Riel. They are a kingdom that allows more than one race to reside within it, however, they have a leader and a great one at that. The human king of the kingdom is Malcolm Turdish. He's in his fifties and he has three children, all of who compete to see who will eventually be in line to the throne.
King Malcolm is a paladin who is most commonly known as the Shield. His shield has saved many within his own lifetime. He even experienced war in his early ages, and he was the one to be called the hero of that war. A great proud, and powerful, king oversees the kingdom of Riel without any bias towards anyone or anything. He even treats races who are considered lesser, like Warbeasts, with respect. Everyone pays the same taxes, and everyone pays the same punishment for the same crime if committed. The most ideal type of king.
In the king's castle within Riel, King Malcolm laid on his chair looking through paperwork in his hand. The paperwork was for the readying of a tournament. The Melee Duos Tournament with no magic and skills involved. Weapons can be used but they would be provided by the kingdom.
'So far, the list of participants does not seem to be very interesting. Ah.'
He looked at a specific sheet. It had a man on it. He had fair hair and crystal blue eyes. Quite the looker.
'Aaron Marshal. A youth from the Military School in the capital. He seems like he'd be interesting.'
The large doors, far in front of him, opened and an old servant appeared. He wore a normal butler suit and a monocle. The old servant walked on the red carpet and knelt with his arm on his chest. King Malcolm looked down on the servant from above, on his throne.
'What is it, Sebastian?'
'The Divine Orthodox Church has come to visit you, sire.'
There was a slight knock on the door behind Sebastian. He got on his feet and walked his way up beside the king's throne. Sebastian stood tall and stiff, like a statue, beside the king.
(The D.O.C? What do they want?)
'Come in.'
King Malcolm announced. His aura was slightly hostile and menacing. The door opened and the moment the first person walked through, his attitude changed from hostile to frightened. This person wasn't anyone normal.
'I see that this place is as dull as usual. Why don't you spice it up a little, Mal?'
A woman walked through. She walked through in a white, puffy, dress. Her voice was soft and her glare was empty, though her words had emotions. Her eyes were purple while her hair was pure white. She sauntered through the door with a parasol in her hands. This woman seemed different and impossible to reach. From behind her came multiple people dressed in white and knightly uniforms. Heroes from the Divine Church.
'M-Miss Blanc...'
The woman, with the parasol, who walked through was the White King, Artemis, also known as the Blank Existence or Blanc.
'Come on, Mal, don't be so bland, call me by my name, Artemis. Or, if it's easier, you could call me by the name I used when I was intimate with you. E-li-za-be-th.'
'What is it you want?!'
The heroes behind Artemis were ready to charge and slice King Malcolm to pieces but were stopped when Artemis took a glance at them.
'You took my daughter and I'm doing what you want! What more will you take?!'
Artemis let out a womanly giggle.
'Please relax. The tournament is for one powerful to arise. Whoever takes first will take Python, The Blade of Shadows. Anyways, whoever wins the tournament will go and save your daughter. It would be perfect if the winner was a boy, don't you think?'
'If that's it, then get out.'
'Fine, fine, but don't be so cold.'
Surprisingly, she turned around. Her groups of heroes made a path for her. A specific hero went to the White King's side and whispered in her ear.
('Mistress, why not crush this vermin?')
('That won't do, Arata. We need to create a powerful hero for the Church. He is needed.')
('I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but isn't that an excuse because you still have him in your heart?')
For a second, Artemis gripped her parasol harder. She then sighed.
('Yes, Arata. It is.')
She and her group exited the throne room shutting the door behind them. King Malcolm slammed his fist onto the arm of his throne. He seemed irritated, but despite that, he smiled awkwardly.
'Yes. It would be perfect if the winner was a boy, Elizabeth.'
A new storm was heading for Riel. King Malcolm knew that, but he would've never guessed that it would be in the shape of a small boy, with black hair and black eyes.