"Anthony, stop daydreaming. This is your first audience with His Majesty. Make sure you seize this rare opportunity and leave a good impression."
"Ah, I'm sorry, Lord Fried."
The boy addressed as Anthony looked slightly flustered and hurriedly quickened his pace to keep up with the group.
He appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen years old, with rather delicate features and a slender frame draped in simple clothes.
Just moments ago, Anthony had been gazing up at the palace's grand gates, tens of meters high, only snapping back to reality when Fried spoke to him.
"Whatever happens, remember the etiquette I taught you."
Fried paused for a beat.
"Furthermore, His Majesty appreciates the brave. Don't go fainting in the grand hall."
Fried was looking straight at Anthony, his gaze bringing cold sweat to the boy's forehead.
Anthony nodded hurriedly in response, then walked on in silence, his heart pounding wildly as he struggled to contain his anticipation and nerves.
It was a full thousand meters from the palace gates to the main hall. In training, such a distance would have been nothing more than a trivial punishment, but to Anthony, it felt endlessly long, as if it would never end. He couldn't help recalling his past misery, leading up to everything he had experienced after joining the Dragon Oath Hall.
From a dark, cramped, filth-stained cellar to this magnificent royal palace.
The dragon carved onto the gates was lifelike and imposing, seemingly scrutinizing every visitor who arrived.
The gates swung open slowly with a heavy rumble.
*It's truly... unbelievable,*
Anthony couldn't help thinking.
Perched atop stone pillars on both sides of the roadway, the guarding wyverns threw back their heads in unison, unleashing loud roars that only added to his growing dread about the impending audience with the King.
After all, this magnificent palace was already far beyond what the lowborn Anthony could have imagined. And what kind of majesty would the fabled "Infernal Scourge" and "Lord of Cinders"—the dragon sovereign who had wiped out an army of tens of thousands single-handedly—possess? Though Anthony had gazed upon him from afar, he had never been in such close proximity, let alone been granted an audience.
The other eleven boys were around the same age, their youthful faces betraying unmistakable nervousness and awe. Counting Anthony, these twelve were the very first batch of Dragon Oath Paladin candidates chosen by Fried.
Most were boys of blameless background who had received the kingdom's grace. Having passed rigorous selections and grueling training, they were now about to be led before the red dragon to receive his boon. As a former Black Lion Knight, Fried was thoroughly in his element with this kind of work.
Walking along the broad roadway, Fried turned his head and instructed in a low voice:
"Ah..."
The heaven-and-earth contrast between past and present made Anthony wonder if he was living through some sweeping, magnificent dream, yet deep down he knew he could never have imagined such sights.
Anthony's father was an ordinary peasant—or more precisely, a serf tied to an estate, one of hundreds under Baron Solly's rule.
His father had been fortunate enough to find a wife, allowing Anthony to be born in a stable. Originally, Anthony had no proper name, given only a moniker that meant "Grain of Wheat."
By the normal trajectory of life, he too would have become a serf of the lowest sort, spending his days in exhaustion and hunger before dying young—just like his grandfather, who had starved to death in his thirties.
Yet as Anthony grew, the estate's steward was surprised to discover that, unlike ordinary "gray livestock," he was not gaunt, sallow, and sickly to look upon; instead, he showed rather delicate, pleasing features.
And so, the steward bought him from his father at the price of three sacks of soybeans.
According to the steward, Anthony was going "to the city to enjoy a life of ease alongside the noble lord." Perhaps for that precious grain, perhaps out of a genuine hope that his son might live a better life, or perhaps simply having no room to refuse, the father gladly accepted. Anthony was only eight years old at the time.
The steward loaded him onto a carriage and sent him into bustling Northwind Keep, delivering him to the baron's opulent manor.
The young Anthony had no idea what any of this meant.
And so, the nightmare began.
Baron Solly welcomed Anthony warmly, then led him down to the cellar, surrounded by utter darkness.
That was the moment it all started.
The baron finally tore off his cultured, aristocratic mask and revealed his demonic nature.
Anthony was locked away in that dark, damp cellar, begging the guards of the manor each day to toss him scraps of leftover food. He constantly prayed to regain his freedom and escape that hellish torment, but help never came.
He often hoped the "gods" in the estate's church would save him, yet no answer ever came from the unseen heavens. On second thought, why would deities that harbored a devil like Baron Solly ever answer the pleas of a victim like him?
Baron Solly frequently donned a pristine white clerical robe and conversed warmly with the church's clerics, yet the gods had never brought down divine punishment upon him.
This ordeal lasted from the time Anthony was eight until he was thirteen.
Gradually, Anthony became numb, growing accustomed even to an existence like this.
Until that day—when the earth shuddered with a thunderous roar, and even locked away in the cellar, he could hear the blast of artillery fire.
In the end, he was rescued from the cellar by the tiefling soldiers of the Kingdom of Cinders. In Anthony's eyes, even though these tieflings looked like devils on the outside, they were far better than the cultured baron whose demonic nature lurked within.
When he saw the light of day for the first time in five years, he could hardly bear it, shielding his eyes from the blinding sunlight with his hand. Yet the sight through the gaps of his fingers was something he would never forget for the rest of his life: the colossal red dragon perched atop the city wall, unfurling wings so broad they seemed to blot out the sky.
The dragon raised his head slightly and unleashed a resounding roar that shook the heavens. The sound felt like the death knell of the old order, and the dawn of a new one.
That scene was etched deeply into his mind, like a divine miracle.
It had given him a new life.
Later, possessing no status or standing in the city, he was chosen personally by Fried of the Dragon Oath Hall to become a Dragon Oath Paladin reserve. Fried had also given him the name "Anthony," meaning "the brave."
Fried had simply told them bluntly that the great red dragon had altered their destinies. There was no place left for them in the old order of the Northern nobility, and their only choice was to join the new order of the Kingdom of Cinders, receive the power of the Dragon Oath, and become part of a grand design.
Eating white bread for the very first time in his life, Anthony had forced down the mouthful of food, his eyes filled with fierce resolve.
And so, through arduous training and layer upon layer of strict selection, he had finally arrived at the royal palace, poised to become an immensely honored, powerfully blessed Dragon Oath Paladin.
Chapter 226