In a large corridor with walls beautifully decorated with luxury painting and medieval armors, the sound of the clanking metal echoed rhythmically as two fully armored knights were dragging a young man by his shoulders.
The young man slowly gained consciousness, awoken by the clanking armors. He did not have time to admire the beauty of the corridor nor ponder on his current situation as he was immediately assaulted with great pain all over his body. He felt as if a giant, mad orc bashed at him at full force. He could only mutter painful grunts from whatever had happened to him.
That pained young man was none other than the apprentice that had participated in the preparation of the ritual. After calming himself down and trying to ignore the pain, he tried to recall what had happened. Memories of the ritual's preparation soon resurfaced: how he tired he felt from helping everyone; his awe as he saw the completed magic circle and then when it started… he heard shouts accompanied by an explosion, then... nothing.
He set these thoughts aside for now and focused more on what was actually happening at the moment.
"Who are these people? Where are they bringing me?"
When he slightly moved his head sideways to take a look at them, instant horror engulfed his eyes. On the chests and capes of these very knights were engraved a dark, ominous-looking skull. He had heard enough stories about these knights to know true fear about them. These were none other than the Inquisition, responding only to the King himself.
"I-I am innocent..." The apprentice weakly spoke.
"Quiet!" The Knight ignored him, instead giving the young man a punch to the face. A punch that would make him grunt and grimace as his lips tore open. He could vividly feel the sharp pain that came along.
"Take a punch like a man, weakling." The same knight coldly sneered, making the young man droop his head in shame.
Thankfully for the apprentice, his moment with the knights wouldn't last any longer as they have finally arrived at their destination. The young man raised his head to be greeted by the sight of a giant metal gate, tens of meter tall. Good thing that the gates were already open as no normal human would be able to move these two towering metal doors.
The two knights dragged the apprentice through the gate, and they went on until they reached a throne at the end of the room. There, they coldly pushed the poor young man to the floor, immediately kneeling as they saluted: "Your Highness!"
The apprentice was already visibly hurt from the explosion, and with the addition of his unnecessary aggressive fall to the ground , the pain he felt increased two-fold. The poor young man started shaking, not capable of supporting the torment of both physical and mental pain he felt.
Who could blame him, after all, the KING himself, who ruled with an iron hand over the entire continent was right in front of him! The apprentice did not dare look up and stayed slumped down, shaking in fear right below the king's throne.
The king slightly raised his jewel-covered hands, signaling the two knights to do something about the insect that was cowering in fear.
The knights forcefully grabbed the young man and with one strong tug, they put him back on feet. They weren't done with him yet as he still had his head drooped down, so they also had to pull his hair up so his eyes could face the king.
And for the first time ever in his life, the apprentice laid eyes on the king in body and flesh. The king high up his throne, emanating a divine aura that made the apprentice's eyes squint, as if staring at a god. But he was no god, as under his priceless crown, were beautiful golden hair that showed signs of withering, streaks of white hair clearly visible on his sides.
The apprentice's awe would then turned to fear when he noticed that a frown formed on the the god-like being's face.
"Speak. What happened." The King's voice was deep and elegant, yet carrying a small tone of anger and frustration.
The apprentice might be young, but he wasn't stupid. After recollecting his thoughts, he could tell that the King was asking him about the ritual that he had been participating in.
The young man took a deep breath, ignoring the pain on his lips, and exhaled, spouting all that had happened from from the very start of the preparations, till the gruesome explosion.
The young man was clumsy, stuttering during a few passages of his storytelling, as the pressure of conversing with the king was no easing thing to deal with. But that didn't stop him from clearly describing the previous brutal event. Events that would make the king massage his temples upon hearing them.
"This is bad…" The King thought, suppressing his clenched fist to grab onto his crown and flinging it out the window.
"Get the advisor here right this moment!" He grumbled at a servant standing quietly behind him as he took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. The servant then quickly dashed out the giant gates not wanting to make the King angrier as he was already visibly fuming at the moment.
Right as the servant disappeared, another peculiar character entered the room, carried by multiple clerics on a stretcher. It was none other than the Archmage!
"Your Highness!" The old man saluted as he tried to stand from his stretcher. The King raised a hand, signaling the Archmage to stop the formalities. There were more pressing matters to attend to.
"What in the gods happened Vis!" The King shouted, demanding an explanation.
As the old Archmage was about to respond, a fat, plump man entered the Royal Court. Beads of sweat would roll down his greasy cheeks as noticed the King's angry demeanor along the injured Archmage.
The plump advisor took out a small cloth and wiped the sweat off his face as he saluted the king.
"Oh, honorable King that stands above all! What is it you need my humble assistance for today?!" The fat man chanted, saluting in the most exaggerated way possible.
The king only slightly raised his fingers in response and looked back at the Archmage, waiting for his interrupted response. The old man nodded back at him before angrily turning towards the fat advisor, pointed his shriveled fingers at the thick figure.
"Him! It's all his fault!" The Archmage so angry that he even stood off his stretcher. The clerics quickly assisted him and put him back in his seat as he was about to fall from exhaustion.
"Nonsense! Your Highness, what are all these sudden accusations without proof?! This is blatant daylight framing!!" The Advisor squealed and squealed as he pointed back at the Archmage with his thick finger.
"Silence!" The entire room fell quiet as one word from the King made silence reign again.
"Archmage Vis, continue."
The Archmage nodded and finally spoke as to had happened during the ritual. He told the King of the mages' incompetence, how they could barely even meet the minimum requirements to complete each task. If they had just had that bare minimum, he could've compensated, but it was way below what he expected.
"The magic circle was way too unstable because of the mages chosen by HIM!" The old man added, keeping his angry finger pointed at the advisor.
With a finger on his face, the advisor's plump body shook considerably, as he resisted the urge to open his mouth and retort in every imaginable way possible.
As for the King, he had his eyes closed, digesting all the information he had just received from the Archmage.
"Everyone leave." He said, his fingers rapidly tapping his armchair as if doing so would somehow help the situation.
With his order, the room was slowly cleared. The two knights escorted the apprentice out of the palace, the clerics carried the Archmage out too, and the fat advisor nervously tiptoed his way towards the giant gate.
"You stay, Vota." The King opened his eyes, immediately glaring at the fat man.
"…" The royal advisor sighed before turning towards the king, putting up his most charming smile.
"My grace has its limits, Vota. Out of consideration of your father, I did my best to take care of you."
"I didn't think it would be this hard." The king lowered his head, recalling all the troubles Vota had caused him up until now.
"Had he not saved you, MY father would be King." The smile on the advisor disappeared, his father being mentioned.
"I know. And I would've turned a blind eye to your every mistake for his sacrifice. But this time, you went too far…" The King sighed deeply.
"So, what are you going to do to little Vota? Imprisonment? House arrest?" The fat young man yawned as he awaited his punishment with his hands on his hips.
As usual, the king would give him a lecture along with a light punishment, and then that's about it. Of course, that was what he thought would happen.
The King did not reply to the advisor, instead slowly standing up to head towards a nearby window, setting his eyes outside, gazing at the Royal Capital's giant towering walls at the very limit of his sights.
"The next demon horde invasion is close. We have about a year left till their demonic claws will reach our borders. We can't defeat them. Our predecessors couldn't. No one in history could."
"And YOU caused the only ritual that would give us a chance to victory to fail…" The king sighed again before staring at his nephew straight in the eye.
"I hereby remove your title as Royal Advisor... May you seek redemption and forgiveness in frontlines, Vota."