King Of The Stone Walls

Chapter 1
‘Rainy days and long nights’
 

Mirian fell seventy-seven days before the coronation of the King of Stone Walls. Unable to defend itself against the eastern invaders, it sought to carry favour with the hostile state of Endoria, defying the future king's authority and jeopardizing the fate of his kingdom.

The King of Endoria swiftly capitalized on the situation, crafting a pact that promised him eternal power and control over Mirian. Blinded by ambition, the ruler of the City on the Water signed the document without consulting the would-be king, surrendering his kingdom to the enemy. Within three days, he lost his fortune, then his rights, and ultimately, his head. The citizens were stripped of their possessions and forced into labour for their new master.

The shameful pact lay hidden within the castle walls of Endoria's capital, Felhi, guarded by sentries and a maze of security measures that ensured no one could prove Mirian had fallen through deceit. Such evidence could have returned the city to its rightful ruler and compelled the enemy to cede three-quarters of its land as compensation. Yet, only four individuals knew of this critical aspect of the agreement.

One was killed, the second escaped, and the remaining two pursued him relentlessly, unaware he had already reached the ruler—and that ruler had begun plotting his revenge.

Thus began the enduring war and animosity between King Begri, Victor Sarlazy, and King Everyk Larkon of Endoria. Neither would rest until the other fell, for only one power could dominate the world. Legends would be forged in the fires of this conflict, immortalized in history. The victor would be the favourite of fate, the lover of destiny, and above all, the master of reason.

---

Haklenia, Capital of Begri, Year 1577

Evening settled over the city as a messenger from Lesglow brought grim news. The clatter of hooves shattered the eerie silence that had gripped the city for over a week. Anxiety thickened the air as residents braced for the worst. Lesglow was under constant siege, and its citizens were fleeing en masse to Haklenia, seeking shelter and sustenance. The capital was prepared for this influx; no one went hungry or lacked rest, but the looming spectre of conflict suggested that peace was far from sight. As was widely known, prosperity had its limits.

The great stone walls shielded the women, children, and men from the enemy but provided little comfort. Anxiety reigned. Days passed in a blur, each one feeling shorter and less memorable, as if they were insignificant additions to a life that had once thrived. The sunlight illuminating the well-kept stone alleys no longer inspired admiration, happiness, or nostalgia. The beautiful landscape surrounding Haklenia had morphed into a backdrop of grey reality.

The nights, however, took on new significance. They were filled with an unnatural calm that helped clear the mind and steady the breath, reminding people that the world was not as beautiful or innocent as it once seemed. It was ruled by men with a peculiar gift—an ability that consumed their hearts, replacing them with pride in its purest form.

Mages. They had severed their ties to anything as primitive as society, boasting of being the Chosen. Once every 177 years, in each of the Four Kingdoms, the energy of nature, pain, dreams, and spirit converged to create a Being Endowed with Power, destined to ascend to the throne and rule over the inhabitants of their kingdom. No one dared oppose this order; what chance did an ordinary person stand against such unimaginable power?

---

Until the Red Era arrived, alongside a single rebellious mage who relinquished his throne to a common man, igniting hope and a sense of equality among the populace. The other Endowed did not take kindly to this. They viewed his actions as an insult to their kind and resolved to restore order by seizing the rebellious kingdom, dividing it among themselves. Their inflated egos led them to underestimate their opponent—a grave mistake.

“I am here for Victor Sarlazy,” the messenger's tired voice echoed through the empty streets, drawing weary glances from behind the windows of homes and inns. It was well past midnight. Scattered lanterns cast a dim light on the deserted sidewalks while silvery foxes occasionally darted by their obsidian eyes carefully observing the movements of the wind, gathering information about the world—both known and hidden.

The nature of the fox is complex in its simplicity. To befriend them, one must offer both attention and freedom. Foxes know and don’t know what they want. They are torn, uncertain, yet confident at the same time. They possess a fragment of the human soul, allowing them to understand many things about human nature. No one has the right to kill, exile, insult, or harm them in any way. The people of Endoria believe that after death, a soul is entrusted to a fox. If one lived a good life, the fox would care for the soul; if one was evil, the fox would abandon it to the mercy of wicked dragons.

So, when one of the foxes darted under the man’s feet, he nodded slightly in acknowledgment, expressing his respect before pounding on the massive oak gate once more. “I bring news from Lesglow! Open up!”

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” a voice called from behind the gate, which creaked open with a loud, sorrowful groan. A figure emerged, slightly hunched and cloaked, and as the messenger’s eyes met the bluest eyes any living being could possess, he felt small in his presence, as if unworthy to stand before him. The man radiated a strange energy, causing the messenger’s hair to stand on end. He knew who he was dealing with. He had heard much about Lauren Amisi but had never met him face-to-face. The mage rarely ventured among the people. Few knew what he looked like, what his character was, or what powers he possessed. Many rumours circulated about him—some claimed he was six meters tall, with fiery tears flowing from his eyes, while others said he had the beauty of youth and could charm anyone with a snap of his fingers.

Now, the messenger could confidently say that none of these tales captured the mage's persona. He was simply… hypnotic. Those oceanic eyes concealed waves that never ceased to sway, etching themselves into the messenger's heart and mind. A strange relief mixed with calm washed over him, as if a great burden had been lifted. “These guards would kill for any sign of disrespect,” Lauren said softly.

“Forgive me, but I don’t have time for pleasantries.” The messenger snapped out of his trance as Lauren turned his attention back to him. Standing tall, he tried to conceal his confusion. He hadn’t forgotten his role and didn’t want to appear weak in the presence of such a powerful being. “I must reach the castle quickly. I bring important news for the future king.”

“In that case, let me accompany you.” Lauren nodded toward the two guards who had been closely observing the situation, signalling that everything was fine. He stepped aside to allow the messenger to pass. “You’re lucky. The king is my dearest friend, and I usually don’t stick my neck out so readily.”

“Do I really need luck?”

“We are at war. You figure it out.” The mage ignored the rider's confused look, smiling indulgently. “Our lord has many troubles, which makes him irritable. I hope you bring good news; otherwise, I would advise against an audience.”

“Don’t worry about me.” The messenger scoffed, scratching his neck nervously. His beautiful grey horse snorted loudly, shaking its head sharply in impatience. It was not accustomed to walking, only to fast riding. He gripped the reins tightly and muttered something to the animal, which immediately calmed down, matching its pace with its owner. “If our lord had the Gift, I might have reason to fear. But in this situation, I feel safe.”

“Really?” The mage’s tone didn’t change, remaining calm and pleasant, but his oceanic eyes hardened, and the waves hidden within them intensified. The air around them grew heavier. “You’re not afraid of an iron sword wielded by the wisest man in all the land? Should I admire your bravery or laugh at your foolishness?”

“I meant no offence to your friend,” the messenger began, feeling he had gone too far. It was hard to catch his breath, even though they weren’t walking fast and he wasn’t carrying any burden. A tightness in his chest intensified with every breath. “I meant that, as a messenger, I’ve witnessed true power, and no ordinary man can instil fear in me…”

“He's not an ordinary man.” Lauren stopped, looking at the messenger with undisguised disbelief. “He is our future king and the most intelligent person ever born in this kingdom. That’s why he doesn’t need power to accomplish great deeds.”

“King Everyk said something quite different…”

“Everyk is a fool, full of himself… He believes he possesses the greatest Gift of all, which speaks volumes about him.”

“In that case, if it’s not his…” The messenger hesitated, not wanting to cross a certain line. However, when the mage nodded, granting silent consent, he asked the question that had been troubling him. “Whose Gift is the most powerful?”

Lauren scoffed, then fixed his oceanic gaze on the messenger, this time with a gentler intensity. They passed the gardens, nearing the stone bridge that led to the castle courtyard.

The castle loomed above the others, even surpassing the Cathedral of MonteLeren, whose spire was visible from every corner of the capital. Built of ash-coloured stone like the surrounding structures, it uniquely incorporated a blend of iron and silver. Its origins were shrouded in mystery, and one could only speculate that the architect was superstitious, for he had constructed seven towers and etched seven symbols in a language known only to him on each. These symbols adorned the gates, walls, and chambers, though the residents paid them little mind—except for the king, whose ignorance of their meaning had driven him to madness. Aside from this troubling detail, the fortress stood impressively.

In summer and spring, residents felt welcome at any hour during audiences, and anyone could volunteer to tend the gardens. In autumn and winter, during the two most significant holidays—the Dawn and the Day of the Departed—the king ventured into the streets to distribute food to the needy. Everyone had the chance to view this architectural marvel, a rarity in other kingdoms where castles served solely as royal residences, their secrets hidden from the populace.

“It all depends on who wields it…” Lauren replied slowly, carefully choosing his words. He had revealed everything he knew about this subject to only one person—his friend. “I would gladly share more, but we’re almost there. I’ll take you straight to the throne room. I hope you don’t mind my presence during your conversation.”

The messenger nodded silently, sensing it wise to refrain from probing further. He focused instead on the urgent information he needed to convey. Memories of his audience with King Everyk surged within him, striking a discordant chord. There was darkness in the king’s eyes, malevolence in his smile, and insincerity in his actions that sent a chill through the messenger. He shuddered involuntarily, still haunted by the king’s breath as he whispered ominous plans for Begri and its inhabitants. One word had been enough to shatter his faith in his ruler, leaving him steeped in shame.

“We’re here.”

They stood before a massive beech door. A young boy rushed to them, taking the horse without a word and heading toward the stables. He appeared no older than sixteen.

“Give him an apple, Michael…” Lauren called out, tossing the fruit in the boy’s direction. Michael caught it with a wide smile and a nod. “Don’t worry, Raphael; it’s a gesture of friendship, not an attempt to take your horse.”

“So, you know my name…”

“Of course,” replied the mage, beaming. “I know the names of everyone who lives here, even though few know mine. Each name fits its bearer in its own way.”

Raphael looked at him, not fully understanding what he meant by that, but not trying to push the topic forward. In his mind, he was too little to understand Lauren’s words anyway.