"All hail the King! All hail Calvin I of Gwynyth Raius!"
The thunderous chanting of the crowd, of the entire city, echoes around you as the newly crowned king holds aloft the bright Sword of Nulfid in triumph, resplendent in the suit of bright white full plate armor, also given to Nulfid so many centuries ago. A gift from the dwarves, the two artifacts were presumed lost when they rejected the ancient King of Gwynyth Raius, Garayn II, 467 years ago. The Armor had been placed in a dusty attic and forgotten while the dwarves reclaimed the Sword. Missing, but not forgotten, the artifacts had been sought after by all the successive kings of Gwynyth Raius as the once bright and large Kingdom dwindled and was fragmented by the acts of treacherous, evil men.
Perhaps they were missed the most when Colonel Myrddin, once a trusted noble of Gwynyth Raius, rose up and sought to slay the rightful king of the realm and seize the kingdom for himself. But even without the artifacts, the king, Hythe III, was able to drive Myrddin away from the seat of power, but not to totally vanquish him. A steady downhill struggle, the forces of dark that followed the fallen knight seemed to only grow while that of the bright Gwynyth Raius waned. One more attempt for the artifacts had to be made before all was lost, and that task was bestowed upon 6 young men and 1 young woman by General Jurgen of Gwynyth Raius. Some fell in the pursuit of the quest, but they were replaced by others who would ultimately bring the quest to fruition and succeed where so many others had failed. But those lost would not be forgotten: Sir Evin Uchengeist, Andrick Blukhorel, Jun Anhanger, Otto Glockenspiel, Jean-Jacques Galoise de Toulons, and Frea Bergen did not die in vain. Yes, even the wayward Claire DuBois and Johann Bauer helped in their way, Their efforts were instrumental in completing the quest, to bringing this day. Retrieving the Sword from the Labyrinth Under the Mountains was no easy task, but it was done. Retrieving the Armor from the City of Darkness was no easier. Hard work, along with blood, sweat, and tears, allowed the new King Calvin I to stand here now bearing the ancestral instruments.
You and your companions sit quietly in the places of honor in the ceremonial hall in the palace in Arhus while the crowd continues to adulate and roar their approval of the new young king. Finally, the sound dies enough for the king to lower the shining sword to his side and to speak.
"Friends and warriors of the Kingdom of Gwynyth Raius, hear me. By the grace and blessings of Hysor, that which has been missing has been restored! By right of blood, I, Calvin, son of Hythe, have been selected as your King, and I now hold the Sword of Nulfid...", a roaring cheer, "...and wear Nulfid’s Armor...", again a roar, "...and I have been...accepted." Calvin bows his head in silent thanks while the roar of the crowd in hall, in the whole city rises to new heights. The very stones tremble beneath your feet under the sheer volume of it. When it at last subsides, Calvin raises his head again and this time speaks with a thunder that seems to echo throughout the entire city while a blazing light seems to spring forth from his eyes. Simultaneously raising the Sword, it and the Armor blaze argent fury that is nearly blinding.
"Let the black hearts of Myrddin and his minions tremble in fear! Let them know that the Might of the Heavens again is in the hands of the rightful kings of the realm. Let them know that the hour of their defeat has arrived!"
The outburst of the people is of phenomenal proportions, and you can’t help but join in. The dark soldiers of Myrddin that you had fought on several occasions will finally have that arrogance wiped away from them. They will be defeated. No more will their evil threaten. The tides of the war will now change. You know it. You feel it.
The crowd seethes and finally swarms forward, engulfing the new king at first, but then he rises up on top of it and is carried out by it. Unable to resist the push of the crowd, you too are drawn with it. Through the streets of Arhus, the crowd is everywhere, and the new king is taken all throughout the city. The shining faces of the refugees and warriors alike beam with joy and their voices are shouted nearly hoarse as the new king passes them by. The signs of spring are suddenly more poignant than they were before the coronation, when you first entered the city in that mad dash through the barricaded harbor. Trees that had been suffering from the numbers of refugees in the streets suddenly seemed robust and bore bright flowers. The clouds which had seemed to perpetually hang over the city broke up, and bright sunbeams struck the brightest and most beautiful parts of the city. The ancient architecture, still strong despite the marks of war. Bells from all the temples rang continuously. And the last thing. The dark cloud of despair which had permeated the city seemed to suddenly disperse like the morning mist under the sun’s warmth to be replaced with something which had been lost: Hope.
At last, the new king is lost from sight, and you presume that he finally made his way back to the castle. A bit bewildered, you find yourselves out in the streets along with all the other thousands of people. The air of celebration continued, though. Musicians strike up impromptu tunes. People come up to you and greet you warmly, not even recognizing you as the heroes of the realm, but as just plain people to share the moment with. Fruits and roasted meat appear out of nowhere. There is dancing in the streets that you all can’t help but join in. The celebration lasts the rest of the day, and into the night. You come to be greeted and hailed by silversmith and cobbler, minstrel and tanner alike. Farmers bid you dance with their daughters and insist on feeding you again. More than once, you wonder, as the seasoned warrior in you would, about the army outside. This would definitely seem like a good time for them to attack. But there is no word from the walls. No commotion. Maybe the mood is infectious even out there.
Then, late in the evening, messengers from the castle find you, lost somewhere in the street celebrations, and bring you back to prepared rooms in the palace. Even here there are signs of celebration, but not of the king or his advisors and generals. The night passes, and the next day things seem more businesslike as they were before, but with a very subtle but important change. The air of despair was totally eradicated. Everywhere there is hope and fierce determination. Sending word that you would like an audience with King, or at least with Jurgen and Tomas, you are told that they will see you soon, but not yet. In the meantime, you are left to your own devices. Exploring the city, that sense of hope and determination seems indomitable. Preparations for the war are everywhere, and all are participating in any capacity they can. You even find yourself joining in, separating from your companions for the time being while waiting for the audience. Leaving before then would probably be a bad idea, even if it were possible to do so (considering the size of the army encamped around the city).