Castle Olympus is a fortress created from the side of a massive mountain. It stands high above the clouds and overlooks all its commands. Made from stone and metal from the skies, the fortress remains unbreakable, although it does have some evidence of a great battle, one that took place many decades ago. The fort was divided into five different levels.
At the very top is the throne room. It was created in the same style as the Greek Parthenon with its marble pillars and limestone walls and floors, the throne room as beautiful as it is evil. The second floor is the war room. Ares and the rest of the council reside here. The third and fourth floors were military barracks, along with the kitchens and the infirmary. Lastly, the fifth and final floor is the dungeon.
The dungeon holds public enemies of the realm. It is also here where the mage was being held. The sorcerer cell reeked of death and misery. His hands were chained to the stone walls, feet dangling above the floor. His face, bruised and beaten, hung aimlessly. Outside his cell were two of his countrymen, both wearing Greek armor. He could not raise his head to see them as his neck was sore and weary.
Then he hears the sounds of footsteps coming down towards the dungeon. The sounds get louder and closer, and the mage realizes the steps were approaching his cell. He hears some commotion between the guards and the stranger, and then he hears the sound of his jail cell being open. The heaviness of the door and the creaking of the metal hinge fill the room.
As he tries to raise his head, he gets a good look at the stranger who enters his cell. The stranger wore a grey cloak and held a sickle seter in his hand. Its purple glow illuminated the cell room. The mage knew who it was. He knew him all too well.
“You know, it pains me to see you like this. It does.” The stranger stands to meet the mage eye to eye. He sees his beaten face and shakes his head. “All of this could have been avoided. Had you not taken the stone, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now. No, we would all be living our normal lives, but because of you, many will suffer. Have you anything to say. Anything at all!”
The mage manages to speak a little. “You…cause…us suffering…yo-you was once a great man…now…only…a monster.” The stranger backhands the convict with his metal glove. Blood spills out of his mouth and spits it at the ground.
“You dare call me a monster, yet all I have done these many centuries is try and make you into an ordered utopia. Rich in power and knowledge. Where is the crime in that!?” The mage raises his head higher.
“The crime, I’ll tell you the crime. Yes, it is true that when you came here, you wanted to help us be better versions of ourselves. But that changed as soon as you took power. You sided with our worst enemies, betrayed us, and abused the power we gave you. That is the truth.”
The cloaked figure laughs and turns away. “Truth is a matter of perspective mage. Soon my stone will be found, and your village and its people will be forgotten, and there is nothing you or your champions can do about it.” The figure leaves the dungeon and returns to his throne room. The mage is left back with isolation, and as he looks to the ground once more, he prays that those he summoned help his people and free them from their torment.