Two men walk down a lavish hallway, servants step out of the way to let him through.

“Sir, your meeting starts soon”

“Joseph. I scheduled the meeting, we go over this every time. I know when my meeting starts” the king says with a hearty chuckle.

The king, Malcolm Axebreaker, is a very humble king when it comes to kings, but his stature says otherwise. He towers over most men, he’s taller than a bear, and stronger by a hundred times. He wields the Axe of a Thousand Souls, gifted to him by his god, Mesomia, the god of warriors and bloody battle.

“You would think your squire would know by now not to remind you of these things” the axe rumbles.

“Thank you for your input Mexotoph” In the king’s axe resides the now forcefully retired god of death, Mexotoph (Mex-oh-toph). After killing the god with the axe, his soul was absorbed and now serves the king.

The squire, known as Joseph, turns white, he was always scared of the king and his vast armory, how could you not be. 

The pair walk into a vast meeting room, the king takes his seat at the head of the table and waits for the chatter to die down. “Now, what are your reports?”

The king looks around the room at his loyal advisors, all men and women who fought by his side for many many years before he became king.
The ranger stands first, she is a half elf, standing taller than a moose, lean muscle built for drawing her massive longbow. Her tiger spirit animal lays behind her chair. “The elves have begun to encroach on your land again. They say its because they cannot find good game on their own land, but we believe they are trying to spy… again.”
The king nods, a small smile plays on his lips, because this is where he differs from most rulers. “They are not doing anything wrong then?”
“No Malcolm they are not necessarily doing anything wrong, but it is still dangerous.”
“Ah yes, dangerous, we always run from danger.” He laughs, a hearty stomach based laugh. “As long as they do not leave my woods I see no problem, and if they are not shooting at our hunters, well then we might just have to change the hunting parameters in the treaty. But that is for another day, thank you Miranda.”
She nods and sits down, she pulls out a piece of wood and a knife longer than a short sword to begin her whittling, like always.
The paladin stands up, his armor clanging as it collides. A noble man, driven by religion and morals. “The northern navy was sighted off the coast, fishing.” he says with a sigh.
The king leans forward, faking interest. “Continue.”
“Their army also continues to grow, as does our own, although the unrest in the kingdom due to the Southlands is beginning again, we are not protected by our winters anymore. We should take greater interest in their army and their plans for the new year.” Lerone says his eyes narrowed.
“Hm, well that is a good thought, thank you.”
“Malcolm we can’t-”
“We can’t what L? Keep ignoring the Southlands? Last I checked we aren’t. Sparrow?”
The rogue stands up. “Present!”
“Report.”
“The Southlands has begun training calvary, and have been looking for a coastline to start a navy, while I have doubts they will find one in the middle of the desert, it was worth watching. Their special soldiers training has begun to pick up pace again, and recruiting is at a big increase, so is inbreeding” he slides the last joke in casually.
“We cannot discount the Southlands, they are ruthless soldiers, who have always fought on the unfair side. We have our best spies watching their army and their king.” Malcolm says, putting an end to the topic.
“What of the east Grey-Head.” the king peers at their sorcerer, close to 100 years old but youthful due to magic and the grace of his god, for better and worse.
Grey-Tongue stands up, he is called grey tongue because a demon ripped out his tongue, and it’s stub turned grey, but the entire party calls him Grey-Head for his greying head of hair.
“The eastern mage guild continues its recruiting effort, now with the snow melting. But their efforts are lacking, and recruitment is slow, slower than most years. But they have some of the best mages in the world. We are lucky to be able to call them an ally.”
“And does anybody have any reports of the west?” The king says after acknowledging the mages report.
“Your ports are quite boring right now, with the ice just starting to melt around the port, we haven’t had much trade or visitors.” Miranda chimes in.
“Well then, you know what’s next.”
Everyone nods and stands up, heading towards the back wall. Sparrow wacks a brick and the wall slides open. Lerone grabs a torch and leads the way down the steps.

When they reach the end of the steps, the stairwell opens into the King's Armory, a large room, with priceless artifacts and weapons from adventures and battle lining the walls. The walk down the long corridor to a large table with a map. The General of the King’s Army stands at the table, along with his reporting Lieutenants.

“Sire.” the general and his men stand at attention.

“As you were. Report.”

“The first is currently at the border between us and the south, the second between us and the vikings of the north, the third is waiting in the barracks, and the fourth partols everything in between. They have been rotating out roles periodically over the winter, as you know. But the men do not know what they are protecting against.”

“War looms on the horizon, you cannot tell me your army does not feel it. Even the children running the streets feel it. It can break at any moment, any wrong move on any king's part can’t set an entire chain in motion.”

“And what does your god say?” The General’s Second Lieutenant, trusted, to a point. We have suspicions he is a spy. So when he snaps out, the king decides to humor himself.

“That it's none of your damn business.” The King snaps back

“I could use a new soul, I am quite hungry.”

The lieutenant shuts his mouth almost immediately. 

“We are not trying to be the one to make a mistake, we need every advantage we can take. With the elves basically in our own woods we cannot risk making an enemy of anyone. Thankfully the dwarves in our mountains are willing to take our side in a war, as well as the mage guild, and the vikings, but anything south and beyond are out of our control, there are at least 4 other kingdoms supplying soldiers and resources to the Southlands and their king. All of our resources come from trade and our own farms and mines. We are 4,000 strong. They can easily triple that. With the vikings and dwarves we maybe add another 2,500. We are at a disadvantage by every definition of the word.”

The room is quiet. Everyone watches their king, waiting for his verdict. “Do not report back until you have good news, if it is mandatory send a letter with my squire. Dismissed.” he sighs.

The general and his attendants flee the room quickly.

The king walks up to his throne, a gift from his god. The throne is his best thinking spot, and worth more than his entire armory combined and doubled. He slowly sits.

His guard takes his place at his side. The throne room is public access, but the secret passageways are not, and neither is the war room that resides behind his throne.

He looks at his old friends, “When did it come to this?”

Lerone looks at him, confused for a second, “The war? Or the five of us running a kingdom?”

The king laughs, “Both.”

10 years ago-

Malcolm slices the ogre across the chest, blood spraying over his chest. He bellows a laugh while his friends watch with interest. 

“F*CK YOUR TOLL.” he roars. The rage wears off and he turns around and smiles. Green blood covers his heavily tattooed chest. “Shall we”

Malcolm is what is known in the world as a barbarian, blessed with the power of undying, in which killing gives him more strength. 

Along with his four friends, the group is known as the best group of warriors and adventurers of the century, and they are on their way to overthrow a tyrant king.

----------

The throne room doors burst open, Lerone sprints into the room, along with Miranda, Sparrow, and Grey-Tongue.

“The Southlands army has been sighted marching towards our southern border, bearing banners of war!”

“Sh*t… Recall the first and the fourth. Tell the second to reinforce the northern border. Prep the third to meet the first halfway. JOSEPH” 

The squire jumps “I am right next to you sir.”

“Prep my horse, and my battle gear, bring them to the barracks, I ride out with the Third to meet the southlands, on your way tell a trusted noble to ride west to request help from the mages. Send a diplomat to the dwarven kingdom to request their best soldiers. Then prep your own horse and ride to meet me by the gates. GO”

The squire runs off. The king then turns to his trusted friends. “Will you ride out beside me?”

Miranda answers first “We have since day one, why would we stop now.”

Everyone vocalizes their agreement, and he nods, satisfied.

The gates open and the third files out as one cohesive unit, just as they were trained. Leading them is their king and his advisors, with his banner bearer flying their war flag. A blue and black Cerberous head. They make good pace until they merge with the first legion. When they finally reach the south border two days later, everyone is tired, but they inhabit the massive fort, and they wait.

Two days later-

It is early morning when the horn first sounds. The fort explodes with activity, soldiers mounting their steads and taking place in their ranks. The king mounts his stead, his four advisers close by. 

“They always choose to show up so early in the morning” Grey-Tongue yawns.

“Oh be quiet old man, you know you love a good battle just like the rest of us.”

“Sir, the troops are at the ready.”

“We wait for them to show signs of aggression then we charge, we do not want to mistake a peace council for a war party.

Lerone outright laughs at that. “Ah yes, the Southlands marching with their entire army for a peace council.”

When the Southland war horn sounds, all hell breaks loose.

Their calvary serges forward, and their arches rain hell.

“CHARGE” the general shouts over the chaos.

“FOR DRENTANIA” the army surges forward with their war cry, their King leading the charge.

Malcolm leaps off his horse taking down the first cavalryman to get close enough to him then he surges into the frey, swinging his axe, cutting through bodies like butter.

A boulder falls from the sky a few ranks over, telling him that Grey-Tongue has entered the fight. 

A tiger takes down a soldier to his right, arrows following it, telling him Miranda has joined the fun.

A blinding white light flashes about a hundred meters to his left, Lerone has called upon his god. 

Random men and women fall here and there, Sparrow is doing his best work in the vast confusion.

The battle was going amazing, until it wasn’t. Their ranks have begun to dwindle, and the second and fourth are not coming to help. Malcolm needs to make a decision and fast. He finds the General fighting with one of his lieutenants. “Blow the horn for retreat, pull the first out, have the third retreat shortly after, give up the fort, they will not follow. They are not dumb enough to charge directly into our territory with the fort being a strong strategic position.” The General nods, blowing the horn. 

Malcolm retrieves his horse from his squire and rides off.