A beautiful land stretched wide, kissed by a warm breeze that lifted the hair of the soldiers as they marched. At the front, their leader—Agarth—sat tall on his horse, his eyes fixed on the long path ahead. Their destination: the Kingdom of Thoms. It would take at least a day to reach.
The horse beneath Agarth snorted, then began to trot slowly forward.
Agarth: "I think a storm is on the way. Let's find a good place to camp. Alright?"
His soldiers nodded in unison and moved ahead of their leader to scout a suitable location.
Before long, the skies darkened. Winds howled violently, and heavy rain poured, shaking the trees with a fury that was nearly unbearable.
A soldier returned, drenched but determined.
Soldier: "My Lord, we have found a good spot and set up camp."
Agarth: "Alright. Good work. Go on—I'll be there in five minutes."
Soldier: "As you say, my leader."
The soldier departed, and Agarth remained behind, his gaze fixed on a silent, moonlit lake.
Agarth (to himself):
"After centuries… no one has found the Black Blade. Where did he leave it?"
"Since the battle 2000 years ago, Norm's blade has never been recovered… Either it was destroyed, or it still hides—waiting for its true successor."
"I must find it… before the Army of Death rises again… before the Great Shadow returns to his eternal form."
Thunder roared across the sky as rain poured through the night. The soldiers rested, but Agarth stayed awake, mind racing with thoughts of the blade—where could it be?
---
The storm passed, and the sun rose gently over the horizon. Its light drizzled through the trees like a soft, golden rain. The soldiers, now well-rested, mounted their horses. Agarth led them onward.
By midday, they had crossed the Mountains of Heaven. Before them lay the verdant lands of the Kingdom of Thoms—lush hills, calming winds, birds chirping in endless harmony. The peaceful beauty around them was almost surreal.
Their horses began to gallop. As the kingdom's gates came into view, their pace quickened. Upon reaching the towering gates, all dismounted.
A lone voice called from the ramparts.
Gatekeeper: "State your name."
Agarth: "Agarth Norm, son of Braith."
The gatekeeper's eyes widened in disbelief. A Norm? A king? He was speechless, trembling as he hurried to unlock the massive chains securing the gate. With a heavy creak, the gates opened, and the soldiers entered, leading their horses by the reins.
They soon found themselves amidst a bustling market—vendors shouting, children playing, and merchants selling fruits, vegetables, and colorful fabrics. But Agarth had no interest in these distractions. His destination lay beyond—the castle.
Once they reached it, the soldiers stayed back to rest their horses, while Agarth alone stepped into the grand halls of stone.
He wandered through familiar corridors, his boots echoing on the marble floors. Finally, he reached a large door at the end of a hallway. He opened it—and there sat his old friend, Yade Thom, heir to the Thom bloodline, at a long dining table.
Yade (smiling): "You're finally here, my friend. How are you?"
He stood and welcomed Agarth with open arms, gesturing for him to join at the table.
Agarth (grinning): "How are you, brother? Still looking fat, huh?"
Yade (laughing): "It means I'm healthy! But look at you—built like a hunter."
Yade (serious now): "So… tell me. Why have you come? There must be a reason."
Agarth: "I'm searching for something."
Yade: "Let me guess—the blade?"
Agarth (nodding): "You're right. The Blade."
Yade: "It's been centuries, and no one has found it. Do you need help finding it? You know what they say—if one unworthy touches it, they'll die."
Agarth: "No. I'm not here for that. I've come to ask you something…"
Yade (raising an eyebrow): "Ask? What could you possibly ask me?"
Agarth (serious): "My son, Aron… has been hearing whispers. Whispers of the blade… calling him."
Yade froze. His expression changed instantly—eyes wide with disbelief.
The dining hall fell into heavy silence.
---
To Be Continued…