The Dragons Heir

Arc 3/part 3 : My Coming Prophesied

ALEX

It had been approximately ten minutes since the wise men's council had discreetly exited the room to discuss the new prophecy, leaving a charged silence in their wake. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and decided to pass the time by engaging in conversation with Reinhard, who stood beside me, his demeanor as calm and reassuring as ever. As I glanced to my left, I spotted Emilia deeply engrossed in a lively discussion with Felt. The sight brought a wave of nostalgia; it struck me that this was the first time the four of us had been together since the harrowing encounter with Elsa. The weight of recent events lingered in the air, but there was a palpable sense of camaraderie that filled the room.

My reflections were abruptly interrupted when Crush Karsten made her approach, her pace brisk and intentional, with Felix and Wilhelm trailing closely behind her. She stopped in front of me, a bemused expression crossing her face. "Well played, very well played," she said, a hint of admiration lacing her voice as she shook her head, clearly impressed. "Capitalizing on my hesitation was indeed a genius move on your part."

I couldn't help but grin slightly at her compliment, though a wave of humility washed over me. "I must respectfully disagree, Crush-sama. The real credit belongs to Emilia-sama, I am merely a knight serving her cause," I replied, shrugging off the praise with a modest chuckle.

However, my dismissal didn't seem to convince her; she continued to shake her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "Funny, Emilia claimed the exact opposite," she remarked, and I turned my gaze to Emilia. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but her smile was cheeky and filled with mischief as if savoring the unexpected attention. It was a moment of levity amidst the tension, and I felt grateful for the bond we had forged through our trials.

I was on the verge of strolling over to her to playfully tease about her current situation when, without warning, the massive doors to the throne room swung open with a thunderous sound. The members of the council filed in with an air of solemnity, making their way towards their intricately carved seats positioned adjacent to the grand throne. The royal guard stood in rigid attention on the left, their polished armor gleaming in the ambient light filtering through the stained-glass windows.

As soon as they settled into their seats, Miklotov—who appeared to hold an unofficial leadership role among the council—rose to address the assembly. His voice resonated through the chamber, filled with authority and urgency. "We have deliberated on the prophecy after careful consideration and believe it is in our best interest to unveil it now, while all the candidates are present," he proclaimed, allowing a brief pause to let his words sink in. He scanned the room intently before continuing, "I must insist that everyone other than the candidates and their most trusted attendants leave at once, as the information we are about to disclose is of the utmost confidentiality."

A hush fell over the hall as, one by one, the royal guard and various attendants, mindful of the gravity of the situation, exited the throne room. In the end, the only ones remaining were Emilia at my side, along with Roswaal and Puck. Crush was flanked by her devoted companions, Felix and Wilhelm. Priscilla was attended by the imposing Aldebaran, while Anastasia remained close to Julius. Lastly, Felt stood alongside Reinhard, her fierce protector.

With everyone settled and the atmosphere thick with anticipation, Miklotov cleared his throat, the sound echoing like a prelude to something monumental. He grasped a delicate piece of parchment, its edges worn from use, and addressed the assembly once more. "I am now about to read the prophecy," he stated, his tone imbued with gravity, as he began to recite from the ancient text.

*When the red dragon's heir takes flight,
With a blade of wind and light,
He shall rise to aid the maiden's reign,
In the kingdom where peace will gain.
The witch's cult, once steeped in dread,
Shall crumble as her followers tread.
For jealousy's grip will break at last,
And shadows of darkness shall fade to the past.
Together they'll stand, both fierce and bold,
In a tale of glory yet to be told.
So heed this word, let the truth be unfurled,
The heir shall bring balance to the world.*