The Champion ventured down the hallway with his escort in the lead, his mind full of past events and doubts. He half expected for the mercenaries to be found and arrested. Then his secret would be fully blown; however, did it really matter? Everything was about to end with a new beginning soon after. His exposure would do little to stop him or anything else now.

"In positions!" the knight barked, which startled the Champion into focus. The guards nearby shared the same reaction until posturing themselves into a formal stance. Their helmets remained rigid and still even if the royal knight leaned right up to them. She did nothing except sometimes tapping their visor and moving on.

"What is your role, exactly?" the Champion asked, noticing how every single guard was in formal stance at the mere sight of the royal knight. She didn't even have to look at them for her outburst to take notice.

"I am specially appointed to serve His Majesty until death," she remarked, her gauntlets freely hanging at her sides. Attached to her hip, which was somewhat obscured by a blue cape majestically falling out of her chestplate that swayed to the left, was an ivory sheathe. The crossguard and handle alone were true gems and dazzling to look at—though his was by far the superior weapon. Nothing could dare contest that.

"Serve as a means of what?" he asked for clarification, as the two began to reach the castle's gate. Guards dwindled in numbers with a certain chanting taking form beyond the walls. It was too distinct and low to decipher, however.

"I make sure they reach their destination well and protected," she answered. "If anybody walks up and tries to kill you, then they die. Nobody would even dare to try unless they were completely insane—"

"Your assistance is unnecessary," the Champion cut her off, attempting to walk past her. He only managed to get blocked by the flat side of a gleaming blade against his chest.

"Whether you think that or not doesn't matter," she told him quietly. She looked over her shoulder in a way that gave her visor a menacing presence, like the eyes beneath could not accept anything not going their way. "I, Lumin Dranglic, have been assigned the task of protecting you no matter what circumstances arrive."

"Is this recent news or have you just been idling aimlessly?" the Champion requested, not caring for the girl's motivations. He just wanted to leave the castle and get on with it. A great war had to be fought. And won, of course.

"Um..." Lumin sheathed her sword nervously. "I wasn't really called upon before... but I would've come right to you if that were the case, I promise."

"Continue on, then, or I will relieve you of this rather dull duty," the Champion demanded impatiently, enough to make her swiftly proceed down the hallway. Her once regal walk—her chest puffed outward and body poised—had turned into a more frantic pace.

Once outside in the ever so glorious light, the Champion took notice of the chanting that had grown even louder. Guards were lined all across the street in straight, seamless rows. Behind them stood hundreds, thousands of citizens that did nothing but holler. A few were even attempting to jump over the guards, but they were either pushed back with force or completely ignored.

"A great sight, isn't it?" Lumin remarked, as she nodded to a guard on her right, who did the same in return. Seconds later, all the guards straightened their stances and brought their shield in front of them and sword beside it. Their helmets were lifted upward as if they were praising the sun.

"What's the meaning of all this?" the Champion asked, pursuing his escort down the street. A path had been formed for them with nothing in their way. A few glances to his side made him doubt it would stay that way for long.

"This?" Lumin chuckled and fanned a gauntlet around her. "This is how the people feel about you. If you listen closely enough, you'll get the gist of what they're screaming about like a bunch of bratty school children."

The Champion grumbled at her rather harsh words, but tried his hardest to decipher at least one sensible line from the continuous, chaotic chorus. Eventually, he found one accompanied by the eyes of a weary, old peasant. And he thought this was a place for nobles and the wealthy.

"O, my gracious King, thy sacrifice shall not be in vain..."

"Sacrifice?" the Champion repeated, slowly realizing that the people around him were not angry nor sad—they were praising him.

"Well, you're doing a very honorable service to all of us by going out there and submitting your life," Lumin replied. She grasped her hip with one hand and hovered the other over her sheathe. "It's not common to find such bravery and selflessness in a man as yourself." She sighed, something the Champion could hear only because he had drowned out all other noises. "If only there was another option that didn't involve such death and misery."

As the two continued down the street toward the unknown destination, the Champion distantly thought about what people thought of him. It was clear he wasn't liked or popular, which was reasonable. He wasn't the greatest king, not by any means. Lumin was pretty gracious for what he was doing, though she seemed pretty remorseful. He was almost certain that was just a ruse to make him feel better.

The whole kingdom could latch onto the idea that he was going to sacrifice himself for the people. That he would go in there and just accept his death. Oh, it would be honorable and very selfless, but was that reality? Would he actually just give up there and then?

No, that was a coward's way out.

He might have not been the best king, but he surely was a capable commander, a heroic champion, and an undying hero. He would not die so easily. If so, he would take all of his enemies with him. His death would instead come with a new era. Either he be alive or dead, he would still bring about a time of peace and Good's rise to full power. He preferred to be there to see it all happen before him, but he was not fazed by the other option. As long as the task was finished.

"We have arrived, milord," Lumin announced, which prompted the Champion into looking ahead.

The western gate lay ahead, the first thing he had ever seen in the kingdom. It was a true show of strength and prowess. Of potential, even. He could not help his vision be taken by a nostalgic sunlight capable of pulling him to the past. How he gazed at the archway and its smooth line that ran along it. How he could picture the crowd of people rushing about, with that childish guard beside him.

However, it was clear now. There was no crowd. The chanting had subsided in the background. Tents were pitched all over the street with soldiers and commanders alike hustling about. Tables were set up with maps placed upon them. Some men were even being suited in armor, like they were about to charge into battle.

"Milord?"

The Champion's gaze dropped to Lumin, who had her visor focused right on him. The blend of white and yellow was gentle and glorious. He had never seen a knight with such astounding colors, for it seemed to be gleaming in the sunlight now that they were outside. It was much different than when she was inside the castle.

"Where are the commanders—"

"Are you scared?" Lumin interrupted him, her voice serious and soft.

He snorted at the question, instead bringing his gaze up to the sky. To the sun itself. He was never scared of anything. She had no right to ask him such questions, anyway. Only Shimmer could, though he rarely had answers most of time.

"This is where our path ends," he remarked, then pushed past her. She didn't even try to stop him; however, he eventually looked over his shoulder at her. "It is never right to question a man's fear before battle. Fear is but an anchor holding them back, though they all have it." He retracted his gaze from the still Lumin, who retained a surprised and still state. "It is better to think of an outcome in which prideful triumph is absolute."

His focus now shifted onto who he had to talk to. He assumed the commanders would be easy to detect, but hopefully they could spot him instead.

"It's okay to fear death," Lumin called out after him, but when he turned around in irritation, she had left. 

"Sticking by my side until the end," he muttered, grunting. "Nobody ever truly sticks by anybody's side but their own. It's just a matter of survival and importance by then."

He weaved around the mess of tents and soldiers, aware of the attention brought upon himself. Most, if not all, people were looking his way, even talking in a low voice. He wasn't sure if it was of good intention or bad, but it didn't matter now.

His actions would display his true self to the whole world. Even his enemies would understand, and then retreat to their little caves and forest. They wouldn't dare to come out.

"Over here, milord!" a familiar male voice shouted over the sounds of pounding boots and relentless chatter.

The Champion looked over at the source and indeed spotted what he had expected: council members in armor. They weren't fully armored as a knight would be, yet the chestplate and even open-faced helmet was enough to give them a sense of rank. There were about six of them standing around a long table in front of a larger tent. Despite the rather aggressive sunlight, there were shadows to keep them cool.

Before he could even take a single step forward, a gauntlet grasped his shoulder. The firm touch reminded him of the cold nights in the orc conquest. He had always believed he was alone, but there was another with him all that time ago:

Nam'ill.

When he spun around to look for the knight, and hopefully Shimmer as well, he found neither of them. Only distant guards that marched around in pairs or alone were the only people in sight.

"We must move with haste, milord," the council man from earlier disrupted the Champion's searching.

"Of course," he agreed, though hesitant to give up on his search so quickly; however, he forced himself to trudge over to the commanders and stand idle by the table. He looked down at the map and saw numerous red marks over it. The outline looked like a land mass with hills and forestry surrounding it. There was also a gate on the right side.

So maybe there was a battle to be fought and not just some sacrificial cowardice.

"We want to make sure our enemies respect the code of war," one of the men remarked, thrusting his thumb where a whole field of tents were drawn. "Surrendering our king to be killed is the most submissive act we could ever perform."

"It's not something we should do, either," another man chimed in, and knocked on his metal helmet with a bar splitting the top half of his face down to his nose.

"I say we send an escort with him or something to make sure he's not just killed on the spot," a fourth man requested. "We need for them to sign an official document or treaty to ensure they leave us alone—"

"Like hell they will!"

The men began to ramble amongst themselves as the Champion stared at the map intently. His eyes darted from the gate to the tents to the forestry; he could see the slaughter already.

"Will it rain?" he asked, which silenced the men.

"No, it's clear as all can be," the first man answered. He wiped his brow and sighed. "It's so hot out here. If we weren't in the shade, we'd be evaporating and dying on the spot!"

"Go in without your armor, milord," the fifth man pleaded, like he had been waiting all this time to say it. The Champion cast his gaze up to see begging eyes, then dropped it down onto the map in annoyance. "They can't see you like this. If so, they'll think it's a counter-offensive made by us. War would be inevitable by then!"

"Enough," the Champion plainly stated, before they could start arguing aimlessly again. He huffed and put his sword over his shoulder. "I wish to have an army at the ready in the case all goes wrong. When I'm distracting them, there can be a whole stampede to run them all over. It'll be perfect timing."

"That can be arranged," the man in charge, or at least the bulkier and more armored one, accepted. He placed his gauntlets around the sides of the table and leaned forward curiously. "What about you, milord? Who will go with you to ensure your safety?"

"I don't need..." the Champion trailed off, as the clicks of boots suddenly emerged, despite all the background noise he had suppressed. He slowly straightened up and looked over his shoulder at the newcomer. His heart thrust itself against his chest as alien emotions surged in. He had no idea how he truly felt, but he was definitely disappointed at the fact Shimmer was not there, too.

It was just Nam'ill, a sight he had thought would come much sooner and at a less dire time.