The city stands

The enemy was routed. It was slow, grueling work hunting down orcs who had made it through the walls, but the city stood. Three fortresses stood in the gaps created by enemy artillery. The elven city found itself in a serious predicament. The fortresses were now indispensable to the city’s defense, but they were currently being held by mercenaries, human mercenaries. A power with ties to foreign influence was parked on their walls, and King Thurien had no recourse, he needed them. Leerily it was decided that these… heroes needed to be honored.

Will stood in the throne room as he was announced to the court. Despite the confusion of the last few days the fanfare was splendid, appropriate for the man who saved the city, and everyone had of course heard the tales of his daring rescue. The mage had routed the orc hoard single-handedly, had risen three castles from the earth at once and had ridden a dragon to victory.

As the fanfare ended Will bowed. “For the valiant defense of our capital city, I hearby invest in you the title of Lord of Prosperia, along with all of the benefits entailed and grant you stewardship of the fortifications which were created during the siege.” The court stood silent. “I would also grant you a boon, as a token of my personal gratitude.” That earned some surprise, the king had only granted a personal boon twice in the last millennia. The court buzzed with anticipation. What would he ask for? The audience sat on pins waiting for his response.

“My liege, all I ask for is a small thing. I would request three drops of blood, as a token of my service here.” Gasps. The audience stirred. Why in the nine hells would he ask for that? It was such a unusual request. He could have asked for anything. He could have asked for the hand of his eldest daughter and would not be refused. He could have asked for a hundred maidens and caused less of a stir.

The king of the elves pulled a dagger from his sleeve and strode forward. Making a cut on the back of hand he reached out and the drops fell directly into Will’s waiting hand, and splashed across the simple gold band around Will’s finger.

As the blood of the world’s oldest living monarch seeped around his fingers arcane glyphs danced across the surface of the ring, glowing with a light that shifted hues from green to blue and purple and back. The light died.

Will bowed low and deep, for the last time. He turned and exited the throne room leaving the court to murmur behind him. He had gotten his reward.