The next morning arrived quickly. Dijio rubbed his weary eyes and ran a hand through his messy bedhead. The glimmer of early morning sun danced through the open shutters of his room. He pushed himself off his bed with a groan, and began putting his armor back on.
He wore distinct silver armor coated with the purple lining of Verdelle's banner. His armor was freshly cleaned and glossy from a lack of recent conflict. A single greatsword attached to his back, which was massive and humanly unmaneuverable.
Not for Dijio.
After dressing, he followed the prestigious castle halls down to the dining hall, and grabbed a chicken leg before setting off to the courtyard. Before he could, however, a brief interruption.
"Oh! Lord Dijio!"
A woman's name called after him. He already had a face full of chicken, and turned with a curious look.
"Hm?" he asked without opening his mouth.
Before him was a woman—the woman—to the young man. Her name was Esmiel—a beautiful black haired lady with dark, peaceful eyes. Her smile was one that lit the room if genuine, and if a show—it was deadly. She was no older than him, and yet, her maturity was that of an elder—something he respected.
"King Lutheran requested your presence in the throne room. Following your meal of course."
Dijio's cheeks blushed slightly as he remained still. His body was turned in an awkward angle, and he swallowed his chicken quickly—too quick, and began to choke. Repeated coughs echoed through the halls.
"Ahem… ahem. Excuse me, my lady." he managed, rubbing the back of his head. "I'll head there at once."
Esmiel nodded, turning back from the way in which she came.
"Oh, ah, before you go!" Dijio called, extending an arm toward her. She turned with a glance.
"Yes, m'lord?"
Dijio grit his teeth. "Would you mind accompanying me to the market today? I may need an extra set of hands for my purchases…"
The question came off a bit awkward, but she smiled.
"Of course m'lord."
Dijio returned the smile. "Oh, and please. It's Dijio. No need for that formality for a simpleton like me."
"Understood, Dijio." she said in finality, disappearing with a wave. Dijio's eyes were practically filled with hearts as he continued down the hall toward the Verdetta castle throneroom, where none other than King Lutheran was seated.
Two guards manned the doors as Dijio walked through them, pumping their metaled fists into their chestplates as he passed. Inside, torches hung on the pillars of the marbled hall. A carpet of violet coloring sprawled out toward the entrance, and led to the steps of his highness.
Dijio strolled down the floor, eventually reaching close enough to bow.
"You needed me, my king?"
The king sat in a readied stance, with his arms resting on the rests beside him. His face was serious, but welcoming. His white hair contrasted with his blue eyes like the sights of a warm summer sky. He was an older man, blessed with many years of his life, which provided great wisdom for both the Empire of Verdelle, and people close.
"Yes, my dear Summoner," he said in a booming voice. "I would like to hear your thoughts on something."
A short silence followed.
"Our territories have remained safe and without war for many years," he began. "And so, our trade and economy has boomed. But without action and proof of protection, we are an easy target from the outside."
Dijio's eyes raised in a questioning manner.
"What do you make of it?"
The king Lutheran's eyes met Dijio like a dagger—sharp and readied.
"I want not war or conflict. Same as you, my dear boy. However, this civil war plagues our lands in an uncertainty of action… and I fear neutrality may not be an option soon enough."
Dijio rose to his feet.
"Sir, with all due respect, we have been able to exist in such a way because we stayed in the grips of neutrality for so long. And with Mysandor's recent victory in the Ninelight Duel…"
He paused for a moment.
"We may be ever closer to resolution to this conflict. And then, our trade may be open once again to all nations of Aleusimai. Not only those who accept our choices."
"If only that were true," the king said, rubbing his chin. "Truth is, we all know how stubborn king Ghaldis of Ghalmarch is… he will send his daughter into battle until the day she dies within a Ninelight Duel. And with The Heartlands considerable progress into Chesamere territories… I fear an end to this meaningless conflict isn't near."
"You may be right, m'lord," said Dijio, now holding a frown.
"With Mysandor's king in debt to Chesamere, I fear neither side will come to arrangements either. It'd seem this will be a fight until the conquerors are conquered. I only hope we won't be a step along the way."
"They wouldn't attack us, though. We're too important of a trade ally to many."
"And to the ones we're not, we are cowards and fools who watch from the sidelines. Hear me, my boy. I do not want nor need this battle for Verdelle. I only wish we are prepared in the scenario that we are unwillingly pulled in. Our people must trust in you the way I do. The way our lord Aldorion does."
Dijio gave a nod. The unforgiving truth had long overtaken him. The reality that war was on the horizon, and it wouldn't be on his terms that he would once again fight.
Dijio bowed once more, before turning and taking his leave. Behind him, the violet banners glimmered in the torchlight, and the king sat lost in thought, preparing his mind for the worst scenarios for his realm.