The reign of King Lonson VI has been for the most part, peaceful. The cunning intellect, raw strength, and gigantic build of the King has brought many who've challenged him to their ends. Not many wish to become his enemy. The expedition outside of Oates and into the Drowning Forests was brisk. The threat of bandits didn't exist. Ten-Thousand men led by two legendary Commanding Knights, twin brothers Torkas and Pollux of Curisod, one would be foolish to risk it. Not to mention the rain. In the center of the sea of Blue Iron Soldiers, King Lonson VI alongside Jensen The Venuri sat patiently in a stallion-pulled wagon.
"We're deep in the Drowning Forests My King. It isn't the prettiest of sights, but the journey has been quiet.", says Jensen peering outside the wagon curtains. He wonders what part of day it is as he traces bits of sunlight peeking through the trees and heavy rain.
Legs crossed, arms folded, and eyes closed the King replies, "Good. Though I am eager for my questions of many years to be answered."
"Remember, there's no guarantee we find Narfk. It has been thirty years since the exile. He may very well not be alive."
"If he is responsible for what I saw in the Chambers of Fallen Kings there is no doubt he breathes."
"On the chance forces of Magic are at play here, we need..."
The King interrupts Jensen, his eyes now attentively open. "This feeling."
At that moment the feet of the ten-thousand came to a uniform halt. The King exits the wagon, focusing his eyes beyond the 5000 armored men in front of him. There was a familiar silhouette being shaped by raindrops stationed at the steps of a large stone shack. The King could not believe what he was seeing but he knew it to be true. Only one time has he saw this figure. The Twins of Curisod approach the figure, their blonde locks hanging over their Blue Iron armor, drenching wet. Army-men of Oates Kingdom are trained to act only on the signal of their Commanding Knights or King, even if the Kings life is in danger. Many believe it to be a dangerous military law, but the King views battle as a beautiful honor.
"What are they doing?", the King says to himself as he begins to run towards the silhouette. He started 5000 soldiers away. His feet jolting through the moist and muddy grounds of the Drowning Forests the King yelled, "Don't move any closer!". Broad enough to intimidate a herd of morn, the Kings voice couldn't overpower the thunderous raindrops of the Drowning Forests. At the top of his lungs he roared repeatedly, "Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer!"
Hearing the commotion Jensen exits the wagon, focusing his eyes beyond the 5000 armored men in front of him. Just as the King, Jensen could not believe what he was seeing but he knew it to be true. How could he mistake him for anything or anyone else? He helped raise him. Dressed head to heel in Silver Iron Armor. Lionshear, the most feared blade of its time, resting on his hip. The Kings tavern story proved to be true. King Lonson IV stood stoically. A full head above the twins. Seven feet deems him shortest of the Lonson Kingship, but your average commoner appears no larger than a rat beside him.
"Are you hard of hearing boy?" Pollux shouts towards Lonson IV, thinking the large man in the helmet may not have heard him over the rain.
Torkas shouts as well, "I repeat. We're with the King of Oates Kingdom, the King of the Public, King Lonson VI. Former Third Royal Physician, Master Narfk, is a wanted man on the grounds of 'Grave Robbery'. If you hold any information, your cooperation is required on orders of the King."
Lonson IV grips the Gold Iron hilt of the longsword named Lionshear. Four feet of Silver Iron sliced through the raindrops as Lonson IV appeared ready for battle.
"A threat?", The Twins of Curisod question the actions of Lonson IV in unison. Pollux begins readying his weapon. Six and a half feet of Blue Iron twirled over his head ending with Pollux in his battle stance and spear head directed towards the IVth with both hands. Opposite of his brother, Torkas was never in love with theatrics. He believes it to remove focus from what is truly beautiful, the battle. Swiftly unleashing his four feet blade of Blue Iron, he directs it towards the IVth with both hands. The Blue Blade, a longsword of legends sent from the Curisodian Gods to the mightiest warrior of the Curisod nation to purify the lands long-ago, was awarded to Torkas for saving the life of Curisods last King.
At first glance, the army believed this to be a simple fight. Blue Iron weapons and armor versus their Silver Iron counterparts. Any commoner would know Blue Iron is vastly superior in strength and durability. This shall be quick. Under most circumstances that would be true. This is not most circumstances. If only they knew who their opponent was. The majority of the men in the Oates army were born after the reign of Lonson IV, or they are from foreign lands captured later. No one recognized him. Nevertheless just based off his size they knew what they were seeing was not ordinary.
"Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer!", the King screams powerfully. It were as if his feet caused earthquakes. Trees of the forest shaking with every stride. Prints of his elephant sized Blue Iron boots staining the mud. He moved full speed ahead. Yet there were still 3000 bodies separating him and a battle that looks to be beginning. "Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer! Don't move any closer!", the King repeated with great force. Considering what was a great mixture of distance, raindrops echoing off nearby stones, and the intense focus needed for a battle that deafens even the bravest of warriors, could the Twins of Curisod hear his warnings?