The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

Chapter 288

"What kind of trouble?"

"People have arrived outside the city, quite special ones. Lucan has sent me to escort you to the city gates immediately."

"Special? In what way?"

"You'll see when we get there. Lady Eyla, will you join us?"

"Let's take a look."

Godfred led Alavin and Eyla, gliding low over the ancient city, to the city gates. The gates were tightly shut, the wall guards were ready for battle, and the atmosphere was tense.

A mighty roar echoed across the wilderness – a pride of majestic golden lions, strong and valiant, approached Stormcast with the dawn light. Their presence was powerful, their roars were thunderous, and their golden fur shimmered. There was an undeniable majesty about them. They moved slowly but exuded an overwhelming aura, causing the grass within a kilometer to bow down.

Lucan was on edge, alert for any threat. Atop each lion sat a figure wrapped in a white cloak, their silence and solemn gazes fixed on Stormcast.

As Alavin and Eyla reached the city wall, they, too, were struck by the scene before them. The commanding presence was both real and intense.

The leading three golden lions were immense. Their roars pierced the morning silence. Flames of gold engulfed their bodies, burning fiercely, warping the space around them. The lions behind stayed a few steps back, respecting their dominance.

"Sunfire Lions!" Eyla exclaimed in surprise, peering intently. "By the gods, Sunfire Lions! Could they be from the Blessed Citadel?"

"You know of them?" Alavin asked. His guard was up, for Stormcast could ill afford a war.

"The Blessed Citadel is the heart of the Royal Realm, the cornerstone of its prosperity, and the most formidable weapon against other Kingdoms. What brings them to the Northlands?"

The Royal Realm was divided into five domains: Midlands, Northlands, Southlands, Eastlands, and Westlands. Midlands was the most powerful and prosperous, filled with noble houses and organizations. Among them, the Blessed Citadel, belonging to royalty, was the foundation of the realm's strength and the royal family's might across all domains.

The Blessed Citadel rarely ventured from the Central Domain. What could possibly bring them to the Northlands, to Stormcast?

"I've not crossed them. I've not even heard of the Blessed Citadel," Alavin truly hadn't heard of the Blessed Citadel, but that didn't mean he was unaware of the might of Midlands. Even if the Northlands and the other three domains of the South combined their strength, they couldn't match the power of Midlands. Those who hailed from there always looked down upon the surrounding places with the air of haughty sovereigns.

"Lord Alavin, what should we do?" Lucan had never dealt with such power and felt understandably nervous.

"Open the gates! If they wish entry, these city walls will not deter them." Alavin speculated that the Blessed Citadel might’ve been coming because of the matter with Atlantis. Aside from that, there seemed little else in the Northlands to pique their interest.

"Let them in. They're likely just seeking rest," Eyla couldn't think of any quarrel they might have with the Stormcast, and besides, Midlands had no cause to make trouble in Stormcast as they didn’t interfer with each other.

The city gates thundered down, spanning the moat. Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Alavin, accompanied by Lucan and the guard, personally went forth to greet the visitors at the ancient city's entrance.

Golden lions slowly crossed the wilderness to the city's gate. The three leading Sunfire Lions were massive and majestic. Their golden flames burned fiercely, warping the air with their terrible heat. Atop each sat an elder with white hair, wrapped in white cloaks, their demeanor cold and commanding as they looked down upon Alavin and his entourage.

The rest of the golden lions followed in formation, nearly twenty in number, mounted by young men and women, all radiating a formidable presence.

They were sizing up Alavin, and he was observing them, but as he did, his expression changed. On the edge of the procession, he spotted a familiar face—Marak!

Marak was mounted on a striking tiger, distinct from the golden lions, with a smirk that seemed to mock Alavin.

A sense of dread clutched at Alavin's heart. Trouble was brewing.