Sorardia, the Tale of an Outcast, King, and Inventor

Prologue

          On a rainy day in the city of Ciacoda, in the dark realm Shadi, there was a man roaming the streets. This man had a blade on his back that was passed down for ages from his family. It was simple, looked exactly like a normal sword, but with Imbirian obsidian. The man was in a robe and hood, with a scarf and different metal pauldrons. One was Watorian cobalt, the other Shadeen iron. He also wore some rare railgun proof body armor, painted the gray of Shadi. He walked through a small alley, and searched a cement wall for a small niche. After finding it, he drew his sword and plunged it in. A small beep sounded, and a door opened. He pulled the sword out and walked inside the hidden room, bare but for a few small cabinets. He walked down a some stairs, and met another man, dressed in orange, yellow, black, and red armored clothing, with a pike on his back. He looked around the room. It had two shelves on opposite walls, ragged carpet, and two light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. There was also a large glass case that encased two blades. A shadow scimitar from another age, and a golden shortsword, one of the last relics of the old earth.

          "Did you find him?" the man with the pike said.

          "No, Lostier," the man with the sword said. "I only found traces of him. He is on the move, seemingly going to Svictoran."

          "This'll complicate things. Any news from Fire Storm, Cleaver?" Lostier asked.

          "Not from Fire Storm but Salli," Cleaver replied, grimacing at the thought. "Salli said that Nathan is still unfindable, and Fire Storm is under the king's custody. I've already planned to go speak with the king."

          "He will arrest you before you even make the door!" Lostier exclaimed. "Either that or execute you for treason!"

          "Then he will find I'm more powerful than he thinks." Cleaver replied walking to the glass case. He took out the weapons and the sheaths that were on the lowest part of the case. He strapped on the sheaths, made to show the blades while still protecting the wearer. "Any resistance to me will be defeated."

"Kill them if you must!" Lostier exclaimed.

"My life is equal with there's by spirit if not by skill with a blade. Why then should I choose when to take a life and when to spare one?" Cleaver replied with practiced speech. "There is no reason for the death of a Sorardian who is loyal to the king."

"Just be careful. I don't want to be the one to confront our ally candidate," Lostier said with a wry smirk.