The clang of metal rang through the chamber as the royal attendants fastened the final piece of silver armor over my chest. Its weight pressed not only upon my body, but upon my thoughts as well. A long red cape fluttered lightly behind me—a symbol of courage worn by every commander at the front.
"Perfect fit," said the attendant, adjusting the support belt around my waist. "Truly striking, Lord Alexander."
I only nodded. Praise no longer stirred anything within me. My mind was fixed on the battlefield—a place I had never truly set foot on. From the great hall, I could hear the heavy march of soldiers gathering in front of the palace. From gatekeepers to archers, all had filled the open field facing the royal balcony.
Above us, King Nivandor stood tall in his violet robes. The spring wind lifted their edges, adding drama to the speech he was about to deliver. His voice rang loud and commanding, echoing through the air.
"Soldiers of the Kingdom of Nivandor!" the king bellowed. "Today we do not gather to mourn the past—but to write the future!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. I stood below the platform, flanked by ranks of elite soldiers. Their faces showed respect, but also tension. Many among them had already lost comrades or kin to wars past.
The king continued, "In the last two years... we've lost countless lives. Our forces have been pushed back, our lands diminished. But today... today we have something different."
He paused for a moment, eyes locked sharply on me. I felt his gaze pierce deep into my chest.
"We have a new leader for the front line!" he declared. "One forged not merely by fire, but by hardship and perseverance. He is no noble's son, no general's heir—but a common man… who rose because he refused to fall."
The crowd roared. Some called out my name, though faintly. I remained still, still trying to grasp the weight of it all.
"Alexander!" the king called.
I turned to the platform and began ascending the stone steps, each stride steady though my chest trembled.
"Stand here, so that all the people may see... you are the new leader of the front line!"
I stood tall beside the king. Sunlight glinted off my armor, casting brilliant flashes of silver. The wind caught the red cloth on my back, making it wave like a banner—and in that moment, I was the banner.
I looked ahead. Thousands of eyes gazed back at me. But within my heart, only one voice whispered:
Is this truly my path?
Yet there was no time for doubt. Today… I had chosen, and I had been chosen. And I stood here—not as Alexander the blacksmith, but as the leader of the front line.