The Kingdom of Eistoriel. A nation that flourished in great wealth, joy, and peace—Inhabited by citizens who boasted of their origin and the history of their home nation. And how could they not? Eistoriel was a kingdom unlike any kind, and this was so thanks to several spectacular reasons, but the first was its landscapes. One of which was its Central City, Lorshdel.
Erected around a grand mountain that rose more than four thousand meters into the sky with no other tall peaks to compete, its snow-crowned peak towered above the clouds, visible from days away; an awe-inspiring sight to say the least.
Yet, even more impressive than that, a castle sat upon the mountain's peak, like a golden crown. For most times the castle was obscured by the clouds, but often even the clouds gave way to allow the world gaze upon its majesty.
This rather exotic setting, identified as 'Lorshdel', ended up being Eistoriel's emblem— the image of a golden mountain with a crown seated upon it. This represented the location of the royal powerhouse… the KING.
The regions surrounding the "Mountain of Eistoriel," as it was called, proved to be lush, such that farming was but a pleasure, and the profits of it were enough to leave its citizens satisfied. This was, amid the many magical wonders that were dug up from underneath those lands.
It was no longer a secret that Eistoriel's central city sat on a treasure chest of nigh-eternal natural resources, all soaked in the energy that permeated the world… Mana.
Thanks to this truth, Eistoriel reigned in terms of trade, and its worth as a nation exceeded any in the world at this time.
The average lifestyle of an Eistorian was consistent with the rumors spread abroad the continents, and this was true for all regions belonging to that great Kingdom. It was even said that there were no homeless Eistorians!
Of course, this was only a belief, but it seemed rather plausible. There was no nation with such splendor as Eistoriel. None at all. A kingdom that was proven to be singlehandedly richer than half of the nations on the continent? A kingdom that once bought all nineteen mountains within its neighboring kingdoms just because it could? The average Eistorian was considered an elite; their nation was paradise!
Still, this unprecedented level of wealth led to the only blemish on Eistoriel's divine image — Frequent strife.
Across each generation, one kingdom or the other took its chances at conquering this behemoth of a nation, but none had succeeded. This was a constant pattern throughout Eistoriel's millennia-long reign.
There had been too many battles; conflict sparked by nations simply blinded by greed, such that they dared to attack it… unprovoked.
Fortunately, even in this case, Eistoriel had always enjoyed the upper hand, and it was only possible thanks to a certain class of Eistorians—The Knights.
They were the Order tasked with ensuring that peace and safety reigned in all fifty-four provinces under Eistoriel. There were seven classes of knights, but the discussions of most, if not all, were about the top-three ranks.
The Silver Commanders, the Golden Generals, and the Warlords.
The Silver Commanders were the weakest of the three, with the Warlords standing at the peak of military height, with monstrous might to back it up.
Still, it was said that one Silver Commander was enough to obliterate a battalion of five hundred soldiers! In short, Eistoriel's opponents were often no match for its military might.
Nevertheless, there was one who many believed stood above even these three in terms of strength. Unfortunately, this personality was also Eistoriel's biggest shame, due to how inactive they supposedly were.
The Eistorians despised this person despite their title, and it was even the norm for the people to curse them.
Far more respect was given to Iron Captains than this person… a rank directly below even Silver Commanders.
This person was none other than: THE KING OF EISTORIEL.
A surprising detail it was, but a popular one nonetheless. The disdain the Eistorians had concerning their King was such that it had spread across the world!
"The useless one," they scoffed, "the meaningless king," they often cursed, "the royal waste…" they spat.
Many such titles were bestowed upon their King. These demeaning titles originated from the mouths of Eistorians themselves, but there was one that stood above the rest in popularity.
"THE LAZY KING"
The king of Eistoriel lived within the castle atop the mountain. His identity was unknown to the masses, so much so that the people did not know who the current king was, nor who the past one had been. All that the Eistorians knew was that a King's abode was atop that lofty peak.
They had never seen his face nor heard his voice; his royal decrees were always conveyed through either the Golden Generals or, on rare occasions, the Warlords. But apart from these, the people had no interaction with their King, hence the unhinged title-bearing. Some even hoped their sheer disrespect would vex him enough that he revealed himself. But it had never worked.
Moreover, there were even rumors that Eistoriel had no King, or that he was sickly and old, or on his deathbed. But none of those rumors accounted for why even the parents and grandparents of Eistoriel's current generation had also never seen their King. They, too, had lived and died with rumors of his existence.
The position of King was the most mysterious subject in Eistoriel, especially since, unlike every other nation, there was no royal family, only the supposed king and his warlords. How the election of king even happened was another issue, if there was even an election. Unfortunately, the warlords never gave clear answers, leaving the people in obscurity.
Amid the many rumors, theories, and opinions, those who really believed there was a living King on the throne concluded that he was simply too lazy to involve himself in his people's welfare. Moreover, many, if not all, the people attributed Eistoriel's exploits to the hard work of the ever-present "Order of Knights."
Nevertheless, it didn't matter what the Eistorians or the rest of the world believed. Within that castle sat a King whose very presence was the main reason his nation prospered so much.
The Warlords and Generals were the only ones privileged to ever lay eyes on him—the former doing so more often than the latter. Yet, what they beheld had been sufficient to convince them into loyalty. There was such a thing as immeasurable might. And it appeared that this King possessed it.
The mystery behind the King's presence was only such because there had never been a big-enough threat to force his move, and whether his people knew it or not, he actually frequently interacted with them, but never publicly.
However, all these were about the change. And proof that Eistoriel was nearing an important point in its destiny was the gathering that occurred in the castle.
The top three knights had been summoned up to the castle for a crucial gathering, one that had never been recorded to occur in the nation's history!
The arrival of over eight-hundred Silver Commanders had been such a majestic sight that those who had missed it cursed the day they were born.
The next day, the Golden Generals arrived in their splendor. The aura that unfolded from that group had been enough to envelop the entirety of Lorshdel despite its size.
Despite their abilities to take flight, both the Silver and Golden knights had marched up the mountain. It was a scene that showed their utmost reverence for the King who sat on the throne. A level of honor that greatly confused the people, and frankly, appeared unnecessary.
What was happening, you might ask? But the average Eistorian knew what it was. That generation was facing its own share after all. This event was none other than;
War.
It had been over half a century since any event of such significance had occurred, but nothing in the past could remotely be compared to what was about to happen.
Even children were not ignorant to the state of affairs surrounding their nation, and it didn't take an intelligent mind to understand that for the first time in its history, Eistoriel stood at the brink of ruin.