"Do you think only the House of the King's Landing Lion has shed its last drop of blood for this land?"
"Go and look at the Grand Duchy of Nyx!"
"Go and see the Kingdom of Lovanian!"
"Look around you! Look at the whole of Middle-earth! Those noble houses that left no heirs... where are they now?" Rynar's rapid-fire questions left the young man in front of him utterly speechless.
"If you still consider yourself a noble of Zaltarion's bloodline, then you should lead the people behind you back to your homeland! Not leave them to continue wandering, struggling to survive day by day!" Rynar's voice rang out loud and clear.
"You…" The young man was at a loss for words, the mere mention of 'Zaltarion' weighing upon him like a mountain, suffocating him.
"Think carefully about it yourself… If you do not recognize this kingdom, then as King of Zaltarion, I will strip you of your citizenship! And if after that, you choose to fight… then so be it! I will await your answer!"
Rynar cast one last glance at the forces below the city walls before turning away. Among the crowd, a few towering knights mounted on warhorses stood out—a striking contrast to the ragged refugees.
"Who would have thought that even as the House of King's Landing is nearly wiped out, they can still afford to maintain a small company of knights?" Rynar sighed.
"It's not surprising. Even after the fall of the Grand Duchy of Nyx, I still managed to keep a few dozen Knights of the Crossed Purple Jasmine," Nyx shot Rynar a glance and sighed.
"A Grand Duke, no matter how fallen, will always have loyal retainers and subjects.
Even without formal training grounds, with a large enough population, there will always be a few who rise above the rest."
"The King's Landing Knights are indeed impressive. Their martial traditions are quite something!" Omsk did not hold back his praise.
"Indeed! The King's Landing Knights are strong!" Caslow added.
"But, Your Highness, if you intend to use these knights to restore the former glory of the King's Landing Knight Order… that's nearly impossible," Dylan suddenly interjected, having quickly grasped Rynar's intentions.
"What?" Rynar was taken aback. "So you're saying the King's Landing Knight Order is truly extinct?"
"It's expected. They no longer have their high-tier martial heritage… What remains of their mid-tier and low-tier skills might be useful, but it's far from enough to rebuild the legendary King's Landing Lion Knights," Omsk added solemnly.
Rynar looked at them, dumbfounded.
"Put it this way: their current combat skills have been passed down orally by old knights. Most of their inherited artifacts are likely lost.
Moreover, certain secret techniques can only be taught by high-tier knights, and I do not sense the presence of any knight above the fourth tier among them…" Omsk delivered the harsh truth with brutal honesty.
"Ouch…" Rynar clutched his chest as if in pain. What a waste!
The King's Landing Knight Order was only a step below the Royal Knights, and when he had last checked their price in the system marketplace… a single King's Landing Knight cost 10,000 wealth points! Daylight robbery!
"Your Highness, accept reality. Having them at all is already a blessing," Dylan remarked with a casual shrug.
Rynar stared at Dylan's calm, unfazed expression, and his heart ached even more.
"You humans and your overly complicated games…" Vanervi, the elf, was utterly confused by all the talk of knight orders.
As an elf, he had little knowledge of human knighthood or the history of Zaltarion. In fact, he had rarely interacted with humans at all.
"Your Highness, they're here." A sentry suddenly reported, breaking the tension.
...
"Have you made up your mind?" Rynar stood calmly, gazing at the young man standing just outside the city walls.
"Do you truly have the means to accept us…? We have been wandering for too long. We do not wish to keep drifting anymore! I would rather see the honor of King's Landing fall than let these people who follow me continue to suffer. I do not want to live each day hiding from orcs and monsters, nor do I want to scavenge for every meal," the young man said, his voice heavy with emotion.
"How many people are with you?" Rynar asked after a moment of silence.
"More than 6,000… many of our elders perished along the journey," the young man recalled sorrowfully.
"Times may be tight, but we have enough resources to last until the autumn harvest… There's still time. We can plant some beans," Rynar pondered for a moment before replying.
"You may join us, but you must abide by the kingdom's laws. If you are willing, then enter!"
Rynar signaled towards the city gates, where a narrow opening was left just wide enough for one person to pass through at a time.
Beyond the gates, the Royal Guard stood in tight formation, their shields forming an unbreakable wall.
"We wish to return to the kingdom, but we want the rights of proper citizens!" the young man hesitated, trying to secure the best possible future for his people.
"Of course. In Zaltarion, all are equal! Our souls are noble and free! I swear upon the Dragon God as King!" Rynar declared with unwavering determination.
"Good! I will organize our people immediately! I hope you can prepare food for the elderly and children," the young man said anxiously, glancing up at Rynar.
"That won't be a problem." Looking at the skeletal refugees, Rynar felt his nose sting with emotion.
...
"That's it?" Vanervi was stunned. Two seemingly hostile factions, ready for battle, had suddenly put down their arms and come together with just a few words. It left the elf utterly amazed.
"Because they, too, are Zaltarion's children. Just as the dwarves revere Durin and the elves honor the Lady of the Stars, the name 'Zaltarion' is a spiritual anchor for its people," Dylan mused, standing atop the city wall, watching the orderly procession entering the city.
"That was terrifying just now! I nearly died of fright!" Nyx stamped his foot, clutching his elven dragon tightly.
...
"Welcome! Lions of King's Landing! I am pleased that you made the right choice. You have not shamed your crest," Rynar greeted them at the gate, flanked by Caslow and Omsk.
"It was not my choice," the young man countered, meeting Rynar's gaze defiantly. "It is because I do not wish for the people our ancestors protected with their lives to lose hope.
And besides, I want to see for myself—what is it about this kingdom that was worth my ancestors sacrificing our house for?"
"Because… they once came! They fought for this land, sang for this land, protected this land… and in the end, sacrificed for this land!" Rynar met his gaze, speaking each word with conviction.
"It is good to see the crest of King's Landing once more. I hope that one day, you too will raise the banner of the Lion Duke, as your ancestors once did! Lost glory must be reclaimed by our own hands! This is not just my kingdom—it belongs to all the people of Zaltarion!"
Rynar turned, pointing at the red-and-gold dragon banner fluttering in the wind.
"I will! I will carve out the land for my people with my sword! The Lion… has never fallen! King's Landing… has never vanished!"
The young man lowered his head for a moment before raising it again, his eyes shining with the fierce determination of a lion.
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