Age of Heroes: Titular Kingdom of Arya chapter 1

     I always love fantasy, and whenever I read or play something that takes place in a fantasy world, I always want to make a world of my own. I never get around to it because it requires careful world building and not something that can easily be tackled in one sitting/shortstoy. This is definitely an ambitious challenge for me, but this story, and its world, I have always imagined ever since I was in high school. I am glad to be finally able to put the imagination into words, even if it's just a single chapter for now.

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Age of Heroes: Titular Kingdom of Arya

Chapter 1

He woke up in the middle of the night, eyes still drowsy, yet his mind refused to sleep. Carried by soundless steps from his slippers, he walked down the hallway of the royal chambers where the royal family, his family, resided. On his left side were massive arch windows overlooking the town of Highhalls. The sculpted statue of Saint Justine stood majestically 100 meters tall at the center of the town, and had been standing for millennia, facing the grand port and the Justinian Ocean beyond with his wings spread wide and his legendary sword, the Just, in his right hand pointing at the starless sky. The Mages’ Tower, standing tall near the city gate, and the nearby Adventurers’ Halls, somewhat obscured beneath the tower, were still bustling with Heroes and mages. He enjoyed the picturesque sight of a quiet, medieval town, built mostly out of marble; not even a new moon could stop it from shining brightly.

It was a rare sight, he thought, to see the street still lit brightly with torches even at midnight, as most of the peasants and merchants would have retreated to their homes at that time. Seeing a black knight clad in charcoal black plate armor, he remembered that his uncle was due to arrive in the Capital tomorrow. They must have arrived early.

A titan, the human ancient enemy, unearthed itself in the Vale a few months ago, and his uncle traveled to the capital seeking aid from his grandfather, the King, to bury the titan back into the earth. The King lent him his army, and he also employed the Heroes from the Adventurers’ Hall.

He remembered the day his uncle departed from Highhalls two months ago, clad in pristine silver plate armor, he looked dashing amongst his elite army of Black Knights. Duke Reinhard of the Vale was a middle-age man with hair and beard as black as the armor of the knights escorting him, the darling brother of his late father, Prince Arnaud, and the second-born to his grandfather, King Maximillian V. Reinhard gave him a shield, emblazoned with a red rose, the Vale crest, and left him with a pat on the head when he looked worried.

“We have the Heroes on our side, you shouldn’t worry,” he remembered Reinhard saying.

Heroes.

Nobody knew who they were or where they came from, but these… invincible humans, if they can be called that, suddenly appeared out of thin air everywhere throughout the known world. They came and aided people in need, always claiming they were on some sort of “quests”. It was their regenerative capability that shook the world. You can kill them, but they will return somewhere else, mostly chapels or altars, without a single hair missing. They were also stronger, even their weaker and newly-recruited Heroes could rapidly progress and obtain power that the mages and the soldiers could only dream of.

At a concession dubbed First Parlay on the Mainland, as a result of the Great War between these Heroes and the Empire, the Pontiff granted these Heroes an asylum and their first building in the Imperial City, claiming they were emissaries from God himself sent to help them to crush the darkness in the world.

And they did. No one fights the monsters in the known world better than them, from goblins to demons, even dragons and aberrations from only God knows where. It was to no one's surprise when a missive arrived notifying them of his uncle's victory over the titan.

“You have 34 years in your pocket and still as impatient as a teen, Reinhard.”

He heard his grandfather’s voice echoing in the hall as his feet mindlessly brought him to the King’s chamber hall; Candlelight escaped from the slightly open door. He sneaked closer to the door on the tip of his toes, somewhat reminding him of when he was but a boy sneaking off to places where he wasn’t meant to be.

Yet, this time it felt different.

He did not feel the adrenaline rush or excitement that he felt at that time, and instead, he felt dread as if he could feel the upcoming storm brewing on the horizon.

What lay before his eyes shocked him to his core.

The King, his grandfather, lay on his bed, his pajamas soaked in red, while his uncle stood on his side with a blood-soaked sword in his hand, no doubt his grandfather’s blood.

“The world will not change if we don’t change it!”

He heard his grandfather chuckle. He sighed and looked at the ceiling as he muttered his last words, “You won’t realize what has changed if you move too fast.”

He watched his uncle stiffen as if he was holding something inside before he wiped his face with his hand. Reinhard dropped to his knees and his sword to the floor, hands clasped, facing the now deceased King in a silent prayer.

Suddenly, our protagonist felt a tap on his shoulder that almost made him scream, but the man quickly seized the young Prince’s mouth. When he saw the familiar red and white robe, he relaxed, knowing who the person was without needing to see his face. The old man, the Archbishop Bernhardt, who was also his tutor, motioned for him to follow quietly.

They descended the stairs, passing myriad marble hallways, the throne room, ballroom, and dining room, until they reached the kitchen. There, Bernhardt opened a cellar door and motioned for the Prince to descend with him. They walked further, passing rows and rows of barrels until they reached the last row. Bernhardt escorted him to a large tun, the last two from the left wall, and opened it.

They walked inside. It was dark, but Bernhardt muttered, “May the light of our Father reach us to the darkest shadow.” At once, small wisp-like lights danced around him, following as he guided both of them to a concealed door at the end of the tun.

“I know you must have many questions. Alas, we do not have time to answer them, Your Highness. But at least, let me make one thing clear, Prince Reinald, you do know what has transpired, yes?”

Reinald could not believe what had happened; yet, he knew his disbelief would not change the truth, “My uncle… killed Grandfather.”

“And he wanted the throne, don’t be a fool and think otherwise. The only thing that would secure the throne for him is your head, the rightful heir to the Kingdom of Arya. I do not know what drove him to such madness, but it does not matter. You need to travel north, to Arbor, and seek asylum from Lady Juni. You need to hold out long enough for this news to reach the Imperial city and wait for their intervention.”

“But Lady Juni doesn’t like Grandfather, you told me so.”

“Your other option is Lord Brume of Westwall, who went to the West together with Reinhard to fight that Titan. He was loyal to your Grandfather, but I am not sure if that is still the case. I would’ve sent you to Tambang if Lord Mahendra still lived, but now that his wife runs the town, I would rather drink snake poison than trust anything that comes out of Lady Jannah’s mouth. Lady Juni might hate the late King, but she hates your uncle more than anything; you can trust me on that. She is your safest bet, Your Highness.”

“But… why? Why would Uncle do this?”

“I don’t have the answer nor the time to figure out the answer for you. It won’t be long before they realize you're gone. I’ve prepared some rations and money, and your sword. This path will lead you to the sewers, follow the All-Father’s light, and it should lead you out of here. Now run along,” Bernhardt pushed Reinhard and a package wrapped in cloth towards the entrance to the sewer as the flickering lights followed closely behind the Prince, and before he closed the door, he said, “Remember, as long as you keep His Light in your heart, the darkness will not touch you.”

Then quiet with only the sound of his breath and the dancing lights as his company.

Why? He wanted to ask.

He slapped himself and steeled his heart. He had many questions, but only one answer that mattered.

Survive.

Clutching the package in one hand and his sword in the other, he muttered, “Please guide me to the exit, O One True Father.”

The light flickered and flew into the thick, dark sewer; Reinhard ran closely behind. The sewer itself was like a small cave with narrow sidewalks separated by a small aqueduct carrying sewage water across the city.

His breath began ragging with each step, and after a few minutes of running, he was inevitably breathless. Still, he kept running with his legs that he could barely feel any longer. He knew he shouldn’t have skived off his duties, and he promised the One Father he would not skip his practice anymore if he could escape alive from the sewers.

His eyes barely could see anything in front of him when his head struck a cold hard steel and fell on his ass.

“Another one!”

When Reinald looked up, he saw two knights in full steel plate standing with their swords unseathed and ready to strike, and across both of them, a girl in a cloaked ragged leather robe holding a staff, looking terrified. Reinhard could see a translucent word hovering above the girl's head, “DoReMi456”

A Hero.

“He’s not one of them, he doesn’t have the tag.” One of the knights said as he caught and crushed the guiding lights with his hand.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s still a witness.” The other replied, bracing his sword at Reinhard.

The girl screamed, her terrified voice echoed throughout the sewer loudly.

Annoyed by the scream, the guard who pointed his sword at Reinald turned to the girl, shouting, “Shut the fuck up!” and swung his sword at her.

The girl’s voice got louder, but an even louder bang blasted through the sewer walls, deafening all four of them. It was the knight’s turn to scream, clutching his hand as his sword fell to the ground while his partner looked at him confused.

Further in the darkness of the sewer, way behind the girl, Reinald could hardly make up a small figure kneeling, in their hand was a weird contraption that Reinald had never seen before. It suddenly lit up, a couple of times, and the screaming knight was stricken by something, multiple things, in rapid succession. His screams came to a halt until they disappeared entirely.

The other knight, realizing his life was in danger, stood and frantically swung his sword into the thick darkness, “Show yourself! I am going to kill you!”

For a few seconds, air was the only thing the knight swung at, but suddenly, the sword hit something with a loud clang. The knight was surprised, but before he could realize what was happening, a blade pierced through the darkness, slicing through the knight’s neck, decapitating him. His head fell off into the aqueduct.

As the darkness dissipated, Reinhard could see that hidden in the darkness were a young blonde-haired man in gambeson who parried the knight’s sword and another man, with short brunette hair, in a regal plate armor who had sliced the head. The blonde man had “Slayer” written above his head while the brunette had “TheFriendlyGhost”. Further behind them, close to the woman, was another man with glasses looking typically like a wizard apprentice in Reinhard’s books, the tag above his head read “Klaas”.

The kneeling figure stood revealing a tall woman with long red hair, with most of her body covered in a long cloak, her tag read “AngryGhost”, and in her arm was the weird contraption. It was a metal tube with runic inscriptions inscribed on it with a weird handle at the base.

Reinald had heard of this contraption before. One of the Dwarves' greatest creations.

Guns.

“Jessie!” The brunette, TheFriendlyGhost, exclaimed as he rushed to the scared girl, “I told you not to run off! I don’t know what to say to Aaron if something happens to you! Your brother will kill me!”

“I am so sorry!” DoReMi continued crying.

“Don’t be too hard on her. I will run to it if I am new and suddenly cannot log out. Let alone, there was a bunch of dudes with swords wanting to kill me. By the way, Klaas,” AngryGhost turned to the wizard, “Nice Darkness there.”

Klaas gave her his cheeky smile and his thumb.

It was Slayer who maintained his eyes on Reinald. He walked closer and pointed his sword at Reinhard. “What about this one?”

“I don’t think that NPC is hostile. Let’s just leave before these bastards’ friends come looking,” AngryGhost answered.

FriendlyGhost nodded and helped DoReMi to stand up. They were all preparing to leave, only Slayer, who maintained his gaze and sword on Reinhard.

“W-Wait! Help me! Get me out of here! I’ll pay!”

“Hmm? A sidequest at a time like this? I am not sure. We are not exactly aware of what is going on right now. I think our priority should be getting home to our base right now, what do you think, Casper?” Angry Ghost turned to FriendlyGhost.

“I don’t think we should leave him. Maybe this NPC has an answer to what is going on. Besides, you know this game, even a simple choice unique to a person could affect the world massively. But then again, we do have 3 level 2s to guard.”

Reinald did not understand a single thing. He heard that the Heroes speak in a language that was familiar to them, yet foreign. It was then that he understood what they meant.

“I can handle myself,” Slayer said, the distrust in his eyes had not disappeared.

“Not only should you escort him out, you should keep him safe,” they all turned their eyes to the source of the voices that was not from any of them.

From the darkness across the aqueduct walked out another one, a fair-skinned, short man wearing a weird garment, a robe that looked like fabrics wrapped around the body tied with strings instead of sewn. The design looked like it was from the East, South Kinsland to be precise.

Another Hero with “ChosonOne” as his name tag.

“And you are?” AngryGhost asked.

“Can’t you read my username?”

“This bitch…”

FriendlyGhost, Casper, shook his head, “What do you mean we should keep him safe?”

ChosonOne pointed at Reinhard, “That man is Prince Reinald, the true heir to the Titular Kingdom of Arya, the grandson of the late King Maximillian V, who was just murdered by his son, Duke Reinhard.”

“Wait, how do you know all of this?” AngryGhost interjected.

“He’s right,” FriendlyGhost said, grimacing as he realized something, “the knights who attacked us are the Black Roses of the Vale. It could be another major event. Like the first Great War.”

“What is that?” Klaas asked gleefully.

“It’s a long story. One of the major events, a very long event and a very long war. Shit! Jason, Kat, and Dane are all away! Our guild only has low-level members right now. Only Jasmine, Drake, you, and I are above level 15! Shit! We just have to get a major event while I am in charge!”

Reinald, who had lost the conversation from the beginning, had begun counting the money and the jewels the Archbishop gave him. He heard some of the Heroes loved to rip off the locals and extort their money. He didn’t think these Heroes were one of those, but he thought it was better to be safe.

“You can count on me too, I am level 20 and an independent,” ChosonOne added.

“And what do you want in return?”

“Survival.”

“Then you have a deal, let’s get out of here.” FriendlyGhost pulled out and lit up a torch and led at the front. AngryGhost walked together with Klaas and DoReMi.

Slayer sheathed his sword and looked impatiently at Reinald, who was still counting his money, “Do you want to be left behind?!”

Reinald fumbled his coins, some slipped off his fingers. He hurriedly caught and stuffed them back inside his package, and ran after them, passing Slayer, “I am ready, I am ready! Wait! We should get out of the Northern sewage!”

“We shouldn’t.”

They had reached a junction, and ChosonOne joined them from the other side of the sewage, “If your destination is to the North, then your uncle most likely has stationed his men there. I think we should get out of the Eastern sewage, it’s closer to the BB’s Guildbase.”

Nothing changed from his body language, not even a halt in a step or a glance at ChosonOne, but the tone in his next sentence carried a thick hint of curiosity and suspicion as FriendlyGhost said, “You seem to know a lot about my Guild.”

There was a pause, the intention of the pause was lost in the silent air, but ChosonOne did reply, “Who doesn’t? ‘Of the three bravest, the Bear, the Eagle, and the Stag; an Oath’.”

FriendlyGhost did not reply as he continued walking in silence.

“For the record, I still do not trust you,” AngryGhost whispered lowly, but still loud enough for all of them to hear.

“And for the record, I don’t think girlfriend’s opinion matters.”

“Bitch.”

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