Mount Isles

Votigern sat on his make-believe throne, every bit the sovereign ruler he saw himself as. He was clad in a red and gold patterned robe and golden slippers. You wouldn’t have guessed he was of no royal descent.

In his opinion he was way greater than all the rulers pulled together, he had lived amongst dragons, fooled them and owned the greatest stone ever. He had tasted power raw. It had made him grow from a weak and lanky man to a very strong one.

There was a feast before him, but he was the only one at the head of the table, he didn’t think his men were worthy enough to sit beside him. It was a meal of lamb chop, fresh bread, berries and fine wine. It was too much for him to finish but he liked the solitude, it gave him time to think, about his future, away from all the other men that followed him, they were mediocre, men of small minds, they couldn’t possibly think like him. They couldn’t fathom what he had imagined. So you could imagine his anger when one of his lowest guards he h