One by one, people filled into the room. Some came in right after those before them, while others had long, awkward periods in between their arrivals. pBut in the end, they all entered inside with the doors shutting behind them. The main similarity among them was the tacky and rich clothing they wore, though they seemed to form small groups or isolate themselves completely. Like a band of children.

"Where are the tables?" one of the men demanded, impatiently pacing around. "You can't possibly expect us to be standing like this for hours!"

"Silence, Grivdon," another man remarked, his burly mustache hiding an obvious frown. With that, the two fell into an arguing bout. Of course, that two became many in a matter of seconds. Pointless bickering. All in the presence of their king?

"You are graced by my presence," the Champion interrupted them all, waving his gauntlet away dismissively. His words stopped the arguing, but stares and glares were still thrown. "What matters are to be discussed today?"

"Well, milord," a woman spoke up. "As a collaborative decision, we've decided to—"

"It wasn't collaborative!" Grivdon snapped in bitter frustration, thrusting a finger at the woman. "I took no part in this! He has no right to know these matters. It should be up to us completely—"

"The ruling cabinet is a temporary body to maintain order," the woman interrupted, her voice clear and bold. "But we are below the King, therefore we must listen to Him with our gracious support."

Praise followed, as did disapproval. The room seemed to be split at its very core, a thin line being drawn between the two opposing factions. Humans never strayed away from conflict. Useless as it may be, it would always be rooted in their hearts.

"Speak without permission and you will be thrown out in an instant," the Champion ordered. When the arguing didn't stop, he pounded his gauntlet furiously against his throne's arm. Rippling silence engulfed the room. Satisfied, he sat back in a looser state, but still remained tense and in command. Once a commander, always a commander. 

"Now, there is a list of priorities I wish to go through," he continued, and boredly tapped the arm beside him. He truthfully didn't care much, but he had to do it anyway. "Firstly, the situation with the bandits. Is the Crimson Order still in power or is it some other group I have not heard of?"

"Permission?" Grivdon requested, and was granted moments later by a quick nod. He inhaled a sigh of relief, as if he were suffocating before. "This group is said to have taken the name of the Void's Wrath," he chuckled, clearly amused at the name, "something that is incredibly stupid and—"

"I did not ask for comments and opinions," the Champion interjected, then clasped his gauntlets together. He set his gaze upon the woman who hesitantly met it. "How far have they gotten? How large is their army and support? If we engage openly, will it really result in war?"

"It is limited what we know about them, but it is safe..." The woman tugged her collar with pursed lips. "To say that war is inevitable upon engagement."

"Not inevitable, drama queen," the man with the burly mustache remarked. "It'll be a risk, that's all. We can strike them down there and then. One push and they're finished!"

"Drama queen? I'll—"

"Permission is required," the Champion declared, weary of foolish company. It only made him more and more desiring for Shimmer to be at his side. Something he wished not to think of, though the flower inside of him continued to bloom and grow. It did want him to see her—he did. Like a void needing to be fulfilled.

"Sorry, milord, but I am not a drama queen—"

"Irrelevant insults should have no place in this room," the Champion grumbled, then fanned his view from left to right at the people before him. They were still staring daggers at each other. "Nor should they be taken. You know your true self and name. There is no reason to embrace such nonsense and act defensively upon it."

"Yes, milord," the woman agreed doubtfully, shooting one last fierce gaze at the mustached man who huffed in response.

"Inform me of my army and its capability of defeating this threat," the Champion requested.

"Unmotivated. Uncaring. It'd take a holy miracle for them to answer your order," a new voice declared, belonging to an older man with more gray in his attire than anybody else. "To serve you will be a hopeless mission. To serve me, however, won't be so difficult—"

"You can't hope to even get a small sliver of power!" Grivdon exclaimed, furiously wagging his finger at the man who didn't even look at him. "You power-thirsty serpent! There is no room for your manipulation and lies—"

"Mobilize them by tomorrow," the Champion commanded, as he watched his gauntlet weave through the air, like a feather in the roaring wind. "If not, you are useless. Take this one chance as a generous gift. Ruin it and you disrespect my name and title right in front of me." He set his focus on the older man who kept his chin high and eyes shut. "Those that dare spit on my helmet will be met with death."

"I won't take it carelessly nor without respect, milord," the man promised, with a curt bow.

"Good, I expect for this group—"

The Champion fell into silence, knowing all eyes were on him. He cast his gaze aside, where the door to the portal was, where he killed Jarunx. The Void's Wrath... it spoke of the void. He had seen a whole room of those supporting the dreadful entity. Practically worshiping it. The assassin that almost killed Shimmer, the one he saw die right before his eyes, Narx, and the rest. They were this very group. He had to put an end to them.

"I've heard you defy our neighboring allies' will?" a voice demanded. The Champion's gaze snapped to his challenger, seeing a bald, chubby man. It was an average description of a noble. Quite close to one, really, if not exact.

"I am simply not going to cower before my enemies without a fight," the Champion replied. The chubby man only stepped forward furiously.

"You're going to break those sacred bonds at such a time like this?" The man shook his head, which seemed to gleam in the light. "We will be trampled. Obliterated within moments! We need to give in to their demands and ensure peace between us. Otherwise, we are doomed."

"Out of my room," the Champion ordered, staring down the man.

"You can't shut out the voice of reasoning—"

"Guards!"

The pair of soldiers from outside the room hustled inside. They waited for orders until the Champion thrust his finger accusingly at the man. Moments later, they dragged him out while he spat curses and nonsense.

"War is coming," the Champion declared, his gaze sweeping those before him. "To achieve triumph, the domestic problem must be taken care of." He nodded his head at the older man who would be crucial to the plan. "To achieve unity, it must be silent. If news of this spreads, war will take place before the real one even begins."

"The public will know certainly, milord..."

The Champion held up his finger for the woman to purse her lips. He was already irritated by everything else that had unraveled in the last hour or so.

"Perform your duties and this will not fail," he promised, with a nod to himself. "Now go. You are dismissed. Attend to business as you would before. Just keep it silent."

"Milord," a scattered response came that had reluctant ones in slow pursuit. They all left, the last being Grivdon and the mustached man who stared at each other until departing at different times. And with that, the room was cleared. Not a sound of back and forth arguing, nervous or furious shuffling, was made. Eyes were not staring daggers into the hearts of pathetic cowards. 

It was just isolation.

Wearily, the Champion rested his helmet against his raised fist, his other gauntlet tapping the smooth arm beside him. Grave boredom settled in as his gaze remained transfixed on the door. Soon enough, like he had expected it, a figure walked in. Newfound sunlight bathed the sides of his vision, with him slowly sitting up straight. A batch of emotions exploded within, unable to be understood or grasped. He just knew they were there.

Clad in her gleaming armor, Shimmer strode forth. Out of nowhere, it seemed, but it was for a reason. She would be by his side. She would tell him what was right and wrong. She would push out Jewel from his mind and all other terrors. In the end, it would be him in full control. There would be no more influences or inner demons assaulting him day and night. With her, he would be free.

The Champion wondrously stared at the oncoming Shimmer, who had her visor set on him. He could already picture a warm smile, happy eyes that sparkled like the stars themselves. Gauntlets that would clasp his own for assurance beyond what any other soul could achieve. He would feel relief. Happiness. Thrill. He would be safe—

"Dreams, fantasies, bah," Jewel remarked, as the sunlight disappeared to leave behind the room in a gloomy state. The Champion watched as Shimmer disintegrate into nothing. She just stood there and vanished, almost as if she was about to turn away from him. Without a word... without a final goodbye...

"She's not here!" Jewel snapped, which pulled the Champion out of his remorseful trance. He pulled his shaky left gauntlet up to his gaze, seeing the doubt and insecurities inside; however, his right remained still and calm.

"What... what if she doesn't come?" he whispered, and as if his left gauntlet heard the words, it lowered to his side in defeat. A void he had once thought was gone had returned. Empty without purpose, he sat there on his cold, desolate throne, doomed to be alone. Doomed to be controlled and a mere puppet.

"There is no reason to think of such setbacks," Jewel assured, leaning against the throne's front where the Champion's limp legs dangled. "Let her go. Forget about everything correlating or even close to a thought about her. She'll do nothing but hold you back. Make you fail. Pile mistakes one after another—you'll be destined for turmoil and death."

"She... didn't die... in the room, did she?" the Champion whispered, as he remembered the scene he was forced to watch helplessly. He wouldn't able to come back from such a failure.

"Maybe it would be best if I leave you in the dark for that one," Jewel responded, with an amused chuckle.

The Champion slowly tilted his head to his left. Jewel had already disappeared. With a heavy heart, he looked ahead. The day was ending. Night would soon approach and dominate all. He had never felt more alone than this very night, where all he could do was stare ahead at the doors and wish for an entrance. For Shimmer to come.

For him to apologize to her, but it was a distant dream. That's all it was. She wouldn't come. She wouldn't take his apology. She wouldn't stick by his side after all he did.

But he could still hope such a time would come in which all his woes would become bouts of joy.