The Oath of a Broken Kingdom
The air in the Grand Royal Square hummed with a tension not entirely of celebration.
E.g. ：I unlocked the mansion's deepest secret and found my entire future was a lie.
- 1、The Oath of a Broken Kingdom
- 2、An Unexpected Obstacle
- 3、The King’s Reckoning
- 4、The Forgotten Wanderer
- 5、Valerius’s Fury
- 6、A Silent Assent
- 7、A New Dawn for Eldoria
King Theron, resplendent in gold-threaded robes, rode slowly towards the Altar of Unity.
This annual ceremony, the Oath of Unity, was meant to reaffirm the divine bond between monarch and realm.
Yet, for years, that bond had felt frayed, even broken.
A subtle blight had crept across the lands of Eldoria, slowly sapping its vibrancy.
The fields yielded less, the rivers ran a little murkier, and a quiet despair settled in the hearts of its people.
King Theron carried the weight of this decline heavily, a silent burden beneath his jeweled crown.
He felt the eyes of his chief advisor, Lord Valerius, upon him from the accompanying retinue.
Valerius, sleek and ever-composed, seemed to hold Eldoria’s fate in his perfectly manicured hands.
His influence had grown steadily, filling the void left by the kingdom’s dwindling hope.
Valerius had whispered counsel, efficient solutions, and always, a dismissal of anything spiritual or arcane.
Anything that deviated from his pragmatic grip on power.
An Unexpected Obstacle
As the royal procession neared the hallowed steps, a ragged figure materialized from the throng.
He was an old man, cloaked in tattered fabrics, his white hair a wild halo around a weathered face.
A gnarled wooden cane was his only companion.
Two hulking royal guards, models of stern efficiency, immediately converged on him.
"Out of the way, old man!" one guard barked, his voice accustomed to instant obedience.
"The King’s path is sacred!" the other added, spears crossing defensively in front of the wanderer.
The old man, however, did not flinch.
His gaze, ancient and unnervingly calm, fixed upon the approaching King Theron.
A murmur, low and apprehensive, rippled through the tightly packed crowd.
They expected swift, brutal removal, a common enough sight in a city so focused on order.
Many turned their heads, unwilling to witness the inevitable indignity.
The King’s Reckoning
But then, something shifted within King Theron.
His eyes, usually clouded with the heavy mantle of state, suddenly sharpened.
A flicker of recognition, stark and disbelieving, ignited within them.
He reined in his warhorse abruptly, its hooves scraping against the white marble.
The entire procession ground to a halt, a magnificent tableau frozen in confusion.
Lord Valerius, riding just behind, leaned forward, a frown momentarily marring his smooth features.
Theron dismounted, his movements uncharacteristically swift for such a ceremonial moment.
He walked towards the old man, each step echoing in the sudden, profound silence.
The guards hesitated, unsure whether to continue their expulsion or await a royal decree.
As Theron drew near, his stern regal mask began to crumble.
His face, etched with the burdens of leadership, contorted with a complex mix of emotions.
It was recognition, yes, but also desperate hope, profound reverence, and a vulnerable, almost boyish awe.
The old man remained still, his calm gaze unwavering, accepting the King’s approach with quiet dignity.
Then, in a gesture that defied every protocol, every expectation, King Theron reached up.
He slowly, deliberately, removed the heavy, gleaming crown from his own head.
The golden circlet, symbol of his earthly power, seemed to dim in the bright sunlight.
He then sank to one knee before the ragged wanderer, his magnificent royal robes pooling around him on the cold stone.
A collective gasp, sharp and visceral, tore through the thousands gathered in the square.
It was a sound of profound shock, a breaking of the unspoken rules of royalty.
Theron bowed his head, his dark hair falling across his face, obscuring his expression.
His voice, when it came, was thick with emotion, barely a whisper yet amplified by the stunned silence.
“Eldrin,” he rasped, tears beginning to trace paths down his cheeks.
“I… I’ve finally found you.”
The Forgotten Wanderer
For years, King Theron had ruled a kingdom plagued by a silent decay.
The grand traditions felt hollow, the prosperity waned, and the ancient prophecies that once guided Eldoria were now dismissed as folklore.
Among these forgotten texts was the Legend of the Forgotten Wanderer.
It spoke of Eldrin, the true founder of Eldoria’s spiritual and philosophical foundation.
A sage of unparalleled wisdom who had seemingly vanished centuries ago.
The legend promised that when Eldoria faced its darkest hour, and a true king sought wisdom beyond temporal power, Eldrin would reappear.
He would embody the true spirit of the Oath of Unity, not just its gilded facade.
Lord Valerius had actively suppressed any mention of Eldrin or the ancient prophecy.
He had meticulously removed scrolls, silenced scholars, and subtly sowed doubt about the King’s mental stability for indulging in such 'superstitions'.
Valerius believed in tangible power, not mythical figures.
He had slowly steered Theron away from the spiritual heart of his ancestors’ rule.
He presented himself as the only practical solution to Eldoria's woes.
Theron, initially swayed by Valerius’s efficiency, had found only fleeting relief.
