Prologue

The sun rose into the sky, as Arbel stood up from his chair. Another day had begun, and it was time for him to meet up with his two best friends, for another day of adventure. He brushed his hands through his thin, slightly spiked, light brown hair, as he reached for his clothing, to change for another day. Red was the colour he greatly liked, and so, he grabbed the red shirt that lay upon the table, and slipped it on, over the light silver chain mail he was already wearing.

He then grabbed his boots, slipping them on, and allowing his trousers to dangle over the tongue, covering the top part of the boots. Finally, he looked to his sword. The small, silver sword his father had given him, before he passed away. Arbel handled this blade with care, as it was the only thing he had to remember his father by. His trusted friends were always there for him, when Arbel’s father died. They would always at least try to lighten the mood, as they could see he was getting down, because of his father.

After grabbing the sword from the shelf, just above the table, he turned to the door, and opened it. Standing at the doorway were Loki and Karen, ever-ready for another day of scouting. “Took you long enough!” said Loki, in a joking manner; his wavy dark-toned blue hair blowing in the wind, as he gave Arbel a friendly jab to the shoulder. Karen looked towards Loki, and continued to joke, “Well, at least he’s up before noon, this time.” Karen, with her long brown hair wrapped in a ponytail, looked towards Arbel, and laughed slightly, as he protested against their little joke.

“Aww, come on, guys! That was one time!” Loki and Karen couldn’t hold it in any longer, and suddenly began laughing aloud at their friends protest. Another joke of which Arbel had misinterpreted… no matter, though, because Arbel always knew he could count on his friends.

After their small joke had passed, Arbel talked to his most trusted companions about their duty to the village, and once that was over, the trio set out to circle the village, in the hopes of being able to protect it from the bandits for another day. Life was, indeed, simple for the three, but that was how each of them liked it. Their simple lifestyle never got in the way of their friendship, and even enforced it, making them even stronger.

Soon after leaving the village, the trio stumbled upon a small encampment of bandits, who were obviously making preparations to attack the village. Many of them held torches, while the rest held heavy weaponry, such as axes, and huge spear-like weapons. Loki hid behind a small bush, as Arbel and Karen slipped behind a thick tree. Drawing her bow, and sliding an arrow into position, Karen looked out from aside the tree; looking at how many bandits they would have to deal with.

“There are about sixteen, at least,” she said to Arbel, as he drew his silver blade. “Be prepared to fire, Karen. Aim for those with the torches,” he replied, as he looked over to Loki, who had also drawn his sword, which shone a sort of light blue, in the sunlight. Loki looked towards his two friends, as Karen pulled back her arrow, on the bowline, and after a few seconds of aiming, she released the line, as the arrow flew through the air.

The arrowhead pierced the thin helm of one of the bandits, as it threw him off balance, and into one of the tents, setting it alight with the torch he held, tightly in his grasp. “We’re under attack!” yelled one of the bandits, as they all soon jumped into action, from their lazy stances. “Okay… now!” shouted Arbel, as both he and Loki jumped from behind the objects they had hidden themselves behind. As they did so, they each took a swing at one of the many bandits that had gotten close to where they were.

Karen continued to draw arrows from her quiver, and blast them towards her opponents, easily missing her comrades, and striking the bandits with shocking accuracy. With each swing, their opponents’ numbers shrunk, until there were no more than three of them remaining. Loki and Arbel stood before the three, as Karen stood behind them, drawing another arrow, and sliding it into place.

With fear swelling in their eyes, the three men turned, and began fleeing from their destroyed camp, almost crying from their defeat by a mere three young scouts. “Ha! Next time, don’t bother coming back here!” shouted Arbel, as the bandits fled through the thick bush, and out of sight. “Shall we continue with our rounds?” asked Loki, as he placed his blade back into its sheath.

Just as Arbel was about to answer his friend, the sounds of screaming could be heard, making the three turned towards the hill they had come from. With caution for what may appear from over the hill, Loki drew his sword, once more, while Karen held her stance, and aimed her arrow for whatever may come over to them. Arbel stood there; his sword in hand, as he watched two armoured white horses galloped from over the hill. Atop the horses were knights, suited in amazingly hard-looking armour.

The horses soon stopped in front of the three friends, who held great caution of these unknown knights. “You may lower your weapons. We are not here to take your lives,” said one of the knights, as he dismounted from his steed. “We have merely come to talk to the one known as Arbel, for we have something that his father wished for him to do.”

Hearing these words, Arbel, Karen and Loki all suddenly became surprised at what they had just heard. What could Arbel’s father have possibly wanted him  to do? Now lowering their weapons, the other knight continued with his speech, “Your father, who was the former king of LeQuill, has requested that, upon his death, you become the next ruler of the kingdom.”

“King!?” yelled Loki, in surprise. All Arbel could do was stare at the knights in shock; as could Karen, as she turned to look at Loki; he, too, held a face of surprise towards this sudden information. They could not believe what they had just heard, and yet, they had just heard it with their own ears.

Arbel’s future had just begun.