"Hmm, so you're saying you have no knowledge of who was responsible for your father's death?" the king pressed, seeking confirmation. Dara nodded, his jaw set.
"Yes, my lord. The rumors you heard were a carefully crafted scheme by my enemies. They seized control of my father's kingdom, but they underestimated me. While I live, I will reclaim what is rightfully mine. I will return with a mighty army, crush them, and restore order." His voice resonated with unwavering conviction, his hand clenched into a fist, raised high as if pledging an oath.
The king watched Dara intently, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. He could see the fire of ambition burning bright within the young man, a potent force waiting to be unleashed.
"So, you've come to me, seeking my aid in raising an army to challenge Myth?" the king inquired, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. Dara nodded again, his gaze unwavering.
The king fell silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Hmm," he murmured, lost in thought. He weighed the implications, the potential risks and rewards, carefully considering his next move. The silence stretched, Micah and Dara patiently awaiting the king's response.
"My dear friend," the king finally spoke, his tone shifting to a more pragmatic one. "If I were to assist you in raising an army, what benefit would I gain? What would be my reward for such a significant undertaking?"
Dara's face fell. He hadn't anticipated this question. He had assumed the king would readily agree, seeing it as a simple act of benevolence. He had come to see Taylor, not the king, and had naively assumed Taylor would be the one to provide him with the army.
"Umm, my lord," Micah started, eager to step in and offer assistance, sensing Dara's hesitation. But the king raised a hand, silencing him.
"Sorry, but I believe it's best if the future king speaks for himself. Tell me directly, what benefits would I gain by providing you with my army?" The king's gaze remained fixed on Dara, his expression unreadable.
Micah shrugged, stepping back as Dara took the reins of the conversation once more.
"My lord," Dara began, his voice steady, "We both face a common threat. This boy, who calls himself king of the seven kingdoms, sits on the throne of Genesis. He has declared himself ruler of seven kingdoms, including yours. The Genesis Kingdom is an independent realm, not subject to his rule. But he has seized power, claiming dominion over all seven. While you are the rightful king here, he seeks to usurp your authority."
The king nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
"So, what I propose is this," Dara continued, his voice gaining strength. "If you assist me with your army, and I succeed in defeating him and reclaiming my rightful throne, your kingdom will be free. He will no longer have any claim to your land or your people."
The king's eyes narrowed, considering Dara's proposition. He was clearly intrigued, but also wary. Dara's offer was tempting, but there were risks involved. If Dara failed, the king would have lost his army and gained nothing.
"My kingdom being free means other kingdoms will be free too. There's nothing special about that. Besides, Myth and I already have an agreement in place. He's offered me wealth and land if I join his side. If you want my army, you'll need to make a better offer," the king stated, his voice firm.
Dara and Micah exchanged a worried glance, their hopes dwindling. Micah signaled to Dara with a shake of his head, urging him to remain calm. They retreated to a corner, whispering urgently.
"I was hoping this visit wouldn't be in vain, but it seems we're out of luck. This king is no different from the boy we aim to conquer. If we reclaim the throne of Genesis, this man deserves to fall as well!" Micah hissed, his voice laced with frustration.
Dara nodded, his expression grim. "So, what do we do? Just turn around and leave?"
"A..." Micah started, but before he could finish, he abruptly walked past Dara, heading towards the center of the room.
Dara was bewildered. He turned to see who had caught Micah's attention, and his eyes widened in surprise. Standing at the entrance of the throne room was Obed, his face stern, his hand gripping the hilt of a drawn sword.
"Look who we have here!" Micah exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and apprehension. He looked at his old friend, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, but Obed's face remained impassive. He strode forward, his sword held high.
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Micah demanded, his confusion growing. Dara, too, was baffled by Obed's sudden appearance and aggressive stance.
The rage that burned within Obed was a wildfire, consuming all reason. He didn't even glance at Micah or Dara. He charged towards Taylor, a whirlwind of fury and steel.
"Obed, wait!" Micah's voice was desperate, laced with fear. "We're trying to settle this peacefully! You're making things worse!"
But Obed was deaf to his cries. He was a man possessed, his every thought consumed by the need for vengeance. Taylor, however, met his onslaught with a stoic calm, his own sword a silver flash against the angry gleam of Obed's blade.
Dara watched from the corner, his face a mask of stoic neutrality. He knew he needed Taylor's help and wanted peace with him, yet the memory of his murdered family lingered, a dark cloud over his heart. He yearned for justice and not really for peace, so, seeing Obed's blind rage stirred a storm within him. 
The clash of steel echoed through the air, a rhythmic symphony of fury and desperation. Obed's attacks were wild, fueled by unbridled anger, each swing aimed at Taylor's head with the intent to sever it clean. Taylor, however, was a master swordsman, his movements fluid and precise, deflecting every blow with a calmness that seemed to infuriate Obed even more.
Obed, sensing an opportunity, lunged forward, his left hand snapping out in a lightning-fast punch. Taylor, however, was too quick. He ducked, his sword flashing upwards, aiming for Obed's outstretched arm. Obed, however, saw the move coming and leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blade.
"Stop it!" Taylor yelled, his voice laced with a desperate plea. "Micah, Dara, make him stop! I don't want to hurt him!"
But Obed, blinded by his rage, wouldn't listen. He was consumed by the need to avenge his murdered sister, and Taylor, the man who had taken them from him, was the only target in his sights.