Seated on the base of a tree he had recently finished cutting into pieces for fire, hoping to use it for prayer as well, King Armen, in the full stature of a god of strength, with blood still flowing vigorously through his veins, spoke into the mystic night in rage and in disturbance, “They are calling to me, Aru, and they know not who I am. With great whims and dreams of building an army, they cannot see the sorcery is within their midst."
"They see it, Armen."
"I have had enough of these conflicts," roared the Lion Bearer, "Much of my life has been eaten and consumed by sorcerers and their deception. Look at what has become of me, a Lord, bereft of his kingdom, due to the craft of deceivers and the slaying of my father and his family."
"Your faith is within you and your body is the castle of heaven. Do not forget that God relies on you, and when the time is right, you will see what you ought to do when the confusion and the chaos begin to become transparent to your eyes."
"The twistedness, the lies, the contradictions, the stealing, the killing, the destoying. If only there were an opportunity to slay and cut the heads of these sorcerers, all would be in peace and I could look up to the heavens and smile with joy and laughter once more. And now, this King, this Tigran, is coming to me asking for a way to develop his kingdom? He is a boy! He knows not of what he speaks, he knows not what trouble he is in! Look at his letter given by this scoundrel and scout on the horse of a holy knight. That horse belongs to a holy man, a man of valor! His blood remained upon the horse's mane. I know the blood of a martyr when I see one. The trouble is within his own walls, it is within his family, it is rooted in the sins and the deception of those most near to his heart."
Aru, upset at Armen's anger, seeing his fury as a sign of weakness, simply began to breathe more deeply.
"Let us go," he said, "you need an army."
Armen drawing the golden sword of King Leo, with such speed out of his sheath, cutting the air and ringing with the sound of gold and of heaven's might, simply beheld the forest's darkness emasculating every bit of evil he could discern. "Blood will be shed, for this end, though the blood of his people, my own as well, may never cease spilling."
Aru roared with heavens assent, as he ran forth beside Armen dressed in torn clothes made of the skin of his eaten prey, beginning his course of a thousand leagues to the holy castle of King Tigran, to end the coming war, and to cut the head of the poisonous snake who's whisper in his ears deceives once more.