Chapter Five: Global Instability

In the dim light of her room in Stormride Castle, Lyanna woke with the first rays of sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains. The softness of the sheets contrasted with the coldness in her heart as she recalled the reality of her situation. Slowly, she sat up and dressed with the help of a maid, who silently handed her a simple yet elegant gown. Lyanna knew that every one of her movements was watched by the guards stationed at her door, a constant reminder of her status as a prisoner disguised as an adoptive daughter.

With light steps, Lyanna made her way to the dining hall, her escorts close behind. Upon arriving, she was met with the cold, indifferent gazes of the Stormride family. Aedan, the duke and her stepfather, barely lifted his eyes to acknowledge her presence. Her stepmother, Lady Eveline, was so absorbed in her thoughts that she offered nothing more than a disapproving glance. The only spark of joy in the room came from Henry, her younger stepbrother, whose face lit up upon seeing her. Though he was just an eight-year-old boy, his genuine smile was a small comfort amidst the hostility.

Lyanna took her usual seat, distanced from the core of the family. As the servants began serving breakfast, the conversation at the table quickly turned to the political matters dominating the month. Aedan, with his deep, authoritative voice, spoke of the recent disputes following the closure of the Estalita mines in the North.

"I will go to the capital, to the city of Maderia," Aedan announced, lifting his gaze to ensure everyone paid attention. "I must speak with the king. That incompetent man cannot do anything without me. The disputes between us and the West have only escalated. The king needs to restore order, and I know he will do whatever is necessary to maintain the balance of power in our favor…"

Lyanna, keeping her eyes downcast, felt a secret relief upon hearing that Aedan would be away for a few days. Her stepfather’s absence meant a period of relative peace, free from the constant feeling of being watched and judged.

After breakfast, Lyanna was escorted back to her room, a routine that repeated itself day after day. Closing the door behind her, she felt a mix of frustration and sadness. She looked out the window, yearning for the freedom she once knew before being brought to this castle. In her mind, memories of the beach and carefree days mingled with the bitter reality of her confinement.

Lyanna spent much of the day gazing out the window, watching life go on beyond her walls. The oppression of her captivity suffocated her more with each passing day, making it harder to endure. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever escape the shadow of Duke Aedan and find a place where she could be free.

"Will I ever walk freely again? Will I ever feel the key turn and break the cage that holds me? I long to see the sunlight of a new dawn for myself…" she whispered softly to herself as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

The sound of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. It was one of the maids, bringing the midday meal. The routine continued, every moment of the day marked by the passage of time without freedom. Lyanna sighed, grateful for the brief moment of company, even if it was only the silent presence of the maid.

In the afternoon, the guards allowed her a brief outing to the castle's inner garden, a small space surrounded by high walls where she could feel the fresh air and sunlight. She walked slowly among the flowers, her fingers gently brushing the petals as her mind wandered far from Stormride.

Dusk arrived, and with it, the time to return to her room. Lyanna sat by the window, watching as the sky turned shades of orange and purple. She thought about her future, about the possibility of one day escaping her gilded prison. As the shadows of the night fell over the castle, a quiet determination grew in her heart.

She would not remain a prisoner forever. One day, she would find a way to break free from the invisible chains that bound her. And when that day came, she would be ready to face the world beyond the walls of Stormride.

Months passed, and Lyanna noticed how the tension in Stormride Castle increased day by day. The furtive glances between the servants and the whispers in the halls indicated that something serious was looming. One evening, during dinner, Aedan Stormride rose from his seat with a grim expression. Everyone at the table fell silent, waiting for his words.

"The West has declared war on us…" announced Aedan firmly, his eyes scanning the faces of his children and stepdaughter. "Master Garath has been summoned to fight against the West. He will no longer be here to train you…."

The news hit Lyanna like a bucket of cold water. Garath was not only her mentor but also her confidant and friend. Sadness washed over her at the thought of his departure, knowing that her days of training would be replaced by even deeper loneliness.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, in the capital of the West, called Lothoria, news of the war had also arrived. The port city, with its medieval houses and the imposing castle rising at its center, was in a state of turmoil. The rulers of the West, King Alistair Belmont and Queen Elara Belmont, governed the continent, though it was the latter who truly held the reins of the kingdom. Their children, Crown Prince Cedric and Princess Evelina, also resided in the castle, as did the queen's brother, better known as the Bohemian, Cassian.

The atmosphere in Belmont Castle was tense. War council meetings were unceasing, and preparations for the conflict were frantic. According to the customs of the West, all male heirs to the throne and every able-bodied man were required to present themselves at the front to fight for their continent.

Queen Elara, a tall woman of thirty-five, beautiful, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes, feared deeply for her son. Cedric, noble and brave, was determined to fight for his people, regardless of the risks to his own life. Every night, Elara prayed in silence, hoping that Omnilum, the deity of the cardinals, would protect her son in battle.

Cedric, for his part, prepared with determination. His training sessions were more intense than ever, and though he knew the war was inevitable, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and fear. Evelina, his younger sister, watched him with both admiration and concern. She was relieved that she was not expected to fight and wished her brother would never have to face battle.

Cassian, the Bohemian, known for his free spirit and rejection of the traditional responsibilities of nobility, was also unsettled. At thirty-seven, he was the true heir to the throne of the West. His father, the previous king, had fallen gravely ill and wished to abdicate in Cassian’s favor when he was just twenty-one. However, the Bohemian had no desire for such a privilege and chose to relinquish all rights to rule to his sister. Yet Elara, being a woman and unmarried at the time, needed to maintain appearances and avoid unnecessary confrontations with the people. Thus, the current queen found a convenient husband in the son of the Duke of the West—a compliant man of thirty-four at the time, with no apparent interest in ruling.

For Cassian, whose life had been marked by freedom and illicit adventures, he knew the war would affect everyone, even those like him who preferred indulgence over responsibility.

Queen Elara and King Alistair Belmont stood at the gates of the great capital city of the West, Lothoria, bidding farewell to the brave soldiers who were about to march to fight against the East. The atmosphere was charged with emotion and solemnity, and the echoes of trumpets resonated along the walls as the people gathered to see their heroes depart.

The banners waved in the wind, displaying the colors of House Belmont: a golden eagle on a blue field. The soldiers, clad in gleaming armor, stood in formation atop their horses. Among them was Crown Prince Cedric, only sixteen years old, his face showing a blend of determination and nervousness.

Queen Elara, an imposing figure in her regal gown, felt her heart tighten as she watched her son prepare to leave. She knew Cedric was a noble boy who believed he had to fulfill his duty. The queen was gripped by a growing fear of losing him.

"Alistair, if you’ll excuse me…" she said to her husband, who immediately cautioned her:

"Elara, remember that our sentinels in the watchtowers along the southern coast have spotted warships bearing the insignia of the East. I advise you not to meddle in military matters. I know you want to protect our son; I myself wish I could prevent him from going to war. But traditions are what they are: all men over sixteen and able-bodied, except for the king, are required to go to battle…."

Elara turned and, with a practical smile that concealed her true feelings, replied:

"Of course, I had no intention of preventing my son from fulfilling his duty. I simply wish to ensure that a few loose ends are tied up before our men leave for the conflagration…."

Without waiting for a response, her eyes scanned the crowd until they found, in a secluded corner, Cassian, the Bohemian, who had also been summoned to fight. Despite his carefree lifestyle and aversion to noble responsibilities, Cassian had no choice but to answer his family’s call.

Elara approached her brother, confronting him in the secluded corner, away from prying eyes. Her face showed a mixture of concern and determination.

"Cassian, I know we have our differences, but if you care at all about our family, I ask you, please…" She swallowed hard, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. Her voice trembled as she continued, "I need you to promise me something. Watch over Cedric. Make sure he doesn’t enter combat. He’s too young and innocent; he’s not ready for this."

Cassian nodded solemnly. Though he and his sister didn’t always see eye to eye, he understood how much Cedric meant to her.

"I understand. It won’t be easy; that boy is as stubborn as our father. Cedric is eager to join the fight and defend his kingdom. But I promise you, Elara, I’ll do everything I can to keep him away from the fray. We all know the nobles are here for show, not to fight on the front lines. I’ll make sure Cedric doesn’t take any unnecessary risks."

Elara embraced him, clutching her brother tightly.

“Thank you, Cassian. You don’t know how much this means to me. Protect him and bring him back to me…”

With heavy hearts, the siblings parted ways, and Cassian made his way to his horse. Prince Cedric, mounted on his steed, observed the exchange with curiosity. Cassian approached him and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Come on, Cedric. From now on, don’t leave my side, all right? I’ll guide you.”

The prince nodded, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Of course, Uncle.”

With one last glance at his mother and father, Cedric spurred his horse and joined the column of soldiers preparing to depart. King Alistair raised a hand in farewell, his face stoic but with a shadow of worry in his eyes.

As the soldiers began their march, the crowd cheered and tossed flowers into the path of the horses. The clatter of hooves on the cobblestones mingled with the chants and farewell drums. Cedric held his head high, though his mind was filled with questions and fears about what awaited him.

Cassian, riding beside him, remained ever watchful. As they left the city behind and the walls faded into the distance, the Bohemian couldn’t help but feel a mix of responsibility and concern. He had sworn to his sister to protect Cedric, and he knew fulfilling that promise would not be easy amidst the chaos of war.

The journey to the golden sand beach, where the confrontation was to take place, was long and arduous. The soldiers advanced in formation, making strategic stops to rest and resupply. At each camp, Cassian and Cedric exchanged words of encouragement and strategy, striving to keep morale high.

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In the warm, arid South, in Erial, thousands of kilometers away from the conflict between the Eastern and Western continents, Inísel walked with slow, measured steps alongside her husband, Shántruk Theodric. They were heading to the audience chamber, an imposing and vast space where the sovereign listened to the grievances of his people and, in theory, proposed solutions to alleviate their hardships. Inísel, with her regal bearing and serene but troubled expression, followed the Shántruk in uncomfortable silence.

The audience chamber was packed when they entered. The presence of mercenaries in the city, the closure of the Ĉies ludoj, and the recent imposition of the military academy had sparked a wave of complaints and discontent among the citizens of Sabla Urbo. The buzz and murmur of voices filled the air, creating a dense and tense atmosphere.

Accompanied by her faithful handmaiden Isra and flanked by the temple guards of the Shántruk and Derik Guilerd, the commander of the keepers, Inísel advanced toward the thrones situated on the elevated platform at the end of the hall. Theodric seated himself on the highest throne, a symbol of his absolute authority, while Inísel took the smaller throne beside him, a clear representation of her subordinate position, with no voice or vote in the kingdom’s affairs.

A counselor of the Shántruk quickly began to enumerate in his language:

"In kune: Civitanoj de Sabla Urbo, vi trovas vin en la ĉeesto de Lia Shantruk, Theodric Elektita Unu. La elektita el la dioj, filo de la antikva genealogia arbo kaj reĝa posteulo de la formortinta Aeloriana civilizo. Ŝántruk de La Kvin Urboj, Lia Ekscelenco kaj supera komandanto de la armeoj de la kvin urboj (Citizens of Sabla Urbo, you are in the presence of His Shántruk, Theodric the Chosen One. Chosen by the gods, son of the ancient genealogical line, and royal descendant of the extinct Aelorian civilization. Shántruk of the Five Cities, His Excellency and Supreme Commander of the Armies of the Five Cities)," the counselor glanced at Inísel and, with a dismissive tone, acknowledged her. "In kune: Kaj lia Valkúr, partnero de sia Shántruk, Inísel de la Zhelyra Zendel (And his Valkúr, consort to His Shántruk, Inísel of the Zhelyra Zendel).”

The Shántruk raised a hand, demanding silence, and the crowd obeyed, though their discontent was palpable. One by one, citizens stepped forward to present their grievances and pleas. Inísel, from her position, listened in silence, her heart breaking as she heard the stories.

A mother, her eyes red and face marked by despair, spoke of her teenage son, recruited into the military academy and whom she hadn’t seen in months.

"In kune: Mia filo de monatoj ne povis reveni hejmen. Kiel mi scias ĉu li bone manĝas? Kiel mi scias, ke ĝi estas en ordo? (My son hasn’t been able to return home for months. How do I know if he is eating well? How do I know he’s okay?)" she said, her voice breaking.

"In kune: Mi timas pri lia vivo ĉiutage. Kie estas la justeco en ĉi tio? Kia estonteco atendas nin se niaj infanoj devas morti en militoj ekster nia kontrolo? (I fear for his life every day. Where is the justice in this? What future awaits us if our children must die in wars beyond our control?)"

Another woman, young and holding a baby in her arms, recounted through tears how the mercenaries had raided her home, violated her, and stolen what little she had, leaving her family destitute.

"In kune: La solduloj eniris nian hejmon unu nokton kaj atakis mian edzon. Ili lasis lin detruita, kun rompitaj ostoj kaj tute misformita kapo. Kiam ili vidis min, ili... mi... (The mercenaries entered our home one night and attacked my husband. They left him destroyed, with broken bones and a completely deformed head. When they saw me, they... they...)," the woman struggled to continue her story.

"In kune: Ili mistraktis min dum horoj (They abused me for hours)," she finally revealed, her eyes clouded with pain and sadness.

"In kune: Ili prirabis ĉiujn niajn posedaĵojn kaj detruis nian hejmon. Nun, ni ne havas kien iri (They looted all our belongings and destroyed our home. Now, we have nowhere to go)," she sobbed.

"In kune: Via Ŝántruk, vi ne povas permesi al la solduloj fari kion ajn ili volas. Kiu protektas nin, ilian popolon, kontraŭ la teruro, kiun ili alportas? (Your Shántruk, you cannot allow the mercenaries to do whatever they want. Who protects us, your people, from the terror they bring?)."

The men were no less outraged. A middle-aged merchant stepped forward, describing how the mercenaries had trashed his shop and beaten him when he resisted.

"In kune: La fermo de la Ĉies ludoj forprenis manieron vivi por ni. Kaj nun, ĉi tiuj eksteruloj traktas nin kvazaŭ ni estus bestoj. Ĉu ĉi tio signifas esti civitano en Sabla Urbo? (The closure of the Ĉies ludoj has taken away a way for us to make a living. And now, these outsiders treat us as if we were animals. Is this what it means to be a citizen of Sabla Urbo?)"

Inísel clasped her hands in her lap, feeling the helplessness and pain of her people as a blow to her heart. The eyes of the townsfolk rested on her with a mix of hope and despair, searching her face for a spark of understanding and support. But her position beside the Shántruk, on the smaller throne, made it clear her presence was merely symbolic.

Shántruk Theodric listened to the complaints and pleas of his people with an impassive expression. The citizens took turns expressing their concerns about the presence of the mercenaries, the closure of the Ĉies ludoj or “games for all,” and the imposition of mandatory military training. However, after each plea and lament, Theodric maintained his unyielding stance.

"In kune: Mi komprenas viajn zorgojn (I understand your concerns)," he finally spoke in a firm voice. "In kune: Sed, mi certigas al vi, ke ĉiuj ĉi tiuj mezuroj estas por la pli granda bono. Sabla Urbo devas plifortigi sin kaj prepariĝi por la defioj antaŭen. Mi baldaŭ trovos solvon al ĉi tiuj problemoj, sed nuntempe, vi devos fidi mian vorton kaj akcepti la ĉeeston de la solduloj en nia urbo (But, I assure you that all these measures are for the greater good. Sabla Urbo must strengthen itself and prepare for the challenges ahead. I will soon find a solution to these problems, but for now, you will have to trust my word and accept the presence of the mercenaries in our city)."

The crowd murmured in disagreement, but the respect and fear of the Shántruk’s power prevented them from openly protesting. Inísel, seated on her smaller throne, observed the scene with a heavy heart. She knew the Shántruk’s words would not be enough to appease her people.

After the audience, the Shántruk rose and, with a gesture, indicated that the session was over. As the citizens left the hall, Theodric turned to his advisors, indicating they should meet to discuss how to address the unrest. Before leaving, however, he did something unexpected. In a secluded corridor of the temple, he stopped and turned to Inísel.

"Inísel…" he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "In kune: Kion vi pensas pri ĉio ĉi? Kion vi pensas, ke ni faru? (What do you think about all this? What do you think we should do?)"

Inísel blinked, surprised by the question. It was rare for Theodric to seek her opinion on matters of state. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding.

"In kune: Lia Shantruk (Your Shántruk)," she began confidently. Inísel knew this was one of the few opportunities she had to express her thoughts. She was determined to stand up for her people and find a way to stop the atrocities being committed in the streets of Sabla Urbo. "In kune: Niaj homoj estas malesperaj kaj bezonas ion por redoni al ili esperon kaj ĝojon. Mi pensas, ke ni devus pripensi remalfermi la Ĉies-ludojn. La ludoj ĉiam estis simbolo de nia urbo (Our people are desperate and need something to restore their hope and joy. I think we should consider reopening the Ĉies ludoj. The games have always been a symbol of our city)."

Theodric frowned, clearly intrigued.

"In kune: Ĉu ĉiuj ludoj? Kiel tio helpus? (All the games? How would that help?),"

Inísel nodded, and a smile formed in her eyes, her voice filling with passion as she spoke about one of the few things she genuinely loved about Sabla Urbo.

"In kune: Ĉi tiuj ludoj estas pli ol nur konkursoj. Ili reprezentas la plej grandan virton de sportoj: justa ludo, nobelaro kaj kamaradeco. Ĉi tiuj ludoj estas signo de espero kaj unueco por nia popolo. Kiam ni fermas ilin, ni forprenas esencan fonton de distro kaj ĝojo. Remalfermi ilin povus provizi niajn homojn per tre bezonata emocia krizhelpo en ĉi tiuj malfacilaj tempoj (The Ĉies games are more than mere competitions. They represent the greatest virtue of sports: fair play, nobility, and camaraderie. These games are a beacon of hope and unity for our people. When we close them, we take away a vital source of distraction and joy. Reopening them could provide our people with much-needed emotional relief in these difficult times)."

The Shántruk looked at her thoughtfully, his stern expression softening slightly.

"In kune: Mi komprenas, kion vi diras, Inísel. Sed ludoj ankaŭ reprezentas grandan investon de rimedoj kaj organizo. Kiel ni pravigus remalfermi ilin meze de krizo? (I understand what you are saying, Inísel. But the games also represent a significant investment of resources and organization. How would we justify reopening them in the midst of a crisis?)"

Inísel held her gaze steady.

"In kune: Ĝuste ĉar ni estas en krizo, ni devas doni al nia popolo ion por kredi, ion por doni al ili ripozon de siaj zorgoj. Aldone, la ludoj povus servi kiel distraĵo por la solduloj, okupante ilin en maniero kiu ne damaĝas niajn civitanojn. Ni povus permesi al ili partopreni en la ludoj, do niaj homoj vidus ilin kiel siajn militistojn kaj ne nur minacon (Precisely because we are in a crisis, we need to give our people something to believe in, something that provides them a respite from their worries. Furthermore, the games could serve as a distraction for the mercenaries, engaging them in a way that does not harm our citizens. We could allow them to participate in the games, so our people would see them as their warriors and not merely as a threat)."

Theodric nodded slowly, seeing the logic in his wife's words.

"In kune: Estas interesa ideo, Inísel. Mi parolos pri tio kun miaj konsilistoj. Eble estas maniero fari ĝin okazi (It is an interesting idea, Inísel. I will discuss this with my advisors. Perhaps there is a way to make it happen)."

With that, the Shántruk took his leave and headed toward the council chamber, leaving Inísel in the corridor. She remained there for a moment, feeling a mix of hope and resolve. She had taken a bold step by expressing her opinion, but she knew the real test would be whether Theodric and his advisors would seriously consider her suggestion.

As she reflected on this small triumph, Isra, her loyal handmaid, approached with an expression of admiration on her face.

"In kune: Inísel, tio estis nekredebla (Inísel, that was incredible)," Isra said enthusiastically, her voice filled with admiration.

"In kune: Mi neniam vidis iun esprimi siajn opiniojn tiel firme kaj memfide antaŭ la Ŝantruk. Mi estas tiom fiera pri vi! (I have never seen anyone express their opinions so firmly and confidently in front of the Shántruk. I am so proud of you!)"

Inísel returned the smile, feeling grateful for her handmaid’s supportive words.

"In kune: Dankon, Isra. Kelkfoje mi pensas, ke mi forgesas, ke ĉio ne estas perdita kaj ke mi povas provi helpi mian popolon. Nun mi povas nur atendi, ke Lia Ŝántruk aŭdu mian proponon remalfermi la Ĉies-ludojn (Thank you, Isra. Sometimes, I think I forget that not everything is lost and that I can try to help my people. Now, I can only hope that His Shántruk listens to my proposal to reopen the Ĉies ludoj).

Together, they walked through the temple’s hallways, enjoying the sense of camaraderie they always shared. However, their tranquility was interrupted when they encountered two soldiers of the Shántruk's guard, sentinels clad in imposing black armor. One of them, in particular, a man with an intense gaze and a coquettish smile on his lips, fixed his eyes on Inísel with evident interest.

"In kune: Mia Valkúr (My Valkúr)," the two officers greeted with rehearsed military bows.

Inísel acknowledged them with a serious expression.

"In kune: Gardistoj (Sentinels)," she returned their greeting as she walked past them. One of the soldiers was the first to lift his head, gazing intently at the departing queen and her handmaid.

Isra noticed the severe expression on Inísel's face and decided to comment:

"In kune: Tiu soldato ŝajnas ĉiam multe rigardi vin, mi scivolas kial? (That soldier always seems to look at you a lot; I wonder why?)

Inísel nodded, knowing the reason for the attention directed toward her. Since she had settled in the temple more than a month ago, she had received looks of desire from the men who inhabited the place, but none could compare to the gaze she always received from that soldier...

"In kune: Estas malkonvene rigardi min tiel. Mi estas via Valkúr, mi almenaŭ montru iom da respekto (It is improper to look at me like that. I am his Valkúr; he should at least show some respect)."

As they walked away, Inísel couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anger and frustration. She was tired of being seen as an object of desire by others and of the constant lack of respect shown toward her as a person and her position as queen. But she knew she had to maintain calmness and composure, at least for now.