“They say Lord Asa is as strong as Lady Jaeryael,” Mork whispered, walking around the large estate, granted to Asa by the King himself for his assistance during the civil war. It bloomed towards the outskirts of the town, the entire estate formed of wood, with a large central fire tended to by ten servants, while a few dozen maintained the estate. The gardens within were almost as vibrant as those found in Aswadasad, and though at one point twenty or so buildings once graced the estate, each from the size of a small manor to a large barracks to house a hundred soldiers, now only five buildings remained, all under the Lord’s will.

“Tha’s what they seh,” Tork replied, his eyes darting between the handful of guards, but rather than the impressive guards he had seen with all the various Lords and Ladies he had met, they seemed to give off a similar aura to himself, though perhaps with more self respect, and a hint of disdain.

Mork’s eyes fell across the sky, where he noted the clouds rolling in for a light shower, as though to ease his worries. ‘How many lifetimes will I live this year?’

Tork was fairly certain he had heard the half elf state something ridiculous. ‘Did he seh he wished ta face against the likes o’ those figures?’

“Nice place,” the half elf said, sitting opposite a figure who many would consider mythical, and to some, they wished he was.

“It is quaint,” Asa replied simply, for he was an old man now, so such a minuscule estate was acceptable enough, especially since he had long lost his position as Emperor.

‘Quaint?’ Adam thought, considering how massive this place was, much larger than even the fortress of the United Kindom.

Though it had been a short time since Asa had returned, five or so years, he found the world was in so many ways the same. However, to see that even the short lived races were also the same, for this was undoubtedly still the Blackvatr Kingdom, and Aswadasad was a name he recalled too, whereas Floria, that was a name during his time, before even Blackvatr, he was certain.

“Bullying my grandfather and grandmother, you have some nerve, huh?” Adam said, holding the old man’s eyes in his own.

“…”

“I’ll let you go since you were polite about it,” the half elf continued, mostly a joke, but from what little he knew of the situation, Asa hadn’t gone too far. It was weird, complicated, murky, since Asa had originally gone to the Iyr, then made his way to Floria and assisted in defending it against Aldland. When it came to the existence of Floria, which fought against four fifths of a kingdom it was once a part of, one could consider three figures.

There was King Merryweather, considered to be the greatest King’s Sword to date, who is considered the strongest mortal in Aldland. Then there was the Blood Knight, who had come from nowhere, who was said to be a demon, the same figure who was easily able to take the leg of the Mad Dog. Then there was Asa, who, even if you combined the Blood Knight with King Merryweather, they would still be unable to deal with the might figure known was the Heart of Floria.

“I invited you into my estate with respect,” Asa stated.

“Yes, and what a quaint estate it is,” Adam replied, leaning back in his chair, doing his absolute best not to break, his head pulsing with the effort.

“…”

“…”

Adam burst into laughter, unable to contain himself any longer, tears almost slipping down his cheeks, wiping them with a finger. “Oh, by the Divine, man. Holy.”

“…”

“How are you enjoying Ever Green?” Adam asked, grinning wide, since though he was once an Emperor, he was an Emperor no longer, and there was no way a mere Lord was going to make Adam act politely just for the sake of remaining within a town kingdom ruled by a King who was lacking in morals.

“It is a beautiful place.”

“I hear all kinds of figures come to retire here,” Adam said, hearing that Ever Green had as many monsters within it as the capital, and now with Lord Asa, that was certainly true.

“Many great warriors defended the city during the siege,” Asa admitted. “The morale of such a people is truly inspiring.”

As the group relaxed within the estate, under the watchful eye of the Hearth of Floria, a boy, a teen perhaps, stepped within. While many in Aldland were pale skinned, he held dark skin, with dark hair, his eyes glistening with the brightness of youth. He wore chain, with a tabard over the front, a pack slung over a shoulder. Behind him a figure in full plate trailed behind, never more than five steps away.

“Ara,” Asa called, the boy quickly approached the Lord of the estate.

“There are many letters today,” the young one said, his voice heavily accented, revealing he was from Aswadasad.

“You have children delivering letters?”

“I have requested this child deliver my letters,” Asa corrected.

The boy held a gleam within his eyes, curiously eyeing up the visitors. He peered over how many warriors there seemed to be, including all the Iyrmen who were in the middle of training.

“There are many guests today?” Ara asked.

“There are,” Asa confirmed.

“Many great warriors?”

“They are acceptable,” Asa said, smiling playfully. “You certainly have heard of one.”

The boy raised a brow, but followed the dragon’s eyes to the old Aswadian man who was sipping tea to one side. “Who is it?”

“You do not need to think too deeply to know who he is.”

Ara narrowed his eyes, thinking too deeply to figure out who it was. Eventually he sighed. “The Lion King?”

“Yes.”

The boy’s mouth formed a circle, raising his brows towards the dragon. “No! Is it?”

“It is.”

Ara looked out to Ashmir, though stood in his spot awkwardly. He wanted to step forward, and though he was the letter deliverer to the Hearth of Floria, the Lion King was the Lion King.

“Ahm Ashmir,” Adam called, motioning a hand to the boy, who must have been quite the important figure if he was personally delivering letters to the likes of Lord Asa, and to be guarded by such a fine warrior in full plate, who certainly wore a magical blade at his side.

Ashmir finished his tea before approaching them, settling himself beside Adam, his eyes falling down to the boy. “What brings you so far from home?”

“My mother and father said we must move here because of the war,” Ara answered.

“The Reavers?”

“The civil war.”

“The War of Wheat and Flowers,” Asa informed.

“Usually one moves away from a civil war, but since you are the son of a lion, your heart is full of courage,” Ashmir said.

“I am not the son of a lion, I am the son of a knight!”

“What kind of knight bore a brave boy like you?”

Ara flushed slightly, before smiling a shiny white smile. “I am the son of the Blood Knight!”

Adam raised his brows in surprise, though it suddenly made sense that this boy was a son of the Blood Knight considering how he was being treated. Except, wasn’t the Blood Knight an Anomaly like him? Didn’t they all appear around six years past? This boy was older, he gathered, ten or so, perhaps older?

“You must be so,” Ashmir confirmed, for the boy held that kind of look within his eyes.

“Are you really the Lion King?”

“Yes.”

The boy’s brows raised in surprise, the boy turning to look to Lord Asa. He wasn’t sure what to say, but his heart was pounding so violently within his chest, for he was a boy who had heard the tales of the Lion King growing up.

“Did you really defeat the Great Elder, Elder Wrath, of the Iyr?”

“I did,” Ashmir confirmed.

“I knew it!” Ara’s eyes beamed brightly, his entire being tingling with excitement.

“Ahm, would you show him some of your spearplay?” Adam asked.

Ashmir did so, taking one of the spears Adam offered to him, revealing his spearplay. He preferred larger weapons, but he had practised with a spear for long enough that it was almost like breathing, and thanks to living as a gladiator for his entire life, he performed for the boy, completing technically simple manoeuvres which seemed more difficult than they actually were.

Ara’s eyes remained shining brightly, watching the Lion King of all figures perform for him. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother. As Ashmir returned, Adam motioning his head towards the boy, and the Lion King held out the spear for Ara.

“As the son of the Blood Knight, you should learn to defend yourself and your family,” Ashmir said.

The boy paused for a long moment, turning his head to Asa, who nodded, and the boy clasped the spear tightly in both hands. “Yes!”

“What do we say when someone gives you a gift?” Adam asked.

“Thank you!” the boy said, still so bright with excitement, though almost immediately after he rushed off to go find his mother to tell her all about what happened, the guard swiftly following after him.

“Do you not hate his father?”

“A child bears no sin,” Adam replied simply. “Would you pass on a message to the Blood Knight?”

“What is it?”

“Tell him he’s lucky he has such a cute kid, because that boy saved his leg,” the half elf said, as though he were the villain of a story.

“If you plan on facing him, you should grow twice as strong as you are now, should you not wish to lose a leg yourself,” Asa stated.

“I’m a lot stronger than you think I am.”

“No, you are as strong as I think you are,” Asa assured. “Did you think he was able to claim your grandfather’s leg due to luck?”

“A little bit.”

“…”

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PATREON LINK

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Adam might actually be the villain of the series.