"The King's Gambit"

The small torture chamber was a den of horrors, a testament to human cruelty. The damp, cold stone walls were stained with dried blood, forming macabre patterns that seemed to dance in the shadows. The air was thick and heavy, laden with the nauseating stench of fear and suffering.

King Edward picked up a small wooden stool that rested in the corner of the chamber and sat down in front of Roland, his legs spread in a pose of disdain. "So, my friend... it's... what is it again? Silverback? Yes! Roland Silverback... I remember now..."

"Scoundrel," whispered Roland, his voice hoarse and weak.

"Whoa... I could demand your tongue for that disrespect, or perhaps we could play with all the torture paraphernalia that's here," Edward warned.

Roland was kneeling, slumped on the floor in front of Edward, his hands and feet bound with Frosteel chains. The weight of the chains and the pain from the wounds inflicted by the guards pulled him down, but he raised his gaze, staring at Edward.

"Kill me, if that's what you so desire," Roland said, spitting blood.

"Kill you? Why?" Edward laughed. "You are very useful to the kingdom of Dunkel. Just because you're sneaking around fraternizing behind my back doesn't mean I have to kill you."

"I can do worse if you lay a finger on the boy." Roland's eyes were cold and furious.

"Now you're threatening the king? Oh... Oh..." Edward sighed. "Old Roland, some things never change. Like, for example, when you betrayed me and ran away with something that belonged to me, right?"

"You weren't king; much less did you have that right!" Roland raised his voice.

"I see you still have the energy to yell at me," Edward said as he examined his cuticles. "How about we play a little game? We'll have a trial, I'll make you a scapegoat and exile you to a nearby island, and in about 5 years you'll come back."

"And what do I gain from this? You just want me away so you can kill the boy!" Roland attested.

"You gain your life, or would you prefer to die?" Edward stared at him. "You see, with you alive, at least you can try to protect him, although I doubt you'll succeed. As for me? I win the people's hearts; I can already hear it: 'The merciful King Edward, who forgave the sins of his captain and merely exiled him without killing him.' Fantastic! Isn't it?" He used his hands, gesturing as if seeing a slogan.

"You're trying to kill an innocent!" Roland exclaimed. "You don't even know who he is!"

"And would that change anything?" Edward shrugged. "I am the king; I only need to know that he is the son of two peasants and that he had a late awakening; that's enough to eliminate any loose ends."

"Loose ends? You are a poor wretch who knows nothing about people," Roland said.

"Yes, loose ends..." Edward smiled. "Everyone knows the legend that a late awakened one will one day become the promise of dawn."

"Idiot, you're saying it yourself; it's a LEGEND!" Roland almost laughed. "Do you also believe in folklore now?"

"Legend or not, with him dead, I have nothing to worry about," Edward concluded. "He will just be another peasant Neumond who died for some foolish reason that no one will ever know about."

Edward stood up, turning his back to Roland, about to leave.

Roland, with a last effort, raised his voice. "You will regret everything you have done and are doing one day, I promise." His gaze was sharper than his sword.

Edward stopped, looking over his shoulder. Gold and silver adorned his armor, and the battle runes on his gauntlets revealed his nature: a warrior on the throne.

"I am a post-100 Neumond… What do I have to fear?" Edward shrugged. "With a snap of my fingers, I can turn your ELEV to ashes and watch you agonize forever." His voice was quiet and cold.

Roland's throat went dry in surprise. Edward had already passed his main attribute beyond 100; he was then rivaling Diamond Equalizers in strength. The revelation struck him, hope fading.

Edward then continued on his way until the silhouette of his back disappeared from Roland's sight, leaving him alone in the darkness.

The next day, Roland was visited by his old friend, Thomas. Thomas's face was marked by worry.

"Roland..." Thomas began, his voice thick with emotion. "Elizabeth... she's bad. Very bad."

Roland felt a tightening in his chest. "What happened?" he asked.

"She needs more specialized care," Thomas explained. "The village healers can't do anything more."

"Where is she?" Roland asked.

"I hid her in a cabin in the forest," Thomas replied. "But she needs urgent help."

Roland nodded. "How is she?" he asked.

Thomas hesitated, searching for the right words. "She's weak," he said finally. "Lost a lot of blood. The wounds... they're serious."

Roland closed his eyes, guilt gnawing at him. "I should have stayed with her," he murmured. "I should have protected her."

"There was nothing you could do," Thomas said, placing a hand on Roland's shoulder. "No one could."

Roland took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "What do you need?" he asked. "How can I help?"

"I need to know where to find a healer," Thomas said. "A real healer. Someone who can save her."

Roland thought for a moment. "I know someone," he said. "A healer, a Neumond. She lives in the mountains, a few days' journey from here."

"Can you tell me how to find her?" Thomas asked.

Roland nodded. "I can," he said. "But you need to promise me that you'll take care of her. That you'll take her to the healer and protect her."

"I promise," Thomas said, his voice firm and determined.

Roland described the way to the cabin of the Neumond healer, his battle friend, when he was still an Equalizer. He tried to recount every detail he could remember. Thomas wrote everything down on a piece of old parchment he brought from home, his eyes shining with new hope.

"Thank you, Roland," Thomas said, shaking his hand. "You saved her life."

Roland nodded but said nothing. He knew he hadn't done enough yet. He still needed to protect Leonard, and for that, he needed to get out of prison.

"Don't forget what I asked you; the king will probably send me to a deserted island. If that's the case, deliver this other note, please write it down," Roland said.

"You can tell me, commander," Thomas replied.

"Lad, unfortunately I couldn't protect you; things went wrong in the capital. For some foolish reason, the king wants your head. Your past is dark, much more than you can imagine. Please wait for me and stay away from Gothia. As soon as I can, I will send you more instructions and news. Be careful with the Clark family; they work for the king; they are skilled executioners. Roland," dictated Roland, his voice firm and detailed.

"Deliver this letter if I am exiled; otherwise, the other one I asked you for," Roland instructed, his eyes pleading.

"You can count on me, commander!" The old Thomas saluted. "I will do as requested."

"Go now and take care of Elizabeth for me," Roland's words sounded weak and full of remorse.

Roland watched Thomas leave, the figure of his old friend disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. Loneliness enveloped him again, cold and oppressive. But Roland did not let himself be defeated. He still had a mission to accomplish, a promise to keep. He had to protect Leonard, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, in the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, Edward walked with long strides, his mind buzzing with plans and strategies. The conversation with Roland had left him restless, the old friend's threat still echoing in his ears.

Edward knew that Roland was a formidable opponent, a skilled warrior, and a brilliant strategist. But Edward was not a man to be intimidated. He was the king, the absolute ruler of Dunkel, and he would not allow anyone to threaten his power.

Edward arrived at the throne room, the vast chamber richly decorated with tapestries and coats of arms. He sat on the throne, the soft, welcoming seat contrasting with the coldness of the metal that adorned it. Edward closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, seeking the calm that eluded him. Roland's last words had stung his ego.

He thought of Leonard, the young Neumond who had aroused his interest and his distrust. Edward could not ignore the prophecy, the legend of the "late awakened" who would become the "promise of dawn." He could not take the risk; he could not allow Leonard to become a threat to his reign.

Edward opened his eyes, a perfect plan shining in his gaze. He would summon Roland to court, hold a public trial, and accuse Roland of treason and conspiracy. He would exile Roland, sending the old soldier to a deserted island, far from Leonard, far from everything. Edward knew it was a temporary measure, but necessary for him to execute his plans. Killing Roland was out of the question; the public outcry would devour his reputation, which was already not the best.

Hours later, two royal guards appeared at Roland's cell. They looked at him, their faces impassive, but their eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't decipher.

"Roland Silverback," said one of the guards. "You are being summoned to court."

Roland felt a tightening in his chest, uncertainty and fear washing over him. He knew it was a trap, but he had no choice. He had to go.

"What's happening?" Roland asked.

"The king wants to see you in court," the guard replied. "Now."

Roland nodded. He stood up, the chains clinking, and followed the guards out of the cell. The corridor was dark and cold, the torches on the walls casting sinister shadows that danced around him. Roland took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew the trial was a farce, a staged event to deceive the people. But he couldn't let himself be defeated. He had to keep his head up, show the king, and everyone that he wasn't afraid.

Roland arrived at the courtroom, the vast chamber packed with people. He looked around, seeing familiar and unfamiliar faces, curious and hostile gazes. Edward was seated on the throne, the golden crown shining on his head, his blue eyes with a cold and calculating look.

Roland approached the throne, the chains clinking with each step. He stopped before Edward, raising his gaze to meet the King's.

"Roland Silverback," Edward said, his voice echoing through the room. "You are accused of treason and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead?"

Roland took a deep breath, conviction shining in his eyes. "I plead not guilty," he said, his voice firm and clear.

Edward smiled, a cruel and humorless smile. He turned again towards his throne, bellowing the order, "Let the trial begin."