[ WP ] You step into the throne room with weapon at the ready . The king eyes you with disdain as you draw near . He knows the end is near . His voice is solemn yet sad as his only words split the cold silence like a knife through the air , `` Why ? ''

Captain Aidan Von Krasny's eyes bulge out in amazement. 
 
 `` Why?!'' He roars aloud. `` Why?! How dare you say such words! You, who murdered my mother and father. You, who has my sister locked away for a crime she has not committed. You, who sought to imprison me based on a crone's prophecy. I once though it nothing more than a madwoman's ravings, but now I understand. It was indeed Lady Val in guise. By slaying my parents, you have brought the fate you so desperately feared unto yourself. It took your actions to fulfill the prophecy. Everything can be laid at your feet. That's why.'' 
 
 Aidan's battered lancers file into the throne room, sabre dripping artery red blood. Once numbering an entire squadron, their numbers are now fewer than forty, almost none are without wounds of some sort. Aidan glances towards the massive glass windows of the palace, outside is a scene of destruction. The battle to take the capital city has been vicious. The king's guards have burnt large swaths of Fredericksburg in a futile attempt to hold off Aidan's rebellious army. Numerous barricades create killing zones that neither side can cross. It was only a great loss of life that they have made it this far. 
 
 Flanking the king is twenty of his most trusted cuirassiers. Their namesake armor shining brilliantly in the afternoon light. Their heavy straight blades have not a drop of blood on them. Their fates are tied to their lord's. They are fanatical in their duty. 
 
 
 `` King Alaric! I will only say this once! Abdicate and you shall be treated with dignity and mercy. Do not, and it shall be your life. What say you?'' The aging ruler's eyes fill with venom. `` Never! I will not bow to some usurper whelp. With the gods as my witness, I will either live or die a king!'' With that he gives a shout and throws himself at Aidan. His guards follow suite. Aidan Von Krasny leaps towards the charging king, his lancers hot on his heels. Near sixty men hurl themselves towards each other, intent on spilling the blood of their fellow countrymen. Though only fifty feet apart, it seems eternity passes. Then the lines collide. 
 
 One lancer is killed outright, a heavy sword hacking deep into his shoulder. His death is avenged when his comrade slashes the guardsman's face open to the bone. He falls clutching the ruined mass that was his forehead. Another lancer is impaled clear through, only to topple onto his killer, driving his fingers deep into the cuirassier's eyes. He dies leaving his foe screaming. Another cuirassier has his hand lopped off by Lieutenant Schneider's expert cut. He stares down at the bloody stump before the officer effortlessly slices the man's head clean off. The shocked expression of the decapitated head disappears as it is kicked around in the melee. Four more armored horsemen fall to his blade. Sixteen lancers fall down dead in total. Only four guardsmen remain, all suffering crippling wounds. All the while, King Alaric and Captain Aidan's duel rages on. 
 
 Their footwork is perfect, every cut and slash parried. They are equal in skill, and the price of failure death. Neither will submit. But the heavy blade of the king is against him. Though a fearsome weapon should it contact, it's weight is tiring. Aidan has his light cavalry sabre, and twenty years age difference. His fortitude is unmatched. The king makes a swipe. Aidan dodges under the deadly blade and stabs under the King Alaric under the arm. Immediately his white uniform stains a bright scarlet. Tossing aside his sword, Aidan catches the falling man. He has pierced an artery, a fatal wound. Death glazing his eyes, the king speaks. 
 
 `` I know what will become of you, Aidan the Usurper, for I have seen it. Oh you lead Verland to many glorious victories. But your reign in this life will be but a brief span. Like a candle it will be, brilliant and marvelous, but ultimately snuffed out. You will leave no heirs to give your conquest to. Tell me, what use is there of war if you can not pass on your gains? I would almost pity you, Aidan Von Krasny. You have won the throne, but have gain nothing but an albatross to hang round your neck. You will learn to despise it as I have. And so, as a final act of hatred to you, the kingdom is yours. May you suffer ruling it.'' 
 
 With that the king's eyes shut and his chest ceases moving. Aidan stares down at the empty shell of the tyrant. Almost mournfully, he speaks. `` Send out the word. The king is dead.'' One of the lancers rushes outside shouting the news. Others take up the cry. Block by block the sound of muskets and clash of steel ceases, leaving naught but the moans and whimpers of the wounded. The battle is over. 
 
 The fallen are taken away. Ranking officers and as many soldiers cram the already crowded throne room. Everyone knows that this is a momentous occasion. A cry comes up from the rear ranks and the crowd parts to reveal a young girl. Her eyes are fixated on Aidan. Tears on cheeks. She rushes over to her older brother, taking him in a deep embrace. She is the reason for this civil war. She is the girl who sent ten thousand men to arms. She is Sophia Von Krasny, Aidan's sister. 
 
 Still hugging her, he looks out to the filthy, bloody mass of men, his men. They did n't have to join him in this endeavor and yet they did. From the rear of the crowd a sword is draw and held aloft. `` Lord Aidan is King! Long live King Aidan!'' All the assembled soldier draw their own blades, thrusting them up to shine in the late afternoon light. `` Long live King Aidan! Long live Princess Sophia! Long may he reign!'' Their shouts shake the glass windows. Thus begins the reign of King Aidan of Verland, eventually know to the world as King Aidan the Conqueror. His ascendency will shake the foundations of the world. Where he goes, his army will follow. HIs enemies will learn to fear his name, or they will die.
