Rose Country, Rose City.
Gavin Ward stood upon the ancient city wall, his tall frame encased in polished plate armor, the steel glinting faintly under the pale light of dusk. His gaze swept across the horizon where, like a dark tide, the endless enemy camps of the Nord Kingdom sprawled across the hills. The air carried the acrid tang of campfire smoke and distant clamor. Around him stood his personal guard — knights clad in full-coverage armor, their visors down, their postures tense.
"Your Majesty," one knight began, his voice low and heavy with worry. "The situation grows more desperate by the hour. The Kiswell Kingdom — our long-time ally — has committed their forces against the orc invasion. We… will have no reinforcements."
The knight's face bore deep lines of fatigue and dread. He expected Gavin Ward's shoulders to slump, his composure to break, perhaps to see the timid, uncertain king he had always known crumble at last.
But to his astonishment, Gavin's expression remained calm, his eyes fixed on the 50,000-strong Nord army that filled the plains like a living sea. There was no hint of despair, no frantic pacing, no trembling in his hands.
The knight blinked in confusion. This was not the Gavin Ward he had served before. The Gavin Ward he knew would already be sending frantic messengers, begging every neighboring kingdom for aid. Yet here he sat, as steady as if he had expected this moment all along.
The truth, unknown to all but Gavin himself, was simple: the man inside Gavin Ward's body was no longer the same. The shell of the king remained, but his soul was entirely new — an outsider from another world, who had awoken to find himself inhabiting the crown.
When Gavin first realized his situation, he had been stunned, then exhilarated. To be reborn into a world of knights, kingdoms, and vast continents — and not just anywhere, but as a king — it was an honor beyond anything he could have imagined.
---
The Roriland Continent was immense, divided among countless realms. Rose Country, Gavin's kingdom, was small by comparison. It possessed only one major city of 100,000 people, a scattering of a dozen towns, and several hundred villages. The total population hovered near half a million.
Yet even in such a modest realm, a crown was still a crown. Unfortunately, Gavin had inherited more than just a throne — he had inherited a disaster.
The Kingdom of Rose was on the brink of annihilation.
Over the past months, the Nord Kingdom's armies had swept through the countryside like wildfire. More than a dozen towns had fallen, their banners replaced by Nord colors. Only Rose City remained, the capital and final bastion, and even now it was encircled.
The defenders had fought bravely, repelling assault after assault, but every man knew the truth: fifty thousand Nord troops against the last thousand soldiers of Rose could end only one way. The defenders numbered a mere 150 knights and just over a thousand common soldiers. Losses had been devastating.
And it was in this grim hour that Gavin had arrived in this body.
---
"Your Majesty, Rose City cannot be held much longer. I beg you — surrender. For the people, for yourself," the knight urged.
He spoke bitter truth. In this age, knights were the pinnacle of battlefield power. A single knight could carve through a hundred common soldiers. The Nord army had more than a thousand knights. Rose had barely over a hundred left.
The disparity was hopeless.
---
But Gavin Ward was no longer the man they thought him to be. His new soul burned with iron resolve.
"The enemy stands at our gates, and you dare to spread fear among our ranks?" Gavin's voice cracked like a whip, his eyes narrowing with cold steel. "Such talk is poison."
The knight froze as a chill ran down his spine under the king's gaze. This was not the hesitant monarch of old — this was a man who could command death.
"Seize him," Gavin ordered. "Take him to the guillotine. Let this be a warning — any who spread despair will share his fate."
Two armored knights stepped forward, grasped the man by his arms, and dragged him away. The remaining guards stared in shock. They had served Gavin for years, yet this was the first time they had seen such unflinching authority in his eyes. It was as though the king's very soul had sharpened overnight into a weapon.
And in that fear, they also found… hope. Perhaps, they thought, this was the kind of king who could lead them out of certain doom.
---
A knight stepped forward hesitantly. "Your Majesty, King Nord has sent another envoy."
Gavin's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I already know his words."
Before the knight could respond, a voice bellowed from beyond the walls:
"King Gavin Ward III! Your cause is lost. Surrender now, not only for yourself, but for the 100,000 souls within your city!"
Gavin rose slowly from the stone bench where he had been seated, his armor clinking softly. His gaze swept over the assembled knights.
"Tell me," he asked, voice low but carrying, "do you wish to surrender?"
For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy. Then one knight stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and said firmly: "Your Majesty, we will defend you to the death. We regret nothing."
Another followed: "We are knights of Rose! We shall protect you unto our last breath!"
Soon, over a hundred knights knelt as one, their right fists striking their breastplates in a thunderous vow. "Nine deaths without regret!" they roared. Even the youngest among them, barely nineteen, stood firm, though their hands trembled. Gavin's newfound presence had ignited something fierce within them.
And Gavin, in turn, believed in them — and in himself.
---
Outside the walls, in the Nord command tent, King Laage IV watched the city and smirked. "So, they choose to resist. Very well. Give the order — prepare to attack. When the city falls, the sword will not be sheathed for three days."
The meaning was clear: the city would be put to the sword.
---
Back atop the battlements, a woman in golden-lion-patterned armor approached Gavin. Her hair caught the sunlight, her posture exuding confidence. She was Ruthia, a great knight of renowned skill.
"Your Majesty," she said, her tone cool, "with my title and the protection of my liege, the Duke of the Golden Lion, the Nord dogs would not dare touch me. I can lead a breakout and ensure your escape."
Her eyes flicked to the sprawling enemy camps beyond the walls. She clearly doubted the city could be saved.
Gavin's smile was slow, dangerous. "Do not think I am blind to the Duke's schemes, Ruthia."
The knights nearby stiffened at the tension between them.
---
Above them all, the banners of Rose snapped in the wind, crimson against the gray sky. Below, the Nord army's war drums began to thunder in steady, ominous rhythm. The air itself seemed to tighten, as though the city was holding its breath.
The siege had entered its final act.
The beginning of the end had arrived — or perhaps, for Gavin Ward, the beginning of something far greater.
---