A scene unfolded in a dimly lit tavern, where a robust blonde man sat confidently at a weathered table, engaged in an impromptu arm-wrestling contest against a throng of burly, inebriated patrons. With each bout, the blonde man displayed remarkable strength, effortlessly besting his opponents, who, in their drunken stupor, wagered their meager earnings on the outcome. Laughter and cheers filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of mugs and boisterous banter.

Suddenly, a formidable presence approached the table. A muscular man asserted his dominance by shoving aside the other competitors and taking a seat across from the blonde warrior. The atmosphere shifted as they clasped hands, the tension palpable. In an explosive show of strength, both men exerted their full power, but in a stunning moment, the blonde man slammed his opponent's hand decisively against the table. The room fell silent, momentarily stunned by the outcome.

Fury erupted within the man, who had his palm slammed onto the table in frustration before releasing a torrent of anguished exclamations. "No! No! No! No! No! No!" he shouted, the sound echoing through the bar before he launched himself at the blonde competitor, throwing a wild punch. The chaos escalated as a distant voice rang out, shouting, "FIGHT!" The man then tackled the blonde man, raining down a flurry of punches.

Yet, in a twist of fate, the blonde warrior harnessed his strength, lifting his assailant and slamming him onto the table, moments later rendering him unconscious. With a cool nonchalance, he rose and escorted himself out of the raucous establishment, leaving behind a scene of bewildered onlookers.

Outside, the night air was crisp, and a striking woman with long blonde hair and captivating blue eyes emerged, her red hooded robe contrasting sharply against the dim surroundings. She blocked the man's path, addressing him earnestly. "Hello, my name is Alicia. My brother and I have recently established our own kingdom, and we are in need of warriors. Will you accompany me to meet my brother, the king?"

His expression skeptical, the blonde man retorted, "If I am to indulge in your little game, I expect to be compensated."

Alicia reached into her robe, producing a bag that glimmered with gold coins, its weight signifying promise and opportunity. The man peered into the bag, momentarily taken aback by the gleam of wealth. Clearing his throat, he firmly stated, "We will require a horse."

"No need to worry," Alicia interjected with a confident smile. "How do you think I got here?"

The scene transitioned to a stunning sunrise as the blonde man and Alicia rode on horseback, departing the village. Their journey led them to the opulent throne room of a castle, where a relatively muscular king lounged idly. With dark blonde hair framing his face and a decently long beard, he appeared both regal and unperturbed. Abruptly, a flustered servant burst into the room.

"Sir Arthur!" the servant exclaimed, his voice breaking the tranquil atmosphere. With a start, the king, who had been half dozing, shot upright.

"Yes, what is it, Lancerot?" King Arthur queried, his voice reverberating in the vast chamber.

"A new kingdom has been established," Lancerot replied, urgency threading through his tone.

"Hmmm…" Arthur responded thoughtfully, clearing his throat, his voice resonating around him. "Prepare my carriage! I wish to meet this new king."

The narrative returned to the blonde man and Alicia, who reined their horse to a halt before the impressive castle gate. A smile crept across the man's face, and he mused silently, *Perhaps she was telling the truth after all.*

"There!" Alicia exclaimed, her finger pointing animatedly at the castle as the horse galloped toward it with renewed vigor.

Meanwhile, within the castle's grand confines, a young man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes sat regally upon a throne. The atmosphere shifted when a servant burst into the room, breathless with excitement. "Sir Lucas, your sister has returned with a promising warrior!" 

The blonde man stood in awe as he opened the massive door to reveal a grand throne room. Atop the throne sat a blonde-haired boy, who, upon seeing Alicia, dashed down to envelop her in a warm hug. However, as he glanced at the blonde man, he abruptly released Alicia and cleared his throat. "Hello, I'm Sebastian, the prince." 

The blonde man narrowed his eyes at Sebastian but nonetheless offered his name. "I'm Rowan." Before he could elaborate, Sebastian pulled out a notebook and pencil. "So, what are your strong suits?"

Rowan hesitated, casting a quick glance at Alicia, who encouraged him with a thumbs-up. "Well, my father held a prominent position in a former kingdom. He taught me about politics and military tactics, and he also trained me in the art of combat, particularly swordplay."

Sebastian's interest piqued. "What rank did your father hold?"

"He was the Duke of Arundel in the Kingdom of Blackwater." Sebastian sighed, reflecting on the implications. "Currently, there are no dukes in my kingdom. With that said, I would like to make you the first." He extended his hand for a shake, and Rowan smiled as he accepted the offer.

"Now, Elli will escort you to a room where she'll prepare you appropriately." Rowan turned to see a woman with black hair, her dress accented with a white apron.

"Follow me," she instructed, opening the door behind Rowan and gesturing for him to proceed. As they entered the hallway, Rowan marveled at the beautiful flowers and delicate chandeliers lining the space, realizing he hadn't fully appreciated it earlier in his haste.

"So, Elli," Rowan began, "what's your story?"

Elli appeared puzzled. "Our story?"

"You're over twenty years old, being ordered around by a couple of kids," Rowan remarked, amusement creeping into his voice.

"Well, Sebastian and Alicia are only a few years younger than me, and they are royalty. I share an unbreakable bond with them," she replied as they ascended a smaller staircase.

At the top, Elli opened a door into a cluttered room filled with clothes. "Sit down," she commanded, pointing to a chair in front of a desk and mirror.

"Aren't you supposed to be dressing me?" Rowan asked, surveying the disarray around him.

Elli chuckled. "I am. But I can't resist commenting on your hair. It's not what a duke should possess, so I'm giving you a makeover." With a mischievous grin, she retrieved a pair of scissors and began snipping Rowan's long hair.

Stepping back, she grabbed a bucket of water and drenched his hair, followed by a blue-tinted glass bottle from the desk. She poured its contents over his hair, which began to foam. After another dunk in the water, his hair became soaking wet, enormous droplets cascading down his chest.

Elli then used a bellows to dry his hair, following it up with a spritz of a clear liquid from a spray bottle, and scrunched it until soft, wavy curls emerged. "And… you're done," she declared.

Rowan peered into the mirror, somewhat startled by his puffy, curly hairstyle. Elli poured a small amount of the clear substance onto her hand and rubbed it on his neck, the fragrance pleasantly refreshing. "Now get up; you need better clothes."

Rowan rose and approached the racks filled with garments. "You'll need one outfit for now and a few sets of armor," Elli instructed. His attention was drawn to two swords hanging on the wall. "What are those?" he asked, pointing.

Elli grimaced. "Just some of the most worthless swords here—dull and lacking significance." She then held up a blue and black tabard tunic, alongside black trousers and brown medieval high-field leather boots. "I think these will suit you."

Elli folded the clothes and placed them in Rowan's arms. "That's it for now. Now go put that on, and we'll head to the armory," she said.

"Armory?" Rowan echoed, puzzled.

"You'll need a weapon," Elli replied. After a moment's contemplation, he declared, "I'll take those two swords." He pointed at the swords that Elli had dismissed as useless.

Elli looked at Rowan, then back at the swords. "Take them if you want, but you should proceed to the next room to get dressed," she said. Rowan walked up to the swords, examined them closely, and grabbed both hilts simultaneously.

Suddenly, a dark aura enveloped Rowan, and multiple bloody cuts formed on his body. As quickly as it had begun, the pain subsided, and Rowan fell to the ground, unconscious, still clutching both swords tightly.

"Oh my god!" Elli exclaimed, rushing to Rowan's side, desperately attempting to revive him before leaving the room to get help. The last thing Rowan saw before losing consciousness was a woman with white hair and black eyes, adorned in an elegant dress, wielding a large greatsword on her back. As the white-haired girl lifted Rowan into her arms, everything faded to black.

A sinister voice echoed through his mind, "Wake up, wake up." The voice crackled and resonated eerily. Rowan jolted awake, finding himself against a tree in a clearing within a forest. In front of him was a strange figure, floating above the ground. It had the body of a snake, two small arms, and horns matching the color of its body. The creature regarded him with a creepy smile.

Instantly, Rowan sprang to his feet, ready to fight, his fists clenched and stance defensive. "Hey, kid! The name's Murmu of Shadow. Nice to meet you," the snake-like figure said, raising its hands in a non-threatening gesture.

Rowan lowered his fists, looking around in confusion. "Where the hell am I?"

"You're in your mind, kid. That's how we're talking right now," Murmu explained, his demeanor growing slightly impatient. "You're here because you touched the sword that had my spirit trapped inside it." 

As a flashback of his encounter with the swords played through his mind, he remarked, "Wait, I touched two swords. Shouldn't there be two of you?"

Murmu made a disgruntled expression. "Behind you," he said. 

Rowan turned to find a dog standing there. 

"Ugh! I present to you Otis of Blaze!"