The wide paved roads of Balin were lined with onlookers from all walks of life. Merchants watched from the windows of their auction houses and shops, nobles from the balconies of their massive estates while a throng of farmers and laborers lined the streets. All of them watching the rebels being escorted to the grand keep at the center of the city.
Kothar rode alongside Balmin, having grown close to the Mage Platoon during the battle. He now knew the two Earth Mage twins were named Shale and Slate, and spent many hours quizzing them on the intricacies of Earth Magic.
The pair were also unique in that they almost always cast magic together, very rarely casting spells on their own. Most mages would only be able to cooperate on a spell after much preparation, careful timing and attunement, but thanks to their closeness, Shale and Slate were able to cast in unison constantly.
Kothar realised that their casting was similar to what he did with Silane, with the burden of the spell being split between two minds, allowing for a faster casting. However, the pair benefited from two mana pools they could draw from, allowing them to easily dominate mages in their own class.
The column of soldiers and prisoners marched straight through the city, heading for the shining keep that rose from the center. The keep was the pride of Ursten, crafted from massive blocks of black granite shot through with veins of blue Magesteel ore, the keep was a testament to the years of unity between the kings of Ursten and mages of Trinquile.
The keep rose up on a massive column of rocks, surrounded by a deep crevasse that held the Nestor river. Many a young couple would visit the keep late in the evening, circling around the deep moat, listening to the faint rushing of the faraway waters of Nsstor, marvelling at the soft glow of the keep at night, the intricate runes swimming all over the grand castle.
"General Tam. Please halt for a moment so we may announce you to the King, we mean no disrespect." The castle guard gently communicated to Tam, who was outfitted in finely wrought armour, unsuited for the battlefield but perfect for an audience with the King. The column came to slow halt, the soldiers guarding the prisoners taking the opportunity to pass out flasks of water, as the noontime sun glared down at them.
"Might be getting your first noble title out of this." Balmin nudged Kothar where he stood, firing a cheeky grin at him.
"Really?"
"Of course, Rotan is eager to promote those that are loyal to him, or to promote those whose loyalty he wants. You might be both. I'm sure he's heard about your little showdown with Gerard. Say what you want about our King, he stays well informed." Balmin continued, his voice dropping in volume to avoid his gossip being heard by the castle guard.
"Enter!" A pompous herald emerged from a small sally port set in the stone next to the massive gates. The column marched across the bridge, and the herald swung his huge floppy hat as he bowed, the large feathers on the hat sweeping the ground. The massive gates silently slid open, revealing the majestic great hall of the castle.
"She's quite a sight isn't she?" Balmin remarked, noticing Kothar drinking in the sight of the hall.
Kothar was taken aback, even though he had seen his fair share of beautiful buildings, great towers and manicured gardens, even in his previous life, few could compare to the majesty of Balin's keep.
An exquisite chandelier of glowing mana crystal illuminated the entire hall, while tall windows set high up funneled the sunlight into the spacious hall. The roof rose to a soft arch, the entire roof decorated with a massive mural, which depicted every corner of Ursten. The paintings were enchanted, the streams flowed, leaves danced in the air, Kothar even spotted deer bounding through a dappled clearing.
The high windows were inlaid with fine mosaics which lent the light flowing in a multitude of colors. The walls of the hall lacked paintings, instead they were lined with statues of the great knights of Ursten, each one guarding the halls long after their passing.
The lower third of the walls were also paneled with finely carved wood, with vines climbing the walls and flowers blooming all around. Finally, the throne stood on a low dais, wrought out of the same stone that made up the castle, surprisingly bare in comparison to the fine hall.
Kothar got his first look at King Rotan, who sat alertly on his throne, carefully looking at and taking in each and every individual who marched into his hall. The King was a slender man, however he had the same olive skin that Kultas and Tam had, and shared their dark eyes. However, he differed in attitude from them as much as they differed from each other, where Tam was quiet and serious, and Kultas was brash and arrogant, Rotan gave off an easy going and thoughtful air. While his face appeared serious, his eyes shone with a hidden smile.
"General Tam." Rotan said simply, nodding at Tam.
"My King." Tam walked to the foot of the dais and took a deep bow, kneeling down on to one knee, drawing his sword, and holding the sword out to Rotan in his outstretched palms. The entire hall followed Tam in his bow, every soldier and prisoner sinking down on to one knee, heads bowed.
"Please rise, there's no need for that Tam." Rotan appeared flustered, surprised by Tam's grand gesture.
"My sword is yours, my King. And will always be." Tam said as he rose, sheathing his blade. Rotan appeared taken aback, and a soft murmur ran through the gathered soldiers and courtiers. While all the nobles and military of Ursten were sworn to the throne, it was rare for any individual to so openly declare their support for the ruler, rather than the throne. Tam was taking a firm stance behind Rotan, quelling any thoughts of rebellion that still lurked in the minds of the nobles.
Joy radiated across Rotan's face as he realized the magnitude of Tam's gesture and gentle smile momentarily crossed his face, before it was replaced with the regal look he had held previously.
"Alright. Now, what is to become of these rebels?" Rotan swept the amassed prisoners with a cold stare.