Inside a grand hall, seven kings and queens convened around a formidable table, their gazes locked in tense anticipation. The air crackled with a palpable energy, a mix of urgency and skepticism.
"So, Arthur, if I understand correctly, an army of undead is marching towards your continent with the intent to annihilate it, isn't that right?" One of the kings rose from his seat, a mocking smile etched on his face. King Alfred, known for his sharp wit and cunning, relished the opportunity to provoke.
"King Alfred, I hold you in high regard, but I've already stated this multiple times in the past two hours... I don't have the fucking time to repeat myself, again and again." A man, around 58 years old, with vibrant green hair and piercing green eyes, spoke with a touch of weariness in his voice. He was none other than King Arthur, the resolute ruler of the continent that Anon called home.
"Arthur, do not show such attitude towards me. It is you who seeks assistance, not I," Alfred retorted, his face now contorted with anger.
"You're right; I should not speak to you in such a manner..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he rose slowly from his seat. He knew that diplomacy was crucial at this moment, but his patience had worn thin.
"Yes, that's the tone befitting a king who seeks aid and-"
"You foolish imbecile! If I do not act swiftly, my people will perish within the next 17 hours. Do you think I care about the way I speak to you?" Arthur shouted, his eyes fixated on all the kings and queens gathered around the table. His voice reverberated through the hall, commanding attention.
His words hung in the air, and a solemn silence fell upon the assembly. The weight of the impending disaster settled on their shoulders, eclipsing any personal disagreements.
"Today, I find myself questioning why I am even present in this assembly. I was meant to meet the heads of the seven royal families. I shall take my leave now, but before I go, I have one final thing to say to all of you." Arthur paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room.
"If we fail to defend our continent, not only will the undead march upon your lands next, but they will also gain strength in numbers, for they possess the ability to transform humans into their kind with a mere bite." Arthur's voice carried an unwavering resolve as he turned to depart the hall, his steps echoing with purpose.
"Wait, Sir Arthur," a lady rose from her seat, her commanding presence halting Arthur in his tracks. Queen Derein, known for her unwavering determination and strategic acumen, stepped forward.
She appeared to be around 26 years old, tall and self-assured, draped in the royal robes of a queen, with a leering cane in her hand. Her eyes radiated determination and loyalty to her kingdom.
"Yes, Queen Derein?" Arthur pivoted, his attention now focused on her.
"We shall dispatch our entire forces to aid your frontlines, reserving only a basic defense for our own protection against any possible ambush," Derein announced, her voice steady and resolute.
"I shall remember this act of solidarity, Queen Derein," Arthur responded, acknowledging her support with a respectful nod.
"This is not merely a gesture of goodwill; it is a matter of security. I am determined to safeguard my continent and ensure the future of this kingdom. Those who endorse my decision, raise your hands," Derein declared, extending her hand in demonstration.
As she raised her hand, another gentleman followed suit. He possessed jet-black hair, black eyes, and a prominent scar that concealed his left eye. Two additional kings and queens joined in solidarity, while two remained silent, including Alfred.
"We shall commence our march as soon as we return. I have already instructed my knight captains to assemble the finest soldiers at our disposal. Let us convene on the frontlines before dusk falls," Derein proclaimed, her voice carrying an air of confidence and determination.
"But Queen Derein, there is no sun visible today. Heavy rain has enveloped the land since yesterday. How will we discern the location of the sun?" one of the kings inquired, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Prepare your soldiers. The sun will reveal itself once it descends," Derein responded confidently, her gaze unwavering.
"That's preposterous! How can the sun appear amidst such dense clouds?" Alfred interjected, skepticism lacing his voice.
"Indeed, the sun may never shine for someone like you again." Derein mocked Alfred.
"In three hours, I shall reveal the sun's location, albeit briefly. I implore all of you to observe it carefully and calculate the estimated time of its descent beyond the horizon. That shall be our appointed meeting hour," Derein explained, her words delivered with an unyielding determination that left no room for doubt.
"I acknowledge Queen Derein's decision and shall now depart to prepare my army for the impending march. Until later, everyone," the scarred-faced king declared, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve.
"Likewise, I shall take my leave to rally my soldiers."
"Well, it seems I require some time to make the necessary preparations."
The remaining supportive kings swiftly assented to Derein's decision and left to ready their armies for the impending battle. The urgency in the air intensified, a collective determination driving each ruler to act swiftly.
"Well, it appears you have garnered ample support. I shall take my leave as well, hmm...?" Alfred stood up from his chair, a mixture of frustration and reluctance evident on his face.
"Rest assured, Alfred, I will not forget this. I vow to repay you tenfold," Arthur stated resolutely, his eyes locked with Alfred's.
"Heh, first survive, then we can entertain such talk. Meh-Meh-Meh... a mere wordsmith." Alfred sneered, his retort steeped in skepticism and mockery, before turning and leaving the room.
Now, only two men remained within the hall: Arthur and an elderly gentleman in his nineties. The atmosphere grew solemn, the weight of their decisions and the impending battle palpable.
His silver beard shimmering, and his robe reminiscent of a samurai, complete with a regal cape, the old man exuded an aura of wisdom and experience. Sir Grad, the revered elder, known for his strategic brilliance and unyielding loyalty, stood silently.
"Sir Grad, may I ascertain whether you stand with me or not? For if you choose not to speak, I shall assume you have no intention of lending your aid," Arthur inquired, seeking clarification.
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