Night slowly became day, marked by the bloody battlefield upon the floor. Slowly but steadily, light pushed past the dark in a constant siege. It wouldn't falter for one second. Before the Champion knew it, it was morning. He had been sitting on the throne, staring beyond the doors ahead of him; however, they soon opened to disrupt his dream-like state.

"Pleasant morning to you, milord," the man dressed in an odd attire with a feathered hat on top of his head greeted with a bow. "Do you wish to hear of today's matters or hold?"

The Champion distantly gazed behind him to see guards standing idle by the doors. Nervousness grew in him as he couldn't help but picture them discovering the portal.

"Milord?"

"Speak," the Champion decided, finally putting his attention onto the man who bowed again for acknowledgement.

"The provisional ruling chamber, milord, calls for a meeting," he declared. "They seek a compromise at your mighty hand. In other words, they seek peace."

"Peace? Over what?"

The man shrugged, tugging at his long sleeves.

"Well, that matter isn't for certain. You may learn yourself, milord, if you go there yourself."

"Send them here, then," the Champion ordered, unwilling to leave his throne room unless there were personal matters he had to attend to. So far, he wished to seek out Shimmer. But he knew he couldn't find her. The only way would be if she searched for him, something that should've happened already. He was quite sorrowful at the truth.

"It will be arranged, milord," the man said, then dipped his head down. Instead of leaving, he remained for some odd reason. "As you know, milord, there is unrest growing amongst the citizens. The army is lacking motivation and losing interest in any domestic matters. Meanwhile, both south and west sectors are soon to be taken over. Like an unholy infestation beginning—"

"Where the Crimson Order's main headquarters were," the Champion cut him off, with a snort. "I will go over there myself to eradicate such filth. This kingdom will only be home to Good, for no such Evil shall exist—"

"Milord, you are not to engage in any matters you formerly performed," the man replied, striking up some fury in the Champion. He thought his problems of being talked down upon were over.

"What are my options?" he asked hesitantly. He knew if the unreliable options failed, then he would deal with them himself. Like it was meant to be. Like he was supposed to do.

The title of King shouldn't hinder his ability to make clear Good's presence. To make his iron will established in all corners, even the darkest and most hopeless. By his reign, none would dare stand against him. If the time came, if true cataclysm arrived, he would do his job. Relying upon mere human soldiers was not something he looked forward to doing. He already knew their flaws. He already saw them in combat. Cowards, all of them.

"Martial law, milord," the man answered. "We can dispatch the military to take control of all the affected sectors. But I warn you, this will lead to an inevitable war. I don't know if you would want to risk that—"

"Silent options. Options that the ordinary citizen will know nothing of. Options that will be forgotten." The Champion set his gaze upon the man after staring into the distance for so long. "I would dispatch my most valorous and loyal men to infiltrate the ranks of the enemy. Nobody will hear or know a thing but them and myself."

"I'm afraid that is an unlikely option. It would be practically suicide."

The Champion snorted.

"Then I shall do it myself."

As he stood, with his gauntlet reaching for his sword, the man held his hands up.

"No, it will be done. You don't need to do anything but remain on that throne and attend to this kingdom's matters. That is all."

"Hmph," the Champion grunted, then sat on his throne again. The man lowered his hands calmly.

"Finally, milord, the elves and dwarves demand compensation for their good deeds—"

"What?" the Champion interjected.

"They relay news of vanquishing a great evil, and since we didn't help them, we should pay our respects by form of money."

"Great evil, how does this matter to us?"

"They claim that if the evil was not stopped, it would've spread and consumed the land whole—"

That I would, Jewel added, amused.

As the man continued, the Champion's gaze lowered to his gauntlets. To his right, he could see a black glow desperately trying to escape the fingers blocking it. He could sense power and thirst. Revenge that he didn't possess himself.

"No."

The room was engulfed in silence as the men standing outside peeked inside. The man had gone silent.

"No? But... we can't..."

"Let them know of our might. That we shall pay them not one coin for their so-called righteous act." The Champion huffed and dropped his gauntlet beside him. "If they wish to settle their dispute, I will be prepared for war."

"War?" the man stammered, his face pale. "We can't... take them on, milord! We're already recovering from the orc conquest and domestic unrest. That will only send this kingdom into turmoil with you as the cause!"

"Send the word," the Champion decided, resting back with his gauntlets clenching his throne's arms. "We will show no respect or gratitude to them. We will not be treated as underlings. Our business with them is no longer in effect. We don't need them. Let them squirm and writhe without our aid. They will regret it."

"You're... you can't be serious?" the man sputtered, as he gripped his hat and searched for relief elsewhere.

"Send. The. Word," the Champion spelled out.

"Yes... of course... milord," the man remarked. After a quick bow, he spun and ran out of the room.

Just like the rat. They were all cowards. It would remain this way until the end of time.

The Champion nervously tapped the edge of his throne's arm, his gaze glued at the window across the room, through the still-open doors.

A feeling inside of him surged that wanted him to find Shimmer, like a flower that had just bloomed. He wanted her to know of his good will. Of his new title. Of absolutely everything.

He needed her support, to hear her say he was doing the right thing.

"You don't need her, brother," Jewel stated, appearing beside the throne. "I can tell you that everything you just said is great. Fantastic! You don't need the damned elves, dwarves, none of them! They should all perish!" He spat with newfound anger, then calmed himself down. "The mage is nothing. She's a distraction you don't need—"

"I do," the Champion responded, unable to get Shimmer out of his head. Support... assistance... he felt alone without her.

"No... no!" Jewel snapped, and swung his arms up for black particles to erupt outward. "Surely by now, surely after all you've done and seen, you've come to the realization of her uselessness. Of her wasteful existence. She wears armor suitable for a knight. Has never fought. You think she's a great mage. Has never won. You think she's this great embodiment of Good and blah, blah, blah, but she's not!"

"You know of locations," the Champion decided, with anger boiling inside of him. "Where is she? Where can I find her?"

"Nowhere," Jewel remarked, chuckling. "She's absolutely nowhere at all. You won't find her. She won't find you. You two are split apart! She doesn't even want to find you... that's the sad truth you don't seem to get through your thick skull."

"Maybe... maybe she's..."

"She knows you're king! She knows you did something! How could she not know with your name being spread everywhere?"

"Then why hasn't she said anything?" The Champion settled his focus onto Jewel, but couldn't find him. He was out of sight. Feeling alone, the Champion let his gaze linger back ahead with his voice falling. "Why has she not accused me? Called me out? Hmm..."

The Champion had his doubts, regrets, sorrows, but he also had hope. A time would come soon where Shimmer would appear. It may be a week, month, even a year, though he knew it would be much sooner. Action was coming. The world would soon fall into conflict, a struggle to see who would be on top. A true showing of domination.

The true symbol of Good.

The elves and dwarves had succumbed to greed and corruption. They would have to be stopped. The bandits within the kingdom threatened his reign. They would have to be eliminated. Nothing would stand against his name. Nothing would even contest it, silently or not.

The Realm would be the only thing standing at the end of it all. Chaos may consume all, pure calamity. But a victor would always rise in the end. No matter the losses, betrayals, bloodshed—somebody always won. For the sake of Good, the Champion would make sure to secure his triumph. If it came to bloodshed, let it be. If it came to destruction, let it be. He would win under any circumstances forced upon him.

"Milord."

The Champion cast his gaze ahead, seeing the man from earlier.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently. He didn't not like being interrupted. He had a plan and foundation. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing could dare challenge his victory.

"The ruling cabinet has arrived under odd conditions. They are so graced by your presence that they came."

"Let them in," the Champion ordered, flicking his gauntlet for permission, yet the man just stood there.

"Milord... they won't like the news—"

"I will deal with it," the Champion cut him off. He scanned the rather empty room and pictured rows of standing men. All bowing and standing his name. All so ever grateful and loyal for his dedication.

"They will be here shortly, milord," the man said, and left the room in a rush.

Alone once more, like it was meant to be, like his future entailed for him, the Champion set his focus at the tall window beside him. The sun gleamed in all its greatness, yet clouds passed by it for temporary periods of darkness. Nonetheless, it would not stop shining. It would not falter.

Good would always triumph. The Champion would, too.