CHAPTER 13- A LIE FROM THE GODS

The moon was showcasing its unparalleled splendour over Nailgard, yet despite this beauty, all that was felt was misery, as agony and sadness coalesced in the light wind gusts. Away from the magnificent, well-appointed chambers of the palace, there existed huts constructed from logs and straw. These dwellings had only two or three rooms made for humans and animals, frequently with small, closed windows that were now open enough to reveal a few innocuous faces outside. They were looking for some unattainable hope by staring at the brilliant moon. Every house seemed to be haunted by the thought that someone's footsteps would probably never set foot inside it again. No one there was prepared for such a time of crisis.

There were numerous little cracks in the roof of one of those houses with the eerie silence all around it, where the moonlight would occasionally peek through and create tiny shadows on the dusty ground. From the corner of the floor, two stunning black eyes were fixed on them. These beautiful eyes belonged to a girl who was on the verge of adulthood. She appeared to have a milk-like complexion, as pure and white as ever. She was wearing a simple gown that may have been bright pink in the past. Her expression was solemn and sombre. At that very moment, the door to that room opened with an odd sound, most likely indicating that it needed to be repaired. A youngster who looked to be around six or seven years old was standing at the door. However, the young lady continued to gaze at the ground as though she had not come to any realisation.

"Shemyn," The boy said softly.

The girl reacted as though she had woken up from a long dream upon hearing this voice.

"Hyne...why haven't you slept yet?" She attempted, but failed, to convey a rigid expression while saying this.

"I tried but..." Possibly finding it challenging to articulate his emotions verbally, he broke off after expressing this.

"Hyne," Hidden behind that gentle, attractive face was sadness, she could see it. The boy was staring at the floor with his eyes down, as if he were trying to stop himself from doing something. But he could not stop the whirlwind of emotions in his mind, and he came towards the girl and hugged her. Looking at his condition, it seemed as if he was about to cry. To ease the small boy's discomfort, she gave his wavy black hair a gentle touch. After a while, the child took his head off her shoulder and said, "Is it true that some people never return from war?" This question was like a painful truth, which gave impetus to countless bad thoughts going on in the girl's mind. She experienced the sensation as though a stone had been thrust into her body. After a moment of staring at that helpless face, she said with a slight smile that, "Our gods make this decision; if we truly pray to them and are devoted to them, then no war or major calamity can hurt us. Have you prayed well for our father, Hyne?"

"Yes, I did." Hyne said softly.

"Then you don't need to worry; he will return soon." Shemyn hugged him as she spoke, knowing that even though what she was saying sounded fake to her, she could still hope.

Farthest from all of these residences was a big ancient house in the middle of the fields. Despite the fact that it appears to have been constructed with great care, its current state is getting worse. With the exception of one damaged window on the bottom floor that let light in, almost every window in that enormous two-story house was closed. The window overlooked the first room of the house and showed a fifty-year-old man with long black hair interspersed with a few grey strands. His clothing was quite old but in good shape, and he was standing with his hands folded, berating a young man with light red hair who was bowing his head. He couldn't have been older than eighteen and was listening silently to his father's violent words to him while wearing tattered clothes that were likely formerly blue. A woman of about forty stood close to the stairs, staring at the boy with her still-shining light blue eyes and a dejected expression on her face. Her long, loose hair had more red in it than the boy's. She clasped her green robe, which was speckled with dark patches, while folding her hands. There was another young man standing at the door of that room, whose hair was black like that of that middle-aged man, and his face was also very similar to his, as if it were his youthful appearance.

"Do you feel any shame at all!" With a harsh, caustic voice, the middle-aged man spoke. "I told you to go, but you just lowered down like a coward." With each phrase, his voice became louder.

"For God's sake, please calm down, Borus. He's already scared." The woman standing there said in a voice that was slightly sympathetic.

"He is not scared. He is simply deceiving us, as he always does. Almost all of the state's youth have valiantly thrown themselves into this war, and they will all be enlisted as soldiers after it's over. This indifferent person will continue to weigh heavily on my shoulders while they receive a fair fee for leading their lives. Neither is he able to work in the fields nor do any other work that boys of his age do. Even Erin is better than you," At this, his eyes, which were a shade of pearls in blue, gently opened, revealing tears within.

"He himself went before the troops and made his request to participate in battle with them. I wish I had him as my son rather than you." Tears he'd been holding back for a long time spilled onto the floor of the house upon hearing his father's remarks. "He wouldn't have acted with such cowardice as you if I had asked your brother to engage in battle in your stead."

The young man threw his downcast gaze at his sibling, who was comfortingly staring at him silently.

"It would be better, I wish, if you were not my son. I am disgusted by you." After saying this, he went past the woman and up the stairs to the upper floor. The youngster had not moved from where he was standing, holding back his sobs.

A dull aching sensation on his chest gave him the impression that something heavy had been placed there. The woman approached him slowly, put her hand on his shoulder, and murmured, "Rest; things will get better soon." However, he could not say anything about this. His heart was filled with such sorrow that he was hesitant to speak. After giving him a gentle shoulder pat, the woman ascended the stairs.

"For what reason did you hide?" The young man with black hair spoke quietly to him. But he remained silent on this. "I've heard that you met the witch with the fate reading ability; did you follow her counsel and perform this action? At least you know something that I don't." He said. His words carried an amalgam of compassion and rage.

"She said my destiny had been decided by the gods." The young man with red hair spoke in a voice as freezing as ice. "I will be guided to the right path by the gods, she assured. This was a falsehood, a lie from the gods, despite everything I had heard about how they always spoke the truth...just for me." His speech was devoid of anything but grief.

"The world was not created just by beautiful words, brother." The young man with the black hair left the room after saying these words. That chamber contained only him and his regrets.

*

Amidst numerous green tents in the nighttime darkness, the sound of soldiers whispering was audible. A group of soldiers were deeply engaged in an intense discussion while sitting close to a bonfire. "Didn't the king take the decision too quickly?" One of the soldiers said.

"We are currently engaged in our fourth battle after having fought three previous ones. Why does this unfortunate situation not end?" Saying as much, a soldier threw his filled glass of wine on the ground.

"I can't cut the heads anymore; my hands are too tired from this work." While waving his hand, another soldier spoke.

"Yes, as if this is a really enjoyable act for us." With his hand bandaged, a furious-looking soldier stated in a snide manner.

"How's your hand doing now, Shawn?" A gaunt-looking soldier with bandages over one eye asked him.

"It's better now than it was earlier. These fucking Salor troops never give up lightly."

"What happened there?" The soldier, who was barely seventeen years old, said.

"Weren't you there?" Shawn asked him.

"No, at that juncture, I was tidying up the king's tent."Upon hearing this, a few soldiers poked fun at him.

"I believe that your absence was beneficial because men, not children, fight in wars." Shawn said.

"I was just....I heard several troops saying that tomorrow every soldier needs to participate in the war, so maybe I will be able to." He said.

"You will not engage in the battle, Thyro." This was Fraiz. He was the older brother of Thyro and an excellent soldier.

"But why?"

"You won't fight in the war, as I just told you." Fraiz said.

"But I want to participate. Like you, I aspire to be a good soldier. I also want to brag about my bravery in battle to the village."

"Enough, Thyro." Fraiz said loudly.

"Thyro, your brother, is the one you have to listen to." This someone was Festus, and he too came from their village.

"But..."

"You think all this is a joke. Are we fighting here because we want to show our bravery? This is a war; when we fight here, our anxiety is not about how many troops' heads we will chop off, but rather if we will be able to survive this war. Will we ever be able to meet our family again? As you are wondering all of this, an arrow appears out of nowhere and takes your breath away. This is called a war. Look at how many people we've lost in the last three battles—Poll, Dive, and Tylmen—all of them are gone. Give thanks to the gods that you have survived this long." Fraiz said. Everyone there could hear the fury in his tone. At that moment, nobody was speaking; they were all simply observing the bonfire flames as they gradually went out.

*

A stunning woman stood at the palace window, surveying the city. All of King's Landing was still; even the sound of the wind rattling the palace's minarets could be heard. That's when, "How are you feeling now, Martha?" This was Lady Siriya, dressed in all-white apparel.

"A little better." Martha answered quietly. Lady Siriya approached her and peered out the window.

"How beautiful." Lady Siriya said.

"Even wet grass looks like pearls in the moonlight." Martha said.

"Martha, do you have any concerns?" Lady Siriya asked her. But Martha remained silent. "You're concerned." Lady Siriya spoke as she gently touched her hand.

"What keeps bringing the past back to us?" Staring at the moon, Martha said.

"Martha, the past is similar to our shadow. Though it never leaves our side, it is always in the background and only comes into view when we lose faith in or ignore our future."

"But there are moments when your past decides your future." Martha turned and looked towards her huge bed, where a newborn baby girl, wrapped in a red cloth, was sleeping.

"How serene it is." Observing the scenario outside the window, Lady Siriya remarked.

"The cries of widows and abandoned children will shatter it tomorrow." Martha said.

"I wish tomorrow's sun never rises." Lady Siriya said.

"This is possible only in dreams, now." Their gazes were fixed on the innumerable tents raised outside the state, where everyone was tense and unsure.