Looking down the path, Lyse could see the clearing of light that signaled the end of the forests of silence and the valley just before the mountain range north of Liontari. As they emerged, the image they received in return was breathtaking. They were met immediately with a giant wall of white limestone over fifty meters high—the walls wrapped around the city Silondras, the capital of Liontari. Several towers and buttresses were evenly spaced among the walls, and along with them, Lyse saw many ballistae and cannons aimed down the valley. The main entrance, a two-gated path heavily guarded with a few coming in and out, stopped, questioned, and then allowed through. Two twin lion statues, made of gold and silver, flanked the entranced and looked down menacingly at those who entered, the golden sun reflecting off their metal hides. And beyond the wall, behind the amalgamation of buildings from grand to mundane, is the grandest of all structures laid nestled near the mountain bed. The beacon of the Liontari clan, the Great Fortress of Grimdal. Their destination of where their fates will be realized. Lyse has only heard stories and legends of this place. The cradle of the first clan to come into being. Only now did it seem to leave the realm of fantasy and into reality. And he was there.

Makyra leads them all through the valley and eventually into the gates. Just outside the walls, peppering its exterior, were large tents and brick buildings where soldiers seemed to be preparing to mobilize, which was curious to Lyse. He looked up to the twin lions as they passed, noticing red gleaming eyes that followed him as he passed. As they approached the gates, a system where only one gate could be lifted at a time, a man flanked by two knights held out his hand. Once again, they yielded, and the man approached them while the knights kept a close eye on them. He first approached Makyra, the only one in more regal armor, and led them forward. She handed him the proper documents and rankings, which he examined much more closely, seemingly. His face was concealedy a complete helmet, the visor letting only his dark brown eyes peek through to them.

"A Lykos knight," he whispered to himself. "Welcome to Silondras. You have an audience with the king?"

"Yes, and hopefully, you have two recruits who will join your ranks soon enough," she said gesturing to Lyse and Edlund.

"Always good to see new faces," he said to Lyse and Edlund this time and stepped aside to allow them past. "Epizo knights, huh? Well, I wish you the best of luck, young men. May Fate treat you kindly."

Lyse never liked the term, Epizo. It meant that you had nothing and gained a lot. That luck had befallen you and gifted you with ability. But it also indicated status. Most of those who become Knights of the highest order are noblemen, sons of lords, viziers, Marquis, and other official status in the kingdoms and territories. It is scarce for an Epizo, who has no noble name, background, no favorable city, or teaching to become a well-known knight. And this always made him contempt with it.

They moved their horses into the space between the two gates, the one behind them slamming into place before the other slowly lifted from the sage on the other side, slowly rotating the spindle. As soon as the gate was finally locked in place, Makyra immediately spurred her horse onward. For the second it took for Lyse and Edlund to respond, they had taken in all the beauty of the city. Beyond the courtyard they found themselves in, decorated every so often by fountains, the city began with a ring of houses and buildings of uniform decor. Sloped roofs laced with ceramic tiles. The main structure ranged from wooden to brick and marble laden. For the much larger structure, there would be found pillars carved precisely and holding up large stone roofs of pavilions, lecture halls, and even a few libraries he could see in the distance. And immediately, he knew the first place he wanted to go. As they follow Makyra through crowded streets that Lyse and Edlund have never seen. Lyse guessed that he had seen more people walking around in a second than any people in his own village. And they could not help but gawk at this. A little further in, they encountered what appeared to be storehouses where large stores of grain were collected and then redistributed throughout the clans and even traded out to Shi'Ased or across the azure sea. A few soldiers stood guard at the entrances, greeting every single person with loaded crossbows. The final layer, the innermost sector, was capped with a bronze statue of the king. Over ten meters, staring back at the forest with an authoritative glare. A small grin on his metal face and holding a sword pointed to the horizon. Regal armor and bracers and pins and capes and poses—the perfect depiction of the king, James the Warrior King. Surrounding him was proof of his success. Hundreds of vendors sold goods within his land. From luxurious silk from the Eastern Kingdoms, golden items from ancient civilizations, and pottery for the most skilled artisans. Lyse had only dreamt of seeing such examples of prosperity. And he hasn't even seen the palace.

The central road that controlled the direction of the city finally ended at a moat that ran like a river around the entirety of a fortress-like construct on a grand scale. A brick-laden bridge flanked by two rows of waiting guards, shields locked into position and staring in the distance, like watching a distant battle and waiting to join in the tumult. As they passed, they gave no notice to them. They couldn't even see a shred of detail from their faces as they were guarded by wide brim helmets. The only thing that told Lyse they were even human was the slight shifts in motion when they breathed. They were not dressed like knights, whose attire included colors of iron and yellow-gold linen. Instead, they were dressed in blacked, studded leather armor with stiff pauldrons. Their rectangular, slightly curved shields that they held with one hand before them were also decorated in this manner. The face mask of the helmet was that of a lion, roaring in outrage. They stood like death itself, and it made Lyse uneasy. A cluster of them stood at the gates, holding spears and looking down the bridge through them. Makyra did not stop for them, and they did nothing to stop her as she entered through the first gate of the fortress. A cobblestone courtyard lay beyond them, a few knights walking around and talking, and a few women in fine dresses sat on the stone benches while a bard sang for them. A few carts and carriages were dotted around, but they paid no mind to these. Instead, they approached the grand doors of their destination.

"I-I can't believe it," Edlund was speechless till now, as was Lyse. But as they dismounted their horses, handing their leashes to some guards promising to take care of them, their hearts seized from the excitement.

"Take breath, boys," Makyra warned them as she approached the large set of wooden doors that would lead to the main structure. "This is where things will get interesting."

"Have you been here before?" Lyse asked, following her up the set of stairs. She nodded in response but said nothing of the topic and left it in the air. She opened the door, which led into the barbican, the first layer of defense for this small town within the city. The twin towers, peeling into the sky, also had mounted ballista aimed at the courtyard. The gatehouse leads them deeper and deeper through rounded pathways, in and through more gates and men. Lyse and Edlund saw more soldiers, younger-looking ones that arrayed themselves in neat rows and marched with swords too long and shield too wide for their frames. All noble children, Lyse guessed as he walked past them. Their instructors were lecturing them on proper marching formations, and it brought Lyse back to his own training out in the hills, running alongside dozens of other squires in tight formations. These, of course, turned into full races at times as Edlund tried to compete with Lyse, and Gabbes would strictly punish them both with a nice list of chores and maintenance around the training grounds.

The last chamber they entered was not the throne room, which Lyse expected to find the king, but in one of the northern towers, the shortest of them all and the stockiest of builds. Once they entered, they closed the door, and it was then as if he had stepped into another world. The beautiful and bustling city was replaced with a quiet, sour smell. Lyse felt that few actually entered this place, even if it was unguarded and unsupervised. Makyra led them inside, down a hall flanked by rows of candles that lit the interior. It was deathly quiet, and for a moment, Lyse felt like he was back in the Forest of Silence.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"The king, right now, is in a meeting with some of his advisors," he told him. "It's always around this time of day. It should be over soon."

"So I get the impression you've spent a great deal of time around here then?" Edlund asked her.

"Not long," she replied. "When I was younger . . . my father was a diplomat, so I traveled with him to Silondras, and oftentimes he was granted audiences by the kings."

As the path bent, and they found themselves descending a set of spiraling steps, Lyse could begin to hear the faint sounds of conversation. By now, he figured that they were now underground, beneath the castle and city itself. They finally came upon a door, flanked by two more of the still guardian knights who looked on, paying no mind to them. Their longsword was still sheathed, but they held them ready to attack at any moment's notice. The door was closed but not barred off. The guards again did nothing as she opened the double doors and entered the Advisor's chamber, where the king was in mid-conversation with several other men and women.

They each stood among a large central table that took up most of the room within this chamber. The king was at one end, both hands flat on the golden map of the Western kingdoms, Including the clans, Shi'Ased, Frostlands, Acirfa, and other smaller island nations. The advisors flanked him from either side, pointing and moving pieces across the map. The king's mitt-like hands irritatedly scratched the surface, staying mostly silent in discussion with short words here and there to spark their strategic endeavors. His golden and black robe wrapped around his built form, and at first glance, there was no regal indicator to his figure. He looked like he belonged in tunnels, mining minerals with his bare hands. His weathered eye looked stubbornly to the map, mainly at the Frostland, the kingdom north of the clans. Well cut salt and pepper hair laid upon his head, dawning a thin golden crown resembling a large ring around his head.

Makyra, Edlund, and Lyse stood silently as the conversation continued. There was a brief moment of pause after a while, when one of the advisors noticed three new presences in the room. A motley of dark hooded faces and stern looks turned in their direction, except for King James, whose attention stayed linked to the map.

"May we help you? Why are you here?" one said accusingly. Makyra stepped forth, bowing before the king and to the advisors. Lyse and Edlund did the same out of courtesy.

"I am Makyra of the Lykos clan. I have an audience with the king and have much to discuss."

At the mention of the name, King James's face lit up like he was pulled from a trance. He looked up to Makyra with, at first, a curious glance that slowly shifted to a small smile. The advisors seemed ready to tell her to leave until the King lifted his hand in response and signaled them all to leave the chamber immediately. Most looked confused as to why but begrudgingly left to leave the four people alone. King James lifted his figure, revealing his tall form to them before turning towards them. He looked at Makyra with the same smile and held both of his arms out in greeting, which she did accept. The embrace was short, but they both gave a deep sigh afterward like it took all they had.

"So good to see you, my dear, but what brings you to my capital?" the king spoke as a friend would to another. It was a little off-putting to Lyse and Edlund, who were left standing there amongst themselves. "It's been what? Two years perhaps?"

"I believe so," she said, and as her face was bright with relief, it returned to the more intimate tone she was accustomed to. "I come with news, terrible, I'm afraid."

He sighed but nodded. "Of course. Rarely does someone approaches a king with good news. So what is it that forced you here? Has Lykos been attacked again? Do they still need aid to defend the northwestern border?"

"No, my king," she spoke, a little softly now. "Wilbur . . . he's dead."

The king's expression seemed to die to those words, and he stumbled back to the golden table behind him, still looking at Makyra with an incredulous expression. "He's dead. I . . . I mean. Why now? What of Celia and the boys?"

"Celia is still recovering my king, and as for the boys . . ." she turned her gaze to Lyse, and finally, the king locked on to his presence. He felt the weight of elephants suddenly drag his head down and could not meet the king's eyes. His heartbroken expression mixed with curiosity and grief. "They're here to be recognized as Knights."

"Knights," he gave a sad chuckle. But it wasn't in any mocking manner, but as if it was some sad joke come to fruition. He walked over to the both of them, standing a few inches over them in height. "So, you both wish to be a knight?"

"Yes, my lord," was the words that Lyse knew he should have said. But instead, the pits of his mind pulled forth another question. "How do you know my mother?"

His gaze froze with the king as his mind seemed to race to find a suitable answer to the query. He sat his hands on his shoulders, a little heavy as if he was using Lyse as support. "So they still haven't told you. So much like Wilbur and Celia. Well, it is not my place to say to you what reality is and is not. Just know that we have history, the three of us. And it is quite something seeing you here. A knight, huh?"

He pondered upon this, looking from Lyse to Edlund with interest. Assessing their physicality, their clothes, and even their weapons. "Impressive blades. It seems pretty fit."

"So, does that mean that we are knights?" he asked.

"Of course not," he said. "I can't just snap my finger and make you a knight. Um . . ."

He snapped his fingers, and immediately one of the two guards opened the doors and poked his helmet into the room. "Summon the Paladins for initiation. We shall move the inductions up now."

The guard gave a slow nod, then closed the doors. King James led them all out of the small council chambers and through the tunnels and halls that created the underground of the fortress. Lyse and Edlund were completely unaware, as they are often to catch these days, of how extensive the underground would be. He often assumed that there would be multiple exits within the castle, but there was an entire network of tunnels that could stretch into the city. Within, he saw men carrying large crates of what appeared to be gunpowder, wearing leather masks with glass sockets as they took inventory of each crate. They came across a few soldiers arranging weapons of interesting design and technique placed on altars, occasionally writing something down on a scroll and then moving to another room to inspect. He saw several rooms that looked mostly barren, spaces large enough for huge crowds to huddle for protection.

"Some say that these caverns run deep into the mountains," King James whispered to Lyse. He had a torch in his right hand, and a few guards surrounded them as they walked. But somehow, as soon as he spoke, it felt as if only he and Lyse were there.

"Do they?" Lyse asked him.

He gave a half shrug before looking on ahead. "I don't usually have the time to explore. In my youth, I think I had done enough of it. But now I realize that there is never enough. There is always something left to see."

"You were an explorer back when you were a prince," Lyse remembers reading this. The king sighed, and a look of both longing and regret followed.

"I was a lot of things when I was a prince," he admitted coldly. "Anyway, why do you two wish to become Knights?"

The question pointed to Lyse, and Edlund seemed nonchalant in approach, but he sensed a tone of curiosity and anticipation that seemed alarming in a sense. While he paused to consider his answer, Edlund was not so slow for an answer.

"I just . . . I want to create a better life," Edlund whispered. "My mom and dad were killed during the war. My grandmother raised me till I was nine, till she too passed away. I had to live on the streets till Lyse's family took me under their wings."

The answer seemed to satisfy the king somewhat, driving him to a kind smile. Then his hungry eyes beamed upon Lyse, who still considered his answer. It took him a moment to respond, but he made sure he got his point across as effectively as possible.

"I want to make the Clans a safer place," he said quietly, almost laughing at himself to spare the humiliation. "I know, I know, it is such a childish dream. But-"

"Nonsense," King James interrupted. "That goal is the same for all kings. At least, it should be. We kings are mere servants to our people. We are the authority that provides wealth, resources, and promise of freedom under our banner for all sitting enough to take it. Making the Clans a safer place has always been a goal we have fallen short of."

"Well then, what do you think I should do?" He asked him. "How do I achieve this?"

The king only smiles kindly. "We shall see soon now, shouldn't we? The first test shall begin within a day, so prepare yourselves."

(X)

Lyse had frozen for a second under the king's glare. A day to prepare? He hasn't even seen the castle interior, explored the city still. And now they were thrown into this arena. He expected a bit more time, but now a weight revealed itself upon his back. If he doesn't pass this test, he will have to go home. And he still had so many questions. He still had so many things he wished to do. His sister, he can't find them without major aid from the Knights.

He steeled himself. It no longer mattered whether or not he was unprepared. He needed to be now.

After the little discussion, they were escorted, not by Makyra, but by two regular knights, to their rooms. They were kept in a tower on the northernmost end of the entire castle, passing through some of the larger buildings they could only dream held. One stood out among the others. It was built similarly to a mound and placed against the mountainside. From what Lyse could see, the only entrance was through a bridge that connected this structure to another tower. This made him very curious, even more so when he saw one man standing on that bridge, his dark silhouette immediately imposing as he stared and felt that he was being watched excessively.