CHAPTER 3 - ARTH

“We’ve been expecting you,” Arth said, seated at the head of the long table along with his four High Councilors.

“Your Highness,” the two Archmages greeted as they kneeled on the floor of the Council Chamber. The hood of their white cloak had covered their hair, and one of them had long silver chains that hung around his neck, jingling as they stood.

“Have a seat. You must’ve had an exhausting journey from Galadhor.” Arth gestured at the vacant chairs on the side of the table. He had been informed days ago of their coming, and something about it had made him unhappy. Usually the Temple of Archmagi from Galadhor would send low-ranking mages across the world to deliver messages and—most of the times—a glimpse of their fate, and all of these were from the words of the Elder Magus who could tell what’s ahead of their time.

But these two who just came to Arth’s country were no low-ranking mages. The temple sending Archmages was no joke; it would mean nothing but a threat that would come; a big threat to Glacia.

“Forgive us for having you wait, Your Highness. I am Arch Garaman and with me is my apprentice, Pallet,” said the one with the silver chains. “We carry some disturbing news from the Elder Magus himself.”

Arth had to swallow the lump in his throat, to brace himself, while trying to maintain his calm expression. “I’m hoping it’s not as big as it would seem.”

The two mages exchanged glances, and that just made Arth more worried, his one heel bouncing on the floor.

“I’m afraid it is, My King,” Arch Garaman sighed, “The Elder Magus never missed a thing from all of what had happened in Glacia a year ago. He told the High King of Galadhor about the enormous threat that might come when he saw the northern portal being opened by your blood. The undead invasion would have wiped out the entire Glacia, thus doubling their forces to march south into our country. But you, My King, managed to stop the undead. You closed the portal. And the Elder Magus thought there was nothing else to worry about after that.”

Arch Garaman paused for a brief moment, letting the pounding sound of Arth’s chest fill the silence in his ears.

“But half a fortnight ago, the Elder Magus saw a dark vision in his dream. The undead invasion a year past was only the beginning of something much worse. He never told us the details … only a warning for you to hear. Your Highness, you must prepare your country for the next one … best if you would start now.”

“The next one?” asked Councilor Tomen the Trademaster.

Arch Garaman shifted his eyes at the old councilor. “The Legion.”

Silence there was again, the councilors’ eyes wide open, staring at Arch Garaman.

“Has the Elder Magus spoken of the outcome?”

“He could not tell,” the Archmage replied. “But there was only one vision that kept on reoccurring in his dreams … the annihilation of the human race.”

Arth paused from taking a breath, his entire body shivered. Surprised he was, but at some point, he had been aware of the great possibility of them losing—much greater now that the undead invasion had cut the northern forces into less than half. The overall destruction they had dealt to the country was gruesome. And until now, they had yet raised enough forces to defend Glacia.

“That … might not happen,” Arth said, his mouth finding it hard to form the words. “We have the Frostcalibur … and … and the Power Crystal that will protect us from the demons. Are you telling me they won’t be enough?”

“My King, you should not compare history to our current situation,” said Councilor Vornell the Coinmaster. “Our victory from the war eighteen years ago was nothing but pure luck, I tell you. Remember, we had the country’s full force, the Power Crystal, the Frostcalibur, even the dragon Draphiron to defend our lands … but still, your father King Letholdus had been slain.”

“The demons are far more powerful than we think,” Arch Garaman added. “Such invincible, terrifying, and dreadful beings were meant to bring chaos to the world. From the legend of the three Adentus … Supreme Deity Skya, with her heaven’s forces of angels, had long been battling against the demons of Valrac, the Adentus of the Underworld. Both order and chaos, good and bad, light and dark—they’re what make up our world … as one cannot exist without the other … and then there was Genia, the Adentus of Earthos, to balance these two forces. Genia had all the forces of nature; humans, elves, dwarves, giants, dragons, and more … all combined to help maintain the balance, so one force could not overpower the other. And now the holy war has been foreshadowed by the attack eighteen years ago, as well as the invasion a year past.”

“The holy war?” Arth said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

Arch Garaman nodded. “And there’s still this big question unanswered for thousands of years since the regions of Earthos came to be.” He turned his head towards the gigantic frame on the wall, depicting the map of Earthos. “How did our ancestors exactly become victorious over the previous holy war? The time when all races had gathered in Galadhor to fight against the Legion … the time when the gods had given us the three Power Crystals … Most people believed it might’ve been because of the forces of Skya that came down from heaven … but there had been no record or sightings of angels at that time. We still had no proof of that … The only closest one we have now was the Power Crystals, which helped us defend our lands.”

The Archmage sighed. “Anyway, if the next coming wave would be all forces of the Underworld … then Glacia will be the first one to fall into dust …”

“Don’t say that as if we’d never stand a chance against them,” Arth lowered his voice, staring at his clenched fists on the table. “What if there’s something we can do to turn the tides?” He raised his head to look at his councilors.

Councilor Tomen raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“I don’t know … perhaps we can ask for reinforcements from the other regions …”

The four councilors exchanged glances, as if Arth’s idea had bothered something in their mind.

“What’s the matter?” Arth asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“It’s difficult to explain, Your Highness,” said Councilor Davion the High Steward, “But eighteen years ago, every messenger we’d sent to every regions never returned with a reply … they might’ve been killed, captured … perhaps something else happened. Your father thought the other kings had no intentions of helping in his battle … but there could’ve been some other reasons.”

“What … what do you mean?” Arth shook his head, looking at the councilor with disbelief. “We all took the oath of allegiance … we’d sworn to help one another …”

“Something was not right at that time, Your Highness ... however, our concern now should be of here first.”

Arth let out a huge breath before he replied. “Alright, then … what about the dragon?”

Suddenly, all the people at the table turned their heads at him, their hopeful eyes overwhelmed by disbelief and uncertainty. “What about it, My King?” Councilor Vornell asked.

“I mean … we can summon one to aid us in our fight against the Legion.”

“But Your Highness,” Arch Garaman spoke. “To summon a legendary-class beast, we will need a legendary core from its relative species—“

“I have one,” Arth interrupted, his eyes shifting from his hands towards the Archmage. “I have Draphiron’s core … so we can make it happen, can we not?”

The councilors once again shared glances, looking surprised, then they all nodded in response. There was a mutual agreement among them as silence filled the Council Chamber. The mages, however, seemed not to show any belief in Arth.

“Your Highness,” Arch Garaman said, “Summoning a dragon is like hoping for a stone egg to hatch … it is an extremely long and difficult process. And by long, I mean we would have to cross many valleys, swim across wide oceans, and walk amidst the hottest deserts … and that’s just a part of it. It would take a very long way for us to get there.”

“I know,” Arth exhaled heavily, then he looked at his hands, “But I’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how long and how hard it can be done, to achieve it. I’ve witnessed with my own eyes how Draphiron died … and I couldn’t bear the guilt, as I just stood there and did nothing. But now that I’ve found a chance, I’ll never let it slip away this time. So tell me, how can we summon the dragon?”

“We cannot do it here, My King,” the Archmage replied. “These legendary beasts live in Draconos Isles … and they can only be summoned in a special volcano called Aggronar.”

“Draconos Isles?” Councilor Tomen asked. “Is that the volcano islands found in the country of Drava?”

“Aye.”

“Wait,” Arth leaned back in his chair, looking at the map of Earthos on the wall, “Is that far?”

“It will take months of travel, My King …” Councilor Tomen replied. “Much more in these days when the western harbors had to deal with the damages brought by those bloody pirates from Corsair.”

“We have also heard reports of pirate attacks from our merchants that came here,” said Councilor Tomen the Trademaster. “It’s too risky for one to travel overseas with Draphiron’s core … chances are they would steal it.”

Archmage Garaman nodded. “That’s how difficult it is, Your Highness. Even the travel itself will already cost much blood and sweat.”

Arth took a deep breath. It was indeed too dangerous for Draphiron’s core; as it’s the only one they have to summon a dragon. They must send someone who had the strength to protect the core from all of those who’d try to steal it. And only one person came into his mind.

“Fine,” Arth rose from his chair, “I shall go and summon the dragon.”

They all raised their heads, their wide eyes staring at the king. “Pardon, Your Highness,” Councilor Vornell said, “but you cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Can you still not see how dangerous it is, My King? You are to rule the country, not to travel to another. You must stay. Otherwise, the capital will fall into disorder.” Councilor Davion pointed at Arth. “There must always be an Aragon here in Crown Galacer.”

Arth bit his lower lip as he looked at his councilors one by one, each showing their agreement to Davion. Then he finally resigned with a sigh. “Then what do you suggest we should do?”

“We should find someone whom we can trust to protect Draphiron’s core,” Councilor Tomen said, “someone who has the strength to survive … and determination to travel over the western seas.”

Arth raised an eyebrow. “And who is this … someone?”