An Audience with Kron the Undying

 
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“I see that you are yet unpierced by the arrows of my Centauri. You must have some story to tell.” The words of Kron the Undying echoed tremendously through his throne room in a meticulously designed show of intimidation. The small, unarmed human before him was attempting to stay calm, but must have been aware that he was unlikely to leave the citadel alive. After all these years, Kron was growing tired of these tactics of fear, but he kept these reservations to himself.

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In the huge throne room of the citadel, fifty bowstrings were taut and fifty thick arrows were trained on the Lyverian Mage. He had ventured up the River of Life, across the great Seed Mountains and through the treacherous East Wood. The monsters that drink from the River of Power are even less welcoming than the Centaurs. Against all odds, this young Mage had crossed the Thunder Plains without being vaporized and earned safe passage from the Stone Golems. The Stone Golems only award passage for acts of heroic bravery. Somehow this young fellow had found what he was seeking: An audience with Kron the Undying. And now Kron would hear him.

“There is a plot to kill the king,” the Mage said plainly.

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"Does this concern me? Do you know how many kings and plots I’ve lived through? A king dies, the sun rises! A king is crowned! The sun rises again!” Kron was incredibly amused at the notion that he would care about such things. The echoes of his booming laughter filled the great hall. Finally, after allowing his enjoyment an ample stay, he sat back in his throne and asked, “is there more?”

The small Human replied, “Magic is at stake, mighty one.”

There was a long pause. Uneasiness invaded the hall and Kron felt something he hadn’t felt for perhaps a hundred years: Goosebumps. What could this human possibly know about true magic, and how could it be at stake? Possible futures swarmed Kron’s great mind as he considered the weight of the Mage’s statement. “Tell me more,” Kron eventually said, in a softer voice.

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The Mage seemed to be finally regaining some of the great courage that earned him this audience. He spoke. “There is a usurping collective of lords, mighty one. Under the control of a corrupt Lyverian Sheriff, they have declared themselves the enemies of magic. They have destroyed scrolls and books. They have killed the old ways wherever they can, and they have only begun. The collective is now winning common Lyverians to their side with clever propaganda, and I have learned of a plot to kill the Old King Wilhelm in four days. The task given to me by the last living Palvan elder was to warn you of this crisis, mighty one.”

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Kron knew what he had to do.

It had been five hundred years since the Centauri went west. Kron had learned to detect lies long before the Splintering, and this young Mage was not lying. That which is destroyed can rarely be regained, and chaos catches like wildfire. This time chaos had targeted magic, and the Spirit of the Forest would expect Kron to intervene. He did not live to fulfill her expectations, but they were good friends, and if there was one thing Kron could not live without, it was magic.

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Written by Chris Roberts, Lore Master
Original Steem Post
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Carrie AllenComment