fifty years. Fifty long years the war of decades lasted for the kingdom of Aurelith, they battled with blood and fierceness along with their king Lucan The great, the one prophesied to be the kingdoms savior, he would command the knights into battle along quite his wife Rose at his side, and their son Robert the unstoppable as the lead, everything seemed to be going great. Until tragedy struck, Robert would be stricken down in battle, the sheer weight of the loose would be too much for Rose who would pass away soon after, Lucan being the last one to remain standing was left with no choice but to resign, loosing ninety percent of his kingdoms territory and the loyalty and respect the remaining amount of people living in his kingdom had for him, and every day since, he blames himself as the root cause of all this, living as a failure

the thrown room of Lucan laid deathly quiet, once filled with armored guards in shining armor and Lucan‘s wife, Rose sitting right besides Lucan, but after the lose of the great decade war and Roses’s and Lucan‘s son Robert’s passing everything just went down hill from there, not only did Lucan loose almost all of his kingdoms territory but also the faith of his people went down horribly, the only reason they didn’t rise up or just leave is because the war had worn out the kingdoms resources along with the food leaving the people weak. The only thoughts on Lucan‘s mind right now was with the heavy weight of him blaming himself for everything that had happened, the lose, his sons death in battle, and worst of all, Roses’s death, it had been a long long decade after all of the tragedies happened, the kingdom now laying forgotten, erased from every single map deemed "irrelevant", and so Lucan sat on his throne, his stare staring into the abyss of his regrets, he let out a heavy sigh, his chest rising before slowly falling as he did

"Where did I go wrong….."

his voice heavy and gruff, a slight growl of all the resentment he carries slipping out, his deep purple cape shifted slightly as his shoulders slumped down, his pose slumped and tired on the throne, his armor without even a scratch, to do Lucan veneer even going into battle, and yet it seemed he suffered most, his sword laid limply against his hips, never once used in actual battle, but one he had used many times before in his training, back when things where simpler and he was younger, his thoughts just kept lingering on the past instead of focusing on the present and making the most of it

but Lucan has given up on the present, and why would’ve he, he has lost so much, what else is there to loose at this point apart form his life, hell the only reason why he hasn’t even taken it himself is because of the still lingering heavy sense of responsibility he feels towards the remaining people living in his excuse called a kingdom, even if they all hate him to the very bone. He is still their king, and yet as he sits there he feels more worthless then a peasant, no worse, he somehow feels even less valuable and important then the lowest class in society, and being in such a low stance while still being called a king. It is laughable, he leans over, resting his head on his hands, feeling the world crumbling around him once more, the worst part being that no one is there to comfort him in this time of need, and then, a quiet sob breaks the silence of the thrown, his own sob, quiet and painful, it is pitiful to see a king cry, and Lucan knows this himself, which only worsens his feelings of worthlessness, what kind of king is set up to be a savior only to fail so miserably? Only a fool, a horrible excuse for a person would commit the same mistakes he made. These are the thoughts plaguing his mind before suddenly. He hears something, more specifically someone, his ears perking up, head snapping up and look over at the entrance of his throne room, and there he sees standing between the two big open door. You, Geuegfe, he stands up, grabbing the handle of his sword, he snarls

"Who are you! What are you doing here without my permission!"