Awakening in The World of Gods

As Poll turned toward the door, a thrill of anticipation coursed through him. Once outside, he exhaled a long, steady breath, letting a mischievous grin tug at his lips. Let's see what happens next, he thought, excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior. Following the map his father had given him, he made his way toward the training grounds.

When he arrived, his jaw nearly dropped. Rows of gleaming armor and weapons stretched out before him, the area alive with the rhythmic clang of sparring soldiers and the hum of voices. Poll's eyes sparkled with amazement. This… this is incredible! He could barely suppress the grin that spread across his face.

Scanning the bustling grounds, he spotted Eryndor lounging at a table, casually sipping from a wooden mug. The man raised an eyebrow as Poll approached, smirking. "So, how'd your little chat with His Majesty go?" Eryndor asked, his tone light but curious.

Poll slid into the seat across from him, his devilish smile returning. "Better than expected," he said, leaning back like a master strategist who'd just won a war.

Eryndor chuckled, shaking his head. "Better, huh? I don't know if that's reassuring or terrifying coming from you. So, what's the plan now? Gonna bask in the glory of impressing a king?"

Poll shrugged nonchalantly, though his grin didn't falter. "Nah, I thought I'd wander around here for a bit, maybe admire the swords or something, then head home."

Eryndor set his mug down with a soft thunk, giving Poll a flat look. "It's getting dark. No way you're wandering home alone. I'll have one of my men escort you."

"What? No way!" Poll shot back, crossing his arms. "I can get home by myself. I'm perfectly capable, thank you very much."

Eryndor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, I'm not arguing with you. You're leaving with an escort. End of discussion."

Before Poll could protest further, Eryndor waved over a soldier. "Raindel! Over here!"

The soldier jogged over, standing at attention. "Yes, Captain?"

"Do me a favor and escort this little troublemaker home," Eryndor said, gesturing to Poll.

Raindel blinked, looking between the captain and the boy. "Uh… Captain? Are you sure? Who is he?"

Eryndor's smirk widened. "This 'little guy' just finished a private meeting with the king."

Raindel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze snapping back to Poll. "Wait, what? The king?"

Poll rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not that big a deal. People meet kings all the time. Totally normal."

Raindel scratched his head, clearly baffled. "Uh… sure, if you say so. I'll get the horses ready."

As Poll mounted the horse beside Raindel, he muttered, "The king, the captain—why does everyone have to make such a big deal out of it?"

Raindel chuckled. "Well, kid, when you're casually hanging out with royalty, people tend to notice."

By the time they arrived at the Nightvale residence, Poll hopped down with practiced ease. "Thanks for the ride, mister," he said, giving Raindel a mock salute.

Raindel tipped his helmet. "Nightvale, huh? You must be the captain's son." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Wait… you mean that Nightvale? Why didn't I realize sooner?"

Poll groaned inwardly, forcing a polite smile. "Amazing deduction, Sherlock. Really top-notch work."

Inside, Poll called out, "Mother, I'm home!"

Seraphina's voice floated from the kitchen. "Welcome back, dear! Where's your father? He promised to help me with dinner!"

In the living room, Elowen looked up from her book, her warm smile lighting up the room. "Poll! You're back! How was your day?"

Poll plopped onto the couch beside her, grinning. "Oh, just the usual. Secret meetings with kings, dodging nosy soldiers—you know, a typical afternoon."

Elowen chuckled, shaking her head. "Secret meetings with kings? Sounds exhausting. Did they at least give you snacks?"

Poll snapped his fingers. "Right? No snacks, no drinks—nothing. The least they could've done was offer me some cake or something."

From the kitchen, Seraphina called out, "Cake? You're lucky they didn't throw you in the dungeon for whatever trouble you stirred up!"

Poll smirked, kicking back on the couch. "Trouble? Please. I'm an angel of diplomacy."

Elowen laughed, nudging him playfully. "An angel, huh? Did you use that angelic charm to escape your escort again?"

"I tried!" Poll said dramatically, throwing his hands up. "But Captain Stubborn wouldn't take no for an answer. He practically tied me to the horse."

Seraphina appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel, her eyebrow raised. "And yet, somehow, you made it back alive. Miracles never cease."

"Mom," Poll said with mock seriousness, "I'm basically unkillable. It's my hidden talent."

Elowen giggled as Seraphina rolled her eyes. "Fine, unkillable boy. Go wash up for dinner. And tell your father he owes me—again."

Poll sighed theatrically but grinned as he headed upstairs. Today had been a whirlwind, but one thing was certain: the game was just beginning.