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"What!" The false king roared, his voice echoing through the throne room filled with a form of fear and rage. "Who allowed them to enter the city? How did they breach the Harbor Guard?" Skyron asked frantically, his crown tipping to one side.

"Relax lord-" Enzo Mor began, speaking in a tone far different than that of the cowardly man before him.

"That's King...King Skyron." The young Sorrian fumed, a scene one could easily compare to another in a not so distant land.

"Yes, King... our men are not entirely inexperienced, though the treaty of Lucheston with the Goblin lord Oriel and his thirty sons was technically thwarted by your rising, and that treaty had held for many many years." Master Enzo of the Soaring Fortress began. The man walked with an ease in his steps like he'd stepped upon a cloud with each short stride.... something few could maintain before the fury of royalty, his neatly trimmed goatee matching with the remaining combed blonde hair sitting upon his head. Enzo was often refferred to as the true Dengen Master, for his skill was often challenged but had yet to be defeated in combat when placed against another master, as well as his appearance displaying the purest of discipline, thus it was only natural that Lucheston had placed him as the head of the Dengen military forces.

"I assure you, with the dengen sensors upon the wall, we were at least prepared enough to protect the majority of citizens and prepare platoons for urban combat. The Hunters are simply running about, but fortunately our Silver Knights appear to be as organized as ever." Mor chuckled, his chest bouncing as it always had when he laughed in his soothing voice.

"You insult my army?" Skyron gritted his teeth, turning his glare upon the apathetic man.

"I have yet to insult the Silver Knights your majesty, and I have yet to call the Hunters an army. Besides, I believe you have more pressing matters at your doorstep than your ego my lord." A sly smile appeared upon Enzo's features, for he could not withhold the joyous thought that he was one of the few men who could get away when toying with a king. The false king then turned to face one of the many red banners which hung immobile within the excessively embellished throne room.

"That's King...." was all Skyron could muster to reply.



"Now!" The commander roared, four Silver Knights placing their palms upon the earth about a group of heavily armored and shield wielding trolls. Upon the roaring boom of their leaders call, and the strike upon the soft damp dirt within the streets of Garnoff, a pillar of light appeared to strike down from the heavens. A defensive technique used by teams of Garnoff's finest to devastate large groups or hordes.

"Sir, the trolls and Goblins have begun to retreat," A young soldier informed him, attempting to catch his breath as he spoke the optimistic words. "it appears that their leader has ordered some form of cease." A guardsmen informed Pordas from a lower stand point, his sprint about the battle field a more dangerous task than most would wish to admit.

"Good, they've shed enough blood already, and I'm not entirely fond of spilling theirs either...." The leader took hold of a goblin corpse, wiping the remains of his last encounter upon the tunic of his fallen foe, though beneath the downpour his work saved little time. "What must have happened to king Oreil?" The question surged to the front of commander Pordas's mind as he lead his men to a more defensible position near to the citizens stowed within a local inn. All about the city, cutting through the ranks of oppressors one could witness similar pillars of light, the larger ones clearly forged by those of Garnoff's Paladins. "For now refrain from rank busters and use precision bolts to cut down any hostiles. If they want peace we certainly wont be the ones to break the silence."

Before he could finish his sentence however, a Hunter came rushing down past the market street, finding himself within the view of the platoon as he carried his thick armor in flight from a battalion of Goblins. His boots scrapping wildly against the slick mud from the rain, and the Hunter soon found himself falling over onto his back, a trio of goblins taking up arms to remove the poor fellow from the battle field.

"Help!" He roared, lifting his blade to stab one of the short green men digging his claws deep into the armor. As the eerie sound of metal scrapped by the goblin's claw approached their ears, Pordas looked towards the men on both his right...and his left, only to find a considerable lack of sympathy. Through the downpour of rain, which pattered against the stones of the city streets, the commander simply let his gaze fall upon the drenched Hunter.

"For my brothers who died by the blade of their own, at least your death will not be so cruel." He proclaimed, allowing the goblins to finish their gruesome work, tearing at his entrails as if the man was filled with treasure. As the Hunter's blood mixed with that of the rain, drifting down through the pathways of the once fine city, Pordas finally slapped his hand upon the ground, a single bolt falling from the heavens to burn away the attackers. "Rest only in what peace you deserve."

Mikal looked at the troll with alarm, but quickly covered his expression. If she was an ally, so be it. With the Silver Knight's numbers being lessened with every execution (something that was incurring fury among the ranks) they could use every added ally. The girl reacted slightly to the female's medical attention, but only for a moment. He looked to the man. "If you must. But be quick, we need to hide before the prince realizes the castle's been invaded." He laid her down, looking around to make sure no one noticed. Fortunately there were no Hunters around. Most of the servants were still loyal to the true heir and his wife, so they were no danger. But one Hunter spotting them could mean danger for all 4.

Mikal put his hand over the girl's mouth, watching with a frown. Like all of the Silver Knights, protecting those in need was at the top of his education. So watching someone be put through severe pain went against everything he'd been taught. But they didn't have time or opportunity for a different remedy. He watched as the man put the sword to the girl's stomach. She came alive for a moment, eyes wide open. There was a short shriek, but with Mikal's hand over her mouth it was no more than a squeak. She quickly went limp again, presumably from pain. He lifted her in his arms and turned to lead the way.

He headed down to the west end of the dungeon. It was dank and dark, hardly the best place to recuperate. He went to the end cell, one larger than most. It was made as a sort of holding cell for those of a lesser offense, petty thieves and the like. It would fit the 3 fairly comfortably...at least as comfortably as a dungeon cell could be. There was a short bench jutting out from the wall, covered with straw and a rough blanket to make a makeshift bed. He laid the girl on it, wrapping the wound as best he could. He thanked years of field medicine practice. As he finished, an older man stepped into the door of the cell. "Ah, yes." Mikal stood up. He always felt awkward interacting with servants. "These are allies of Lucheston. They need our assistance. Help in whatever way you can, but above all keep the prince from finding out." He looked back to the 3. "I must get back to my duties. I wish you luck." With a nod, he turned and left.

"You can relax my dear, for I've accumulated allies within whom I can place my trust. Their abilities I do not know, but their heart I can only imagine for they have displayed such generosity and courage." A smile appeared upon the elder man's features, one that twitched at the slight tinge of pain coursing through his body from the infected wound. "I shall remove my son from the throne, and the true heir shall return from his exile. Garnoff will see justice shown upon it's bright and bustling streets once more I promise." Lucheston assured her, laying a hand upon her thin shoulder as he did so, mustering all that he could manage to appear strong and trustworthy.

Unfortunately the strength of his form was short lived, soon the hand upon Elle's shoulder was pressed more roughly as the Silver King was forced to use her to remain standing. In his eyes, the king saw nothing but his home returned to it's peaceful prosperity...he dared not imagine what may come to pass should he fail his quest by a blade which had cut so shallow.

The king slowly was forced to take a knee, dropping down to find himself pressing a supportive hand now upon the grime and dirt of the newly carved cell as he coughed violently. The entirety of his proud form which one gathered respect from onlookers merely as he walked past now appeared only frail and brittle, each effort put forth by the Sorrian placing him in more bitter a state than the last.

Soon footsteps began to echo down the halls, just as the sounds of battle began to cease, but though he believed them to be the steps of others throughout the dungeons, he found that he could not proclaim how close they were to his own cell. Thus with his eyes filled with hope, Lucheston Sorrian merely looked up towards the lady in waiting.

"Do not fear, for we only need to hope for the best, and prepare for the worst in order to survive." He smiled.