A set of royal eyes scan the horizon before them, a glint of light gently cascading before them from above—as though the overhead sun had concentrated a single ray of light to specifically obscure the sights before those very eyes. Hands moving overhead, adjusting the crown which adorns he whom the hands belong, and the glint quickly fades from sight.

A sigh escaping the lips, the sound of liquid pouring into a glass floating up to royal ears; bringing those eyes to tear their glance from the landscape before them and down unto the cup in their master’s hand. The prince offers a smile to the servant beside himself, as they pour forth another serving of wine for the royal son.

He is all that represents this kingdom now; a prince and a king, a champion and a sultan... he was truly all these people had left. They believed in him, however, and therein lay what was most important. For this man—this prince, he held something that the king before him had not: honor.

He was respected among the people, praised for his great decisions... and he made friends with all. However, despite this seemingly perfect atmosphere for a man of his status, there was something missing in the end... a challenge. Yes, it seemed that acquiring the throne, for all the struggles it took, had since been rather dull and dreary aside from the occasional uprising.

Of course those uprisings were held by a cult who favored not the well-wishes of the people, but rather that of their own. As such, this prince found himself at odds with an underground world that none had true familiarity with. Their words, however, were felt all the way up to his highness’ castle: there was a covenant made, and it would be fulfilled in the blood of he and his people.

What was more, an honorable warrior also believed he had been blessed by the Gods with the right to sit atop the throne and, to be truthful, this prince did not mind the warrior’s ambition. He too was a noble man, a man for the people... and he was equally loved throughout the land. There were no ill-wishes between these two men and, instead, a friendly rivalry which had sprung from the roots of a destiny that had apparently revealed itself to the warrior.

Together this warrior joined with the prince to face off against the underground evil, the world which threatened to tear theirs apart... all while vying for the position his own ally held. It was a complex arrangement, but it was in fact one which worked rather well.

Yet all great things must one day come to an end... and that is what brings us to now, that is what brings us to today.

The warrior stood before the proud prince, his sword strapped across his back. With long brown locks flowing with the wind, that God-fueled fire burning in his eyes, and the fair maiden which stood loyally by his side to give him strength... this man offered a bow to the prince as though to apologize for what was destined to come.

Another sigh to erupt from royal lips, as the crown prince lifts his glass of wine to take a sip and sooth his voice. Moments pass as this warrior stands in patience, his eyes studying every move that the leader of their peoples made.

“I suppose I always knew it would one day come to this...” came the mutterings of the prince, his eyes betraying his sad amusement as he stared his former friend in the eye—neigh, still his friend... yet now, as well, an enemy to the throne.

“I apologize, your highness... but my ideal has no room for doubt. I do not wish to draw sword against you, yet I find myself standing with you as the final barrier to that which the Gods have told me I am destined. Please, do not damn me for following my ambitions.” sounded the strong voice of the warrior as he looked on apologetically, though that determination still burned brighter then the morning star itself.

“Do not apologize, friend,” the prince smiled to his opposition, eyes filled with mirth, “It truly has been long since this blade tasted the fruits of battle. I welcome your challenge, just as I welcome my own possible defeat; for I know that either of us may lead this land into prosperity. Why should I fear death when it may be true that it shall make our peoples happy?”

A smile slowly grew on the features of the warrior, a symbol of acceptance to the prince’s terms. No words left to utter between these two proud men, the prince finally rose from his seat, his robe gently flowing from off the chair. Acting quickly, his servant left and once again returned with cloth in-hand, the long shape of the royal sword apparent through the soft cloth which wrapped itself around it.

Taking that sword in-hand... the prince offered yet another smile to his challenger, and disrobed the sword. In an instant all the glory of this majestic blade was revealed through the brilliant light which danced off its surface, reflecting the sunlight into the distance.

The warrior offered one last kiss to his beloved, a kiss which signified every emotion which pumped through the strong-willed man’s veins... and he proceeded forward. For now was the time to leave all outside worries behind, now was the time to prepare oneself for the great beyond.

Now was the time for man to answer destiny’s call... and hope that, in the end, it is indeed the correct call to answer.

The sun slowly sets on these men’s finest hours... and thus the battle begins.

...

... all hail the fallen prince; and let rise a new age throughout the land.