The town of Brindlemark was in a state of mourning. Lord Mayor Thomas, a just and fair leader, had passed away after a long illness. The people of Brindlemark had loved and respected him, and his death was a great loss to the community.
The funeral procession was a somber affair, with the townspeople gathering to pay their respects to the late lord mayor. Thorne, Helen, Lyra, and Drinain were all in attendance, their faces etched with sadness.
After the funeral, the townspeople began to discuss the matter of electing a new lord mayor. Several individuals stepped forward, eager to take on the role. Some were seasoned politicians, while others were newcomers to the world of politics.
As the days passed, the townspeople were treated to a flurry of campaign speeches, rallies, and debates. Friends and relatives of the candidates rallied around them, urging the townspeople to vote for their loved one.
However, amidst all the excitement and politicking, it was clear that the ultimate decision rested with the king. The monarch's approval was required for any candidate to be officially appointed as the new lord mayor.
The townspeople were aware of this, and while they enthusiastically supported their favorite candidates, they also knew that the king's word was law. The question on everyone's mind was: who would the king choose to succeed Lord Mayor Thomas?
As the townspeople waited with bated breath for the king's decision, rumors began to circulate about the various candidates. Some were said to have connections to the royal court, while others were rumored to have made promises to the king in exchange for his support.
Drinain, observing the commotion from the sidelines, couldn't help but wonder what the future held for Brindlemark. Who would the king choose as the new lord mayor, and how would this affect the town and its people? Only time would tell.
The kingdom of Emberfell had suffered for far too long under the tyranny of the Marcellonians. For years, the people of Marcellonia had pillaged and plundered their neighboring kingdom, leaving destruction and despair in their wake. The Marcellonians were a ruthless and cunning foe, feared throughout the land for their brutal tactics and seemingly endless supply of giant warriors.
At the helm of the Marcellonian army was the infamous General Gorthok, a giant of a man with a heart blacker than coal. Gorthok delighted in the terror he inspired, and his very presence seemed to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.
But the people of Emberfell had had enough. Their king, the brave and just King Arin III, had grown tired of the constant raids and pillaging. He knew that something had to be done, and so he called upon his officials to gather all the able-bodied men from throughout the kingdom and prepare them for battle.
The call to arms was met with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Many of the men had never fought in a real battle before, and the thought of facing the giant warriors of Marcellonia was daunting. But they were determined to defend their homes and their families, and so they gathered at the kingdom's training grounds, ready to learn the ways of war.
King Arin III watched over the training sessions, his eyes scanning the ranks of his soldiers as they practiced their swordplay and shield work. He knew that they would need to be at the top of their game if they were to have any hope of defeating the Marcellonians.
As the days turned into weeks, the men of Emberfell grew stronger and more confident. They learned how to work together, how to use their shields to protect each other, and how to strike with precision and deadliness.
But despite their progress, King Arin III knew that they would still be outnumbered and outmatched by the Marcellonians. He needed a plan, something that would give his men an edge on the battlefield.
And so, he called upon his most trusted advisor, the wise old wizard named Eriol. Eriol was a master strategist, and King Arin III knew that he would be able to come up with a plan to defeat the Marcellonians.
Eriol listened intently as King Arin III outlined the situation, his eyes narrowing as he thought. And then, a slow smile spread across his face.
"I have it, your majesty," Eriol said, his voice filled with excitement. "We only have one advantage which is to fight between the borders of both kingdoms, because anywhere else would be tantamount to death for us"
King Arin III's eyes lit up with excitement as he listened to Eriol's plan. He knew that it was a risk, but he also knew that it was their best chance of defeating the Marcellonians.
And so, the men of Emberfell set out, ready to face their enemies and defend their kingdom. They marched towards the appointed place set by Eriol, their hearts filled with determination and their spirits buoyed by the knowledge that they were fighting for their homes and their families.
As they approached the narrow passes, they could see the Marcellonian army gathered before them, their giant warriors towering above the rest. General Gorthok stood at the forefront, his black armor glinting in the sunlight.
The battle was about to begin, and the fate of Emberfell hung in the balance. Would King Arin III and his men be able to defeat the Marcellonians, or would they fall before the might of General Gorthok and his giant warriors? Only time would tell.
As the army of Emberfell prepared for battle, during one of their training sessions Thorne turned to Drinain and said, "Remember, this is your first battle. Be wise and agile, and don't think of anything else but victory for our people. Keep your wits about you and watch my back."
Drinain nodded, his heart racing with excitement and nerves. He had trained for this moment, but he knew that nothing could truly prepare him for the chaos of battle.
The army of Emberfell had camped at the valley of Utah, preparing to face the Marcellonians who had set up camp at Naphez Dammimin, a strategic location that gave them the high ground. The two armies faced each other across the hill, their banners fluttering in the wind.
As the days passed, a familiar routine developed. General Gorthok, the formidable leader of the Marcellonian army, would emerge from his camp every morning, his massive frame and imposing armor striking fear into the hearts of the Emberfell soldiers.
Gorthok stood at an astonishing 2.7 meters tall, his silver armor glinting in the sunlight. The armor itself was a marvel of craftsmanship, weighing a staggering 55 kilograms. His helmet was equally impressive, and he carried a spear that was as thick as the bar of a weaver's loom. The iron head of the spear weighed a massive 7 kilograms, and it looked capable of crushing a man's skull with a single blow.
Gorthok's squire would precede him, carrying a massive shield emblazoned with the Marcellonian crest. Gorthok would then emerge, his voice booming across the hill as he taunted the Emberfell soldiers.
"Slaves!" he would bellow. "Bring forth a man to fight me! I will show you the true meaning of courage!"
But the soldiers of Emberfell were not eager to face Gorthok's wrath. They would scurry for cover, hiding behind their shields and refusing to emerge. This ritual had been repeated for two weeks, with Gorthok emerging every morning to challenge the Emberfell army, and the Emberfell soldiers cowering in fear.
Thorne watched this display with a mixture of disgust and frustration. He knew that the Emberfell army couldn't keep running from Gorthok's challenges forever. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast.
Drinain finally arrived at the battlefield, two weeks after the initial deployment of the Emberfell army. He had been tasked with bringing up the rear, carrying essential supplies that the army would need to sustain themselves during the prolonged campaign.
As he submitted the supplies to the officer in charge, Drinain asked about the current state of the battle. The officer's expression was grim, and he shook his head. "It's been a stalemate, to be honest. The Marcellonians have been taunting us for weeks, but we haven't been able to make any headway."
Drinain's curiosity was piqued, and he set out to find Thorne, who was stationed at the front lines. As he approached, he saw Thorne standing calmly, his eyes fixed on the Marcellonian lines.
"Thorne! How's it going?" Drinain asked, clapping his friend on the back.
Thorne turned to him, a hint of a smile on his face. "It's been...interesting. Gorthok's been coming out every morning, challenging us to a fight. But so far, no one's been brave enough to take him on."
Just then, a loud voice boomed across the battlefield, echoing off the hills. "Slaves! Bring forth a man to fight me! I will show you the true meaning of courage!"
Drinain's eyes narrowed as he watched Gorthok emerge from the Marcellonian lines. The giant warrior was even more imposing than Drinain had imagined, his silver armor glinting in the sunlight.
Something about Gorthok's taunts sparked a fire within Drinain. He felt a surge of anger and indignation, and before he knew it, he was taking a step forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The rest of the Emberfell army, however, was not so brave. As soon as they saw Gorthok, they broke ranks and ran, fleeing in terror. Thorne and a handful of other soldiers remained, standing firm alongside Drinain.
Gorthok's laughter echoed across the battlefield, a mocking sound that made Drinain's anger burn even hotter. "So, you think you can take me on, little soldier?" Gorthok sneered, his eyes fixed on Drinain. "I will enjoy crushing you!"
Drinain's eyes blazed with determination as he faced Gorthok. "I'll use your own sword to kill you," he declared, his voice steady and firm.
The soldiers who had fled in terror earlier now poked their heads out from behind rocks and trees, shouting warnings at Drinain. "You're crazy, boy! You're going to get yourself killed!" one of them yelled.
Gorthok, amused by Drinain's bold claim, sneered at him. "Go back home, little boy, and take care of your father's properties. You're no match for me."
Drinain's face darkened with anger, but he kept his cool. "I've killed lions and bears for fun during hunting," he retorted. "Why should you be any different?"
Gorthok's expression changed from amusement to rage. He charged at Drinain, his massive spear glinting in the sunlight. Drinain stood his ground, his sword at the ready. Thorne, who had been watching the exchange, stepped forward to stand beside Drinain.
The two warriors faced Gorthok, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they clashed with the giant warrior. Gorthok's spear crashed down, sending shockwaves through the ground, but Drinain and Thorne dodged and weaved, avoiding the deadly blows.
Drinain leapt forward, his sword striking true as he aimed for Gorthok's exposed arm. The blade bit deep, but Gorthok's armor prevented it from doing too much damage. Thorne, meanwhile, targeted Gorthok's legs, trying to bring the giant warrior down.
Gorthok roared in pain and anger, his spear flailing wildly as he stumbled backwards. Drinain and Thorne pressed their advantage, their swords rising and falling in perfect sync.
For a few moments, it seemed as though the tide of the battle had turned in favor of the Emberfell warriors. Gorthok was stumbling, his blows becoming wilder and less accurate.
But the giant warrior was far from defeated. With a mighty roar, he regained his footing and launched himself at Drinain and Thorne. The two warriors prepared to face the onslaught, their swords at the ready. The outcome of the battle was far from certain, and the fate of Emberfell hung precariously in the balance.
As the battle raged on, Thorne stumbled backward, clutching at his side. Gorthok's spear had found its mark, and Thorne's face contorted in pain. Drinain's eyes widened in horror as he saw his guardian fall, but he knew he couldn't afford to falter.
With a fierce cry, Drinain launched himself at Gorthok, determined to avenge Thorne's injury. The two warriors clashed, their blades flashing in the sunlight. The fight was intense, each blow aimed at killing.
Drinain dodged and weaved, avoiding Gorthok's crushing blows, but he knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer. Gorthok was too strong, too powerful.
Just when it seemed like all was lost, Drinain spotted a small opening at Gorthok's forehead. It was a tiny gap in the giant warrior's armor, just large enough for a small rock to fit through.
Without hesitation, Drinain reached down and grabbed a rock the size of his palm. He took aim, his eyes locked on the opening, and threw the rock with all his might.
Time seemed to slow down as the rock hurtled through the air, heading straight for Gorthok's forehead. The giant warrior didn't even flinch, didn't even see it coming.
The rock struck Gorthok's forehead with a sickening crunch, shattering his brain and sending him crashing to the ground. Drinain rushed over, and with his sword raised hesitated for a moment as he remembered his promise to Gorthok, and quickly picking up Gorthok's spear finished off the giant warrior with a swift stroke.
As Gorthok's body slumped to the ground, Drinain stood panting, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He had done it. He had defeated the giant warrior.
But at what cost? Thorne lay injured, maybe dying, and Drinain's heart ached with worry. He rushed over to his friend's side, hoping against hope that he was still alive.
Drinain's eyes widened with relief as he saw Thorne sitting up, wincing in pain. "Thorne, thanks be to God Almighty you're alive!" Drinain exclaimed, rushing to his guardian's side.
Thorne grimaced, clutching at his side. "I'm fine, Drinain. Just a bit of a cut. But you...you did it. You killed Gorthok."
Drinain smiled, feeling a surge of pride and relief. "We make a good team, Thorne. Now, let's get you patched up and-"
But before Drinain could finish, a commotion broke out at the Marcellonian lines. The enemy soldiers were fleeing in panic, abandoning their positions and rushing to escape.
Drinain's eyes lit up with excitement. "Thorne, look! They're running! We can't let them get away!"
Thorne nodded, his face set in determination. "Go after them, Drinain. Show them no mercy."
With a fierce cry, Drinain rallied the army of Emberfell and gave chase. They pursued the Marcellonians as far as the Shaaraim mountains, north of the Marcellonia boundary.
The battle was fierce and relentless, with the Emberfell soldiers cutting down the Marcellonians left and right. Drinain fought with a fury he never knew he possessed, his sword slicing through the enemy ranks with deadly precision.
By the time they reached the Shaaraim mountains, the Marcellonians had lost two hundred thousand soldiers. The Emberfell army, on the other hand, had suffered relatively few casualties.
As they stood victorious on the battlefield, Drinain turned to Thorne with a grin. "We did it, Thorne. We won!"
Thorne smiled back, his eyes shining with pride. "You did it, Drinain. You're a true hero of Emberfell."
As the Emberfell army returned to the Marcellonian camp, they were met with a scene of utter chaos. The enemy soldiers had left behind their belongings, and the camp was filled with the spoils of war.
The Emberfell soldiers set to work, looting and plundering the camp. They gathered up gold, silver, and precious jewels, as well as fine silks and other valuable goods.
As the soldiers celebrated their victory, Drinain was summoned to meet with the general in charge of the Emberfell army, General Ryker. The general was a tall, imposing figure with a stern expression, but his eyes twinkled with warmth as he greeted Drinain.
"Drinain, you have proven yourself to be a true hero of Emberfell," General Ryker said, his voice filled with admiration. "Your bravery in the face of overwhelming odds is an inspiration to us all. As a token of our appreciation, I present you with this gift."
General Ryker handed Drinain his own sword, a finely crafted blade with intricate designs etched into the hilt. Drinain's eyes widened in surprise as he accepted the gift.
"Thank you, General Ryker," Drinain said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I am honored to receive this gift."
General Ryker smiled, his face creasing with lines. "You have earned it, Drinain. And to celebrate your victory, I declare a feast in your honor! Tonight, we will eat and drink and celebrate the bravery of our hero, Drinain!"
The soldiers cheered, and Drinain blushed with embarrassment. But he was also thrilled, knowing that he had earned the respect and admiration of his comrades.
Thorne, who had been watching the scene unfold, stepped forward to congratulate Drinain. "Well done, my friend," Thorne said, clapping Drinain on the back. "You deserve all the accolades you're receiving."
General Ryker turned to Thorne, a smile on his face. "And you, Thorne, are not forgotten. Your bravery and loyalty are also to be commended. I present you with this gift, a token of our appreciation for your service."
Thorne's eyes widened as General Ryker handed him a finely crafted shield, adorned with the emblem of the Emberfell army. Thorne's face lit up with gratitude as he accepted the gift.
"Thank you, General Ryker," Thorne said, his voice filled with emotion. "I am honored to receive this gift."
The soldiers cheered again, and the atmosphere was filled with joy and celebration. Drinain and Thorne stood together, basking in the admiration of their comrades, knowing that they had earned their place as heroes of the Emberfell army.
Later that night general Ryker wrote a letter to the king of Emberfell king Arin lll telling him about the victory of the Emberfell army through Drinain.
Here is a detailed write-up of the letter:
To His Most Gracious and Illustrious Majesty, King Arin III, Rightful Ruler of the Kingdom of Emberfell, Defender of the Realm, and Upholder of Justice,
I, General Ryker, Commander of the Emberfell Army, humbly submit to you this report of the battle fought against the Marcellonian forces. May it please Your Majesty to receive this account of our victory, won through the bravery and valor of our soldiers.
As Your Majesty is aware, the Marcellonians had been terrorizing our borders for many months, pillaging and plundering our villages and towns. We had been gathering intelligence and preparing our strategy, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
That moment arrived when we encountered the Marcellonian army at Naphez Dammimin, led by the formidable General Gorthok. Our scouts reported that the enemy forces numbered in the tens of thousands, with giant warriors and heavily armored knights.
Despite being outnumbered, our soldiers fought with unwavering courage and determination. They held their ground against the enemy's fierce onslaught, and slowly but surely, we began to gain the upper hand.
It was during this pivotal moment that a young soldier, Drinain, distinguished himself through his extraordinary bravery and skill. He single-handedly took on General Gorthok, striking him down with a well-aimed rock and shattering his brain. This daring feat turned the tide of the battle in our favor.
Our soldiers, emboldened by Drinain's heroism, pressed their advantage and pursued the enemy forces as far as the Shaaraim mountains. We inflicted heavy casualties upon the Marcellonians, killing over two hundred thousand soldiers and shattering their army's morale.
I am proud to report, Your Majesty, that our own casualties were relatively light, thanks to the bravery and discipline of our soldiers.
In recognition of Drinain's outstanding valor, I presented him with my own sword as a token of our appreciation. I also declared a feast in his honor, which was celebrated by the entire army.
I beg to assure Your Majesty that our victory is a testament to the strength and resilience of our kingdom. We will continue to vigilantly defend our borders and protect our people from harm.
Please accept, Your Majesty, my humblest congratulations on this glorious victory. May it bring joy and prosperity to our kingdom, and may our soldiers' bravery be remembered for generations to come.
Your Majesty's loyal servant,
General Ryker
Commander, Emberfell Army
The general received a letter from the king three days later as the army were preparing to break camp and return back to Emberfell.
Here is a detailed write-up of the letter from the king:
To His Trusted and Loyal Servant, General Ryker, Commander of the Emberfell Army, Defender of the Realm, and Upholder of Justice,
And to the Brave and Valiant Soldiers of the Emberfell Army,
I, King Arin III, Rightful Ruler of the Kingdom of Emberfell, extend to you my warmest congratulations and deepest gratitude for your glorious victory over the Marcellonian forces. May the gods of our ancestors smile upon you and bless you for your bravery and selflessness.
I am writing to express my utmost admiration and appreciation for the exemplary service you and your soldiers have rendered to our kingdom. Your unwavering dedication, unshakeable courage, and unrelenting perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds have earned you a place in the annals of our kingdom's history.
I am particularly impressed by the remarkable bravery and ingenuity displayed by the young soldier, Drinain. His singular act of valor in defeating General Gorthok has inspired our entire kingdom, and I am eager to meet him in person and express my gratitude.
Therefore, I command that upon your return to Emberfell, you bring Drinain before me immediately. I wish to hear from his own lips the tale of his bravery and to reward him with the honors and accolades he so rightly deserves.
Please extend my warmest greetings and congratulations to Drinain, and inform him that I await his arrival with great anticipation.
To the soldiers of the Emberfell Army, I extend my deepest gratitude and appreciation for your service. Your bravery, loyalty, and sacrifice have earned you the admiration and respect of our entire kingdom.
May the gods bless and protect you all, and may you return to Emberfell in triumph and glory.
By the King's Hand,
King Arin III
Rightful Ruler of the Kingdom of Emberfell
Defender of the Realm
Upholder of Justice
Seal of the Kingdom of Emberfell.
Meanwhile Thorne had also written to Helen telling her of everything that happened during the battle against the army of marcellonia.
Here is a copy of the letter:
My dearest Helen,
As I sit down to write to you, my heart swells with emotions and my hand trembles with longing. It has been far too long since I've seen your lovely face, held you in my arms, and felt your gentle touch. The days have been endless, and the nights have been cold and dark without you by my side.
But I have news to share with you, my love. News that will make your heart swell with pride and your spirit soar with joy. We have emerged victorious from the war against the Marcellonians! It has been a long and brutal fight, but in the end, our bravery, honor, and determination have paid off.
I must confess, my love, that I did suffer an injury during the battle. Gorthok, the giant warrior, struck me with his spear, and I feared for my life. But I am a lucky man, and I have recovered from my wounds. I am still a bit sore, but I am alive, and that is all that matters.
But the true hero of the war is Drinain, our dear boy who has become like a son to us. He single-handedly defeated Gorthok, striking him down with a rock and shattering his brain. It was a feat of bravery and cunning that will be remembered for generations to come.
We will be returning to Emberfell soon, my love. In fact, we are set to leave the camp in an hour's time, and we should arrive at Emberfell in three days. I can hardly wait to see you, to hold you in my arms, and to kiss your lovely face. Drinain is eager to see you too, and I know he will be thrilled to be reunited with you.
Please give my love to Lyra, my lovely sister your sister in-law. I hope she is doing well and that she will be happy to see us when we return.
Until then, my love, take good care of yourself. I know that I can always count on you to keep our home safe and warm. You are my rock, my shelter, and my guiding star.
I love you more than words can express, my dear Helen. I love you more than life itself.
Yours always,
Thorne.
The army then began to pack up for their journey back to Emberfell.
General Ryker gathered Thorne and Drinain around him, a serious expression on his face. "I have received a letter from the king," he began, his voice low and measured. "He has heard of our victory and is eager to meet with Drinain, the young hero who single-handedly defeated Gorthok."
Thorne nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "That's no surprise, sir. Drinain's bravery and cunning are worthy of recognition."
General Ryker nodded in agreement. "Indeed they are. And the king wishes to see Drinain immediately upon our return to Emberfell."
Thorne looked at Drinain, who seemed a bit awestruck by the news. "That's not a problem, sir," Thorne replied, speaking for Drinain. "We will make sure Drinain is presented to the king as soon as we arrive."
General Ryker nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. "Very well, then. Let us begin our journey back to Emberfell. We have a hero to present to the king."
With that, the Emberfell army began to move, packing up their gear and forming up into columns. Thorne and Drinain rode beside General Ryker, their swords at their sides, as if protecting him from any unforeseen circumstances.
As they rode, Drinain couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and wonder. He was going to meet the king, the ruler of Emberfell. He had never imagined that his actions would bring him to the attention of the monarch himself.
Thorne, sensing Drinain's awe, reached out and clapped him on the back. "You deserve it, lad," he said with a grin. "You're a true hero of Emberfell."
Drinain smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Thorne. He knew that he owed a great debt to the older soldier, who had taken him under his wing and taught him the ways of war.
As they rode on, the landscape unfolding before them, Drinain couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. What would the king be like? Would he be kind and generous, or stern and demanding?
Only time would tell, but for now, Drinain was content to ride beside Thorne and General Ryker, basking in the glow of his newfound fame.
Three days later, the Emberfell army arrived at the capital city of Talmare, the kingdom's bustling metropolis. As they entered the city, they were greeted by throngs of cheering citizens, who had gathered to welcome their victorious army.
The news of their triumph over the Marcellonians had spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom, and the people of Emberfell were eager to catch a glimpse of their national hero, Drinain. They surged forward, trying to get close to the soldiers, but General Ryker quickly intervened.
"Make way! Make way for the hero of Emberfell!" General Ryker bellowed, as he ordered the foot soldiers to block the crowds and clear a path.
The soldiers formed a protective barrier around Drinain, Thorne, and General Ryker, as they navigated their way through the cheering crowds. The people of Emberfell shouted Drinain's name, waving flags and banners, and tossing flowers in his path.
As they made their way through the city, the procession finally arrived at the grand entrance of the Royal Palace of Emberfell. The palace's imposing stone façade towered above them, its intricate carvings and gleaming silver accents glinting in the sunlight.
General Ryker dismounted his horse, and turned to Drinain and Thorne. "We have arrived," he said, with a bow. "The king awaits you, Drinain. Are you ready to meet him?"
Drinain nodded, his heart pounding with excitement and a touch of nervousness. Thorne clapped him on the back, offering a reassuring smile.
"You'll do fine, lad," Thorne whispered. "Just be yourself, and remember that you're a hero of Emberfell."
As they entered the grand throne room of the Royal Palace of Emberfell, King Arin III rose from his throne to greet them. He was a stout man, about fifty-three years old, with a protruding stomach and a chubby face. Despite his rounded appearance, he was a handsome man, with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes that twinkled with warmth.
He was resplendent in his royal robes, made of the finest velvet and embroidered with intricate gold thread. The state crown, a magnificent piece of craftsmanship adorned with precious gems, sat atop his head, adding to his regal demeanor.
As General Ryker, Thorne, and Drinain approached, King Arin III smiled broadly, his face creasing with pleasure. "Ah, General Ryker, welcome back home my dear friend"
"Thank you your Majesty" general Ryker said bowing slightly to the king.
"And who are these if i may ask?"
"Your Majesty this is Thorne, and Drinain, the hero of Emberfell" general Ryker said to the king as he introduced Thorne and Drinain to the king, pointing at them to him while introducing them.
"Ahhh!! welcome to my palace!!"the king exclaimed, his voice booming through the throne room. "Welcome, welcome! I am honored to finally meet you, Drinain."
He stepped forward, his robes rustling, and extended a meaty hand to Drinain. Drinain, looking a bit awestruck, took the king's hand, and King Arin III shook it warmly.
"I have heard so much about your bravery, Drinain," the king said, his eyes shining with admiration. "I am told that you single-handedly defeated Gorthok, the giant warrior. That is a feat worthy of the greatest heroes of Emberfell!"
He turned to General Ryker and Thorne. "And you, General Ryker, and you, Thorne, have done an exemplary job in leading our army to victory. I am forever in your debt."
King Arin III clapped his hands together, a broad smile still plastered on his face as his butler came to his side to take his order.
"Now, let us celebrate this great victory! I order a feast to be prepared in Drinain's honor! Let the tables be laden with the finest foods, and the wine flow like a river! Today, we shall celebrate the bravery and heroism of Drinain, the savior of Emberfell!"
As the king finished his proclamation, he turned to General Ryker, Thorne, and Drinain, and said, "Now, let us take a walk in the garden, while I speak with you further."
The four of them strolled through the beautifully manicured gardens of the palace, the scent of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass filling the air. The king walked beside Drinain, his eyes shining with warmth and admiration.
"Drinain, my young hero," the king said, "I must say that I am deeply impressed by your bravery and selflessness. You have saved our kingdom from the brink of disaster, and I am forever in your debt."
He paused, looking at Drinain with a serious expression. "As a token of my gratitude, I want you to name whatever reward you desire. Riches, lands, titles - anything you want, it shall be yours."
Drinain looked at the king, his eyes shining with a deep sincerity. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with emotion, "I want nothing for myself. But there is one thing that I would ask of you, if it pleases you."
The king's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What is it, Drinain? Name it, and it shall be done."
Drinain took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the king's. "I want Thorne, my guardian, to be made Lord Mayor of Brindlemark. He has been like a father to me, and I want him to be rewarded for his kindness and bravery."
The king's face went still, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked at Thorne, who was standing beside Drinain, a look of shock and gratitude on his face.
"Drinain, you amaze me," the king said, his voice filled with emotion. "You could have asked for anything - wealth, status, power - but instead, you ask for something that will benefit another person. That is true selflessness, and it is a quality that I admire greatly."
He turned to Thorne, a smile spreading across his face. "Thorne, you are hereby appointed Lord Mayor of Brindlemark. And as for you, Drinain, I will do more than just grant you a reward. I will make sure that you are taken care of, and that your future is bright. You have earned it, and I am honored to be able to repay you in some small way."
The king's proclamation was sent throughout the kingdom, announcing Thorne's appointment as Lord Mayor of Brindlemark and Drinain's appointment as a Knight of the Kingdom. Thorne, too, was appointed a Knight, and the king granted them various lands and properties across the kingdom.
The news of Thorne's appointment as Lord Mayor of Brindlemark soon reached Brindlemark, and the townspeople were overjoyed. They gathered at the town square, congratulating Helen and Lyra on Thorne's behalf, as he and Drinain were still in Talmare.
Helen was overwhelmed with emotion as she accepted the congratulations and well-wishes of the townspeople. Lyra, too, was beaming with pride, happy to see her brother's hard work and dedication recognized.
However, not everyone in Brindlemark was pleased with the news. Some of the other contestants who had eyed the position of Lord Mayor were disappointed and even angry that Thorne had been chosen instead of them.
One of them, a wealthy merchant named Marcellus, was particularly displeased. He had been confident that he would be appointed Lord Mayor, and he felt that Thorne's appointment was a snub to him and his family.
Marcellus began to spread rumors and half-truths about Thorne, trying to discredit him and undermine his authority. But the people of Brindlemark were not easily swayed, and they stood by Thorne, proud of his achievement and grateful for his service to the kingdom.
As the news of Thorne's appointment continued to spread, the townspeople began to make preparations for his return. They decorated the town square with banners and streamers, and they planned a grand celebration to welcome Thorne and Drinain back to Brindlemark.
The ceremony of the appointment was to be held in two weeks' time at the Royal Palace of Emberfell, and the king had instructed Thorne and Drinain to return to Brindlemark and prepare for the occasion.
Immediately after the feast, Thorne and Drinain set off for Brindlemark, which was a seven-hour journey from the capital city. They rode their horses, tired but exhilarated by the events of the day.
As they approached Brindlemark, the villagers came out to welcome them, cheering and waving flags. Thorne and Drinain smiled and waved, feeling proud and grateful for the warm reception.
They made their way to their house, where Helen had prepared a meal to celebrate their return and appointments. The aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making their stomachs growl with anticipation.
As they dismounted their horses, Helen came out of the house, a big smile on her face. "Welcome home, my love!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Thorne's neck.
Drinain smiled, feeling happy to see Helen and Thorne reunited. He dismounted his horse and handed the reins to a villager, who led the horse away to be stabled.
Lyra came out of the house, her eyes shining with excitement. "Drinain! Congratulations!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.
Thorne and Helen smiled, watching the reunion with warm hearts. They knew that Drinain had become like a son to them, and they were grateful to have him back home safe and sound.
As they entered the house, Helen led them to the dining table, where a feast was spread out before them. There was roasted meat, steaming vegetables, and freshly baked bread, all of which smelled delicious.
Thorne and Drinain sat down, feeling grateful for the warm welcome and the delicious meal. They dug in, savoring the flavors and textures of the food, and enjoying each other's company.
As they ate, they talked about their adventures and their appointments. Thorne and Drinain were both excited and nervous about their new roles, but they knew that they would face the challenges ahead together, as a family.
As the night wore on, Marcellus's plan to sabotage Thorne's appointment as Lord Mayor was set in motion. A group of mercenaries, hired by Marcellus, crept into the village, their eyes fixed on Thorne's house.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Thorne and Helen had retired to their bedroom, where they indulged in a passionate night together. Their cries of ecstasy echoed through the small house, disturbing Drinain and Lyra, who were trying to sleep.
Drinain, who had been reading in his room, finally drifted off to sleep, but Lyra had already fallen asleep in his bed. However, Drinain's rest was short-lived, as he suddenly felt a strange atmosphere in the compound. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something didn't feel right.
Without hesitation, Drinain quickly picked up his sword and crept silently to Thorne's room. He gently shook Thorne awake, whispering urgently in his ear. Thorne, still groggy from sleep, quickly understood the gravity of the situation and sprang into action.
He quickly dressed, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Helen, still naked underneath the sheets, stirred awake, but Thorne silenced her with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Stay here, my love," he whispered. "Drinain and I will take care of this."
With his sword at the ready, Thorne crept silently out of the house, Drinain following closely behind. They moved stealthily through the darkness, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of the mercenaries. The night air was thick with tension, and Drinain could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
As they moved further away from the house, Thorne turned to Drinain and whispered, "What did you sense? What made you wake me up?"
Drinain hesitated, unsure of how to explain the strange feeling that had awakened him. "I don't know, Thorne," he whispered back. "But I knew something was off. I could feel it."
Thorne nodded, his eyes narrowing in the darkness. "Let's keep moving," he whispered. "We need to get to the bottom of this."
As they crept through the darkness, Thorne and Drinain caught sight of the hired killers lurking around their house. They were dressed in black, their faces obscured by hoods, and they moved with a stealthy precision that betrayed their sinister intentions.
Thorne and Drinain exchanged a knowing glance, their minds racing with the implications of what they were seeing. They couldn't quite place their hands on who was behind the attempted assassination, but they knew they had to act quickly to protect themselves and their loved ones.
Without hesitation, they sprang into action, taking the killers by surprise. They moved silently, their swords flashing in the moonlight as they struck down the would-be assassins one by one.
As the fight came to an end, Thorne and Drinain noticed that one of the killers was dressed slightly differently from the rest. He wore a black cloak with a silver clasp, and his sword was adorned with intricate engravings.
Thorne nodded to Drinain, and they let the leader live, dragging him into the house through the front door after knocking him out. They then slipped out through the back door, moving quietly and quickly disposed the bodies of the hired assassins.
As they waited in the darkness, their ears strained to pick up the slightest sound, Thorne whispered to Drinain, "We need to find out who hired them. This could be just the tip of the iceberg."
Drinain nodded, his eyes fixed on the door, his sword at the ready. "Let's get him to talk," he whispered back.they then went into the house to get information from the leader of the group.
Drinain approached the leader, who was lying on the floor, disarmed and bound. He nudged him with his foot, and the leader groggily opened his eyes.
"Time to talk," Drinain said, his voice firm but controlled.
The leader spat at Drinain's feet, but Drinain just smiled coldly. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said. "Your choice."
Thorne stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger. "We know you're not going to talk willingly," he said. "So, we'll just have to persuade you."
The leader sneered, but Drinain could see the fear lurking behind his eyes. They began to torture him, using various methods to try and break him. But the leader refused to talk, even as he screamed in agony.
Just when it seemed like they were getting nowhere, Thorne leaned in close to the leader's ear. "We know you're not the one who hired you," he whispered. "But we need to know who did. Tell us, and we might just let you live."
The leader's eyes flickered, and for a moment, Drinain thought he saw a glimmer of hope. And then, in a voice that was barely audible, the leader spoke.
"Marcellus," he whispered. "He hired us. He wanted Thorne dead."
Drinain's eyes narrowed. "Prove it," he growled.
The leader nodded, and with a struggle, he managed to free one of his hands from the bindings. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, which he handed to Drinain.
Drinain's eyes scanned the letter, and his face darkened with anger. It was a letter from Marcellus, detailing the plan to assassinate Thorne and take the position of Lord Mayor for himself.
Thorne's eyes blazed with fury as he read the letter. "We have him," he growled. "We have the proof we need to bring him down."
The leader nodded, a look of despair on his face. "And there's more," he said. "Marcellus paid us in advance. I have the money here."
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a pouch of gold coins. Drinain took it from him, his eyes never leaving the leader's face.
"It's over," Drinain said. "You're going to tell us everything you know about Marcellus's plans. And then, you're going to rot in prison for the rest of your life."
"But have told you all I know" the man pleaded.
"Is like you like it the hard way right?" Thorne said with a meanancing tone.
Drinian wasted no time in dishing out another round of toture to the man.
As the leader of the killers continued to scream and beg for mercy, the noise echoed through the house, waking up both Helen and Lyra. They quickly got out of bed and made their way to the living room, where they were met with a shocking scene.
The leader of the killers was lying on the floor, bound and gagged, while Thorne and Drinain stood over him, their faces grim and determined. Helen's eyes widened in shock as she took in the scene, and she quickly turned to Thorne.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with concern.
Thorne explained the situation to Helen, telling her about the attempted assassination and the leader's confession. Helen listened, her face growing paler with each passing moment.
Lyra, on the other hand, was furious. She stormed over to the leader, her eyes blazing with anger. "Finish him off!" she spat, her voice venomous. "He deserves to die for what he's done!"
But Helen quickly intervened, placing a restraining hand on Thorne's arm. "No, Thorne," she said. "We can't just kill him. We need to make sure we have solid evidence against Marcellus before we do anything."
Drinain nodded in agreement. "Helen's right, Thorne. We need to be careful. We can't let our emotions cloud our judgment."
Thorne hesitated, his eyes still blazing with anger. But eventually, he nodded. "You're right," he said. "We'll take him into custody and make sure he testifies against Marcellus. We'll make sure justice is served."
Lyra scowled, looking disappointed, but Helen placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Lyra," she said. "We'll make sure Marcellus pays for what he's done. But we need to do it the right way, so that justice is served and we can all move on from this."