"Lord Everheart, I bring grave news from the war front!" An energetic boy working as a royal courier ran up the path to Jon Everheart's manor, yelling loudly and with urgency. It must have been tough to run all this way, as this was the middle of nowhere, far from any influence or city. The bright sun beat down on the courier, but he seemed to ignore it entirely as sweat poured down his brow.

"Catch your breath. Then tell me what happened." Jon said gravely. He dreaded this sudden appearance of news. Retired as he was, he had hidden away from the world. There was little reason to contact him like this unless there was bad news. And it turned out his worst fears were true.

The courier relayed that his protege, Prince Caiphus of the Ryka Kingdom, had been assassinated while overseeing the warfront. The battle had been lulling to a standstill for years now, and it was a war in name only. But these events only increased tensions, so who could say what would happen next. The Ryka Kingdom wasn't likely to overpower their enemies out of nowhere, but neither could the prince's death be ignored.

Jon sighed, as his heart began to ache. He couldn't worry about the kingdom anymore. He was too old for politics. Instead, he could only mourn, only as an elder can, for a life that should have outlived his. His small household busily prepared for his journey to the royal funeral, happening in just ten days time. He had isolated himself through distance from the capital, Rykos, and so his trek would be long and he would need to leave as soon as possible.

He hurried his few servants, ensuring they didn't waste time on comforts that other nobles would have screamed without. He had lived a hard life, and needed little. Jon told himself that he wasn't soft yet, and climbed into the carriage.

The driver closed the door behind the lord. He had been recently recruited, but Jon Everheart was nothing like he had expected. The hunched figure, depressed figure that climbed into the carriage was in no way like the legends!

This was the man that led the deepest expeditions into every dungeon in the Ryka Kingdom! He still held the record for all of them! This was the man who had defended at the Eagle Pass alone against an army of thousands for weeks, until Rykan forces returned to retake the pass! This was the man hailed as invincible! He had defended against monster hordes for 20 years and reigned victorious every time! A beacon of light to the people, he had come from humble beginnings as a common orphan and created miracle after miracle! From the legends, it was no wonder he had been colloquially dubbed 'The Mithril Knight'! As strong as Mithril, shining as bright as Mithril, he was the most precious hero in all the land! His tireless sacrifice was a glowing example to all the soldiers in the Kingdom!

The driver felt an emptiness as he watched this old man slump into his seat. The legendary tales were still exchanged in taverns to this day, so there had to be some grain of truth to it, but he wondered if he had expected too much.

As they set off down the road to Rykos, Jon had nothing to do but reminisce about his young charge. He had trained several princes, but this one he had liked the best. More charming, more honest than the other princes. They had been closed off and cynical. Surly even, if such a word could describe young boys.

This one hadn't been the crown prince, but Jon had hoped he would be a hero. Jon had earnestly taught the prince what he could, and it pained him to know his protege was gone. Now what was he to do? There was no other successor to him that he felt worthy, and he was too old to train a new one. The kingdom would lose the talent it needed, and perhaps would fall on dark times. As the journey continued, his mood only turned gloomier.

Appropriately, it was raining hard when Jon entered Rykos. The dark clouds and the difficult, sticky mud reflected Jon's mood as he went straight to the castle. He had arrived just in time, and the funeral would be today. He couldn't tell what time of day it was though, so perhaps he was still too late. As the raindrops pattered against his carriage, he began to hear the bustle of the city that he had left so long ago; merchants were moving goods, street urchins were running to find shelter and from the taverns came sad songs about the prince.

As Jon finally departed from the carriage, a royal attendant was there to greet him. Jon almost didn't realize who he was, as the dark mourning clothes were such a stark contrast to the bright gold and vibrant red uniforms they normally donned.

"Milord, please follow me. The funeral is underway, so please remain quiet. The eulogy has already taken place, but casket is still open for people to say their goodbyes. Before you enter, please exchange your boots and coat."

Jon entered the funeral hall, his hair still somewhat moist from the rain. Everyone was talking in low voices, focused on other things so his entrance went mostly unnoticed. Except for the King, whose attention he grabbed immediately. However, neither the King nor Jon said nothing as he approached the casket. First and foremost, Jon had to say his goodbyes.

As his eyes first laid upon the corpse, he couldn't help but feel his jaw clench as he saw the deep wounds. There were slashes on the jaw and the neck, though the face was surely his student. Jon was sure there were more wounds beneath the heavy layers of clothing, covering the corpse. The body was even starting to turn a sickly colour in some spots, as the royal family had clearly delayed the funeral for as long as possible.

When Jon had finally turned away, the King motioned to close the casket. Jon was the last to arrive it seemed, and anyone else wasn't important enough to delay any longer. Jon knew it had been a great favour, but it couldn't overshadow the hard reality settling into him right now. He moved to sit down, but soon he had to rise. They were burying him in the royal cemetery now…

Hours later, after the rain had stopped and the sun was setting, Jon stared out a window lost in thoughts. His attendant returned, interrupting his detached pensivity.

"Milord, the King has summoned you." The attendant simply said. There was nothing else that needed to be said either. Jon motioned for the attendant to lead the way, and soon he was brought to the antechamber of the throne room. He expected to be let inside, but surprisingly the King came out to him. Formalities would be put aside, he supposed. Good. It was better this way.

"My liege. It is good to see you." Jon gruffly said. He hadn't talked much since he heard the news, and his own voice sounded strange to his own ears.

"Jon. It has been so very, very long. Thank you for coming." The King said majestically. Though there was sadness in his gaunt eyes, his behaviour remained composed. "Bring the tea. We'll have it here."

Jon sat to the cushioned chair that the King gestured to. He hadn't been this close to the King in years. Jon felt that the King sitting opposite to him was a great honour, though they had once been close friends in the past as well.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, your Majesty." Jon said after a few moments of silence. It was polite, and the silence returned after, making the mood awkward.

"It is your loss too, Jon. Where else will I find a hero for Ryka? Though my son was unaccomplished, I felt certain he would do great things. He was the best of those you took under your tutelage." The King turned to him, with a strange look in his eye. His face was emotionless, but there was a spark there somewhere. "If only you were young again, eh?"

"Your Majesty, please do not jest. Death comes to claim us all, even I cannot escape that."

The King responded with a noncommittal noise, and turned away again, staring off at some wall.

"Your tea is here." A dark red brew was placed in front of Jon, while a light green tea was handed to the King.

"Drink, Jon. I've heard you haven't had a sip of water all day."

Jon, still feeling awkward, was thankful to have something to occupy his actions. They drank their tea in silence, both pretending to savour the flavours.

A strange feeling came over Jon. He felt weary, though that part wasn't strange. He was old now, and feeling weary was commonplace. No, it was how quickly the weariness took him. Swaying in his chair, he hurriedly put down his cup and was surprised that by the time he had done so, he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He fell and everything went black.

…

Jon awoke in a very strange place. It was dark and spacious, but around him were torches burning brightly. For the light of the torches to not reach the walls, it must have been a huge cavern.

Looking around him, he realized he was on some sort of ceremonial altar. He was chained down in a kneeling position, in the centre of the cavern, as far as he could tell. Below him, on several descending terraces surrounding the circular altar, were hundreds of men, women and children. They looked dirty, and wore tattered clothes, and they too were tied down. They were evenly spaced out, and they all had a resigned look of despair on their faces.

"Ahh, you're awake! Good, we've been waiting for you!" The voice of the King sounded out from behind him. The King strode out of the darkness from a raised path, followed by a group of people clothed in nondescript black, hooded robes.

Jon was very alert at this moment. The King had sounded very different from usual. Deranged even. He looked it too. His eyes were even more sunken than before, and deeply red with veins all over. He too was wearing a black robe without his crown, and didn't seem very regal at the moment.

"Sire, what is happening?" Jon forced out.

"Hush, Jon. Just relax. It's a good thing that's going to happen to you. We wouldn't have to do it this way if you weren't such a righteous ass. This world will never be as rosy as you wanted it to be, after all. It's truly a pity I was never able to convince you of that."

"I don't understand…"

"You'll see in a moment, but I'm giving you back your youth. Gods, I should have done this years ago. How useful you would have been to me! The wars you could have fought, the honours you would have won! Truly Jon, I admired the legends you made. It was such a waste to let you grow old! If you were young again…" Suddenly the King slowed down. His mirth clearly interrupted by a deep sadness, he slowly continued his thoughts. "If you were young again, you would have been at his side. You would have kept him alive, I'm sure of it."

Jon was shocked. Had the King gone mad? What was happening?

"Sire, of course I would have done everything I could to keep him alive! I loved him as much as you, but what could I have done?"

The King whipped around to face Jon, surprising him. "Nothing! You were old and weak! But no longer! I'll return you to greatness! At any price!" Laughing maniacally, the King in front of him was a stark contrast from the King that Jon knew. It was confusing and terribly sad at the same time.

"Horus! Compose yourself! You don't need to say anything else, and we're almos-"

"Shut up Minerva! It wasn't your child that died! You have no idea what that child meant to me!"

Minerva? The queen? The prince wasn't her child? Jon only became more confused by what he heard. There was so much happening that he couldn't grasp!

"Hmmph. Horus. Stand outside of the ritual circle. We're starting." The hooded queen said icily.

While they had been talking, various items had been passed out around the circle of hooded figures surrounding Jon. Everyone had been looking over scrolls, and making preparations except for the King. With the King out of the circle, bright purple glowing auras began to appear from the hands of the robed figures. Magicians, each and every one of them.

Jon was astounded! Magicians were rare, and an education in magic was the privilege of the wealthy. And what he saw around him wasn't like any common magic he had ever heard of. This was something only privy to the royal family. Was everyone here a royal magician? There were so many that this felt impossible to him as well!

"Steel your heart, Mithril Knight." The King smirked, though it never reached his eyes. It reminded Jon of a man ready to give up everything.

As the purple aura between the magicians began to connect with each other, they also began to connect with large gemstones on the floor of the ritual altar. Each of them had a glass channel that led to the centre, where he was chained down. As the channels lit up and the magical energy travelled towards him, he began to expect pain and suffering! But there was nothing. It touched him, and all he felt was a warm comfort.

But then the screams started. All around Jon, those tethered prisoners began to wail in agony and despair! It was particularly heart-wrenching to hear the children cry out to their mothers and fathers, though they too were dying.

"STOP THIS! Please, sire! What's happening?!" Jon yelled out.

"Youth isn't free, Jon. This is the price we pay. And we pay it gladly. Every time."

"NOOO!!!!"

"Yes, Jon. It isn't just us either. Everywhere does it. From the Ruby Seas to the Untamed Forest to the Searing Mountains, every monarchy does this. It happens all the time. Any kingdom that doesn't do this gets quickly swallowed up by one who does. It's been happening for thousands and thousands of years."

"Nooo…" Jon couldn't handle the screaming and suffering around him. To know this world was so cruel and corrupt, that everything he had fought for and knew of was a lie; it broke him.

"Silver hair of a Unicorn Mane, bless this man with argent locks. Amethyst stones of the deepest hue, become his eyes and reflect ever violet. Blood of Infinus, curse and bend him to our will."

The Queen, Minerva, chanted her own ritual, separate from others. A deep red aura grew from a small circle in front of her, with the various named objects. As it rose, she pushed it toward Jon and it slammed into his being! Jon reeled as he felt something changing every part of him. Every muscle, every organ, every inch from head to toe of his felt different.

And then he felt the energy course through him. The purple aura began to gather into him, more and more washing through him. It was strange and unfamiliar, but the true trial was listening to the crescendo of screaming victims around him. Knowing they were being sacrificed for his sake. It was agony for him.

As the screams died down, Jon finally opened his eyes. All the prisoners had turned into mummified corpses, as though every bit of their essence had been sucked out. He looked at himself, with smooth young skin, and a body that didn't hurt constantly any more. He hated it. He was disgusted.

The King stepped forward finally. "So it begins… Sleep."

Upon hearing the command, Jon was powerless to resist. His body swayed, and his mind blanked out. Suddenly, he slept.