Blanc_Dragon

In the year 2025, a curious linguist named Liam Routh discovers an ancient, untitled book hidden deep within the archives of a massive private library. Bound in leather and sealed with a forgotten symbol—a sun pierced by three arrows—the book claims to hold the true story of Kael of No-Name, a boy erased from his powerful family line over four thousand years ago.

As Liam begins to read, the air shifts. The ink glows. And suddenly, he’s not just reading the story—he’s living it.

Transported to a time of ruthless warlords, forgotten gods, and wild desert lands, Liam follows the audacious journey of Kael: a castaway prince turned rebel dreamer who escapes his tyrannical bloodline to forge a kingdom of laughter, love, and freedom in a land untouched by empire.

With a band of misfits by his side—including a drunk who thinks he’s royalty, a seductive thief, and a spear-wielding queen—Kael dares to challenge fate, conquer chaos, and rewrite history.

But kingdoms built on ideals are often the first to be tested by war.

Kingdom Of The Forgotten Sun

The gates of Aratek creaked open with ceremonial pomp, banners unfurling from the high towers as trumpets echoed through the streets. Merchants peeked from windows, children scampered with colored ribbons, and former rebels stood in lines of honor.

A single, triumphant blast of a mismatched war horn echoed through the courtyard. A rider emerged over the city's stone archway atop a mule, wearing a fur-lined cloak far too dramatic for the desert heat. The rider's hood fell back to reveal Kael, grinning like a drunk poet.

"People of Aratek!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the square. "I bring you no taxes, no decrees, and absolutely no fashion sense!"

Kael dismounted with exaggerated flair, stumbling on purpose and catching himself with a mock bow. "Forgive the entrance. My horse quit halfway up the stairs and demanded better oats. We're negotiating."

He strode forward, armor gleaming, expression casual. "But truly—I come not to rule you, but to stand beside you. We broke the chains together. Let's decide together what comes next."

Vireya appeared at his side, whispering, "You do realize you just made history dressed like a tavern bard."

Kael smirked. "History needs personality."

Just then, Volund popped out from the crowd munching yet another fig. "Also, he forgot to wear pants under the robe. Don't ask me how I know."

Kael turned dramatically to the crowd. "Any among you wish to join the new council of Aratek? Criteria: ability to talk sense into lunatics and tolerate rampant sarcasm."

But in the shadows, the cloaked stranger remained, eyes fixed on Kael. The smile they gave was not joyful—but curious. A silent acknowledgment.

The day ended with music, food, and an improvised dance Kael insisted was a traditional "freedom shuffle" (which suspiciously looked like him stepping on his own foot repeatedly). Yet spirits were high. Hope was real.

In the quiet afterward, Kael stood on the palace balcony, watching torches flicker below.

"Funny," he said to himself, "I came here to burn a kingdom down. Now they want me to build one."

And somewhere behind him, the cloaked figure whispered into the night:

Chapter Twenty-Two – The Free King Arrives