《March of the King》 Prologue - Struggle March of the King Prologue - Struggle A silence dominated the field, a low rustling of footsteps and the restless murmurs of the crowds rising up in bubbles amidst the calm. The wind blew in, rolling off the sea and across the hills, tugging at the banners as they arced through the sky, in shades of red and blue, green, gold, white bright emblems embossed upon gaudy silk, as row upon row of warrior formed ranks beneath each one. Glistening blocks of silver and white dotting the countryside each an army unto themselves, flecks of colour thrown in alongside, a the blue of a dragon¡¯s scales as it reared it¡¯s head amongst the infantry, a young maiden wielding a hammer the size of her body with flame red hair marking the vanguard of the troops across the field, beings strange and wonderful strewn amongst the ranks of soldiers, some great lord or lady standing behind them surrounded by their retinue, of creatures and hero''s the likes of which would one day fill the annals of history. But for all their glory and there wonder, a stain marked the battle field, a shadow loomed over their righteous war... The banner flew in tatters, catching the light of the rising dawn as it peaked its'' way up over the ocean, casting rays of gold which bounced and shattered against the rolling waves, the roaring of the sea upon the cliffs barely audible beneath the crackle and thunder of the voices gathered there. They stood in a haphazard collection of leather and iron, distorted faces of grey and blue and green peering out from within their helmets, the rabble seething en masse like a single living thing, looming shapes marked against the horizon, the shadows of monsters, ogres, giants trolls, all manner of creatures no matter how depraved. As long as it could fight, as it could be trained, as it could die it had a place within his army. Garde stood at the fore of the horde, his banner planted firmly in the dirt, a blank sheet of bloodied cloth strung from a rusted partisan, a band of goblins clutching at the base as poll bearers and outside of the computer-screen in which this scene was contained his lips began to curl. Elliot let out a sharp laugh leaning back in his chair, a dim lamp casting his room in warm light, fingers trembling as he took a long swig from a water bottle before laying it down at the side of his desk. He couldn''t decide exactly why, why his heart was racing, his fingers twitching, or the palms of his hands slowly beginning to drip; whether it was excitement or terror. It was probably a mix of both thinking about it... He swallowed hard, his throat remaining parched, his eyes tinged red and ringed in darkness from exhaustion, slender arms pulling a bony face forwards closer to the monitor. A faint whisper left his lips as his gaze followed the timer slowly trickling down to zero, the faintest of whispers spilling from his lips unknown to him. "Five... Four... Three. Two. One" then a bell rang, blaring through his headset each army stepping forwards into the fray as the battle began. Elliot took in a steady breath, his hands falling still besides him, as he watched each digital army rush across the battle field meeting at the centre in a collision of magic and swords and carnage, his computer lagging every now and then under the strain, and something inside him began to well. His smile grew wider, blood shot eyes frenzied as suddenly his fingers exploded in a flurry of movement, and his clock mounted on the wall continued to tick and tock its inexorable march. The Rule of Albion was an online game, one where you were meant to build your castle command your army, nothing that people hadn''t seen a hundred-thousand times before. But for some reason it stood out amidst the crowd of carbon copies the game was only in its'' beta phase, and anyone could sign up to play, providing that there was still space left on the servers. The game had fifty servers operating around the world just fifty, the project drawn up by a couple of small companies hoping the strike it big, and sure enough they did. The game had risen to prominence for one very important reason, it''s method of recruitment. Unlike in most games in the same field, you couldn''t just sit back and wait for new soldiers to spawn, you had to go out and recruit them, ordinary people, who would have to be trained, and once they were trained then they''d develop skill and abilities every single soldier possessing their own level with their own stats, skills and abilities. Depending on the training they received and if you were lucky, among the faceless masses you would find a hero. The Game was hard, to the point that it was considered unfair, without heroes whose skills and abilities ensured each and every one of them on par with an entire army, you couldn''t hope to challenge the stronger players, players who were willing to invest both their time and their money into the game. That was the one thing that bugged him about Albion, it was only in its'' Beta test but they were still selling products in game, of course even with that imbalance the game remained captivating, hunt monsters, challenge missions, go on grand adventures, expand your land and your forces little by little all while aiming for the title of KingStolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Of course the Beta test had to end eventually, and to mark its'' passing, hidden under the pretext of trying out their tournament system, a message went out to all players a call to arms inviting them to compete in the challenge; ''The trial of the king''. Of course the people came, to test their mettle and vie for the title ''The First King of Albion'' as well as the numerous undisclosed rewards. So the fight began, between five-thousand players, and before a week had passed only fifty were left, fifty candidates for the throne who now lay scattered and broken across the battle field, the soil turned to mud mixed with blood and death and decay. Garde stood alone, near the centre of the battle field, planted firmly at the foot of a sloping hill, the light casting his shadow before him, as a new day shone, and the light caught against the wall of steel now arrayed against him marking them out, for one of them would be the first king of Albion. Shields spears, axes, swords all were arrayed against him, his forces lay in ruin their bodies piled over the field. A handful of lizard men stood before him royal blue scales burning in the light, backed up by several heroes ringing the summit of the little hill and the woman who stood there. She was a young, fresh, dressed in shinning silver armour, a golden braid slipping out beneath her helm to trail behind her hanging mere inches from the earth yet never touching it, her name was Lyca. Garde¡¯s face contorted into a wicked grin, that played off against hair and eyes black as night thrown behind him in a wild mess immense hands clutching a two handed axe, a bardiche, close by his side, a ragged cloak and roughly beaten armour wrapping him around, and across the field his laughter boomed. He was going to lose that was certain but he hadn''t come this far just to win, that wasn''t what he wanted; all he really wanted was to bring them down, to show them what gaming was really about; not obtaining some imagined power, but fighting the impossible fights, having the opportunity to defy logic to become a hero and in that respect he''d already won. He¡¯d already come this far, with a ragtag army, he¡¯d reached heights already considered impossible, he¡¯d fought tooth and nail to show them, ever last pay-to-win player in Albion, in the world, exactly what gaming was supposed to mean! Garde¡¯s laughter ebbed low, an unnerving quiet settling upon the scene as he took that first step forwards. Elliot launched into action activating several skill in short succession, Garde charging up the hill the blade of his axe bursting with a crackling light, a baleful blue as the row of lizard men rushed together forming a shield wall, digging their feet down into the earth as Garde collided with the enemy force, he swung his axe in a wide arc streaks of lightning bursting from the weapon, knocking the lizard men back, breaking the shield wall, and leaving a path to Lyca wide open. The Heroes closed in tighter about their commander, a barrage of magic streaking its¡¯ way down the gentle slope of the hill a mix of fire and ice and wind. Garde stood still pointing his axe forwards, the white lightning slowly beginning to form a vortex before him, a shield of lightning which pulsated with an unnatural energy, the wave of magic meeting the barrier for the briefest of instances before the entire world was bleached in the purest white, a second later the sound of roaring filling their ears. Garde rushed forwards through the haze, Elliot watching as his health slowly began to fall, the earth itself thrumming with an electric charge, remnants of fire and ice and wind magic coiling through the air, not that it mattered, Garde was strong, all he needed to do was get in one hit, one hit would be enough to bring her down. The light began to fade, Garde pushing bursting from the flames his gaze focused on the hill above him, Lyca pointing towards him a single finger aimed at his heart, a wave of confusion rising up in Garde¡¯s head, as his axe dropped from his grip an errant hand reaching up to grasp the pearly white shaft erupting from his chest, piercing through the armour, a golden light spreading from the wound, mixing with the crimson of blood. He stole a ragged gasp in that moment, forcing himself forwards another step, his gaze fixed upon Luca, a series of several golden flashes filling the air, a second later near a dozen ivory spears plunged through the air, nailing him to his place, driving deep through armour and flesh and bone, propping him up leaving him unable to fall, his gaze remaining fixated on the woman before him as she stood there a sudden look of terror rising up upon her face, and then everything went black. Elliot stopped, his screen now dark, as he pushed away from his desk, teeth grit tight his eyes turning to his ceiling light. He¡¯d lost... He¡¯d never really planned on winning; he¡¯d never even expected to come as far as he had yet still... He¡¯d liked to have won, to have proved it, proved he was a hero. But slowly the light above him seemed to grow dimmer; his eyes drawing closed as if a great weight lay against them and at last sleep claimed him Chapter One - Relocation Chapter One ¨C Relocation A light breached the darkness, just the faintest pinprick, blurred and hazy, chasing away the last remnants of the dream, vague memories turning to mist and vanishing before the oncoming dawn. Slowly the light began to grow, spreading out through the night but remaining nothing more than an indistinct patch of colour, yellows and browns, and the faintest hints of gold, before all at once world gaining clarity. Eliot lay still a sudden sense of weight assailing him, sound and sensation braking against his psyche like a storm, voices gurgling and muttering in his ears, sharp cries and low wailing breaths, the dull echoing throb of life burning within his chest. He lay there for a long time, eyes half open the shadows slowly starting to lift away, and slowly he dragged himself upwards in a series of slow jerking pulls. He blinked slowly, the world about him coming into focus, enough for him to notice the small round face staring up at him eyes opened wide; a clear and transparent blue which seemed to sparkle slowly beginning to widen and die as they met his own the young girl taking a hesitant step back. She was dressed in an ugly habit, a simple rough hemp dress with an off white length of cloth wrapped around her head keeping back her hair, lips drawing together in a wordless O. ¡°Whas, oin o.¡± Elliot¡¯s word¡¯s caught in his throat strange and gruff unnaturally heavy and harsh his hand straying instinctively upwards to clutch at his throat. The child broke from her reverie turning in a single hasty motion and rushing away Elliot¡¯s gaze now fixed upon his arm as they continued to rub at his throat. His arms were too thick, they¡¯d been wrapped in dirty brown bandages, a lot of bandages, but even then his arm seemed too thick... His gaze continued drifting restless over the strange scene he¡¯d seemed to have found himself in, to either side of him were rows of cots and beds and rough blankets laid across the floor, well laid across the ground. The beds stretched into the distance to either side of him and in front of him as well, a strong golden light seeping through the thin cloth of the tent¡¯s roof, a long narrow pavilion packed with so many beds there was barely enough room to walk along the crooked winding isle. Still most striking of all were the patients the stench of blood and death clinging to each and every one of them, men and women laid out across the beds sporting, bloodied scars, missing limbs, broken bones, deep burns, strange diseases and the list went on and on out of sight, doctors and nurses scuttling about between the beds doing what little they could to treat the wounded and the dying. He felt queasy right down in his stomach. It didn¡¯t make sense, none of it, it didn¡¯t make any sense. Elliot reached up grasping at his temples he didn¡¯t understand how he¡¯d ended up in this hospital... No it wasn¡¯t a hospital he wasn¡¯t sure what it was. His head hurt, it ached, a steady sweat breaking out across his brow and then he remembered; he¡¯d been playing a videogame. That was it? That what he remembered. The Rule of Albion, it was a good game, he¡¯d been winning right up until he¡¯d run into one of the games top players, Redskull or something. He¡¯d managed to win but barely, and it had cost him his entire army, just to get close enough, to breach through his lines of heroes and take the man out one on one, without a leader his army collapsed. Then he had turned around and then he¡¯d seen her; Lyca. The memories came in a flood, with dizzying affect but it didn¡¯t explain anything why he was here, why he was lying in some kind of primitive hospital, he, he just didn¡¯t get it, not one bit. ¡°So you¡¯re still alive?¡± a stern voice broke him from his reverie Elliot turning to face its¡¯ owner, a slender bony woman, with dark eyes and a twisted face, the young girl from a moment before standing beside her gaze directed to the floor hands balled into fists by her side, she was shaking but she didn¡¯t run. He would have called her brave if he had any idea why she was so afraid. ¡°W... Where am I?¡± Elliot began his voice hesitant wavering as her gaze bored its¡¯ way through his skull down and down into the recesses of his soul. Then she opened her lips, long and thin drawn so tight they seemed to cut across her face, ¡°Get out.¡± She spoke evenly, her voice almost empty, but scathing all the same. ¡°What? Where am I? What am I doing here?¡± Elliot choked out his voice remaining as gruff and gravely as before the woman¡¯s face contorting in something like rage simply colder and far crueler. ¡°I said get out! Out! Out! Out!¡± She yelled every eye within ward turning to greet him as the woman grabbed him by the wrist dragging him up from the bed onto stumbling feet before forcing him forwards. The way they looked at him, all of them, that eerie light which seemed to give life to the dying, that pulled the weak and the injured up to sit firmly in their beds, there was only one word for it; malice. It almost seemed like he was some kind of - ¡°Get out of here you monster...¡± the old woman screamed her voice failing her at last barely able to choke out the final word as she gave him a final shove out of the tent pushing forwards into the sunlight which waited beyond Elliot stepped forwards out from beneath the tent, the sun breaking against his back like the oncoming tide, the young man casting a glance back over his shoulder into the tent. A group of young girls had swarmed around the old woman supporting her as he body began to crumple down towards the earth as if all the strength had been drained from it there was nothing of that hate there now... He walked slowly, his body abnormally heavy weighed down by bandages his shirt missing only a pair of thick baggy pants protecting his modesty his torso wrapped in thick dirty brown bandages marked in splotches and splatters of blood, his mind drifting backwards and forwards an impossible concept bubbling to the surface. You saw it in videogames and manga and those weird online novels all the time; people being transported to another world... He came to a halt, teetering briefly before collapsing down onto his rear, an oppressive heat burning its way across his skin. His gaze slowly rising up from his feet and the grass, and stretched out before him lay an endless plain. Pale yellow grass wavered in the wind, a city of tents sprawling out across the hillside, the land sloping downwards for quite a way, a small dirt road marking the foot of the hill and wound away into the distance where a dark splodge rested on the horizon, a high walled city, dark spires and towers climbing towards the heavens miles and miles and miles away. That didn¡¯t seem right, even if he had had his glasses on, which he didn¡¯t, he shouldn¡¯t have been able to see that far away, yet he could make out every figure winding their way up the road, each sentry mounted on the wall drifting backwards and forwards as time trickled by. Elliot let out a low sigh turning his attention back on himself, reaching down to claw at the bandages wrapped about his hand slowly pulling them away layer by layer to reveal the skin beneath, his hand was more tanned than he was used to and there in the centre of his palm was a wide scar shaped almost like star, a blotchy red patch of colour, the skin having begun to turn white at the edges. Slowly the wound began to seep blood the bandage which had been keeping it in check having now come free. That wasn¡¯t good. Elliot wound the bandages back around his palm, tying them in place about his thumb directing his gaze back towards the rows of tents before him. He just wanted to understand what was going on.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Elliot stumbled backwards falling onto his rear, his legs pulled up tightly to his chest, this wasn¡¯t a dream, he was fairly sure about that, but if it wasn¡¯t a dream then what was it? Being transported to another world... That was a fantasy a stupid story, nothing more than that, but it wasn¡¯t like he had any alternative theories to pick from. No. There wasn¡¯t a single explanation that made sense of this, not a one, maybe he¡¯d gone mad, playing all those videogames had finally fried his brain just like his mom had said it would. He sat there for a long time watching as the sun slowly began its descent over the fields and the plains sinking lower and lower, the world before him an indistinct haze the same questions running on a loop inside his head, asking again and again, what was he doing there? What was he going to do next? How was he supposed to get back home... Did he even want to go home? He was a college student, eighteen years old, he¡¯d never been particularly smart, or particularly stupid, just very average, very, very average. The only thing he could say about himself was that he liked playing videogames and even then he hadn¡¯t been that good, Albion was the exception, that was the one game in which he honestly believed he had any kind of talent, and even then a lot of it had just been luck. Just what in the hell was he supposed to do? He let out a long languishing sigh, a sudden realisation striking him still sky the breath catching in his lungs. The sun was sinking low over the plains, setting the yellowed grass alight, the fields burning in the distance in shades of molten gold, casting the mountains in dark shadows as the last remnants of blue slowly faded to a faint purple, before drowning beneath the oncoming night. The grass was blue now stretching out beyond the tents cooled to a frosty sheen, lanterns burning amidst the tents casting wavering silhouettes upon cloth walls people passing amidst the makeshift streets talking and laughing, and for one brief moment the questions seemed to vanish from his head, the stars above beginning to shine. Elliot let out a low laugh rubbing at his face, although it wasn¡¯t his face... He probably looked like his character now, he looked like Garde, he supposed he was Garde. A violent shake of the head snapped him from his reverie Elliot forcing himself upwards onto his feet. He needed to understand exactly what was going and for that he was probably going to have to go down into the camp. He swallowed hard, a chill night breeze rising up through the grass, as he took his first step down into the valley. The tents had been erected in a winding maze, dotted at random without any semblance of order or coherence. The narrow streets were more or less empty although one or two people would always be sat outside one of the larger public tents; a merchants, a blacksmiths, one of the large pavilions resembling some kind of tavern; the walls stained all different shades of yellow and brown. Still it always ended up the same way, whenever he got close they would turn to look at him and the moment they did their expressions would change, they looked at him like the old nurse, they looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Maybe when he¡¯d designed Garde¡¯s character he¡¯s paid more attention to making him look strong rather than making him ¡®conventionally handsome¡¯ but that didn¡¯t justify this kind of reception. Elliot folded his arms letting out a low sigh dropping down onto a small crate resting between two of the larger tents trying to shrug off the cold as it continued to bite into his exposed skin. It was probably a good thing he was wrapped in so many bandages, without them he¡¯d probably be freezing, still he had to wonder exactly where had his shirt gone, he should have been dressed in armour and carrying his axe... Then it hit him the answer to all of his problems. The young man swallowed hardening his resolve and stretching out his hand before him; ¡°Item box...¡± He let out a low mumbling call his voice dying on the breeze as nothing happened at all. A rosy pink rose up into his cheeks as he cleared his throat taking in a deep breath and repeating the line again but this time louder, firmer ¡°Item box.¡± Nothing. ¡°Menu.¡± Still Nothing. ¡°Inventory.¡± Nothing. ¡°Bag¡±, ¡°Storage¡±, ¡°Box¡±, nothing. He continued to repeat every alternative phrasing he could think of, a note of desperation creeping into his words. By the time he was about to attempt his third re-phrasing of shed, a low roar of laughter cut him off, an icy jolt ripping up his spine. The voices came from behind him, drifting through the tents the wavering light of a lantern casting a pair of shadows onto the ground. Elliot turning on his little crate to face the light, a pair of shadowy figures starting to come into view. ¡°Ha, to the queen!¡± an old man rumbled raising up a large mug into the air barely keeping himself from keeling over, the child beside him carrying the oil lamp letting out a weary sigh. ¡°Human¡¯s can¡¯t hold yer liquor worth a damn¡± the child laugh in a deep booming voice, the lantern quivering to reveal a thick red beard and shinning bald scalp. Elliot paused squinting through the dark to confirm what his eyes were telling him it wasn¡¯t a child, a dwarf then? Huh well that was a first, he was looking at a real live dwarf. ¡°Ah shut it, we won! I have the right to get as drunk as I like!¡± ¡°Huh? But didn¡¯t your lord lose though?¡± ¡°Well yeah but he ranked fifteen that aint too shabby huh, and unlike the rest of those dumb arses he knew when to pull his troops out, that¡¯s why I¡¯m still here not a scratch not a bruise.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it.¡± The dwarf sighed slapping the human on the back and knocking the drunk forward a couple of steps. ¡°Come on give me some respect, so what if you ranked third, you didn¡¯t win either!¡± The man paused briefly the dwarf shooting him a broad grin the pair stopping right in front of Elliot, the old man¡¯s gaze directed up towards the skies and the stars above. ¡°Brand new world huh, all the lords uniting as one, I suppose there won¡¯t be any more wars right.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right about that, but there¡¯ll still be monsters to fight and bandits too, the world isn¡¯t going to be any less dangerous.¡± ¡°Well I¡¯m glad I want to keep my job thank you very much!¡± The dwarf nodded in agreement, ¡°So have you got yer orders yet?¡± ¡°Sure, we¡¯re moving out tomorrow same as everyone else, we¡¯re heading back home, the wife¡¯ll probably nag me for being away so long.¡± ¡°Good for you, I¡¯m going to be one of the guards at the council meeting tomorrow so I¡¯ll be stuck here for another couple of days. Ah but it¡¯s worth it for the chance to enjoy palace life.¡± ¡°Quit bragging.¡± The two continued their walk their voices fading into the distance. The other lords huh? Maybe the other players had been pulled into the game as well. If that was true then he needed to meet up with them, they might have figured out what was going on. Of course if they were meeting up he¡¯d just have to find out where they were going and head there himself. The dwarf had mentioned a palace, Elliot assumed they meant a palace in the city he saw earlier, well it seemed like that was settled. Finally it felt like he had some idea of what he was going to do. Elliot grinned rising up from his seat, well it didn¡¯t seem like there was going to be any point in wasting time, if he was going to beat the other lords there he¡¯d have to start walking now. So Elliot¡¯s journey began following the city lights as they flickered in the distance