ARLON OF HOUSE PIERRAN, Sovereign of Syveria stood brokenhearted in the sprawling throne room of the Castle. His eyes were intent on the white throne of sparkling ivory before him, but he saw nothing of it. It was like he was looking but not seeing. He didn't know how long he had stood there but he continued standing.
His summer sky eyes were misty as he gazed upon the great seat of Nihila, the Golden One. Everytime he'd had problems in the past; whether it was problems with the coffers or the increased raidings of the Iron Clans in the east, he had always come to the throne room. Always.
He would stare at Nihila's massive bronze statue and ask him for guidance. But now, even Arlon doubted the Golden Knight could do anything about his plight. He couldn't actually believe what he'd seen within the very walls of this Castle, just the night before.
