His Purpose

Prologue

     For nearly 20 years, the war between the two kingdoms of Drakestone and Zenithrae raged on, with countless casualties and mass destruction plaguing both empires. The loud explosions of cannons seemed to echo endlessly through the land of Araelia, and the citizens of both kingdoms no longer bothered to bat an eye at the sound of the artillery fire. Although Drakestone and Zenithrae were new kingdoms with their very first kings commanding their battalions, both were well-equipped for a long and gruesome bloodbath. 

     Or so they thought.

     The longer the war waged, the weaker Drakestone became. The Zenithraen forces pushed closer and closer to the walls of their enemy, and King Draktus' resources were depleted to almost nothing. An ever-present blanket of smoke hung in the air over Drakestone, a haunting reminder of the countless lives lost in the war. It was as if their sullen spirits hung resentfully above the kingdom, refusing to be forgotten or ignored by the prideful King, who refused to put an end to the war. 

     Drakestone was now surrounded by King Alaric's troops. Every wall, every path, and every building in the kingdom seemed to be under constant watch. It seemed that no matter what King Draktus did, the Zenithraen forces were always five steps ahead of him. His recent attempt to push back the forces to the south of his kingdom ended in a massacre of Drakestonian knights. He could no longer ignore the blood on his hands, as he was the one who commanded his loyal subjects to march to their deaths time and time again.

     "You must stop this," the Queen urged her husband, pointing at the document on the desk that read 'Treaty Proposal'. "Not only are the lives of our people in danger, but yours and mine are as well! Please, Draktus. Put your pride aside, just this once. Think of our son."

     Beside the large window that dominated the north wall of their bedroom, a small baby boy cooed in his cradle, wiggling his fingers and kicking his legs. His wide brown eyes gazed up at the various wood-carved animals that danced and spun above him, suspended from a thin wooden ring attached to a long silver arm, which was fastened to the railing just above his head. He reached his tiny hand up toward a purple elephant, grumbling frustratedly as it spun just out of reach. 

     King Draktus shifted his eyes from the papers on his desk to the small infant, deep in thought. He knew the war was already lost. There was no reason to continue putting the lives of his family and his people in danger. While he wanted to gain control of Zenithrae to benefit from its unique resources and magic, he questioned whether it would be worth the pain and suffering that would come along with it. Besides, his people had their own forms of magic that were just as powerful, thanks to his wife's abilities as a powerful sorceress. She had cast a powerful spell on the kingdom's water supply several years ago so that all inhabitants of Drakestone would become powerful mages, and be better prepared for an invasion by King Alaric's army. As long as Queen Irena lived, the magic would remain. Did he really need the Zenithraen magic too?

     Suddenly, the baby began to wail as a large explosion sounded from outside the walls of the kingdom. His mother and father quickly rushed to the window, looking out at the trees in the distance. Queen Irena scooped the baby into her arms and rocked him, shushing him softly. The King's eyes narrowed at the brigade of knights and horses that set off the cannon a few miles away, which successfully tore a massive hole into the wall that surrounded his kingdom. At the center of it all, his sworn enemy sat proudly on a fit-looking Clydesdale horse. 

     The group of approximately 20 men was perched atop the steep incline of the northernmost point of the land, which stretched out toward the sea before abruptly ending and dropping off into in a rocky cliffside. When the tide was high and the weather was stormy and dark, waves would relentlessly pound at the rocks on the shoreline, occasionally splashing up onto the land above. At the bottom of the hill, closer to Drakestone, a shallow lake surrounded by trees rested calmly, its mirrorlike surface only ever being disturbed by the unpredictable weather that the Drakestonian people had eventually grown accustomed to.