Three days passed in a blur of rolling hills, dense forests, and winding rivers. Lucien spent most of his time staring out the window, lost in thought. The robed figures who had taken him from the church said little to him, and the guards who accompanied them were equally taciturn.
But on the fourth morning, the carriage crested a small hill, and Lucien's breath caught in his throat. Before him lay the glorious capital of the Kingdom of Savien: Elyria, the City of Prosperity. Its towers and spires glinted in the morning sun, shining like a beacon of hope and promise.
The city was a marvel of architecture, with grand buildings and sweeping arches. The streets were wide and straight, lined with trees and filled with people going about their daily business.
As the carriage made its way through the city, Lucien felt a sense of wonder and awe. He had never seen anything like this before. The church where he had been living was small and simple, and the village nearby was tiny and rural.
But this... this was something else entirely. Lucien felt a sense of excitement and trepidation as the carriage approached the heart of the city. Where were they taking him? And what did they want from him?
The carriage finally came to a stop in front of a grand, imposing building. The robed figures who had accompanied Lucien climbed down from the carriage and gestured for him to follow.
With a sense of trepidation, Lucien climbed down from the carriage and followed the robed figures into the building. What lay ahead, he had no idea.
As Lucien followed the robed figures, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the grandeur of the building. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings, and the floor was made of polished marble. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the soft murmur of voices echoed through the halls.
The robed figures led Lucien through a series of winding corridors, eventually stopping at a doorway. One of the figures gestured for Lucien to enter.
"Sister Aria will show you to your quarters," the figure said, its voice low and smooth. "They have been specifically prepared for the Al'Zaeem."
Lucien's eyes widened in shock as the robed figure mentioned the Al'Zaeem. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he processed the words. The Al'Zaeem? He had heard the term before, but he didn't know what it meant. All he knew was that it was something very important to the Church.
He couldn't believe that the Church would treat him like...like he was the Al'Zaeem. Lucien's mind reeled as he followed Sister Aria through the winding corridors of the Church.
"Welcome, Lucien," she said, her voice gentle. "I will show you to your quarters. Please, follow me."
She led him to a beautifully decorated door, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols. Sister Aria smiled and pushed the door open, revealing a lavish suite of rooms.
"Your quarters, Lucien," she said, her voice warm. "Prepared especially for the Al'Zaeem."
Lucien's eyes widened as he stared at the opulent rooms. He felt like he was dreaming, like this was all some kind of crazy mistake. Why would the Church go to such great lengths for him? He was just a boy from a nomadic family, used to sleeping under the stars and living off the land. What could he possibly have to do with the Al'Zaeem?
After a refreshing bath, Lucien put on the simple yet elegant robes that had been prepared for him. The soft fabric felt luxurious against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the Church's hospitality.
Just as he was finishing his preparations, there was a knock at the door. Lucien opened it to find a tall, imposing figure clad in dark armor. The symbol of Daemorath, the Church's elite guard, was emblazoned on his chest.
"Greetings, Lucien," the guard said, his voice deep and commanding. "I am here to escort you to the elders of the Church."
Lucien's heart skipped a beat as he heard the word "elders". A dark, familiar dread crept over him, like a shadow spreading across his soul. He remembered the night he received the summons from the elders of his family, the night his parents helped him escape. He had never met the elders, never seen their faces, but the memory of that terrifying night still haunted him.
Lucien's breath caught in his throat as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. He felt his vision blur, and his legs tremble beneath him. The guard's words became distant, muffled, as Lucien struggled to keep his grip on reality.
With a Herculean effort, Lucien pushed the memories back, forcing himself to focus on the present. He took a deep breath, and nodded at the guard. "I'm ready," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The guard nodded and led Lucien through the winding corridors of the Church. They walked in silence, the only sound being the soft clinking of the guard's armor and the rustling of Lucien's robes.
As they walked, Lucien couldn't shake the feeling that he was being led to his doom. The memory of the summons from his family's elders still lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Church's intentions were any purer.
The guard stopped in front of a large, ornate door. He knocked three times, and a voice from the other side bade them enter.
The guard pushed the door open, and Lucien stepped through it, his heart pounding in his chest. He found himself in a grand, high-ceilinged chamber filled with rows of seats. At the far end of the room, a group of figures sat behind a long, ornate table.
The guard led Lucien to the center of the room, where he stopped and bowed. "The boy, Lucien," he announced, his voice echoing off the walls.
The figures behind the table looked up, their eyes fixed intently on Lucien. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he met their gaze, unsure of what to expect.