The Phoenix King #1 Bed of Ashes

Chapter 11 Return to Corivam

The grand spires of Corivam rose against the evening sky, their golden peaks catching the last rays of the setting sun. The city, built upon a series of cascading terraces, glowed warmly under the soft twilight, each terrace adorned with lush gardens and elegant fountains. Amunhekh Glaedr, the brother to the king and one of Corivam's most esteemed figures, approached the city gates on his steed. The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed along the stone path, accompanied by the soft murmurs and occasional laughter of his retinue.

Behind him, a small group of Corivam's finest accompanied him, their carts laden with goods and treasures collected during their sojourn in Joithelm. The retinue flew the banner of Corivam—a coiled golden serpentine dragon on a field of deep crimson, symbolizing power and resilience. The banner fluttered proudly in the evening breeze, catching the fading light.

Amunhekh posed a striking figure. His dark black hair flowed like a raven's wing, contrasting sharply with his tan skin that seemed to capture the warmth of the sun. His piercing blue eyes, filled with both wisdom and weariness, reflected the experiences of his many journeys. His features were sharp and regal, an embodiment of his noble lineage. He wore a resplendent ensemble of gold, a flowing robe that shimmered with intricate embroidery, accentuating his tall, lean frame. The gold not only symbolized his royal status but also highlighted his commanding presence.

His steed was equally magnificent, a true symbol of Amunhekh's stature. The horse, Arion, was a majestic stallion. Its coat was a brilliant gold, glistening under the setting sun, while its mane and tail were pure silver, flowing like silk with every movement. The beast's eyes were a striking, icy blue, mirroring the intensity of its rider's gaze. Adorned with an ornate saddle and bridle crafted from the finest leather and accented with golden embellishments, Arion carried Amunhekh with regal poise.

As they neared the city gates, Amunhekh glanced back at his retinue, ensuring all was well. He caught sight of Maren, a seasoned trader, directing the placement of crates filled with exotic spices and silks from Joithelm. The man's rugged face was illuminated by the setting sun, his brow glistening with sweat from the journey.

"How fare the goods, Maren?" Amunhekh called out, his voice carrying over the clatter of the caravan.

Maren looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. "All is in order, Lord Amunhekh. The journey was kind to us, and the treasures from Joithelm are intact."

Amunhekh nodded, satisfied. He turned to another traveler, a young scholar named Lysara, who was jotting down notes in a leather-bound journal. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she documented their journey. "Lysara, have you documented all that we acquired?"

Lysara looked up, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Yes, my lord. The artifacts and tomes from Joithelm will greatly enrich our archives. Their knowledge is vast and intriguing."

Amunhekh smiled, pleased with her diligence. As they continued toward the gates, his thoughts returned to Arion beneath him. Technically, Arion was not a horse. He was a creature of ancient magic, a tamed monster of a strange mix of magics that chose to appear as a horse. Arion's true form was a mystery even to Amunhekh, but their bond was strong, and the creature's loyalty was unwavering.

"Thank you, Arion," Amunhekh murmured, patting the stallion's neck, "You've done well; you will rest soon."

The horse's ears flicked back, as if acknowledging Amunhekh's words. He could sense the magical essence within Arion, a blend of Fire and Water magic that set the creature apart from any ordinary steed. Amunhekh didn't know if Arion could understand him, but the beast did seem to at least recognize when the prince spoke.

The journey back to Corivam hadn't been long, but Amunhekh still felt a deep sense of relief wash over him as he neared the city's entrance. The weight of the tasks and his responsibilities seemed to lift with each step closer to home. His dark hair, now windswept from the journey, framed his sharp features, and his piercing blue eyes held both the wisdom and weariness of the road.