The Old Soldier ~Finished~

The Old Soldier ~Finished~

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WpMetadataReadMatureKumpleto Thu, May 18, 201747m
"I will do anything, just get me back to the front, Swindler." The Swindler stared from beneath his top hat. "But of course Frowny." He grinned, his white teeth burning through the darkness of the room. "Don't call me that, or I will kill you, regardless what you can or can't do." Dalian Jassian is retired war hero, who saved the King of Mortegra from assassins while he visited the frontlines in the now century and a half long war on the southern border of Mortegra and Lintano. For years he lived away from the war, with his wife, Milandra, his two sons, Grasin the eldest son and Malion the youngest of three, and his daughter Yvetra, who've all joined the war at age twenty. The one day, he gets a letter, a letter of compensation, Grasin has died, shot from a rifle, the most recent weapon of war. A year later, Yvetra, rifle shot, pierced her steel armor, and the year after that, Malion goes missing from his position as spy, enraged, and eager for revenge he embarks on a quest to return to the front for the first time in twenty-eight years, and kill the killers of his son and daughter, and find his youngest son, dead or alive.
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If there's one thread that weaves through these chapters-through the carnage of battle, the shadowed alleys of the capital, and the quiet horror of Sandro's workshop-it's this: history is written in blood, but lived in the cracks. From the opening scenes of the ogre's rampage, where soldiers dissolve into "pulp" and "gore" as if their lives were no more than smudges on a page, to Ethan's desperate dance between disguise and death, The Thrones and the Necromancers leans into a raw, unflinching tone. This isn't a tale of heroes in shining armor but of survivors: a fugitive soldier with a price on his head, a noble daughter caught between duty and doubt, even a corpse-tinkering hermit who guards secrets darker than his basement. What makes this story tick, behind the scenes? It's the contrast between grand illusions and gritty reality. The capital glows with lanterns and laughter, but its streets reek of fear and rot. Duke Mrak smiles like a benevolent father, yet his hands hold on power (and a sword) with the cold precision of a executioner. Even Ethan-our reluctant "hero"-isn't chasing glory. He's just trying not to become another stain on the cobblestones. This isn't a story about changing the world. It's about surviving it-messily, fearfully, and sometimes with a stolen cloak or a well-timed fireball. And in that survival? That's where the real history lives. After all, kings and empires fade. But the memory of a soldier who ran, a daughter who questioned, a hermit who chose to save? That's the dust that sticks. The Thrones and the Necromancers is less about epic battles than the echoes they leave. Stay close to the shadows. The best stories are there.

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