beard was holding up a banner, depicting a lion and a castle, atop a mountain of corpses. He was surrounded by his cheering allies and thousands of flaming bodies.

The Founding of Dresden, such was the name of this work, and of course, the man depicted in it was King Robert Trins, The First King of Dresden, and Oliver’s grandfather.

He focused his senses back towards the gathering but was met with absolute silence.

It seems that everyone has finished finding their seat…

He turned his head back towards the crowd and took in the sight for a few brief seconds.

Right in front of him, were three stone steps, separating himself from the rest of the nobility. The front row of seats, the closest to him, were reserved for the high-ranking nobles of the Kingdom, the further they were from the throne, the lower their noble status.

On the sides of the Throne Room, grand stone pillars stood, holding up the slanted roof, which was in turn covered by paintings depicting the history of the Dresden Kingdom, as brief as it may be.

Between these pillars, a few rows of surprisingly simple wooden desks and benches were placed. Blue-robed scribes sat on these tables, ready to write the transcript of the Conference, their inscribed quills and ink making sure that their writings would last the trial of time.

As Oliver finished looking around, a man stood up from the front row of chairs, the only exception to the rule of seating.

….

Viscount Dandelion Rute, although only a Viscount, held the only land directly neighboring Royal Territory. This also meant that he was independent from any other noble besides Kings and Princes, something usually only reserved for Dukes.

It also so happened that he was the assistant to the King and Oliver’s best friend from an early age.

Dandelion walked towards the throne, stopping just before the steps and went down on one knee, his left hand hovering over his heart and his head lowered.

“Your Highness, all noble families are accounted for except for three…” Dandelion said in a calm tone, stopping just as he finished the sentence, his eyes inching upwards, trying to get a view of the King’s expression and gauge his reaction.

Oliver simply kept his trained expression, no happiness or anger were present, only absolute neutrality.

Dandelion took this as permission to continue.

“They are House Trion, House Pomer and… House Redshield” As Dandelion said the last name, he once again observed Oliver’s expression. Although it looked as if he still kept his cool, he couldn’t help but notice the corner of Oliver’s lips becoming strained, a small frown taking place.

….

Oliver quickly realized his mistake but kept the expression, even making it more noticeable.

He was sure that Dandelion noticed this, but he wanted to see the results of this brazen show of emotions.

He was welcomed by mostly stoic looks, but a few of the younger generation revealed almost unnoticeable cheeky grins on their faces, surely remembering something told to them by their parents.

If he had not trained his senses with Mind Refining, he would surely not notice this.

Satisfied with the result, he schooled his expression back into a more neutral mask and continued with the Conference.

“You may return to your seat, Viscount Dandelion” Oliver said and shifted into a more comfortable position, it was time for the dullest part of the day.

As Dandelion returned to his seat, the servants of the nobles handed sheets of papers to their Lords.

One by one, from highest ranking to lowest, the nobles reported the status of their fief, from food production to future developments.Their voices only accompanied by the furious writing of the scribes.

Oliver paid attention to the report of most High-Ranking nobles, even asking a question once or twice. However from Mid-Ranked nobles onwards he couldn’t help but space out, his mind distracted with other matters. He could review the reports from the transcript at will either way.

Hours passed and endless talking filled the hall…

Oliver snapped from his thoughts when he heard the last noble finishing his report, only to be welcomed by numb buttocks. He shifted his position once again, relieving the pressure and resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

A few more moments of silence passed, and once the sound of the scribes stopped echoing throughout the room, Oliver released a small sigh and reached his hand for the sword sheathed between the claws of the Lion’s Throne.

He stood up after completely revealing the sword, pressing its pointed top on a small relief in front of the throne, both of his hands resting on the hardened leather pommel.

The sword was completely golden in color, like the Lion’s Throne, and adorned with another cut emerald at the pommel.

“My gratitude to all who took the long trip here in order to attend this Conference…” Oliver’s eyes scanned the crowd for a second, making sure all their attention was on him.

“Our Kingdom, though young, is by no means outclassed by the countries that surround us. This said, thanks to the actions of my foolish father, every other country has taken our inaction as a sign of weakness” As this statement leaves his mouth, he can feel the serpentine glares of some nobles in the crowd, avid supporters of his father no doubt.

Though when he shifts his gaze to them, their faces melt into indifference, the ever stoic masks they all wear.

Oliver smirks inwardly and continues his speech.

“We are now faced by an unprecedented crisis, The Bentis Empire with their ruthless Warlord is looking at us as fresh new prey, The Domid Provinces with their endless greed for resources are eyeing our bountiful land…”

“And above all, The Grandia Alliance, angered by their defeat at our hands 200 years ago, are prowling our borders, seeking to remove the independence we fought so hard to achieve…”

Most nobles shift in place as Oliver continues mentioning their enemies. Most of the younger generations do it in anticipation for the chance to prove themselves in battle. The older generation though, uncomfortable with going to war with so many other countries, their memories from the War of Independence still haunting them at night, can’t help but be restless.

“It is because of this, that following the example of The Founding King Robert, we must all unite and defend our land with blood and steel, until the last man, until our last breath, we will defend our home, we will prevail!”

Oliver raises his sword into the air violently and with all the air left in his lungs.

“LONG LIVE DRESDEN!!!” He shouts.

“LONG LIVE DRESDEN!!!” He is answered by all the nobles in the hall.

The cheering continues on for a while, until a word from Oliver silences the commotion.

After waiting for a few seconds, letting the more hot-blooded members of the crowd simmer down and returning the mood to its former state, Oliver finishes off the Conference.

“For now though, I shall be waiting for you all at the Marble Hall, let us celebrate our country and its magnificence with food and drink” As he finishes off the Conference, Oliver walks towards the side of the Throne, where a small door leading to his Quarters is placed.

The Throne Room once again fills with commotion as the nobles arrange the papers laid before them and prepare to head out, greeting their friends and making small talk.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Banquet following the Conference is a tradition always held in the Dresden Kingdom, many new nobles dream of the day where they will be grandly announced in, introducing themselves to the noble scene. It is also an opportunity for the old fogies to reunite with their friends and gossip.

Most importantly, many rich businessmen, artists and influential people gather in order to make connections, deals and mingle with the high society.

Such a grand event must be held in an equally grand hall, the pride and joy of the Desden Royal Family, The Marble Hall.

The Marble Hall, the work of many renowned artists in the Kingdom is a grandiose hall owing it’s namesake to the pearly white marble floor that encompasses it. Thousands of paintings, collected throughout the years are displayed for all to admire.

It’s most distinguishing feature though, is the inscribed water fountain that was placed in the middle. Water flowed freely from it, as if having a mind of its own, forming beautiful formations all throughout the hall.

The Banquet followed usual noble traditions, each notable guest would be announced in, the grandiosity of said entrance depending on the noble rank. From then on, the highest ranked nobles would make a toast, it was a show of goodwill to make a toast in honor of the host, but toasts were also a big part of the political game.

Many would toast to a new achievement of their own or from their progeny, making sure that it would be known to all. Many others would toast in honor of a person they would like to get on the good side of, though this was only common when the highest ranked noble was but a Low-Ranked Noble.

Naturally, such a grand event as the Banquet meant that the nobles giving a toast were none other than the Dukes, and this being King Oliver’s first Banquet, they all gave a toast in his name and his achievements.

Nevertheless, from the third Duke onwards, they struggled to find a deed worthy of a toast.

King Oliver, compared to the deeds of his father and grandfather, was not outstanding at all, one could even say he was a grand disappointment.

Oliver’s grandfather, King Robert was known as a monster of a man, one of the only men in history to have reached the peak sixth rank in Body Enhancing, he was able to take down entire armies single handedly.

Most importantly, as a past Senator of War in the Grandia Alliance, he had enough inscribed items and scrolls in his armory to equip an entire country, which is exactly what he did.

Even so, no man could be perfect, he was often known as rather dull and unintelligent.

Straightforward and chivalrous some would say…

A foolish man with a death wish, others would argue…

Nevertheless, what was needed in that time was exactly what Robert was, a strong and charismatic man, able to brighten even the darkest of situations, a shining sun for all who followed.

However, it was his son who all nobles came to fear.

King Louis…

Even now, many nobles tremble at the mere mention of this name, while Robert was the hammer that destroyed, Louis was the scalpel that healed. Louis took the newborn Dresden Kingdom and nurtured it into a country to be feared, mercilessly cutting off any rotting flesh.

This however, led to King Louis having many enemies, leading to his unfortunate early death, a death that to this day, had no known culprits.

Compared to the legends of his ancestors, King Oliver was but a mote of dust. Left without a father at an early age, he was raised by the servants of the castle, leading to a mediocre man.

He had the attitude of a King, but nothing else to back it up.

Worse yet, he was often compared to the First King, a rough control of his emotions and a lackluster ability to strategize.

It was no wonder that many among the nobles believed that the actual ruler behind the scenes was Viscount Dandelion. The complete opposite of King Oliver, a man with the brawn and the smarts, mentored by the one and only Shield of Dresden, and coincidentally, a childhood friend of King Oliver.

The amount of influence the man held was astounding, even Dukes had to tiptoe around him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

As the toasts finished, the Banquet started at large, elegantly dressed maids ran about, serving sliced roasted duck and baked potatoes to the tables, offering refreshing iced tea to those who were dancing or socializing.

Dresses of all colors flowed as the musicians continued playing, mature women romantically danced with their husbands and young girls blushed while grabbing the hand of the brave boys who dared to ask for a dance.

In the middle of this all, stood two eerily similar men, one with brown hair and the second with bright golden hair, they could easily be considered handsome, and the image of both of them together caused many a wife to elbow their husbands in frustration.

They were surrounded by a crowd, mostly nobles, but the occasional shrewd businessman slipped in. Although most were talking to each other, they all had a single eye on the two men, waiting for their turn to talk to them.

…

Oliver closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, trying to relax his tensed shoulders and jaw.

It was by no means easy to personally entertain hundreds of people for hours, and this being Oliver’s first banquet did not help at all, nearly slouching a few times already. But what really got on his nerves was the nobles who often came up to him.

“Your Highness, King Oliver” A man came up to him as soon as he finished talking with the last, making an exaggerated bow to accompany his nasally voice.

“Count Trough, my pleasure” Oliver answered back, hoping for a more refreshing conversation than the last.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine… I have to say, this Banquet is grander than any other, it must be a show of the future wealth we will all enjoy under your rule” Oliver could easily notice the man’s eyes wander to Dandelion in the middle of his sentence, losing all the motivation he had to keep the conversation going.

“Of course, Count Trough, though it will not be possible without your invaluable aid…” Oliver answered, even if he didn’t want to… he still had a role to play.

“Oh, but of course!” Count Trough boisterously laughed, his round belly jiggling with his movements.

Oliver was not tricked though, there were many Body Techniques that were based around weight. Whether one was heavy or not, had little influence on a person’s power, only affecting their aesthetic look.

“I am proud to say that among all the taxes reaching the crown this year, the one from my fief will be the grandest of all!” While saying this, Count Trough opens his arms in a dramatic manner, following it after a while with a small frown.

“Unlike that man, ArchDuke Redshield…”

“Pardon my words Your Highness, the fact that he didn’t even show his face, even after all the support the crown has shown him...frustrates me to no end”

Oliver knew that many nobles would jump at the chance to throw some shade at ArchDuke Redshield, but few would dare to do it as publicly as this man, either he has a will of steel or a great amount of hidden resentment.

“Although ArchDuke Redshield has shown some… tendencies this last few years, he has always been a loyal follower to the crown, he has even taken the grueling task of defending our border with Zanya. Although the crown will always be grateful to our Shield of Dresden, rest assured that I will have a stern talk with him about his lack of attendance”. As Count Trough hears this, his eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Nevertheless, Your Majesty…” Count Trough moves his head closer to Oliver’s, trying to whisper in his ear.

“Many Lords may become disgruntled from such an insult coming from a House favored by the crown…” Count Trough returns to his normal posture after saying this, a small grin on his face.

“As such, perhaps you could show preference to a House that showed more loyalty to the crown…” Count Trough’s smile becomes wider at this.

“I would not dare take such a spot for myself, but if Your Highness could do me the small favor of approving a new mine near my territory, I could certainly show even more support to the crown than I have already shown” Count Trough finally released what he has been guiding this conversation towards.

Oliver releases a small inaudible sigh, but upon reminding himself that he doesn’t have to continue entertaining the guests for much longer, his mind regains some sanity.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Oliver walks with slow steps through what seems like an endless hallway in the dark, the only sound being his own footsteps and the ones of the man accompanying him.

He had long ago excused himself from the Banquet, with the excuse of going to the bathroom. As always, Dandelion shadowed him from behind, making a few nobles wonder whether he even went with Oliver to the toilet.

The footsteps didn’t make much sound, thanks to the soft red carpet laid on the halls to prevent the stone floor from being worn down.

The calm light of the moon, passing through the roof to floor windows, clashed with the blazing light from the inscribed torches on the wall, giving the hallway an ephemeral look, as if they had slipped into a different world.

The fact that even the torches were inscribed was a show of the sheer wealth of the Dresden Royal Family, as normally, inscribed items were saved for the army. Except for the few low level items sold to Zanya and the countless trash items sold on the black market, no simple man could ever have a personal inscribed item, much less thousands of them.

As Oliver drowned himself in his thoughts, the night making him more contemplative than usual, he was interrupted by some words from Dandelion.

“Your Highness, are we doing the right thing?” Oliver slightly turned, eyes widening over Dandelion’s unexpected words.

He was welcomed by a sight he never thought he would ever see.

Dandelion was clutching his arm tightly, his head was lowered, hiding his expression, but the tone of his voice made his emotions clear.

“It has to be done…although I exaggerated earlier, it is no lie that we are surrounded by countries that all want a piece of us…”

Dandelion simply nodded his head, showing no signs of emotions. Seeing his friend like this, Oliver felt something break inside of him, as if a blocked up dam suddenly burst open.

“Dand… I feel the same way as you, how easy it would be to simply ignore everything and willingly play my role” Oliver looked out towards the moon.

It made everything else look insignificant… but it wasn’t.

“I can’t let what my grandfather and father built to simply collapse…”

Oliver turned around and placed his hands on the shoulders of his best friend, his hands grasping him tightly as if not wanting to let go.

“I know that what I ask of you is heartless... but the Kingdom can no longer hold such a massive sphere of influence and not become divided. I know of your relationship with that man and your feelings about the matter, but… I have no one else to ask…”

Dandelion slowly raised his head, small clumps of tears shining on the corners of his eyes. Oliver saw this and felt a pang of pain deep in his heart, he never wanted to see that expression on his friend.

But there was nothing he could do, if he was to become the machine known as King, then he needed an unbending gear.

A moment of silence enveloped the both of them, their minds in disarray.

It was only after a while that Oliver felt his shoulders slumping down, his jaw becoming unclenched and his breathing turning rhythmic. He had renewed his motivation to do what must be done.

His eyes dared to wander towards Dandelion once more and he was welcomed by frighteningly sharp eyes. It seems that Dandelion had reached the same conclusion as him.

“You know what must be done, make sure to leave no loose ends behind, end it before the news manages to spread” Oliver returned to his formal speech, the relationship of King and Retainer taking the forefront once again.

“As you command, Your Highness” Dandelion answered and stormed off, his footsteps echoing through the hall until they could be heard no more.

Oliver watched until his friend could no longer be seen, for what would come back, would no longer be the Dandelion he knew.

It seems he was more heartless than he thought.

Oliver shook his head and continued walking through the hall, the biting pain of the cold preventing him from delving deeper into his thoughts.

It wasn’t until a few more minutes passed that he suddenly stopped walking.

“I should start heading back” He muttered under his breath, white clouds being released from his mouth.

He turned around sharply, planting his feet deep into the ground, and walked back from where he came.

It was about time he began…

Or so he thought, until he was intercepted by a man, coming out of the shadows, as if waiting for this moment.

The man was a greying elder, completely covered in loose skin and wrinkles. Wearing a white robe with many intricate golden designs.

Oliver knew better than to judge this book by his cover, he may look like a man in his twilight years, but the man had an aura that sent shivers down his spine.

“Bishop Oswald” Oliver said, the tone of his voice laced in thorns.

The Bishop simply smiled warmly, like a grandfather looking at his rambunctious child. Before Oliver could even blink, The Bishop’s nearly skeletal hand had moved from his side to Oliver’s nape.

“Is that how you greet an elder, child?” The Bishop said in a tone that was completely opposite from his actions and then slowly pushed Oliver’s nape down.

Oliver tried to resist it briefly, but he could offer no meaningful fight, it took The Bishop five seconds to force Oliver into a ninety degree bow.

“Bastard… I’m a King, and yet…” Oliver tried to say, but he couldn’t stop shivering, preventing his words from coming out.

He could only bite his lip tightly and clench his hands until his knuckles turned white.

“Now, that’s much better” The Elder kept his ever present smile yet didn’t release his grasp on Oliver’s nape.

Oliver was a rank five Body Enhancer, it was no small feat to be able to force his head down and keep it that way, yet the Bishop made it seem as if he was just simply punishing a bad child.

“Now.. I wonder what you seem to be in such a hurry for?” The Bishop asked with a little chuckle.

Oliver felt cold sweat covering his body, his mind couldn’t help but think of ways to get rid of The Bishop.

Yet those thoughts disappeared as soon as they came.

Making an enemy of the Church of Arpentia was a fool’s errand, proved by the endless stories back when they had started the Holy Crusades.

If the Church could eradicate all other religions from the continent, he could only fear at what would become of himself.

It wasn’t time yet…

“Well as long as you don’t hurt the interests of the Church, it doesn’t matter much to us what you do” The Bishop answered, making Oliver’s tensed body relax.

“So, back to the point” The Bishop started talking, his warm smile being replaced by cold indifference, his hand still pressed tightly against Oliver’s nape.

“We require that you make the usual donation to the Church, in exchange we will of course, give you our part of the deal” Upon hearing this, Oliver’s eyes went wide.

It wasn’t long since he had donated nearly 200 granaries of food to the Church and now they were asking for more.

Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if they were throwing it to the ocean just to spite him.

Nevertheless, the ever present pressure on his neck reminded him of their standings and he could only mutter an utterance of acceptance.

“Very good!” The Bishop regained his warm tone and smile, as if nothing had happened… or was still happening.

“Once we confirm the food has reached our transports, we will send you the healing scrolls” The Bishop used his other hand to pat Oliver’s back.

The reason why Oliver had a deal with the Church was of course for nothing other than the healing scrolls. An extremely rare scroll, no one knew how it was made, and fewer yet could manage to obtain one, it was reserved only for the highest ranked in society.

Of course, the Church had a monopoly on these scrolls, no one else was able to create them.

Ever since Oliver had managed to create a direct and constant supply of healing scrolls, the efficiency and strength of the Royal Army had gone up by dozen of times. They were lifesavers, nearly worth all the hassle and humiliation.

Having said all this, the loss of 200 granaries worth of food was no small loss, especially in what was to come.

Before he could finish his train of thought, he felt the pressure on his nape lessen until it was gone.

He raised his head cautiously, not wanting to give the Bishop more fuel to hurt his pride with.

Yet all he could see was the back of The Bishop, clearly having lost all interest. He was walking away, slowly, as if taunting the fact that Oliver couldn’t do anything against him.

Oliver could only gnash his teeth, his hand hovering over the place where The Bishop had grabbed his nape…

It stung like hell…

Oliver’s eyes darkened.

One day…

The words that had haunted him for years came back to his mind with a vengeance, he was always waiting, always hiding...just like a rat.

….

No more…

His face turned into a fierce glare and he swore that one day, he would put that Bishop in his place, it might not be today, but today would certainly be an important step in reaching that reality.

Once again alone, he calmly turned towards the Marble Hall, his clenched fists relaxing. As he continued walking, his pace became ever more quick.

He finally reached a set of two massive twin doors which lead directly to the Marble Hall. Such heavy doors would usually have a dozen servants to open, for Oliver however, it was an easy task.

His body shook constantly, as to why, he couldn’tsay, so many emotions flowed through him, it was hard to give a concise answer.

It turned out to be a tiring and bothersome affair, to reach this point took many years, but now he would reap the rewards of his effort.

Oliver took a deep breath, his mind and body at their prime, the pain on his nape only driving him forward.

And so, he placed a hand on each door, and pushed it open.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!”

“Father?!...FATHER?!”

“What is happening?... Someone!...Someone please help!!”

“The healing scrolls aren’t working!”

“My Love, please...please don’t die!”

Oliver was welcomed by the sweet sound of commotion, hundreds of people and counting collapsed onto the floor. Some were grasping their throats, their faces and bodies turning blue, others were vomiting blood, plates breaking everywhere as they fell to the floor.

It seems he arrived just in time.

Oliver walked towards the far end of the hall, a platform that towered over everyone was his destination, a place where musicians normally played.

It was fitting in a twisted manner, Oliver’s footsteps were nearly perfectly timed with the sound of another dead body. Like the leader of an orchestra, everytime he moved his feet, wives lost their husbands, daughters lost their mothers and sons lost their fathers.

It was a disturbing scene, crimson dominated everyone's eyesight. Even the majestic fountain was stained with this dark liquid, forming the crest of the Trins family on the roof.

A Lion and a Castle.

Oliver was not a man that he could be unfazed by this scenery, at least not yet. He felt lumps of bile rising from his throat but he pushed them down.

He could not show weakness at his own power play.

Many people tried to beg him for aid, and dozens of guards rushed to protect him, however his silence spoke more than a thousand words.

As people started growing doubtful, they couldn’t help but part his way. Where before his gait was exaggerated and grand, it was now extremely simple and refined, no wasted movements and no show of strength, it was the gait of a ruler.

Oliver had stopped hiding.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

This was a plan to consolidate his power, an extremely ruthless way at that.

He had spent many years and a considerable portion of his fortune to hire an alchemist that could create a poison able to take down body and mind enhancers alike. It could even ignore the effects of healing scrolls, as it destroyed the body much faster than it could heal.

It was tasteless, odorless and colorless, a truly devious concoction.

Alchemists were extremely proud, they weren’t lacking for jobs, so they could hold themselves to a code of honor. Yet for all their wisdom, they too had made the mistake to look down on him.

He had always gone to the same alchemist, even after the man had refused time and time again. He made sure to take Dandelion to every single meeting, always letting him take the initiative and deal with the negotiations, taking the credit for himself at the end.

Eventually the alchemist agreed, on the condition that it would only be used on enemies. Oliver made sure to force him into secrecy by arranging a “lab” at his own Royal Castle, and preventing any sort of contact with the outside, using the excuse of potential leakage of confidential information.

The alchemists never doubted him for a second, believing Oliver to be just another dumb but idealistic King.

It was truly a shame that the alchemist suddenly died of an “accident” just as he finished the poison, taking the secrets of such a mixture to the grave.

….

In truth, he didn’t resent his father at all, rather he held a burning admiration towards the man that managed to repair the mess that the First King left behind.

Even so, Oliver had to accept that the way his father ruled was not optimal.

As more focus was placed on internal issues, those nobles who had done questionable acts in the War of Independence and continued to act in a corrupt manner, hurried to hide. They would stop all their movements and systematically erase the evidence of their earlier acts, whether by silver or by steel.

It was a disaster, and the timing couldn’t be any worse, as a newly born country just recently having ended a war with the strongest country on the continent, The Dresden Kingdom was on the border of collapse.

And so his father died, without managing to truly destroy the rotting pillars of this Kingdom…

He might have regretted his actions, but he managed to do one thing perfectly,and that was to instill his values onto his own son.

Oliver, now left alone in the world, learned and learned, until he could finally think of a plan.

It was rather simple, but that may be the reason for its success. Oliver would play the part of mediocrity, even copying some of the First King’s mannerisms.

He would act with disinterest towards the nobles and their dealings, slowly making them lax, letting their arrogance fester. But, with the help of his reliable friend, he would slowly build a net of evidence around their necks, until the net was so dense, that they could barely even breathe.

It was for many long years that Oliver had to act the fool, even now, his body trembled as he thought of the eyes that were often directed at him. It was not uncommon for him to spout idiotic things, yet in his mind, thousands of ways to develop the Kingdom festered, slowly boiling inside him, until they were ready to burst.

It was over now…

Every single person that was now lying on the floor, had mountains of evidence stacked against them, even the only person beholden to the truth, Dandelion, was shocked by the amount.

Seeing their bloodied corpses, a queer sense of satisfaction grew within Oliver, their pitying eyes were now gone, as were their scheming minds.

After many years of being exposed to the blatantly traitorous ways of his own followers, Oliver realized that he couldn’t be satisfied with simply punishing their evil deeds. With this, he would create an opportunity to once again centralize the power that had spread out throughout the years, once again giving the Crown complete control over the Kingdom.

This was also the reason why he had sent Dandelion out, once news of what had transpired here managed to spread, it was a given fact that many would rise in revolt, to fight against this “tyrannical” leader.

Before this could happen, he needed his Royal Army to be breathing down their necks, culling all those under which the nobles could gather, all those who had slighted his rule.

There would only be one viable option, to gather behind him in this purge.

It was a given that many innocent people would have to die, but he had long left his doubts behind. In order to save his country, in order to honor the memory of his father, which he had spat on many times to reach his goals, he would never look back.

There was only ever one way to save Dresden from it’s impending crisis…

It would not be easy from here on, Oliver was sure that he would be scorned, that many a person would try to kill him, and very few would ever understand him.

It…

It made him tremble, a wide grin present on his face. After years of inactivity, it was finally time to act. Would he be able to rebuild the Kingdom he had torn down with his own hands or would he fail…

Either way, it was time to let the third legend of the Dresden Kingdom be born.

...

Oliver’s senses regained their brilliance, after becoming a rank 3 Mind Refiner, he was able to think many times faster than everyone else.

The hall was now completely silent, only the occasional sobbing could be heard in the background.

He was welcomed by many gazes.

Some looked at him with throbbing veins and red eyes, others looked at him with mouths agape and wide eyes, and a very small minority simply bit their lips, as if a mask had been suddenly pulled from their eyes.

Oliver…

King Oliver took a scroll out from his adorned robe, many complicated symbols and shapes engraved on it. With a movement of his wrist he ripped said scroll apart, summoning a storm of elements, which ended up taking the shape of a multicolored throne.

His robe flowed as he took a seat upon this elemental throne, most present could only be distracted by what could be called a magnificent sight.

King Oliver had thought long and hard about the words that would mark the beginning of his journey. Yet at this moment, with hundreds of eyes burning a hole through his body, only a single sentence came to mind.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the New Dresden Kingdom…”