Prologue: Hero-King Inglis
In Silvaria, the capital of the Silvare Kingdom...
From a castle in the hills above looking down on his capital city, the Hero-King Inglis, founder of a continent-spanning empire, awaited his end. His attendants and retainers were huddled around his ornate deathbed, their faces bearing the nervous frowns of lost children.
And not for nothing—this aged monarch had been the bedrock of their existence. As a young man, Inglis had received the protection of the goddess Alistia, becoming a divine knight with powers beyond human limits. With those powers, he had beaten back the monsters which threatened humanity, slain the dark gods, and laid the foundations of the Silvare Kingdom. His rule was just, the fields were fertile, and his subjects smiled throughout his reign. Surely, he had built a kingdom that would last a thousand years.
Witnessing his feats and the selfless, noble spirit of his rule, the sages had confidently declared that he was the greatest king to ever live. The bards had sung hundreds, then thousands, of hymns praising him. However, now he had reached his last moments in the land he’d built. Even the greatest of heroes cannot outrun the hands of the clock, and a Silvare Kingdom without King Inglis was something none of them had ever known. No consoling words could ease their fears.
“Do not frown,” King Inglis said, his tone gentle as he attempted to clear the air. “How can I rest in peace if you do not allow me to move on?” The aged king could barely lift himself from bed.
“Th-Then, get well! Your country, your people need your strength!” a retainer tearfully cried.
“If only I could. But no, this is my fate. My well-earned rest. I never could have accomplished all that I have without your aid, and I thank you for that from the depths of my heart. The future, though, is in your hands...”
His retainers continued to weep. As grateful as they were for his appreciation, it was clear his time had come. All they could do was make sure his passing came gently.
“Inglis...”
A woman’s voice rang clearly in his ears. He remembered her from long ago—the only being he knew that needed no deference toward himself, whether or not he desired such a thing.
Life was strange. As a young man, he’d never even considered becoming a king. He’d thought he could live by the strength of his arms alone, but then he’d met her, and everything changed.
“It... It’s been so long.” The king lost his composure as a woman wrapped in glistening white robes appeared at the foot of his bed without warning.
“Your Majesty, what seems to be the matter?” a retainer asked.
Naturally, they could not see her; a god reveals their form only to humans of their choosing. As a divine knight, half-human and half-god, Inglis could see her clearly—the goddess Alistia, who had granted him her protection. She had bestowed her power unto him when he was young.
“It’s nothing. Leave me for a moment. I wish to be alone,” Inglis said.
His retainers filed out of the room, not a single one noticing the goddess’s presence. Now, alone with her, King Inglis smiled.
“It’s been so long. How many years have passed since we last met? Yet you’re as beautiful as ever. I’d hoped to see you once more before the end.”
“And I as well. Inglis...” Alistia ran her hand over Inglis’s wrinkled brow. “You’ve worked so hard. Truly. For both the world and the people in it.”
“So my feeble efforts have had some merit. I suppose I’ve imparted something upon the ages.”
“Eh heh heh. That goes for myself as well. I made no mistake in choosing you as a divine knight.” Alistia smiled with otherworldly beauty after letting out a chuckle. “Inglis, I appear before you to—”
“I know. To provide me a final solace?”
“Why, of course not. After all your effort, I would reward you. What is your wish? Anything which I can grant, I will.”
“Anything?”
“Yes. You’ve earned it through your deeds.” The goddess nodded deeply, proud of him.
Inglis thought quietly for a moment, There’s no shame in the life I’ve lived. I should be proud of what I’ve accomplished, but...there’s still that what-if.
The human spirit, a human life, contains more complexities than what a single path allows.
King Inglis’s greatest regret was never truly mastering the blade. Even as a divine knight with superhuman powers, his duties as a king had precluded even the simplest of training exercises, especially since founding the Silvare Kingdom. As a warrior, that was what he regretted most. Thus, King Inglis answered:
“Very well, then. If I’ve a wish, it’s to be reborn.”
“Why is that?”
“To live a different life. I’ve offered my whole self to my kingdom, my people. I have no regrets about that, only pride.”
“But of course.”
“But if I had lived as a warrior, rather than a king—I’m curious how far my strength would have taken me. If you’d permit me, I’d like to try living that life.”
“I see. I recall you were a mercenary when we first met.”
“Indeed. And deep inside, some part of me still identifies as a nameless sellsword rather than a king. May I be reborn, far enough in the future to see the fate of the land I built? To see how those come after me take up my mantle... I’d like to learn what becomes of my work here.”
“I understand. Inglis, I shall grant your wish.” The goddess looked upon him warmly. “I await the day, far in the future after your rebirth, when we meet again.”
She embraced Inglis’s frail, withered body, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into her arms. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.
As the sun slipped from the heavens that evening, so too did King Inglis from this world. His last hours were spent on his balcony, gazing at both the country he’d built and the loyal subjects he loved. Many of the citizens saw the moment the hero-king passed, his serene expression filled with beatific kindness. The Silvare Kingdom had lost its father and would trod its own path in the world without him.
Time continued its march...
He slept for what felt at once like eons yet also mere moments.
Finally, King Inglis felt his consciousness return. Through hazy vision, he looked up at two human figures, a raven-haired woman and a silver-haired man, the man hoisting Inglis aloft.
Inglis felt small, barely able to move. He was a newborn now.
Then I truly was reborn... Divine power, indeed.
It was certainly quite a feat.
The silver-haired man gleefully raised Inglis in the air, taking on the lilt of a proud father. “Ah ha ha ha! Inglis go whoosh, whoosh!”
The sea of ages had not yet lapped away Inglis’s name. He was fine with that. After spending over a lifetime with it, he was attached to it.
“Honey, Inglis will be scared up there.”
“Oh, right, sorry. Well done, though, Serena! She’s just as beautiful as you!”
What?! I’m a girl?! Inglis tried to shout in surprise, but all that came out was a baby’s “Goo-goo, ga-ga!”
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