1219-01-01
Loret:
The wind is thick with the scent of death, the world drenched in the blood of enemies. As we fight, it becomes clearer and clearer how divided we truly are, how we all long for someone to be our leader, yet we don't truly seek unity.
I have this recurring nightmare. I'm certain my brother shares the same one—the death of our father, the death of peace in Ghar. I still remember my brother covering my mouth as I squirmed, my arms flailing, tears streaming down my face as I cried in his arms.
Ghar is like this. It's like the child I used to be, the person I once was, crying for the old ways, wishing for someone to hide behind—like I did with my brother. We were sheltered from making mistakes, kept away from the harsh truths. Maybe Ghar can never truly be at peace, no matter who we hide behind, no matter what throne we take refuge in. We are all still children, afraid and lost in the end.
If we hide in the arms of another, if we become that scared child again, we will only continue to run from the truth.
No matter how hard we try, there will always be chaos. There will always be opposition, no matter if we hide behind a son, a daughter, a king, a queen, a monarch, a supreme leader, or even a dragon. There will always be those who oppose us, those who fight against our vision.
The ones we wish to hide behind would need to be so strong that no one could challenge them. They would need to be so cunning that they could rival the sharpest minds of Marano. They would need to be faster than a dragon in war, capable of uniting people like those in Ahk, with the determination of a warrior and the bravery of a Khiz.
But a person like that cannot exist, or at least I cannot be that person. However, I can cultivate someone like that. A person who is strong, smart, fast, brave, and determined—a barrier against other kingdoms, and more importantly, those from within, those who do not truly want to improve.
I looked at my son. This is who I am cultivating. I believe every father wants their son to be stronger and braver, and I believe my father looks down on me, seeing a stone that he carved. I will do the same for my son.
Krain and I have conquered most of Ghar. The few larger tribes that refused to join the Dragon Slayer remain our main conflict. Krain believes we can unite with them, but I'm not sure they will accept us.
About 20% of Ghar is under our control. After Rah joined us, many of the smaller tribes came together in solidarity. The larger tribes, like the one led by my friend, and a few others, make up the remaining power in Ghar, these tribes:
Zandu: 20%
New Momba: 27%
Ondaro: 15%
Embaru: 20%
Roshari: 15%
Amzari: 6%
Krain believes we can become a united state, a single Ghar, once we have a common cause. With that unity, we can take on Ahk for their crimes and reclaim the land they stole from us.
We have meetings set for diplomacy, and I believe this is our best chance to save lives, to begin building. Allowing our tribes to maintain their own customs and laws would be ideal. However, no one truly wants what's best for them. They want what gives them... cold quiet.
These thoughts flood my mind as I sit on my bed. A sits beside me, his presence both commanding and innocent. Though these days, I can't tell what he's truly thinking.
"Loret," he asks, "When do I get a Taji?"
"You'll get a Taji," I say, "when a woman offers you one."
"They're more than just signs for fighting," he says. "They're promises between them."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"A Taji is a sign of many things: family, promise, and respect. Every fight you have with anyone, your Taji is on the line."
"Don't we fight in training and get dots put on?" he asks.
"We do," I answer. "Training is a fight as well, fighting to improve. The bigger the dots, the more impactful the battle."
"Could Zara give me a Taji?" he asks.
" I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not?" he complains.
"Because she's from a different tribe," I say, though I know that's not the real reason.
As I get up, he looks at me once more.
"Old man," he says, "when do we return to Zandu?"
I left the building, feeling a quiet sense of contentment living in the northern parts of Ghar. The buildings were progressing well, and the reconstruction of Miso, the palace where my father died, was stretching further each day. I hoped that the upcoming meeting and the conflict ahead wouldn't destroy this beautiful city once more.
Krain had met a Misan woman, and I hadn't seen him much these days.
The city had almost been completely rebuilt. Stone foundations, stone floors, and roads led through the city. Wooden structures, castles, and churches were in progress. Bricks were being laid in the palace.
This was a city of trade, a beautiful trading city.
Most cities facing the sea are better off than those in the center of Ghar. The weather is milder, and fighting is less common. Those on the outside of Ghar trade with other countries or are raided by them.
A duel edged sword.
As I looked upon the buildings, the progress of the city, and the men and women working in unison to rebuild Miso, I couldn't help but smile. A part of me that once saw this city destroyed—this part of me that I thought was lost—was now smiling.
A trains tirelessly, again and again, pushing his body to its limits. No matter how tired he gets, he keeps fighting. Every strike, every move, is a test of endurance, and yet, he never stops. There's a fire in him that refuses to be extinguished. As the sweat drips down his face. He watches the dragons above. A will to keep fighting, to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
His resolve strengthens with every blow he lands, every practice session that ends in exhaustion. The fatigue doesn't break him—it fuels him. He knows that he must become stronger, that every ounce of effort now will pay off when the time comes. His determination burns brighter with each passing day. A testament to his relentless drive. No matter the cost.
He will win.
The sun began to set. It casts a reddish hue over the horizon. I glanced out towards the sea. A heavy weight hung over me. A is tired. He's drained from hours of training, yet he kept going. His hunger didn't stop him. Though I could see the frustration in his eyes—he was angry, both at me and himself. We had our differences, but we understood each other in the end. He improved. I couldn't help but think about the approaching conflict. The fear of it all gripped me—would it end the same way for me as it did for my father?
The sound of water splashing against the shore pulled me from my thoughts. A large boat appeared. A flag waving in the wind—a silver broken chain on a black background with a violet rising sun. I had heard of the flag before, from merchants and traders.
The Tobean flag.
I ran towards the beach. The boat stopped. A smaller vessel drawing closer to the shore. There were two men in the boat. The one in front stood out. He wore a regal attire, with blue and black robes that seemed to billow in the wind. His piercing blue eyes scanned the shore. His long, flowing black hair cascaded down his back. His pale white skin contrasted with the darkness of his robes.
"My name is Kuzan," he said, "Kuzan Aido."
Behind me, soldiers lined up.
"And what would the prestigious Aido family have to do with Ghar?" I sighed, unimpressed by his presence.
Kuzan's eyes narrowed. "You're the one who killed the dragon?"
"I am."
"You don't look like it," he said.
"You think I'm lying? Why would I lie?"
"I think it's a farce to scare people away from Ghar," I replied sharply.
"If you want a fight with us, you can turn around now," I laughed.
Trust me, he gloated, a fight with Ghar would mean nothing to the world.
He continued, "Maranona could slaughter you all, and no one would care."
"He's trying to provoke us," I said to A. "Let's go," I added, turning away.
"The mother of your son... Is she alive?"
"And why does that matter?" I yelled back.
"Purple eyes. Only one group of people have that color," Kuzan said with a smirk.
I gritted my teeth.
"If she is," Kuzan continued, "that could mean conflict between you and Shatar."
"What does it matter to you?" I shot back.
"What happens when he understands the circumstances of his birth?"
I stayed silent.
The man beside him didn't speak, just watched us, his eyes shifting between us like a statue awaiting a command.
"Let me introduce you," Kuzan said, as if on cue. "This is Seto, Seto Utsuho."
Seto gave a brief nod, his gaze sharp but unspoken, like the cold steel of his presence. Kuzan continued. "I'm here to establish trade routes and see if anyone of note has been here."
"Who's been here?" I asked, keeping my guard up.
"Two women and one man," I replied. "They're pirates and dangerous."
Seto handed A a small piece of paper—bounties.
"Pirates, you say? If they were taken by another tribe, I doubt they'd be willing to talk, not like we are now."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"They wouldn't tolerate threats," Kuzan said with a shrug.
"Not like you could beat us," Kuzan added, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Though we are in the age of soldiers, so you might have a chance."
"The age of soldiers?" A asked, confused.
Kuzan nodded. "One day, there will be people so powerful they can defeat armies by themselves."
"Like Loret?" A's voice was cold, but the words cut deep.
"No," Kuzan replied. "Defeating one dragon means nothing in the grand scheme of things."
A still looked confused, so Kuzan continued,
"Some believe that dragons are our equals, others think they are lesser, some even see them as divine. Others believe in the Lion. And then there are those who believe in themselves, that they are kings."
"And what do you believe?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"You'll see," Kuzan smiled. "When Loret dies, you'll be the sole leader of these people. Let's see then, if you're strong enough."
I stepped forward, anger rising. "You can threaten me, but never my son."
I reached out my hand, about to place it on him, but—
"Kneel," he commanded.
An invisible force slammed me down to my knees. A giant hand had forced me to the ground. My body trembled, but I couldn't move. My vision blurred.
"You are not worthy to touch me yet," he said, almost patronizingly, walking over to A. "However," he added, "you may be the one to defeat him."
With a flick of his fingers, a small grey dot flew from Kuzan's hand and struck A. The impact was immediate. A screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground as he lost consciousness.
I wanted to move. My body wouldn't obey. It was as if I was paralyzed. A's body lay motionless on the ground.
The soldiers who had lined up behind us were the same, kneeling before him.
"Defeat who?" I wanted to ask, but I couldn't speak.