Rise Of Legends - Rise of the Dark Alin (Part 2)

Rise of Legends™ boasts three completely unique races that you can lead to victory. In this section, we explore the industrious Vinci, the mystic Alin, and the enigmatic Cuotl. Delve into the characters and cultures that populate the world of Rise of Legends and learn about the stories behind the game.

Rise of the Dark Alin (Part 2)

“My King, consider how your father would have proceeded,” said Maruhm, dabbing at his pudgy face with the corner of an ornate sandworm cloth. He was sweating, as usual, though he seemed to be excelling at the task today.

I did not envy him his position, though I was only a heartbeat away from it. As High Mystic in the school of Sand magic, Maruhm was the only man alive who could give me a direct order. Aside from the King himself, that is. The Brat King, as they were calling him, very quietly, in the corridors and alleyways of the city.

Narsadi did not appear to take Maruhm’s suggestion to heart. He sat on his father’s throne—his¬ throne—and glared at his High Mystic of Sand. He did not look like a king. He barely looked like a boy playing at being king. He was a beautiful child, as his mother had once been, but his bearing lacked any hint of his father’s proud demeanor. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his lower lip turned down from his upper. I have seen my share of children pouting, in markets and near the pools of the central plaza. Narsadi’s method was nearly theatrical. If he had not been King of all Alin, it would have been comical.

But the tension in the room was as solid as well-cast glass. What the child was asking for was lunacy, and the High Mystics all knew that to give in to such a request would only set a precedent that could lead the entire kingdom to ruin. Our history had enough examples of mad leaders to be proof of that.

I would like to say that I was relaxed, and unconcerned with the outcome of the debate. But I was not. For the King had asked me, specifically, to retrieve the fallen star.

I had thought, or hoped, that it had been some sort of childish prank. But Narsadi had been completely earnest that night five nights earlier, watching the heat leave the body of his father. The star that fell from the sky had portended his father’s death, he had claimed. He wished to have it retrieved, and brought to the city for the day of his ascension ceremony. A ceremony which, by custom, was to occur under the first full moon after the old King’s death. On the day of that council meeting, only seven nights remained before the full moon.

“I have no need to consider the judgment of a dead man,” Narsadi observed. “My father is no longer king, and I am. Mekarrah will do as I bid him. He will retrieve the fallen star for me, and he will do this by the day of my ascension ceremony.”

Maruhm began to protest again, and Iziik, of the school of Fire, looked to add her opinion as well. Narsadi silenced them both with a raised hand.

“This council is ended,” he proclaimed, making his voice artificially deep. The effect was preposterous, but I was not about to lead the room in laughter. Narsadi rose from his throne. The three High Mystics did the same. I, being a mere Mystic, had been standing already. I allowed the three High Mystics to leave, and turned to follow them out. Of the three, only Jiehl, of the school of Glass, had remained silent. He was a dullard, but perhaps more politically astute than the others.

“Mekarrah,” called the Brat King. “You will stay.”

I stopped, and turned, and bowed. The High Mystics left the room, and Narsadi and myself remained. It occurred to me that this child was capable of destroying everything his father had built, and that I, in turn, was capable of preventing it. His bodyguards would have provided no match for me, even without the element of surprise. The thought left nearly as quickly as it had emerged. Narsadi was my King.