Thera glanced at Ragon, noticing how his silver hair now gleamed brightly, no longer caked with mud as it had been before. She felt a little shy that someone like him was speaking to her.
It wasn't that Thera was any less attractive than Ragon. If they were to be rated, she would easily score a perfect ten, while Ragon might receive a nine. Still, the beauty of a woman couldn't truly be compared to that of a man.
Ragon, however, carried an aura like a dazzling light that could never be hidden.
"Hey!" Ragon waved at her, surprised to see her standing frozen without saying a word.
She finally snapped back to reality, shaking her head as if to break free from the strange, almost seductive charm radiating from him. For a moment, it felt as though he were the god of a harem.
"I'm sorry… What were you saying before?" she asked, realizing she hadn't caught his words.
"What were you thinking? I just wanted to thank you for the other day," he repeated.
"Oh! There's no need to thank me; it's my duty," Thera replied, blushing as she spoke.
While Ragon was chatting with Thera, two men approached him from behind.
"Your Majesty, we've been searching for you everywhere. Thank the gods we finally found you. Please forgive the interruption, but the court members are awaiting your presence. It brings us great joy to hear you've fully recovered," one of the men said, bowing respectfully to Ragon despite the clear difference in age.
Thera gave a small wave and turned away. "I'll leave you to it."
Ragon blinked, his hand twitching upward as if to stop her. "Wait" he started, but the word came out too late. She was already halfway across the hall, her braid swaying behind her as she disappeared around the corner.
He let his arm drop with a frustrated sigh. Damn. I didn't even ask her name.
The two men still waited, bowing low. Ragon straightened, masking the lapse, and forced a faint smirk. "Alright… lead the way."
They started down the long corridors toward the council chamber. As they walked, Ragon's eyes wandered over the towering arches and polished stonework. He couldn't help but be impressed. Nineteen years ago, there hadn't even been a proper stronghold here, and now the castle stood like a fortress of order.
Compared to the grandeur of Olympus, this place was still small, just a drop of water against an endless sea. but for mortals, it was remarkable. The orcs could never have built something so precise. Their kind were brutes, not craftsmen. Dwarves must have had a hand in this, Ragon thought.
After what felt like an endless walk, they finally stopped before two massive doors, each rising nearly twenty feet high. With a low groan, the doors swung open, and the noise inside cut off at once.
Every eye turned toward him. Rows of people old, young, men and women shifted were they stood as they bowed when he stepped forward.
The weight of their stares pressed down on him, and for a heartbeat, Ragon hesitated. He never imagined he'd be made king once again to rule.
He knew better than to be fooled. Not every bow meant loyalty, not every smile meant welcome. He had learned that from his previous fate how a crowd that once hailed him as king later cheered for his death.
Ragon told himself quietly, "Trust no face too quickly. Praise today can turn to betrayal tomorrow."
He straightened his back and walked forward, calm and unreadable, meeting their gazes as if he already knew their hearts.
At the center of the hall stood the throne, raised on a short platform of stone steps. It was carved from dark oak, with gold trimming along the arms and back, built more for authority than for comfort.
Ragon stepped forward, climbed the steps, and lowered himself onto it, stretching his legs out with casual defiance. From there, he stared at the crowd.
The tension broke when the doors slammed open again. A young man sprinted in, sweat pouring down his face. He barely made it halfway across the room before the guards barred his path.
"Hmmm…" Ragon muttered, rubbing his chin. With a flick of his hand, he ordered the guards to let him through.
The youth stumbled forward, gasping for breath. "Your… Majesty… there is bad news…"
Ragon arched a brow. "And what might that be?"
"The orcs!" the boy blurted, his voice cracking as the word tore out of his throat.
A wave of shock rolled through the chamber. Gasps echoed, followed by hurried whispers. Even the elders shifted nervously. The very name was enough to drain color from their faces. After all the years of slavery and suffering, the thought of being dragged back into chains made them tremble.
It had only been a few days since he slaughtered the last of the orcs that had ruled over Elenadrom. Their blood was barely dry in the soil, their bodies hardly cold in the pits where they fell. That was why the sudden news shook the council to its core.
If orcs were sighted now, they were not the same ones who had held the people captive for nineteen long years. Those were gone forever. No, these were different.
The only explanation was the bridge...the boundary between the four realms. When Ragon's battle shattered the balance of power, the ripple must have reached across the worlds. Something on the other side had sensed it: the fall of Graknar, the breaking of the old seal, and the weakness in the barrier.
And so, fresh warbands of orcs had crossed through.
Ragon scanned the crowd, seeing the fear swelling like a storm. If he let it grow, panic would break them. He slammed his hand against the armrest. "Silence!"
The voices cut off instantly as command came naturally to him. Due to having both a god-like soul and being a former king.
"Fear will only make you weak. You must embrace that fear and transform it into a fight for your rights," Ragon advised, hoping to dispel the dark thoughts lingering in their minds.
The crowd held their breath, turning back to the messenger, Ragon asked, "Where are they?"
The boy swallowed hard. "Your Majesty, while I was tending my sheep, I saw them at the bridge leading from the sea to our village."
For a moment, Ragon said nothing. Then a slow smile spread across his face. He remembered his earlier act of tearing down that very bridge, splintering the massive span so it collapsed into the waves.
"That bridge will take them at least a week to rebuild," he said finally, his tone calm, almost amused. "You have nothing to fear. Seven days is more than enough to deal with this problem."
The chamber erupted this time not with panic, but with renewed confidence.
"This time we fight with him!" a man shouted from the back, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
"No more chains!" cried another.
"Our King stands...we stand with him!"
The voices built, colliding and merging until the entire hall shook with the force of their conviction.
Ragon watched them closely. They weren't bowing out of fear anymore. They were standing straight, fire burning in their eyes. For the first time since he had seen courage citizens.