Rise of Kings

Chapitre Un

The violent pattering of the rain on the window awoke Skrilliant with a start. He sighed and rolled over in his bed to look at the clock on the left wall. It read 11:47 AM, nearly five hours late for his weekly check-in on his home city, Vesria's, repair. It can wait, he thought as he looked into the mirror on the nightstand. With a grimace, he attempted to flatten the mess atop his head with a paw. His efforts turning fruitless, he sat up and dragged his paws downstairs where he expected to find his advisor, Dewdrop. To his surprise, it was not Dewdrop that awaited him, but a strange old wolf munching on a piece of toast in the kitchen.

"Who the hell are you?!" Skrilliant yelped in surprise. The old wolf turned to him, toast crumbs falling from his mouth.

The wolf sitting in the kitchen before him was very large, and by the looks of it, in his late fifties, a very old age for wolves. He was covered in black fur, and along his back were several vivid purple spikes running from his head to his tail. Even more striking than the spikes were the scars, and the old wolf was seemingly covered in them on his right side. On his eye were two scars that looked as if they hadn't healed all the way, causing his right eye to be partially shut. On his snout was one particularly nasty one, going almost from his lip to his nose. He had a rancid smell about him, the smell of rotting things. His tail was tipped with purple, starting light and turning a darker hue as it came nearer to the base of the tail. His neck and head were adorned with a shiny silver crown and neckpiece. They were embedded with several deep purple sapphires in the shape of ovals and gleamed in the midday light of Skrilliant's living room.

In a mangled voice, the wolf replied,

"Oh, thank god it's you! The las' two places I was at, the phantoms weren't very hospitable, they only let me eat fruit! Yuck." He swallowed the piece of toast in his mouth and blinked at Skrilliant expectantly.

Skrilliant merely stood at the foot of the staircase with a shocked look on his face, trying to comprehend the situation. The old wolf cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly.

"Aren't you gonna ask who I am?"

"I-I already did.." Skrilliant stuttered, a look of suspicion crossing his face.

"Oh, well, m'name's Memorian, King of the Phantoms!" He gestured dramatically to himself.

Skrilliant blinked once and shook his head.

"How can you be the phantom king, I am!"

"Yeah, I know. I came here 'cause I thought you might be able to use some help," Memorian said, cramming another piece of toast into his mouth.

"Err, sorry, but I don't need any help. Especially from the likes of... You," Skrilliant said, looking in disgust at the bits of toast and saliva dripping from his mouth. Memorian stopped chewing and took a long look at Skrilliant.

"Listen kid, lemme tell you something. You can't do anything alone. Never. You can't defeat anyone on your own. I learned that the hard way. So I suggest, if you want to actually beat the Shamans for good, you'll get off your high horse and accept my help. I know y' need it, especially after your waifu went ker-splat."

Skrilliant's haunches raised in defiance. "How do you know about that?! Who told you?!"

"Calm down, baby cakes, nobody told me. I have a way of just sorta... Knowing what goes on around in Jamaa. Call it a gift, kid. But in the meantime, I know when I'm needed, especially where you phantoms are concerned. I can read you like an open book," he growled, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward menacingly.

"Then prove it old man," Skrilliant scoffed defiantly, "Prove that you really can." He sat down on the stairs with his nose upturned.

"Whatever you say, your highness," Memorian yawned. He sat up from the low stool he was sitting on and padded confidently over to Skrilliant. He leaned forward and took a long look into Skrilliant's eyes, all the while Skrilliant leaning back uncomfortably.