1 BEGINNINGS

Prologue

"Pick up your sword, soldier!" commanded the instructor.

Alicia winced, her discomfort palpable, and she coughed, trying to suppress her pain. The onlookers gathered around her, their laughter ringing out hysterically. Alicia struggled to hold back tears, burying her face between her arms.

"You aspired to be a warrior, didn't you?" the instructor continued, unwavering. "That is what you declared when you first arrived here, so now's the time to follow through. Take up your weapon and prepare to fight!"

The instructor repeated the command, her opponent waiting patiently in front of her, clutching his sword with trembling hands. Among the spectators, one of the soldiers commented to the young man sparring with Alicia, "Come on, lad, let's finish this quickly; we have other matches to conduct." He cast a despairing glance at Alicia.

But then, a determined female voice rang out, "No! I can fight!" With great effort, Alicia pushed herself up, her fingers digging into the dirt as she reached for her sword. Her swollen forehead, adorned with a prominent bump, was now visible through the mud on her face.

"I know he'll try to disarm me again," she whispered to herself, determination in her eyes, "but this time, I'll be ready." She assumed her stance, nodding to the instructor with squared feet, signaling her readiness to proceed. The young man facing her moved closer, toning down his intensity, giving Alicia a slight advantage. But it wasn't enough. He swung his blunted practice sword at her, deliberately keeping it light, knowing there was no way Alicia could fail to block it.

The blunted sword smacked into her torso with force, denting her ribs and sending her tumbling back to the muddy ground, much to the young man's astonishment. Once again, the audience erupted in laughter. He couldn't help but notice the swelling on her wrist; it was undoubtedly a sprain, and she had no hope of lifting and wielding the blade long enough to fight back.

"I yield," the young man declared, his eyes welling up with pity for the diminutive woman at his feet.

"What did I just hear? Did you just say you yield?" the instructor bellowed angrily.

"Sir, this is torture; the young lady is defenseless. Her wrist is fractured, and she's struggling to breathe. I can't keep attacking a soldier who's already on the ground!"

Approaching the young man slowly, the instructor spat out the blade of grass dangling between his teeth. The laughter from the audience quickly died down. He came to a complete halt right in front of the young man, leaning in close to his face. As he spoke, the scent of alcohol clung to him like a noxious cloud.

"Have you yielded, young lady? Do you still wish to continue this fight?" The instructor addressed Alicia.

"Yes, sir," she replied with strained determination, "I want to finish this fight."

"The girl, unlike you, has more heart. Have you heard her?" The instructor turned his gaze toward the man, inches from his face. "The battle isn't over, so complete it!" With that, he returned to the watching crowd. The young man looked down at Alicia, bewildered and afraid that he might inflict further harm or leave her with lasting scars, both physical and mental.

"Why are you putting yourself through this, young lady? It's over. You can't have it both ways," he implored, his voice breaking. "Just give up!”

Alicia pushed herself up to her feet once more. She spit blood out of her lips and wiped the blood off her chin. She curved a scowl across her face as she took up her blunt sword with her other hand. It was not over yet…

Chapter 1

Beginnings

Mother nature's gentle whistle drifted through the forest, ushering in a cool breeze that swept through the valley. In the midst of this natural spectacle, two boys raced around in playful circles, blissfully ignorant of the relentless march of time. The dwindling sunlight cast its warm embrace upon the earth, heralding the approach of the red autumn season. Slowly painting the city nestled in the valley, between two hills, a vibrant crimson hue.

Yet, the boys paid little heed to the changing world around them. They were engrossed in their games, their energy occasionally waning as they pursued their insatiable curiosity.

Drom, with his adventurous spirit, had scaled a tree to gain a better view of the majestic castle that lay before them. The two friends often played in the castle's sprawling courtyard. Drom was the son of King Higo, one-half of the ruling monarchy that governed The Independent States, While Daito, his other companion, was the son of Hashi, the other half of the ruling monarchy known as the Dark Bender.

"Come on, Dai, it's not that far!" Drom called down.

"You're only saying that because you're already at the top," Dai retorted, anxiety in his voice.

Dai struggled to ascend the tree, his hands gripping the rough bark of the maple tree as he made his way upward. Slowly but surely, he reached the summit, joining Drom on a sturdy branch that extended over a hedge that separated the garden from the castle courtyard.

They both settled into comfortable positions on the expansive branch, relishing the tranquility of the moment as they took in the enchanting surroundings. Their gaze was drawn to the castle, and just as they were lost in contemplation, the back door suddenly swung open and someone emerged from the inside. He lingered by the door for a moment, as if expecting someone.

From a distance, Drom could discern the figure approaching, a man he recognized even before he drew near – the physician who had become a constant presence around the castle, tirelessly attending to his father's needs. The doctor descended the stairwell that led to the garden.

Daito, with a nagging question that had weighed on his mind, wrestled internally as he watched the man approach the gates. The dilemma gnawed at him, and he felt the stirrings of a headache.

Finally, he gathered himself, mustered a determined expression, and turned to face his friend.

"How is your father doing? Does he show any signs of improvement?"

Drom lowered his head and shifted his gaze to the ground in hopes of avoiding the question but it was inevitable. Everyone he met always asked him about that, and he had grown tired of answering, but Dai was his friend and he could not ignore him for long. Sooner or later he knew that question had to be brought up.

After a few moments of hesitation, Drom relinquished a quiet, prolonged sigh, his voice strained.

"They say the shai is corrupting him at a faster pace than they had anticipated. They have no idea how much longer he'll be with us."

"My father won't tell me anything either," Daito responded. "He insists he can help him, though."

The two friends sat in silence on the branch, enveloped in an uncomfortable stillness that stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

"However, I am certain that your father can prevail; if anyone will help him, it is my father!"

Daito said, seeking to comfort his friend and restore the semblance of happiness they had shared just moments before.

"He vowed that he would stay with me until I graduated from noble school. His health has been strengthening over the past few days, and I'm certain that by the time the next moon arrives, he'll be back on his feet!"

"That's the spirit, for sure! Besides, I'm looking forward to finishing Noble school and starting my training!"

"Me too!"

"What are you going to train for? An Archer, lancer, or a swordsman?"

"Swordsman, of course! So that I can return and defeat Uncle Slejj with my incredible sword skills!"

Drom proclaimed as he snapped a twig from the large tree and whipped it about, horribly imitating a swordsman. Daito chuckled at his hideous imitation, and Drom laughed back, chuckling and tossing the stick aside.

Something caught Drom's attention as they were expressing their joy.

"Hey, Dai! Look, at the gate." Drom indicated the castle's back door. The high council members and the head commander of the Independent States, Slejj, were on their way through the courtyard.

They rushed into the palace, two servants trailing behind them, struggling to carry a large wooden box. As they ascended a flight of stairs, one lost his grip on the box's side handle, causing it to crash onto the ground. The case burst open, spilling its contents, which included several scrolls, a large book securely locked, and a rather lengthy dagger.

"Wait, I recognize that chest, and the book and dagger as well. They're usually in my father's library. He's often reading that book every chance he gets," Daito remarked.

"What about that dagger?" asked Drom.

"It's for... I read about it in my father's library a long time ago. It's used for the rite when... no!"

Daito's eyes widened with realization about the purpose of this visit. He hastily descended the tree trunk, struggling to maintain his balance and slipping several times. Drom followed closely behind, his curiosity piqued.

"Hey, Dai, what's going on? Tell me!" urged Drom.

"Come on, Drom! We need to hurry before it's too late."

They sprinted into the king's quarters, darting across the courtyard like a pair of frantic mice. When the two guards stationed at the front gate spotted them, one shouted, "There he is! We must restrain him before the ritual begins!"

The guards dropped their lances and raced toward the two energetic yet slightly slower children. They managed to catch Drom, but Daito wriggled free from their grasp and darted into the king's quarters.

As Daito approached the entrance to the king's quarters, a chilling sight met his eyes. His father, Hashi, stood, gripping the dagger with both hands in a vice. His attention was fixed on Valienta, the king, who was in the throes of agony. Valienta's voice was hoarse, and drool dripped down his chin. His once brilliant eyes were now a fiery red, and he convulsed uncontrollably, his violent movements threatening to break his own limbs.

Two other guards had managed to pin Valienta down, but his strength occasionally overcame them, causing him to rise and shout at Hashi.

Hashi's eyes welled up with tears, and he blinked to release one that had gathered beneath his eyelids. A tear traced a graceful path down his cheek. He tightened his grip on the dagger once more, summoning enormous strength, and thrust it through Valienta's chest, clenching his teeth. His eyes were closed tightly. As the blade pierced King Valienta, Daito could distinctly hear the ribcage snap, a gruesome sound akin to a twig snapping that reverberated in his ears. His legs buckled, and he involuntarily sank to the ground.

King Valienta emitted a piercing scream, filled with both agony and relief, as the dagger plunged into his chest. It lasted for a few seconds before giving way to heavy, labored breathing. Slowly, he regained his senses and turned toward Hashi, extending his arm to grasp the sleeve of Hashi's coat. He pulled Hashi closer and whispered into his ear. Although it wasn't quite a whisper, as it was loud enough for the entire room to hear.

"Thank you... brother."

Then, his arm slid off and fell to the floor, and the light that once illuminated his eyes gradually dimmed. Before passing on, he exhaled one last time.

Hashi brushed out a tear that threatened to escape his eyes once more. His fingers were vigorously shaking as he turned to one of the councilmen and gestured to him, pointing to the huge book with a lock. The councilman immediately grabbed the book and hurried over to Hashi, handing it to him. When Hashi pulled out the dagger from the king's chest, it made a crackling sound like roasted wood chunks in a bonfire.

He tightened his grasp on the dagger's tip, causing it to tear open tissue across his hand. After giving it a firm grip to deepen the incision, he slipped it off his hand, creating a deep wound that dripped blood onto the dagger's tip. Blood mixed with Valienta's as it trickled down the blade. It slowly dripped onto the book's cover. As all of this transpired, Dai, who was still pinned to the doorstep by induced shock, felt as if time had stopped. Adrenaline had frozen his whole body, and he felt inanimate.

The blood soaked into the book's lock, snapping the lock open. Hashi flipped through the pages until he came upon an empty one and began writing with the blood-stained blade of the dagger. His hand trembled uncontrollably, most likely due to the pain coursing through every part of it. He finished with a drawing of an intricate insignia. The book closed on its own after the last drops of blood dripping from the blade stained the page.

"This is the end of my job here. I am no longer needed by the Independent States."

Hashi rose to his feet and began walking out of the room; as he approached the exit, he saw his child kneeling on the floor, but he made every effort to ignore him. With a cloth handed to him by one of the councilmen, he rubbed against the wound on his palm.

The moment the blade pierced the king's flesh, it was as if Hashi had fulfilled his destiny. It cleaved through bones, silenced the beating heart, and tore a hole where a soul might have dwelled, had the king ever possessed one.

Outside the room, Drom heard the commotion and couldn’t stand by any longer. He sank his teeth into the guard's fingers, a futile attempt to escape his grip.

Meanwhile, Daito remained on his knees at the doorstep, wordless. Hashi walked past the two boys, his hands dripping with blood as Drom escaped the clutches of the pursuing guard.

He sprinted into the room, but an abrupt, searing pain erupted across his chest halfway through his dash. For a fleeting moment, he halted, clutching his left side. The pain dissipated momentarily, only to return with a vengeance, more ferocious than the initial surge. In agonizing screams, he crumpled to his knees, his vision fading into a haze, drifting toward unconsciousness.

#

The Independent States began to come apart following the Covenant Ritual. It seemed as though the Vurhanil King was aware that the kingdom would be vulnerable since the heirs to the covenant keepers' thrones were only children. He initiated another attack, breaking past the troops' barriers hoisted around the Royal Republic. The Vurhanil King's army had been significantly reduced in size as a result of King Valienta's early efforts in the war. The Knight guards were able to resist them, but as the dust settled, they discovered that young Daito and Commander Slejj had disappeared.

As the events unfolded. Drom was sound asleep, completely oblivious to what was happening.

#

Drom could feel his pupils shrinking as he cautiously opened his eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the bright light pouring from the castle's exterior. He wanted to lift his body, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even twitch; his whole body was immobile as he lay in his bed.

When he came to, one of the on-duty maidens happened to be cleaning his room.

"My majesty! You are awake."

She dashed out of the room soon after, in search of the councilmen. They arrived a few moments later, and one amongst them approached Drom and placed his hand on the young king’s chest. Drom gradually regained control of his body.

"We apologize for having to do that, my king, but the ritual still takes its toll on the bodies, and a control spell like that lets you deal with the discomfort."

"Have I been asleep? For...how long?"

The councilmen paused, their gazes shifting among themselves, each silently contemplating who would be the one to deliver the news to the young boy. One finally stepped up and drew closer to Drom.

"Two moons now, my king,"

"Why do you keep calling me that? Where is my father?"

Once again, the room descended into silence. Unbeknownst to them, Drom had slipped into a coma shortly after the ritual, and thus, had not joined the rest of the kingdom in mourning the loss of their king.

"I'm afraid your father is no longer with us; as promised by the Elder Brother gods, he has passed on to the afterlife!"

"It was beyond time for him to fork over the covenant to you, sire. He was well past his breaking point, and prolonging the ritual was only going to make it worse for him. Sire, I'm sure you understand it had to be done."

Drom struggled to hold back the welling tears in his eyes, but the overwhelming grief proved too much to bear, and eventually, a tear broke free, tracing a path down his cheek.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, my lord, but we all knew it was his obligation, and you would have to share the same burden at some point."

"I want to see Daito. Tell him I have awoken" Drom said, mustering up composure amidst his sobs. As everyone lowered their heads once more, Drom keenly perceived the unease in their body language. His heart sank, anticipating news that could shatter his world, but at the same time, he scolded himself for entertaining such dreadful thoughts. The intensity of his gaze seemed to demand a response from the councilmen as if his fiery eyes had the power to extract the truth from their tongues.

"Sir, he's been missing. After the ritual, he went missing and he was never found."

"You're telling me he's been gone for two moons!"

"Yes, my king he..."

"Is it not your duty to protect the covenant keepers?" He screamed, his words soaked with emotions, his frail voice cracking at the crescendo of his volume.

"My apologies, Your Highness," one councilman began, "but there are reports suggesting he perished in Royal Republic, alongside two hundred other troops. An official report detailing the incident has been compiled by the Knight guards and lieutenants who served in the Vurhanil campaign, and Commander Alvatrone, who awaits your official knighting, can provide further details."

"Commander Alvatrone?! What happened to Commander Slejj?" Drom inquired, bracing himself for the worst, as had become his habit with each piece of news he received thus far.

"The reports say he was the one that led the two hundred troops to the trap sire, Commander Alvatrone witnessed it all. We can call him to debrief you once the time is right sire"

Drom lay in his bed, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind as he pondered the rapid, profound changes that had transpired in such a short span. The emotions became too much to bear, and he relinquished control, commanding the other councilmen to depart and grant him solitude. He wept himself into sleep, tears flowing freely throughout most of the night.

The changes that had befallen the Kingdom of Independent States were far from favorable, as it navigated a treacherous path towards an uncertain future. Amidst this uncertainty, the only unifying presence was the celestial wall that encircled the entire empire, a mystical phenomenon shrouded in mystery. Folktales had been woven about the wall's origin, but its purpose remained elusive.

As days drifted by, the young king's anguish was palpable. He went without eating for stretches of two or three days, severing ties with the rest of the kingdom in an attempt to grapple with his grief. After enduring three months of profound isolation, he finally emerged from his self-imposed seclusion and resumed his studies, determined to release the weight of his sorrow. Yet, at such a tender age, the kingdom's expectations weighed heavily upon him. He made a vow to himself that he would be a good leader. He had to look deep inside himself for the optimism he needed.

The Independent States found themselves in a precarious state, with a youthful king who had not yet fully embarked on his rule, a nation still bearing the scars of the Vurhanil war, and an empty Dark Bender throne. The return to normalcy remained uncertain, leaving them to endure in the shadows until that day would eventually arrive. Only time held the key to their fate.