The Epitaphs of the Silent King:
Chapter I - The Guard
The wind of Aethel, which once carried the echoes of a prosperous kingdom, now only dragged dust and the stench of rusted iron. For twenty years, the Seven Generals had stood guard at the Silent Mausoleum of King Theron. A monolith of black marble and obsidian, crowned by the statue of the monarch with blindfolded eyes, symbolizing impartial justice.
But for the generals, the blindfold was literal. Their oath was simple: "Protect the Tomb, with eyes closed, until the end of time."
Power, the leader by right and ability, adjusted the visor of his helmet. His armor, though polished daily by the few servants that remained, showed the dents of an endless war. He was on the outer wall, watching the night.
"Another night, another attack," he murmured, his voice a low thunder.
Wealth, standing next to him, a thin man with intricately crafted chainmail, nodded grimly. "Our resources are running out, Power. The mines are dry and the crown's gold no longer pays the mercenaries."
Down in the courtyard, Loyalty was training the new recruits, young people who had known no other world than constant war. Their faith in the mission was unshakeable, their sword never dull.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the lower crypts, Darkness returned from a foray beyond enemy lines. His report was brief, as always. "They are more. Better organized. We still don't know their banner or their purpose, only that they wish to desecrate this." He gently tapped the icy wall of the mausoleum.
Duty and Silence were stationed at the main entrance, stoic. Duty frowned. "Desecrate? They are not seeking treasures, Darkness. They have been fighting for years just to get in. There is something more."
Silence, the man of few words, only nodded, but his eyes said more than any speech: doubt was beginning to seep through the cracks of his discipline.
Suddenly, a flare lit up the night sky. The enemy had arrived once again. Hundreds of hooded figures with improvised weapons, but with a wild ferocity, rushed toward the main gates.
Glory, the youngest and most fiery, shouted: "To the walls, brothers! For King Theron and our vow!"
The battle began as always: a bloody and brutal chaos. But this time, the enemy pushed harder, breaching the defenses. They were desperate.
Just as Power was about to be flanked and Wealth saw the last of their gunpowder reserves explode, Darkness and Silence found themselves face to face with the enemy leader, a middle-aged man with eyes of pain and hope.
They pinned him against the wall of the mausoleum.
"Surrender! We protect the King!" shouted Silence, breaking his silence.
The enemy leader, with blood bubbling on his lips, spat out his last words, words that chilled the blood of the generals and changed the universe of their loyalty forever:
"We too... the King is alive... they must free him from that prison!"
The world came to a halt. The vow of "closed eye" took on a terrible meaning. The enemy was not an invading force, but the hope of the kingdom.
The Seven Generals looked at each other, the truth hitting them like a hammer: their blind obedience had turned their mission into a betrayal of the very man they swore to protect. The true enemy, the jailer, was themselves.
