The morning sun, usually a symbol of the Kingdom of Eldoria's unwavering prosperity, cast long, opulent shadows across the colossal royal square.
E.g. ：I still feel the flush when my backpack burst open in the hall.
- 1、The Unyielding Obstruction
- 2、The King's Unsettling Gaze
- 3、The Unthinkable Kneeling
- 4、The Silent Witness
Golden spires of the palace gleamed, reflecting a majesty that had endured for centuries.
Today marked the annual Festival of Unification, a lavish ceremony meant to reinforce the King’s divine right and the kingdom's eternal glory.
King Theron, a figure of dignified solitude, rode at the head of his royal guard, his magnificent robes embroidered with threads of spun gold.
His countenance was regal, yet a subtle shadow seemed to cling to his eyes, a weariness that few dared to notice.
Whispers spoke of a creeping blight on Eldoria’s distant farmlands, of restless murmurs in the northern provinces, things unspoken in the grand halls.
The King, though outwardly calm, carried the burden of these truths, an unspoken anxiety that gnawed at his kingly resolve.
As the procession reached the square’s central artery, a jarring sight disrupted the meticulously choreographed pageantry.
A lone, gaunt figure stood directly in the King's path, a wandering old man with disheveled white hair and clothes reduced to tatters.
He leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane, his posture strangely unyielding amidst the surging grandeur.
The Unyielding Obstruction
Two towering royal guards, their faces impassive beneath polished helmets, quickly surged forward.
Their long spears crossed before the old man’s face, a stark, metallic warning against such audacious insolence.
"Back off!" one guard bellowed, his voice sharp and unyielding, echoing across the momentary silence that had fallen.
"The King's procession must not be impeded! Move, old man, now!"
The other guard, equally stern, made to shove the old man aside, his hand reaching for the worn cloth of the elder’s shoulder.
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers, a mixture of outrage and morbid fascination.
Many expected the old man to be roughly cast aside, perhaps even arrested for such a blatant disrespect of royal authority.
But the old man merely stood, his gaze fixed not on the aggressive guards, but on the slowly approaching King Theron.
His eyes, sunken but piercing, held an unnerving calm, a profound depth that seemed to defy his outward frailty.
He offered no resistance, no plea, just an unwavering, silent vigil.
The King's Unsettling Gaze
King Theron’s warhorse, sensing the unusual pause, snorted softly, its hooves clicking impatiently on the polished marble.
The King, usually imperious, found his gaze drawn to the ragged figure.
He had witnessed countless beggars, countless displays of desperation, but none had ever held such an unshakeable stillness.
As his eyes met the old man's, a jolt, sharp and visceral, coursed through King Theron.
It was not recognition, not at first, but something far more unsettling.
The old man’s gaze held a knowledge, a profound, weary understanding that seemed to peer directly into the King’s soul.
A memory, long buried beneath layers of power and necessity, stirred within Theron’s mind.
It was a cold, distant day, decades ago, when he was but a young prince, grappling with a dire prophecy.
The kingdom faced ruin, a devastating famine predicted to last a generation, unless a sacrifice of unimaginable scale was made.
He had been told of an ancient ritual, of a forgotten people, guardians of the earth's very essence, living in a secluded valley far to the east.
Their peaceful existence, their connection to the land, was the key to Eldoria's survival, yet also its doom.
To save his people, young Theron had been coerced, by ambitious counselors and desperate priests, into making a terrible choice.
He had sanctioned the destruction of that valley, the displacement of its people, all in the name of ensuring Eldoria’s bounty.
The truth had been buried, erased from all records, the survivors scattered, their memory systematically wiped from history.
Only a few loyalists, like the silent, stoic Captain Valerius, who now rode behind him, knew the full, horrific truth.
The King had convinced himself it was a necessary evil, a painful but essential act for the greater good of his realm.
He had built his glorious reign upon that hidden, unforgivable sin, feeling the subtle chill of it in his heart even in moments of triumph.
The Unthinkable Kneeling
Now, in the old man's calm, knowing eyes, King Theron saw the living embodiment of his greatest shame.
