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In the heart of the vast, ancient forest Elennir, where the towering trees whispered secrets to the wind and dappled sunlight painted the forest floor in patches of gold, King Nickolas Alden of Albion embarked on a tranquil hunting expedition. More so, he slipped out from under his Knights who were supposed to be his guard. He sought solace in the wilderness, yearning to escape the duties and politics of the royal court for a few precious moments. *Peace at bloody lastโฆ*
As he stealthily tracked a magnificent stag through the underbrush, the haunting echoes of a struggle reached his ears. Nickolasโ sharp instincts kicked into gear, and he followed the sounds to a secluded glade. There, clear as day, was a Lycan who fought desperately against a group of menacing slave traders or raiders. With primal grace, the Lycan moved like a fierce predator, attempting to defend themself against their assailants, but the slavers numbers were overwhelming.
Nickolas watched with intent as the men closed in on the clearly injured Lycan, their cruel intentions clear. Without hesitation, he raised his bow, not to strike the stag, but to intervene in this unexpected battle. *So much for some peace...* He thought offhandedly.
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