Michrinor: The Fates of The Heirs

Chapter 13 - Meeting the King

The great hall that housed the throne of King Emanvadrin was a place of both majesty and mystery, designed to inspire awe and reverence in all who entered. The black marble floors gleamed beneath Ava's feet, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the firelight from the torches mounted along the walls. The torches themselves were not ordinary; they burned with an ethereal flame that shimmered like liquid gold, casting flickering shadows that danced across the towering white columns. The columns stretched upward, disappearing into a ceiling adorned with intricate carvings and paintings of scenes from battles, legends, and ancient lore. Each figure seemed to come alive in the shifting light, their eyes following Ava as she moved forward.

Thick vines of ivy wound their way down from the ceiling, their leaves a deep, glossy green, interspersed with delicate white flowers that released a subtle fragrance. The walls, made of frosted crystal, gave off a soft, ambient light that bathed the room in a gentle glow, almost as if the walls themselves were alive. At intervals along the walls stood crystal statues, their forms both graceful and imposing. Each statue was clad in brass armor that shone with a brilliance that suggested it was polished daily. The statues held swords and shields, their expressions stern, as if ready to defend the king at a moment's notice.

At the far end of the hall, the throne itself sat atop a dais of black stone veined with silver. The throne was carved from a single block of white marble, its surface smooth and cool, with intricate patterns etched along the armrests and back. Four short pillars surrounded the throne, each supporting a bowl of fire that burned with a steady, pale blue flame. Behind the throne, a massive crystal wall rose to the ceiling, its surface also etched with scenes of the realm's history. The wall was partially obscured by cascading ivy that flowed into large, ornate pots at its base. The flowers within the pots were massive, their petals a deep, velvety red, as though they drank in the very light of the room.

As Ava approached the throne with Taci at her side, she noticed a young child seated on a stack of large pillows in the corner of the room, plucking a soft melody on some sort of stringed instrument. The sweet notes echoed through the vast chamber, mingling with the crackling of the torches. When Ava and Taci reached the base of the throne, the child stopped playing, smiling at the king before running to him and receiving a warm embrace. The king whispered something to the child, who giggled and then scampered off, likely to join the evening meal.

Taci watched this tender exchange with a quiet sense of awe. She had seen King Emanvadrin in many roles: as a leader, a warrior, a wise and just ruler. But the tenderness with which he interacted with the child reminded her once more of his boundless compassion. It was this very quality that made her trust him implicitly, that made her follow his commands without question. And yet, as she glanced at Ava, a flicker of doubt crept into her heart—doubt not in her king, but in the girl who stood before him. Could this child truly be the one foretold in the prophecy? The one destined to change the fate of Michrinor? She pushed the doubt aside, reminding herself that the king's wisdom far surpassed her own. If he believed in this girl, then Taci would place her faith in him, as she always had.

"My Lord, I present to you Lady Ava," Taci said, her voice respectful and measured as she bowed deeply before stepping aside to join a group of dignitaries seated on the left side of the room.

King Emanvadrin rose from his throne with a grace that belied his age, descending the steps with quiet authority. Though not overly tall by the standards of his people, his presence was commanding. His white hair was neatly braided back, and his beard, long and meticulously groomed, framed a face that was both strong and gentle. His eyes, a piercing blue, radiated wisdom and compassion, yet they held a depth that hinted at countless untold stories. He appeared strong and resilient, much more than what Ava expected from a king.