Everard walked among the swordsmen and mages stationed at the Eighth Gate, his expression laced with concern. Behind him, the kings followed closely, listening intently as he spoke.
"The weather has gone mad these past three days. Many sentries have reported sightings of abnormal Scarlets lurking within the thick fog that has formed!" Everard explained. The kings exchanged uneasy glances.
"I can feel it too. They're preparing for something. The air is heavy, and this place is in complete disarray!" Queen Aurora exclaimed, scanning her surroundings. Scrolls were scattered across the ground, and swords, bows, and staff lay out of place.
"I apologize, Your Majesty, but order has been the least of our concerns these past few days!" Everard replied. Aurora observed him before offering a faint smile. Meanwhile, the Downmore brothers stood before the Eighth Gate, awestruck by its immense and imposing presence.
"It's massive, brother! I've been waiting forever to see it in person!" Dracus remarked to his older sibling, Lord Argus, who chuckled and lightly patted his younger brother's left shoulder.
"Look at all those seals. We've spent three years trying to decipher them, and we haven't even figured out the smallest one. It's said that this gate was constructed long before the birth of Aldelviewreld. The seals are written in Ancient Elvish!" Argus explained. Darcus's eyes widened in amazement.
"That's the worst part!" King Ezequiel interjected as he approached the brothers. Their expressions shifted to confusion.
"Of course… Elvish is a dead language!" Aurora remarked from afar. The three kings turned toward her, visibly impressed.
"Your Majesty has sharp ears!" Argus exclaimed. Aurora smirked slightly. The three kings then gathered around Aurora and Everard.
"We have a lot of work ahead of us, gentlemen. We must also prepare for a possible attack!" Queen Aurora declared. However, they were abruptly interrupted as Woodrow came rushing toward them, breathless, collapsing to her knees.
"What's wrong, woman? You look like a madwoman!" Ezequiel exclaimed as he and the other kings hurried toward her.
"I am sorry for interrupting, Your Majesty, but the fourth portal has been activated!" Woodrow announced. At the mention of this, everyone immediately assumed that King Mustaffa was arriving. Without hesitation, they all dashed toward the portals, Everard ordering Woodrow to keep up.
"Everard is right… I'm in terrible shape!" Woodrow gasped between heavy breaths.
Upon reaching the top of the hill, they saw the portal glowing intensely, but something was off—it looked as if it were overloading.
"What's happening with the portal? It looks like it's about to collapse!" Everard exclaimed. Woodrow, the last to arrive, caught her breath and confirmed that this was why she had run into such a panic.
"You did well, woman!" Ezequiel praised her.
They all braced themselves, expecting the worst. Weapons were drawn as the portal flickered erratically—until, suddenly, a line of horses emerged, pulling carts filled with supplies and weapons. The kings finally relaxed. Everard and Woodrow rushed to help. At last, King Mustaffa appeared at the end of the caravan. Compared to the other rulers, he was twice their age, his presence commanded deep respect.
"Your Majesty, we feared you wouldn't come to our meeting!" Queen Aurora said as she and the other kings bowed in admiration.
"Majesties, I've brought supplies and weapons. Everard's message was concerning, so I wasted no time in preparing all of this to assist you!" Mustaffa declared. Everard approached and bowed deeply before him.
"Your Majesty, welcome. Thank you for bringing these supplies!" Everard expressed his gratitude. Mustaffa nodded.
"Everard, I must ask you to leave us now. I have an important matter to discuss with the Monarchs!" King Mustaffa stated. Everard looked at the other rulers, who gave him a reassuring nod. Understanding, he and Woodrow departed.
Once alone, Aurora broke the silence.
"Now that we're alone, what is this urgent matter?" she inquired.
Mustaffa, however, appeared restless. Pacing nervously, He drew the other kings wary attention.
"You must understand something… what is happening here is bigger than all of us!" Mustaffa declared with absolute certainty.
Meanwhile, in Averford
All the young aspirants hoping to become Legionnaires had gathered in the training arena. Their objective: to face off against the two most talented swordsmen of their generation. The crowd watched, enthralled, as an evenly matched duel unfolded between Claire and Prince Lon, the most outstanding fencers of their class.
Spectators marveled at Claire's skill, as she defended herself flawlessly against Lon's precise strikes. Carefully positioning her feet, Claire managed to slip behind him and deliver an upward strike to his right shoulder, unbalancing him and securing her victory.
"That was incredible! I barely saw that coming!" Prince Lon exclaimed as he got back on his feet.
"You fought well. Your attacks were strong and precise!" Claire praised him. Both exchanged a respectful bow. Before they could speak further, Margott approached them.
"That was an excellent duel—you left everyone speechless!" Margott remarked as she walked up to them.
"Margott, what are you doing here? Weren't you with my brother?" Claire asked, surprised. Lon took a few steps back as he noticed Margott carrying a wooden sword.
"Kiett is in the library with Cosette. He suddenly felt like reading!" Margott replied.
"And why are you holding a wooden sword?" Claire questioned.
Meanwhile, Lon left the arena and was immediately greeted by Amber and Blumiere.
"What's wrong, Lon? You look exhausted!" Amber commented. Blumiere eyed him up and down before laughing.
"Claire wiped the floor with him again!" Blumiere teased. Amber jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, leaving him winded.
"Behave, you two! It looks like those two are finally going to settle things!" Lon interjected. Amber turned her attention toward the arena, where the crowd was now focused on Claire and Margott, both poised to face off.
"Alright, Claire—it's time to find out who's the best!" Margott declared, assuming a defensive stance.
"Judging by that stance, you don't seem to have much confidence in yourself!" Claire smirked as she took an offensive stance.
TO BE CONTINUED…