|Here is the second part of the Lost World, taking place in Stoneface kingdom without Mark and Sam:|
King Rithbom lll looked out his bedroom window at the sunny capital of Stoneface Kingdom that lay before him, thinking how pleasant it was to reign in a time of peace, much unlike his famous great-great-great-great grandfather’s, King Liathel’s, rule. He turned his head back inside and walked over to where Liathel’s sword hung on the wall next to a painting of the Battle for Stoneface Castle. Many scratches and chips were on the blade, displaying a past of many battles. I wish I could be like him, thought Rithbom.
He often imagined riding into battle on a great charger and slaying dozens of Rell, which were now almost extinct. But these were just dreams. Right now he had to worry about an ancient family that had risen to power and was now opposing him politically for the crown. They were the Lincell family, raised from almost destruction by revenge. Many members of the family had been helpers in the Rellish wars, and were killed in the Battle for Stoneface Castle. Now they found that a cause to quarrel for the throne.
Rithbom dressed and went to his dining hall. There a small breakfast had been prepared. After he ate, he walked to the throne hall where he then addressed his subjects’ problems for about three hours. After that he had lunch. The same old thing, he thought. Rithbom would do this every day, and he wished for quests that he could ride out and seek with his knights.
He was lounging in the library reading about the history of Rell, when a messenger burst into the room. “Sire,” he said, bowing, “there is a band of men with the Lincell coat-of-arms (two downward- pointing swords criss-crossing each other with a snake above the hilt on their jerkins) ravaging the streets of the main market-place. The captains wish immediate action against them.”
“Very well. Summon the troops. Give the order to only kill if they must. We must remember that these are men, not beasts, and I would like to settle this matter peacefully. Take prisoners, but remember, no killing,” Rithbom replied.
“Yes, sire.” The messenger hurried of the room. At last, here was a chance to test his skills in battle. He buckled on only his sword, went to the stables, got on his horse, a black warhorse named Shadow. Then he rode down to where his men were assembling.