Outside a raging sea of fire swelled and culminated. They had been at the gates for hours and only now did the outer bastion finally fall as the flags were torn down. The enemy, a brash and unexpectedly organized one, had managed to breach so many defenses that the kingdom of Rusvik had thought to be so impossibly impenetrable the mere fact that the enemy had gotten this far was nothing short of a disturbing surprise that reinforced itself with every battering ram to the fortifications.
Inside the Throne Room, past the inner Bastion and at the crest of the mountainous fort that was once known as the Quartz Palace, there was managed panic. The elite guards of the palace had begun to fortify the doors whilst court mages went about to assist in preparation of trap runes and wards. It was one of these guards whose special duty sent him past his comrades in defense preparation and up the glistening towers to seek out a target.
Her. The one whose lineage could never fail.
The golden scaled cloak rattled with every step as gilded and defined armor shined in between the tower-silts that gave little vision to the burning and desolated city outside. Finally, after some time, he stood outside the double wooden doors.
Three knocks, then he turned the knob.
The room was blissfully as opulent as the rest of the castle. Herein great furniture had been settled across and a mask of beauty and grace seemed to flow through the very air itself. Every movement and breath seemed refined and planned, every speckle of dust seemed planted here by Nature herself to highlight its perfected beauty.
To one knee the guard went down and gave a singular nod.
“Your Ascendancy, I’ve orders from your Father to escort you to the evacuation tunnels. From there we must meet with someone who will get you out of here.
@Leon 🌸✨
