It has been three days since our journey began. Constantly under surveillance, I found myself unperturbed, as I have grown accustomed to such scrutiny. Finally, we arrived at Nirvasha, the capital city of the Zorania Kingdom.
Standing before us now is the magnificent gate that separates the commoners from the nobility, aptly named the gold gate. The streets are deserted, permeated only by the haunting sound of silence. Mansions line the path, while the less fortunate feed on grass for sustenance. At the end of this grand thoroughfare lies the royal mansion.
This regal abode stands as a formidable stone fortress, boasting thick, imposing walls adorned with narrow windows and protective battlements at its summit. Enveloping the castle is a deep moat, its waters dark and foreboding, guarded by fierce sentinels.
To enter, one must cross a drawbridge spanning the moat, and upon crossing, a grand hall awaits, with lofty vaulted ceilings and a crackling fireplace that illuminates the room. Banners and tapestries depicting victorious battles of the ruling Zorania family grace the walls.
Within the castle, a plethora of lavish chambers unfold, including a great hall hosting a banquet table for over fifty guests, a grand chamber with a luxuriously adorned four-poster bed, and a throne room where the king dispenses justice. Beneath the castle lies a dungeon, its dank cells housing captive prisoners.
The castle's interiors are opulent, boasting heavy, intricately carved wooden chairs with accents of gold, tables, tapestries, and rugs adorning the stone floors. Dim lighting emanates from grand candelabras. Additionally, a chapel stands within the castle, where the ruling family seeks solace and prays for their continued prosperity.
Beyond the castle walls, sprawling and meticulously maintained grounds unfold, featuring fragrant herb gardens, blooming flowers, a training yard where knights hone their combat skills, and a stable housing majestic horses. The castle stands as an emblem of authority and dominance, a testament to the power of the Zorania dynasty.
For the duration of the festivities, I have been confined to a cell, only to be summoned in the dead of night to finally meet the king.
As I entered the meeting room, a magnificent overture began, signaling the arrival of the king. "Ladies and gentlemen," announced the voice, "it is with great pleasure that I present to you the ruler of our land, the illustrious King Cedric Valentin Zorani III." The room erupted with the sound of trumpets, announcing his regal entrance. All in attendance rose to their feet, bowing in reverence as the king strode down the aisle, his royal robe flowing behind him.
Each step he took seemed to hush the room, as if the very atmosphere held its breath in awe. His piercing green eyes surveyed the gathering, capturing the faces of his devoted subjects. With a commanding presence and unwavering confidence, he exuded the essence of a natural leader.
Reaching the stage, he ascended the steps gracefully, his cape billowing majestically. The orchestra struck up a stirring anthem, and the audience erupted in thunderous applause. As he took his seat, he raised his hand, and silence once again blanketed the room. With a commanding tone, he uttered the words, "Head up."
Upon raising my head, I beheld a king in his forties, his face marked with the passage of time. Deep lines etched his sharp features, and a perpetual scowl furrowed his high forehead. His thick eyebrows remained knit together, conveying a stern countenance.
The most striking feature were his piercing green eyes, cold and calculating, seemingly capable of peering into one's very soul. They held an intense gaze that could make even the bravest tremble. His nose was long and slender, its flared nostrils twitching at the slightest hint of danger.
Thin, tightly pursed lips formed a disapproving frown, while his jawline remained sharp and defined. His clean-shaven face appeared as smooth as marble. Short, sleek dark hair accentuated the angular contours of his visage. Adorning his head was a crown, resplendent with silver and gold, symbolizing his royal authority and power.
"Well done, Eldrid Moonstone; that child is the one, right?" inquired the king.
"Yes, he is the successful candidate," affirmed Eldrid Moonstone.
"What is your name, young one?" the king addressed me.
"I am Aurelian, Your Majesty," I replied.
"Very well, tell me your story," he commanded.
After recounting my tale, the king responded, "I now understand the situation. With the power you possess, the Churchmen would not spare you if they discovered your existence. However, if I allow you to live as a citizen, you will become a formidable force within my kingdom," he stated.
"Truly, my king," Eldrid Moonstone interjected.
"Very well, this decision will prove beneficial to both of us. Henceforth, your name shall be Aurelian Moonstone, and you shall be regarded as the esteemed grandson of the noble Eldrid Moonstone. Furthermore, you will receive an education at the esteemed Mystic Academy of Sword and Sorcery. Are there any objections?" the king inquired.
"No, my lord," I replied.
"Your story shall be as follows: you were on a long journey, during which you discovered this orphaned child. Recognizing his exceptional talent, you decided to make him your heir," the king declared.
"Yes, my lord," Eldrid Moonstone affirmed.
And just like that, I became Aurelian Moonstone, a noble of esteemed lineage.