Location: Engraved Stone War Council Chamber (Early Morning)
The dawn's first light crept through narrow slits in the War Council Chamber's obsidian walls, illuminating runic maps carved into the floor. Itsuki Hiroto stood before a semicircle of war tables—each map marked with contested borders—and swallowed hard. Yesterday he was peacemaker; today, he was about to tip the world into chaos.
Across the tables sat no fewer than seven ambassadors: Elven General Syrindel in silver armor; Dwarven Warlord Thrakun with gauntleted fists; Beastfolk Chieftain Horin with antlers streaming ribbons; Merfolk Envoy Selvra dripping aquatic pearls; Sky Rider Lord Eolyn perched on a wind‑carved seat; Imperial General Rosena brandishing a lance of polished steel; and Demon-Marshal Vekthar, scarred and grim. Each glared at Hiroto like he'd personally stolen their breakfast.
Chancellor Beltram cleared his throat. "Captain Hiroto, your… unique status has compelled us to convene this council. Rumors of your divided loyalties and unpredictable power have alarmed every realm. We require your counsel: who will you side with, and thus, who will we war against?"
Hiroto's throat tightened. He rubbed his temples, fingers skimming over the "Protector of the Seal" sigil at his throat. I just wanted peace and noodles. He opened his mouth, but his voice cracked. The war tables hummed with tension.
Ambassador Syrindel slammed her gauntlet on the table. "We can't trust a broker who sits with demons one day, humans the next!"
Warlord Thrakun roared, "Dwarven mines are sacred. If this 'Silent Hand' tilts the balance, we'll see flames across the border!"
Chieftain Horin bared wide fangs. "Beastfolk will not be collateral."
Envoy Selvra's voice rippled with water. "Merfolk will drown in the wake of any war."
Lord Eolyn's feathers rustled. "The skies will burn."
General Rosena narrowed her eyes at Hiroto. "Mars calls his children to arms at your bidding."
Marshal Vekthar's claws tapped the stone. "In the underworld, betrayal is the bloodiest lesson."
Beltram raised a hand. "Enough! Captain Hiroto demands an audience." He stabbed a finger at Hiroto. "Speak."
Hiroto's knees threatened to buckle. He swallowed a scream. Why do they keep doing this to me?
"I—" he began, but his mouth unclenched into an involuntary yawn of cosmic proportions.
Location: Hall of Echoing Ambition (Mid‑Morning)
The yawn echoed like thunder in the vaulted hall. A palpable wave of calm rippled outward from Hiroto, softening the ambassadors' faces. Elven silver armor lost its sheen; Dwarven fists unclenched; Beastfolk horns dipped; Merfolk pearls stilled; Sky Rider wings drooped; Rosena's lance quivered but did not rise; Vekthar's claws relaxed. Even Beltram's cheeks lost their flush.
Hiroto blinked, jaw slack. The yawning felt endless, as though drawing the very breath of the world into him. He covered his mouth, heart pounding. I—I can't stop.
A hush fell. The runic maps on the floor glowed faintly, the carved lines blurring into gentle waves of arcane light. The stone walls seemed to pulse in rhythm with his breathing.
Marshal Vekthar leaned forward, voice soft: "He breathes… serenity."
Envoy Selvra whispered, "It's the Breath of Serenity we read of in the Scrolls of Calm."
Thrakun stared at his own trembling hands. "A warrior's rage… dissipated."
Syrindel bowed her head. "Our arrows fall silent."
Eolyn closed her eyes. "The winds hush at his exhale."
Rosena lowered her lance. "No battle can stand against such quiet."
Beltram stood, voice trembling with awe. "By the Crown… we are disarmed."
The silver runes on the floor coalesced into a ring of light around Hiroto. The ambassadors rose one by one, stepping forward to place weapons on the ground at his feet: swords, axes, spears, halberds, lances, claws, and even arcane staves.
In a single breath, Hiroto's simple yawn had diverted their wrath into peace.
Location: Emperor's Terrace (Late Morning)
Word of the "Miracle Yawn" raced through Solencia. By late morning, Hiroto was escorted to the Emperor's Terrace—a sunlit balcony overlooking the city walls. Below, banners bearing "Breath of Serenity" fluttered. Crowds gathered in hushed reverence, pressing forward to glimpse the man whose exhale had halted war.
Emperor Caldor stood beside Chancellor Beltram and King Gerald's emissary, Grand Magister Zoroth. All respected Hiroto in silence.
"Your Majesty," Beltram began, bowing deeply. "Captain Hiroto's simple yawn has averted a war that would have claimed millions."
The Emperor nodded, eyes kind. "It appears destiny needed but a breath to remind us of our shared fragility." He turned to Hiroto. "Your slumber soothed the world; your yawn saved its future."
Gerald's emissary inclined his head. "The Demon King sends his gratitude. We shall adjourn the Great Armistice Council this afternoon—declare a week of universal truce."
Hiroto, still pale, managed a shaky nod. "I… I did not intend—"
The Emperor waved away protocol. "You have done enough intent for lifetimes. Now rest, caretaker of peace."
In that sunlit moment, Hiroto felt the impossible weight of his accidental miracle—and the heavy promise it carried.
Location: Imperial Courtyard – Afternoon
A hastily convened Armistice Council assembled in the Imperial Courtyard. There, representatives of every realm signed the Edict of the Yawn on a massive scroll:
> "Let all conflict pause by the Breath of Serenity.
Let swords rest and hearts open.
By the will of the Silent Savior's exhale,
We bind our fates in peace."
Each signer dipped a finger in ink—silver, gold, crimson, emerald, pearl, sky‑blue, obsidian—and pressed it to the parchment. With each imprint, the scroll glowed, sealing the truce.
Spectators cheered, laughter and relief rippling through the courtyard like a tide. The weapons laid beneath the dais were consecrated as relics of that fateful breath.
Hiroto watched from the dais's edge, cloak slipping from one shoulder. He closed his eyes, drawing in a gentle breath—careful not to yawn again—and let the moment wash over him.
Location: Hiroto's Quarters – Early Evening
By sunset, Hiroto retreated to his quarters, escorted by Sera and Virelya through now‑peaceful halls. The truce banners overhead proclaimed "The Peaceful Exhale" in seven languages. Guards saluted him, some wiping tears of gratitude.
Inside, Hiroto collapsed onto his battered crate, exhaustion overwhelming. Sera pressed a bowl of noodles into his hands; Virelya poured tea from a jade flask.
Sipping, Hiroto gazed at the empty bowl and sighed. "I prevented a war by yawning."
Sera flopped beside him. "You'll go down in history as the Silent Savior of Breath."
Virelya sheathed her concerns with a rare smile. "Better a yawn than yet another prophecy."
Hiroto dipped a noodle in tea. "Please let the world rest long enough for me to finish eating."
They laughed softly, the strain of weeks dissolving in quiet companionship. Outside, lanterns flickered to life, and across Solencia, weapons remained sheathed—left to dream of a future where a single breath could change everything.
And as the night deepened, Itsuki Hiroto—reluctant hero, accidental healer, and unexpected peacemaker—closed his eyes, this time welcoming sleep without the fear of starting another war.