[Sword Beckon, Blood Sprayed, No Soul shall See, the End I Reckon]
"How . . . many?" The Question the ringed in Orlan's Ears that felt it had echoed for miles as he, a Lone Bloodied Warrior, broken and bruised limped to the King with the heads of the Monsters that destroyed Caria, His Homeland, Blue eyes glowed with melancholic fury as he himself never minded the arrows still stuck in the flesh of his back gritting his teeth as a quiet sob escaped him within the Weissenvard throne room.
The Sense of Unease and Dread smothered the room and for good reason as Orlan had lost everyone: His men, His Home, His Family, His Beloved, and his unborn kin all of whom he had treasured, gone.
And in a Single Night, no less.
"The poor Lad..." He heard some whisper.
"One so Young... to have lost..." Another echoed.
The Raven haired Man let flow his tears as he heard, no, felt the Osmond, The King, walk over to him laying his Hand on his shoulder as he sharply inhaled from the weight causing the ruler to wince. "I... Offer the Kingdom's Thanks and Condolences as you haved saved Us but has cost you of your Home..."
Orlan smothered a sob as he bit the inner linings of his cheek battling for control over his grief. [Home...] He reminisced of his Childhood in the peaceful Village, Hearing the Laughter of His siblings and seeing glimpses of his Beloved, Hana, teeming with glee, open arms to later then be replaced with his siblings cries for help and Hana's weak smile, a smile she had when she felt sorrow, as her voice ignited the lands and made the Sky bleed of red.
And the Satisfying Screams of the Monsters that invaded his home rang louder than any Church Bell.
"I cannot fathom the pain you have and are enduring but know this," A sheen caught the Broken Knight's Eye as the Flat of the Cold Steel tinged with his pauldron.
"Orlan Avalané," The Cold lifted and replaced itself on his exposed shoulder which incited another pained sigh, "I, of the Highest Court of Weissenvard as her Kingdom's King, Knight and Dub thee, Sir Orlan Avalané, Shield of Weissenvard, Remnant of Caria, and induct you into the Royal Guard."
Dozens within the Throne rejoiced and applaud for the Knight but there was one who thought differently. Skin like Porcelain, lips like blood, eyes like the deepest ocean, and Hair like Wild fire with a Voice sharp yet calming enters.
"Queen Alexandrea," Orlan Voiced with his throat stinging and dry mixed with fear as her reputation was often on the shady side of things within the Kingdom.
"You have Serve your Kingdom, her People, and I believe it is time we give back to the Platina Draco Paladins... Or What's Left of them." Her voice was sweet yet loathing to the ears of Orlan as he flinched as soon as the queen pulled one arrow after the other ignoring the shudders of the Young man. The room, Silent until the Large Doors slammed open with multiple people rushing to The Last of the Avalané, stripping him of his armour and applying a regent that stung like a hundred Giant Hornets. Orlan raised his head and looked at the queen, and saw pity, His eyes watered once more as he allowed himself to be taken by the people in white. "But first, Heal him of his inflictions, and have him delivered to the Court within three days time."
"But Beloved, Orlan's inflictions are no joke we should allow him more ti—"
"Do Not Question My Methods Osmond." The Queen's eyes glowed dangerously as her stomp echoed within the room. "You knew of his Inflictions yet you decide to bring him here in the throne room for his reports and done the Knighting before he had the chance to rest yourself. His Constitution and Vitality are something unheard of but in folk tales." The Woman looked towards the Knight with soft eyes. "and For that I wish him a speedy recovery along with the reports made about his inner workings."
This caused the room to Yell in outrage.
"How Could You?!" a Council member with White locks of hair, Elaine, exclaimed as they slammed their Palm against the Oaken Table.
"He Saved the Kingdom! He lost Everything for Our Sake!" Vol, The Titanic man and Chieftain of the Twenty Tribes of the North Roared as he reached for his Hammer. "The Boy, Is No Older than My own Son! Yet he Has experienced Several Generations worth of War and Bloodshed in one Night. All of his Kin, His Men, and even his Bethrothed! Dead, Gone, Slain, Killed! What more do you want from him?"
"I know it may not be my place to say this, but Let him rest, Do not Squander his Sacrifices for this kingdom! Do not Give in to your curiousity. Do not Slay The Hero."
"That is Enough!" Osmond tried to intervene to snuff out the conflict before it came to trading blows unknowingly causing a ruckus himself. "The Boy—"
"He is No Boy! You Know this Osmond." Growled Elaine as her frost began to invade the obsidian floors of the room. "He is Orlan Avalané, Last of His Line, Shield of Weissenvard, and Bahamut's Chosen!"
"What does a Dead Deity have to do with My right to Study his inner workings?" Alexandrea scoffed and sneered as she gathered her shadows. "That Useless Lizard has laid Dormant within our Kingdom's Primordial Stone! That THING could've Wiped out the Arcaterians and spared the Boy THE Loss."
The discussion turned heated debate echoed throughout the corridors of the Castle much to the curiousity of a few as they tailed the Healers carrying.
"Alana, I don't believe this is Right." The Taller of the Three Girls said in a soft tone grasping the Brunette's Shoulder. "We cannot follow the Healers, Their Methods are left in the shadows to protect our Kingdom from foreign spies who hope to Steal from our Knowledge. We must Turn ba–"
"You turn Back, Irene." The Third Girl with Golden hair glared at The Tallest of them as Alana the youngest moved behind her. "We need to personally thank him for all he has done for us."
"But Mother has instructed us to leave the Man alone to recover we can't just barge right in during his operation and distract the healers, We'd kill him. Please. Alana, Jiva." Irene tried to reason with her siblings as her being the eldest had these operations to heal her of a disease before her siblings were born. Standing her ground before her sisters sighed and followed the eldest both looking back at the direction of the Room of Healing.
Irene knew upon herself that the Man's Fate was behind the Room of Healing.
"Sacrifice."