Valandor straightened, his long, silver hair swaying gently in the wind as he extended his hand toward Crimson Aegis.
"Welcome back, my lord," Valandor said, his deep, melodic voice carrying a hint of reverence. "It is an honor to stand in the presence of one of the founders once more."
Crimson Aegis felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight of the young elf. His sharp, angular features and confident posture reminded him of another—a fierce, battle-hardened warrior who had once stood beside him through countless campaigns.
As they began to walk along the high stone wall, the shouts of the crowd below echoing like a distant storm, Valandor cast a curious glance at the armored warrior beside him.
"My lord," he began, choosing his words carefully, "if I may ask... where have you and the other founders been all these years? My father, one of the nation's generals and a respected warrior, vanished around the same time as you. I had always hoped that he would return alongside you."
Crimson Aegis paused, his armored boots clinking against the ancient stones as he processed the question. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of memory that felt both recent and distant.
"Your father," he muttered, the name slipping from his lips like a whisper, "he was one of us, a player."
Valandor tilted his head slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing in mild confusion.
"Yes, I have heard this term many times in the ancient records," Valandor replied, his voice cautious, "but I do not fully grasp its meaning. My father spoke of battles against impossible odds, of feats that defy reason, but never once explained what it truly meant to be a 'player.' It seems to be a title of great importance, yet no one today fully understands it."
Crimson Aegis felt a chill run down his spine. The realization struck him like a hammer to the chest. Fifty years had passed—not just in the game, but in this world as well. The language, the culture, and even the very foundation of what it meant to be a player had faded into the mists of history.
Before he could answer, Valandor gestured towards the massive crowd gathered outside the city gates, their frantic shouts echoing through the air.
"And these strangers," Valandor continued, his brow furrowing in concern, "they keep shouting for something called a 'game master.' Many of my soldiers have reported hearing this term, but none of us understand its meaning. Who are these people, and what do they seek?"
Crimson Aegis tightened his grip on the hilt of his massive sword, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the chaotic scene below.
"They are like me," he replied, his voice growing colder, more resolute. "They are players—warriors from another world, cast into this one by forces beyond their understanding."
Valandor's eyes widened slightly, the weight of Crimson Aegis's words settling heavily upon him.
"Another world...?" he whispered, his mind racing to comprehend the impossible. "Then... what does this mean for our nation, for my people?"
Crimson Aegis turned to the elf, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind like the banner of an ancient, forgotten kingdom.
"It means," he said, his voice sharp and commanding, "that our world is about to change once again."
Valandor's face twisted in confusion, his sharp elven features betraying his uncertainty. He glanced at the sea of people beyond the walls, their shouts and frantic calls echoing against the stone.
Crimson Aegis, sensing the need for swift action, placed a firm, gauntleted hand on Valandor's shoulder, the weight of his armor clinking softly.
"Listen carefully, Valandor," Crimson Aegis said, his voice steady and commanding. "The crowd outside the gates is filled with players like me—adventurers who vanished fifty years ago. But not all of them are allies. Among them are members of the Heartless Guild, my comrades, the founders of this nation. We must prioritize their safety and entry into the city."
Valandor's eyes narrowed, the confusion still evident, but a flicker of understanding sparked within them.
"How will we identify them, my lord?" he asked, his tone tinged with urgency.
Crimson Aegis tightened his grip on his sword hilt, his gaze never leaving the restless crowd below.
"Look for those wearing our insignia," he instructed, his voice echoing against the ancient stones of the wall. "A crimson heart with a cross—either on their cloaks, armor, or banners. Many of them also carry rings bearing this same insignia. Prioritize their entry into the city. These are our brothers and sisters, the true Heartless, and they must be gathered quickly."
Valandor straightened, his silver hair catching the sunlight, a newfound determination hardening his features.
"Understood, my lord," he replied with a respectful nod. "I will see to it personally."
Without another word, Valandor turned on his heel, his long strides carrying him swiftly down the wall's stone steps as he began barking orders to the guards below. The clamor of steel and hurried footsteps soon filled the air as the soldiers moved to carry out Crimson Aegis's command.
Crimson Aegis watched him go, a silent gratitude flickering in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the sprawling sea of adventurers.
"It begins," he murmured to himself, his hand clenching into a fist. "The Heartless will rise once more."
As Valandor swiftly descended the stone steps, his mind raced to organize the chaotic scene unfolding at the gates. He quickly spotted a high-ranking soldier under his command, a burly man clad in polished steel with a deep scar running down his cheek, a testament to countless battles fought.
"Captain Roderic!" Valandor called out, his voice cutting through the din. "Gather your men and prioritize the entry of those wearing the Heartless Guild's ring—a mark that signifies their place among the founders of our nation. Move quickly and bring order to this chaos. We must secure our own first!"
Roderic's eyes widened for a brief moment, the name of one of the nation's founders clearly shaking him, but he quickly snapped to attention, slamming a fist to his chest in salute. "At once, Lord Valandor!" he barked before turning to his squad, his deep voice booming as he began issuing commands.
Valandor's sharp eyes then caught sight of a female lieutenant standing nearby, her fiery red hair tied tightly in a warrior's braid. Her armor, etched with battle scars, clinked slightly as she shifted her weight nervously. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto Valandor as he approached, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation.
"Lieutenant Freya," Valandor said, his tone firm but with a hint of urgency. "You will act as the direct relay for High Elder Crimson Aegis for the time being. Stay close to him and ensure his orders are carried out without delay. Understand?"
Freya's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat for a moment. The realization that one of the founders, a living legend, stood just a few meters away struck her like a bolt of lightning. She straightened, her armored gauntlet clanking as she saluted sharply.
"Yes, my lord!" she replied, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "I will not fail him."
Valandor gave her a firm nod, his eyes holding hers for a brief second, a silent exchange of trust and responsibility. Then, without another word, he turned back toward the upper wall, his mind already calculating his next move as the chaos below continued to churn.
As Valandor continued directing his soldiers, Crimson Aegis remained on the wall, his eyes drifting over the sprawling City of Harmony below. For him, only five days had passed since he last saw this place, but for the world, fifty years had slipped by.
He felt a presence approach from behind. Turning slightly, he saw Lieutenant Layla, her posture straight and disciplined, her long braid swaying with each cautious step. She stopped just behind him, saluting sharply.
"High Elder Crimson Aegis," she said, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of nerves. "I am your assigned orderlay. Until order is restored at the western gate, I am not to leave your side."
Crimson Aegis regarded her for a moment, the polished metal of his helm catching the sunlight. He noticed the faint tremble in her hands, the tight grip on her spear.
"Relax, Lieutenant," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "No need to be so tense. If you're my orderlay, then I expect you to stay sharp, but not so stiff that you crack under pressure."
Layla quickly straightened, her eyes fixed ahead. "Understood, sir. I was just... taken by surprise. I never thought I'd be serving one of the founders of our nation."
Crimson Aegis chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to echo within his heavy armor. "I can imagine. I'm still getting used to this as well. It's been fifty years for you, but for me, it feels like mere days."
Layla hesitated before speaking again. "If I may, sir... What do you plan to do next? Now that you're back, I mean."
Crimson Aegis's gaze turned back to the city, his mind already racing through countless plans. "First, I'll restore order here. Then, I'll need to find my comrades. This world may have changed, but our bond hasn't."
Layla nodded, her grip on her spear relaxing slightly. "Then I will stay by your side, High Elder, until the gate is secure."
"Good," Crimson Aegis replied, a hint of approval in his voice. "Keep your wits about you, Lieutenant. Things are only going to get more chaotic from here."
After Crimson Aegis finished speaking with Lieutenant Layla, he turned and walked to the other side of the wall, where the massive crowd of players gathered outside the city gates. He paused, gazing down at the sea of people below, their voices blending into a chaotic, unending roar.
For a brief moment, an amusing thought flickered in his mind—a temptation to leap down from the wall, land in the middle of the crowd, and test how many would scatter in shock. He imagined the panicked scramble, the wild shouts, and the stunned faces.
But he held back, his armored fingers tightening slightly around the hilt of his sword. "No," he muttered to himself, a smirk hidden beneath his helm. "Best not to give them a heart attack."
Instead, he remained where he stood, the wind tugging at his crimson cloak, his eyes scanning the restless, uncertain mass of players below.
Once again, Crimson Aegis stood motionless atop the wall, his sharp eyes sweeping over the chaotic sea of players below. He took a deep breath, focusing his senses as he scanned the crowd, looking for any familiar insignias. His gaze moved swiftly, picking out the faint glints of crimson hearts and crosses scattered among the restless mass.
After a moment, he turned slightly, addressing Lieutenant Layla, who stood beside him, still tense but attentive.
"Lieutenant," he said, his voice steady, "I've spotted some of our people. To the left, near that merchant caravan, three with the insignia on their cloaks. A bit farther back, near the large tree, I see a group of five. And just beyond the main road, there's another cluster. They're keeping their distance, smart enough not to get caught up in the panic."
Layla nodded, her sharp eyes following where he pointed, her mind already calculating the quickest way to reach them. "Understood, my lord. I'll send word to have them pulled from the crowd."
Crimson Aegis gave a small nod of approval, his gaze still fixed on the chaotic scene below. "Good. Make sure they're brought in quickly. I need to know how many of us have returned."
Lieutenant Layla straightened her posture, her nerves steadying as she absorbed Crimson Aegis's instructions. She turned to a low-ranking soldier standing nearby, a young man with sharp eyes and a stiff stance, clearly aware of the gravity of the situation.
"You there," Layla said firmly, pointing at the soldier, "relay this to Lord Valandor immediately. Inform him that High Elder Crimson Aegis has identified several Heartless Guild members within the crowd. They're clustered near the merchant caravan on the left, by the large tree farther back, and along the main road. Make sure they're prioritized for entry."
The soldier snapped to attention, his eyes widening slightly at the mention of the High Elder. He gave a sharp salute. "Yes, ma'am!" Without another word, he turned on his heel and sprinted down the stairs, his armor clinking as he rushed to deliver the message.
Layla watched him go, her heart still pounding from the pressure of standing beside one of the legendary founders of their nation. She took a deep breath, then turned her gaze back to Crimson Aegis, silently waiting for his next command.
Crimson Aegis remained at the edge of the wall, his gaze fixed on the chaotic scene below. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the bustling crowd, the noise of thousands of voices blending into a low, restless hum. His mind drifted back to a time when this city was just an idea, a dream forged in the fires of countless battles and the shared will of his comrades.
"Fifty years…" he muttered, the words slipping out before he realized it. "Just five days for me, but half a century for them."
He clenched his gauntleted fist, the metal creaking under the pressure. Memories of the last moments before his disappearance resurfaced—the cheers of his guildmates, the thrill of conquest, and the bond they had formed over years of triumph and loss. He wondered if those who remained still remembered him, or if his legend had become nothing more than a distant echo, a ghost of the past.
A light breeze stirred his cloak, the crimson heart and cross insignia fluttering like a banner of old. He glanced back over his shoulder at the sprawling city, its towering spires and bustling streets a testament to the world they had built. Yet, the years had changed it, transformed it into something both familiar and foreign.
Crimson Aegis closed his eyes, the weight of time pressing down on him, the uncertainty of what lay ahead settling in his chest like a heavy stone. "What kind of world have we returned to?" he whispered to himself, the question lost in the wind.
And as the sun continued its steady climb overhead, casting sharp shadows over the city below, the warrior remained motionless, his thoughts lost in the echoes of a world he had once called home.