The figure before Regis slowly took form out of the foggy distance, its silhouette becoming clearer by the moment. Regis's hand remained tightly clutched on the hilt of his great sword, his eyes never once leaving the approaching figure. The air around him still hummed with the faint remnants of his Sovereign's Decree, but his focus was sharp.
The stranger—a man with broad shoulders and tall, though not towering over Regis—wore simple, worn armor. Not the fancy, kingly plate that Regis wore, this was a man who wandered, or a man accustomed to the harsh realities of life in this world. His gait was self-assured, his footsteps steady and purposeful, yet there was no swagger in his step. He had not come to issue challenge, it seemed, yet the mere fact that he stood before him at all piqued Regis's interest.
As the man drew nearer, Regis studied him carefully. He was human, certainly. But there was something strange about him. The aura he gave off was not that of an ordinary man; there was a faint tang of power, the edge of a sword almost invisible in the dark.
The man halted a few steps away from Regis, pulling back his hood. His face was weathered, but not unkind-worn by the years, and possibly, war. He returned Regis's stare with an inscrutable face, neither fearful nor deferential. It was as if he were examining Regis, much like the Supreme Being himself was examining him.
The silence was dense, heavy, and then, with strain, it was shattered. Regis's thoughts raced through possibilities. Was this inhabitant of this realm? A lost traveler in the great expanse of wilderness? Someone sent to try his mettle?
The man spoke first. Low and rich, his voice contained a warning tone.
"Are you. a god?
The question took him by surprise. Regis had dreamed of being a king, a ruler, an emperor—but a god? It was an odd question to be asked. And there was no hesitation in the man's voice, no doubt, just interest.
Regis hesitated before he answered, his own voice level and slow.
Not precisely. But you may call me Regis Vortigern, the Eternal King." He placed subtle stress on his title, with restrained authority, his eyes narrowing a little. He watched as the man's face flickered ever so briefly—a sign of recognition, perhaps, or skepticism.
The man nodded his head slightly, considering Regis's words.
"Vortigern?" He muttered the name to himself, rolling it around as if tasting the sound of it. "I've heard of you. or rather, of the myths surrounding you."
Regis raised an eyebrow, his mind working quickly. Myths? He was certain he had not yet made his mark on this world, so how could there be myths about him?
"Tell me more." Regis's voice remained as commanding as ever, his interest piqued. If this man knew him, then perhaps there might be more to this world than he had initially thought.
The man glanced around, as if cautiously deciding what he was going to say in reply.
There are rumors in the lands. Ancient stories spoken in taverns and marketplaces. Of a god-king, an emperor from a different world, one who governs with an iron fist and warped reality to his whim. They say you came from the stars, that you brought with you the ability to remake kingdoms, and that your fortress floats above the ground, its shadow falling across everything below.
Regis's eyes tightened at the reference to his flying fortress. It was as though the mere vision of his authority already was familiar in this world. He could not permit this to be the case. The Ashen Dominion was to be his kingdom, his empire to forge from the bones of this world, not some far-off legend. His ascension would be absolute.
"And what do these 'whispers' say?" Regis asked, his voice still calm but now with a steelier tone. "Do they speak of friend or enemy?"
The man hesitated before speaking again, his voice softer this time.
"They speak of you in whispers of fear, for the most part. Fear of what you would do if you ever decided to really conquer this land."
Regis took a slow step forward. His presence weighed heavily, but was not a threat. All his movements carried an air of command, as if none in this strange new world had ever sworn allegiance to him. He gripped the sword hilt tightly.
"Fear," Regis whispered once more. "Is that what they say? Fear of a ruler who would bring order to this chaos? Fear of someone who would forge a new future where power is no longer shared?"
The man moved back, but his eyes never left Regis's face. It was clear now that he had no intentions on becoming an enemy—at least not yet. But Regis was not one to take risks himself.
"I do not rule by terror alone," Regis continued, his tone soft but unmistakably resolute. "But I will rule. I will create an empire to match all others. This land will kneel to my will, and I will bring strength and stability where there is none."
The man was silent for a long time, his eyes holding Regis's. Then, nodding slightly, he spoke again.
If that is your desire, then let us talk more, my lord." His voice was submissive now, with the recognition of Regis's ascendancy.
Regis watched him for a moment longer. "You will call me Sovereign." The title was deliberate, as if to affirm the ascendancy of his will. Let no one mistake me for a mere king.
The man's brow furrowed slightly, but he accepted the correction without complaint. "Sovereign, then." He glanced out to where the vast, shattered remnants of old kingdoms sprawled in the shadow of Regis's airborne citadel. "The territories you seek to conquer… they are not so easily won. There are other powers here, forces you will need to contend with, like it or not.".
Regis's gaze followed his, his eyes sweeping the far-off kingdoms. Others? He had sensed no such presence—no tangible force that could match his own.
"Speak more," Regis commanded, his voice now laced with a more biting tone. "What forces do I contend with?"
The man paused once more before answering, as if measuring the seriousness of his words.
There are factions, old and new. Some are bound to the gods of this world, some are ruled by strong guilds, and others are kingdoms of mortals who have their own free will to shape the land." He paused, his voice dropping even lower. "And there is… something else. Something old. Some believe it sleeps, but others… they fear it's waking."
Regis's heart accelerated at the speaking of an ancient presence. There were still so many unknowns to this world, and he had yet to grasp the entirety of its mysteries.
"Then let it stir," Regis said, his voice resolute. "If there is something to fear, then let it come. I will face it as I have faced all—through power, and through my will.".
The man nodded, yet the spark of uncertainty remained in his eyes. He looked as if he was going to say something to her, yet said nothing instead, likely bringing himself to the understanding that Regis was not a monarch to be dismissed so readily. Rather, he bowed his head.
"If you need anything, Sovereign, I will be near. My name is Kaelen. If you desire to know more, find me."
Regis nodded curtly, agreeing to Kaelen's offer, but he knew well that there was a lot more to learn. This world is mine to conquer. And I shall start by shaping it with my own hands.
Kaelen turned and began to walk away, but Regis's eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon, where the outlines of kingdoms stretched far beyond his sight.
The game had just begun.