Arcacia was panting with exhaustion and pain. Giving birth always hurt her. It always hurt physically, mentally, and emotionally because of him. But this time, the pain was only physical.
“Strength, love,” Beud, her consort, said, gently resting his head on hers to remind her that he was with her. It made her smile between the countless sighs of exhaustion, pain, and memories.
She steeled her will because of Beud’s support, and with one last strong push she laid an egg. The egg was gray, fresh, still a little sticky, but hard and intact. It was covered in scales like a true armor while at the same time being a recognizable characteristic of its species.
She tilted her head to see the egg beneath her. Perfect, she was relieved, finally resting. Beud’s two other heads rested against Arcacia, giving her even more comfort and relief.
“Well done, Arcacia,” Visena said. “Well done, my friend.”
Visena, the other and first of Beud’s two consorts, approached. A beautiful and powerful green female dragon with pure yellow eyes. He walked over to join them.
“Are you okay, my dear?” Beud asked, concerned. She was more exhausted than he had expected. “What can I do?”
“You’ve done everything for me,” Arcacia said wearily. “You’ve given me joy in life again.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he said.
“She’s not,” Visena replied. “For the first time in our lives, we can give birth to offspring we love. You didn’t just save us, Beud. You reminded us what true love is. And what beautiful lives can come from it.”
For dragons like Arcacia and Visena, giving birth to offspring was a nightmare. They had been present at “Dragocide,” a massive dragon massacre led by the most violent of their own kind, Gralgor. With only size, fire, and strength, the Winged Death challenged the world, and won. When others of his own race came to participate in this immense conquest, some willingly and others forced, Gralgor showed that he shared no sympathy or affinity for anyone other than himself. Even though he was a dragon, he conquered the continent not for the dragons, but for himself. Hundreds of the winged beasts fought the Beast, but almost all were slaughtered by the claws, teeth and fury of the End of the World.
The ones who survived fled, but two were captured: Arcacia and Visena. Both were tortured and abused by Gralgor to bear his offspring. Having only each other’s trust and faith in that terrible moment, they both swore to step on and destroy the eggs laid by the other, so that they would not feel the guilt of killing their own children and preventing that monster from having descendants.
For years it was like this, and none of Gralgor’s offspring remained intact to hatch from the egg and breathe. The monster then decided to separate them, keeping Visena where she was, and taking Arcacia to another place. Even alone, Visena’s hatred for the monster was so great that it gave her the courage to destroy the eggs she had laid herself.
After Gralgor was killed by the legendary duo Otes Abiak and his dragon Beud, Visena was found and rescued. Unlike before, she was treated with respect, affection and care, few examples of the many qualities with which Beud treated people. Shortly after, Arcacia was found in a fortress to the north, built on the base and inside the Warm Mountains. Confused and broken, she was brought to the safety of Otesis, where she was reunited with her friend and was well cared for and restored to health. Of all of them, Beud was the one who dedicated himself the most to helping them, as he was disgusted that a being of his own kind would be capable of doing something like what Gralgor did to those two.
Even with all the violence, trauma and abuse suffered, Beud’s kindness and genuine goodness helped them heal from these brutal wounds. He transmitted simple security, comfort and well-being just by his presence; the kind of person who makes you sad to see him go, even knowing that he will return soon.
With their bodies revitalized, and their minds healing after years of mistreatment, mainly due to Beud’s continuous support and care, Visena and Arcacia became the consorts of Otes’ dragon. And the dragon granted his two companions nothing less than the immense love that one is capable of feeling for another. The love of a family.
Arcacia was a beautiful and slender young female dragon, just like Visena. But, unlike her green friend with yellow eyes, she was red with green eyes. And the more sentimental of the two.
The red one laid her entire body down, with her neck wrapping around the egg she had just laid; a gentle smile formed as she rested her head on her offspring.
“I’m happy for you, my friend,” Visena said, genuinely.
“This is just an egg,” Arcacia replied without even opening her eyes; It was as if she wanted to start dreaming about that being that had not even been born yet. “You have already given birth to two, Visena. I saw you give birth to the second one myself, and with such ease and effortlessness. I wish I was as strong as you.”
“No. You are stronger,” Visena affirms. “You were rescued two years after me. You were at the mercy of that monster’s minions. So tormented that you can barely remember your time in that fortress. Any more and your body would not have the strength to keep you alive.”
Arcacia opened her eyes and raised her head slightly to look at her companion, for her words of consideration had struck her.
“Visena…” she was saying, moved.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Visena said. “Rest. Live. Enjoy this moment. Because you were strong enough to reach it.”
“I will be here for whatever you need, my dear,” Beud said, gently bringing his three heads closer to Arcacia again.
“No,” Visena interrupted him. “You will not.”
Before their faces could change to one of awkward doubt, Visena continued, “Your friend, Beud, has been gone too long. His family needs him.”
“Nalya, has he spoken to you?” Beud asked.
“She hasn’t.”
“He’s the king of this city,” Beud reminded her. “The people need to see him. They need hope, comfort, and security.”
“Just like his family,” Visena said seriously. “He has already given them hope, comfort, and security just by the existence of this city, and by the almost half-day he spent with them today. No one will die if the king is away for a while.”
Beud did not object, only looked hurt and doubtful. Then a red paw was placed gently on his.
“Beud, go,” Arcacia urged, with an innocent smile. That face, cheerful and, at the same time, weak, that she needed strength to hold it, made Beud hesitate even more to leave. But Arcacia was strong. “Unlike Tyzel, I have already gone through the hardest part, and she is close to hers. She needs him, his presence, his hope, his comfort, and his security.”
“Just as you need me,” Beud said, genuinely concerned. “If something happens to you while I am away…”
“As I said, the worst is over. I will recover soon.”
“And I will be with her,” Visena added, coming closer to reinforce the idea. “Don’t forget that before we were your consorts, Beud, we were friends. We only had each other to endure that nightmare. Don’t worry, I will take care of her.”
Beud didn’t contradict them, but he didn’t move, concern for their well-being making him hesitate. His paw then felt a squeeze from the red one. He looked at Arcacia.
“Go,” she said, still maintaining a cheerful smile. Even weak, she tried hard because there were other mothers who needed more attention than she did at that moment.
And at that moment, Beud ran from the huge stone nest where he was and flew out the window of one of the tallest towers in Otesis.
“He really loves us, Visena,” Arcacia said, lying back down with relief.
“I know that very well,” she replied. “I don’t know how I would be if it weren’t for him. After suffering under the rule of a dragon, I didn’t imagine that it would be another one who would heal me so quickly with so much love,”
“I didn’t even imagine that I would be saved,” Arcacia says, almost falling asleep. “You don’t have to be harsh with him,”
“I know. But there is another family that requires the presence of your father more than we do.”
Beud emerged from the top of Otesis, seeing all the glory of the city brought to earth by the god Kion himself. The city grew to the heights and was formed by six levels, or floors, in the shape of rings. Each level, from the lowest to the highest, was smaller than the last, making the city look like a finished Tower of Hanoi. Otherwise, a person would have to travel all the way from one of the five gates on the lowest level, following the main street of each level, which was immensely wide and completely surrounded the level, this street being surrounded by what made up the city: houses, buildings, temples, squares, parks, alleys, lanes, towers and barracks. All of this was on the side of the main street, whether on the side facing inwards or outwards from the city. Connecting one level to the other was a large staircase with two adjacent ramps that extended for hundreds of meters with small horizontal intervals, its lowest point being the beginning on a lower level, and the highest, its end being at the gate that interrupted the thick metal wall of the level above. And on both sides of this staircase with adjacent ramps that connected the exit of one level to the entrance of the other, were numerous buildings that rose in height along with it. After passing through the gate, with a few more steps, one would already be on the main street of the level, and could go left or right, since the street made a perfect turn around the level. Furthermore, to reach the staircase to the next level, one would have to turn around halfway, since the beginning of each staircase that connected the levels was always located on the opposite side of the end of the previous staircase. And so it went from the base of the city, with the lowest level being the largest in diameter, to the last, which was the smallest of all, whose towers stretched out like fingers trying to touch the sky.
Otesis was massive and miles long, both in width at its base and in height, with each of its levels not even considered just a floor of a gigantic city, but rather a city in its own right. Thus, because of the immense size of each level, despite each one being smaller the higher it was, many people were always reminded that there were higher levels, for when looking down at the center of the city, no matter how large the building or obstacle obstructing their view, it was always possible to glimpse the continuous elevation of Otesis through the levels above the one they were currently on. However, looking down, it was difficult to differentiate one upper level from another, causing many to always think they were on the lowest level. To remember their own position in relation to the city, people would have to go to the edge of their level, to the wall or to one of the many balconies to contemplate how high they were in relation to the world and how much higher they were in relation to the levels below. In any case, each level of Otesis had different environments that simulated a truly normal life in a city that, over time, made people forget how unique and grand the monstrous city they were in was. Otesis was capable of holding millions of people, and even that number of people at that time didn’t even dare to get close to that, making the city have plenty of free space for the continuous people who arrived at that bulwark against evil that was that city. Beud flew over it, leaving the highest level, being able to see Otesis as a sloping descent that spread and increased in size as it approached the ground. It had been two years since the city descended to the Material Plane when Beud and Otes killed the dragon Gralgor in that same place, now known as Dragonfall. His shadow passed over all the levels that the dragon flew over. Many might be afraid, for a dragon was the one who contaminated the world with suffering and cruelty not long ago, and many of the people who now lived in Otesis, if not all, had more than reason to fear and hate a dragon. But when they saw Beud fly above the city, shouts of celebration, thanks and applause so loud that they reached the ears of all his heads. If Otesis had a face turned to each side of the world, representing all the people on that side of Otesis, the face that saw Beud would shout with joy.
That made him smile, it was something good that he and his brother had achieved, together. The air in the city was light and pure. It was pleasant to fill his lungs with it. The sky was pure and the clouds pleasant to observe and, in his case, to pass through. Otesis seen from above was a privileged view that few had seen. A gigantic, polished, strong and defiant monument of a victory against everything that was wrong in the world at that moment.
And the fields, where the first wall of Otesis ended, began the beautiful plains of Dragonfall. A simple land, straight and green, without trees, hills or relief. Just a vast lawn, calm and peaceful, without hostilities or worries. The kind of place where a person would easily lie down and sleep peacefully in the open air, where not even the friendly insects that passed through that person’s body like a traveler passing through a mountain would bother him.
From above, this was what people looked like in relation to the colossal city that dared to try to touch the sky. People from all over the world, some already settled despite the city’s short existence, and many newcomers who were trying to understand the feeling of relief and security that Otesis made them feel. If each person were an insect, like the tiniest of ants, Otesis would be a gigantic tree that would take a long time to be fully occupied.
But finding King Otes in this immensity of stone and metal, for Beud… was extremely easy. All over the plains of Dragonfall, lines of people walked to one of the five gates of the first wall and entered the city without problems or disturbances. Everything seemed calm. Then Beud’s left head observed the top of the staircase that connected the first ring to the second. A true crowd, the brightness of the city highlighted the enormous stain formed by thousands of people crowded in the same place. They didn’t seem to want to go up and enter the second level or go down to the first, they simply gathered at that point, making the stain bigger and bigger.
“I found it,” Beud said, contracting his wings and diving towards the spot.
With speed the thin shadow fell from the sky, making the immense crowd move away from the place where it would probably land – near the king. They moved as best they could, some even grabbed their children and pushed them and covered their faces, because they didn’t want them to see what would kill them. Or at least that’s what they thought.
As he got close to the ground, Beud spread his wide and powerful wings, stopping his fall just a few meters from the ground. The wind that ran through the place against the crowd was not a wind of intimidation, but rather a wind of comfort and security.
After the discomfort stopped pushing their eyes and faces, everyone looked up at the air next to the king, and saw: a majestic and beautiful white dragon with three heads and blue eyes. Beud finally landed, with some care, because even a small tremor would knock some of them over. The looks were mixed—some of astonishment, some of doubt, and others of curiosity.
Most of them kept their distance, certainly the younger ones, who had just arrived in Otesis. A few hundred remained close to the king, because they were already accustomed to Beud’s presence. One type of people was even more accustomed.
Children. Children loved him. They climbed his body, slid down his tail, rolled down his wings, and sat on his necks and heads to be lifted to great heights.
The little ones ran straight to the dragon as soon as he landed. Not even their parents could hold them back, some didn’t even bother—because they trusted Beud. They crowded around Beud, touching him and jumping, like dogs trying to get their favorite food from their masters’ hands.
Come on, Beud, get down. Yeah, let us get on.
The dragon looked shyly happy, as he could not — at least at that moment — grant the requests of those little ones. “I’m sorry, I would love to cheer you up, children. But I came here to take the king. It’s an important matter.”
Otes was immediately suspicious, taking away the smile he had when he saw that swarm of little ones wanting to climb on Beud.
Despite the disappointment, none of the children left his side. Beud was too good and popular with them to be turned away just because he refused. The parents were even scared, because their own sons and daughters were more polite and obeyed the dragon more than they did. At that moment, Beud was 12 years old, which in the dragon race was something like a young adult. Ironically, he was younger than all the parents present and even younger than some of the children who did not stay still in his presence.
“You,” said a voice coming from the part of the crowd that had moved away.
Beud turned his three heads towards where the voice came from. Before, he had only heard one footstep at a time, in the interval that it would take for the same foot to take the next step. Beud saw, moving away from the wall of people, he approached.
A common human, dirty, tired and dressed in rags. And one-legged. He approached with effort, limping with the piece of wood under his arm that he called a crutch. He looked at the dragon with a growing admiration, even one that was visibly painful to maintain.
“Are you the king’s dragon?” he asked. “The one who helped him kill the End of the World?”
To a question like that, King Otes Abiak himself took the initiative to answer and correct.
“He is my brother!”
The man trembled briefly, thinking he had insulted the king in some way.
“Forgive me, Elisium,” he said to Otes, beginning to bend with the only foot he had. Weak and exhausted, his arm that held his crutch trembled as his body bent to ask the king’s forgiveness.
“Stop,” Beud asked, his voice gentle and precise. The man obeyed, but did not immediately return to his feet. “Otesis does not ask you to kneel. But to walk. To live.”
Beud looked closely at the crowd that had moved away, those who had just arrived in the city. Wounded, hurt, dirty, suffering. Many, like the one who intended to kneel, were missing a hand or foot.
Losing a limb was a price that some of those people chose to pay to free themselves from the chains that bound them; for the chance, just for the chance to one day reach the city of Otesis, whose existence reached them only through uncertain rumors and exaggerated legends. They sacrificed limbs and risked themselves on the roads without any security or guarantee just for that chance. Just for a dream.
“Do you have a family?” Beud asked.
“I did,” he replied, struggling to say that and to support himself. Beud, feeling sorry for that, then asked: “Please stand up, you don’t need to bow anymore.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” he said, managing to stand up again in a more pleasant posture.
“Don’t call me that, please. I’m not a king,” Beud said, his left head turning to look at Otes quickly before returning to the crowd, as if inviting him with his gaze.
Otes sighed under the weight of that gaze.
“You said you HAD a family,” the king said, now taking over.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“What happened to it?”
“Dead, your majesty. My wife, my daughter, and my son. All killed by the First Calamity.” The man’s mouth trembled as he spoke. Remembering them hurt more than anything he had suffered since. “But that wasn’t the worst part, was it?” Beud asked. “No,” he answered with heaviness and anguish. “The worst part is that I didn’t die with them. I survived only to suffer remembering those I lost and to suffer in the world that that monster ruled.” The looks of many in the crowd grew sad and melancholic. That man’s story was easily that of many there; it was certainly better than that of some, even if few. Beud noticed that. The fact that they had walked away when he arrived was not a fear of something unknown, but of something very well-known and still alive in everyone’s minds. Many, if not all, had lost and suffered because of Gralgor, the End of the World, a dragon—just like Beud. Even though they were very different, the mere fact that Beud was of the same race awakened a trauma and fear that hurt their hearts just by remembering it.
Even though his brother was the king, the one who should truly comfort them, Beud, after understanding all of that, felt obliged to take on that role at that moment.
“Whether accompanied or alone, each of you came here. No matter how much you suffered, no matter what was taken from you. Nothing could take away your hope. Hope was what made you believe that this place exists. Hope was what allowed you to come here. Even after losing and suffering so much, and even thinking that you had nothing left to live for, you still risked everything to come here.”
That drew everyone’s gaze. They didn’t know how, but Beud simply transformed what their hearts felt into the words they heard.
“You can call it natural instinct,” he continued. “The desire to just stay alive. But that alone would not bring you here. You want to live. You want, even after everything you have been through, to find something in life that will make you happy again. That is why you have come to this city, because this is where you believe you will find it. Even if it takes time, I ask you: do not give up searching. Keep living within these walls until you find something you want to live for. And if your happiness lies elsewhere, I, my brother, Otesis will protect you so that one day you can find it. Until then, please, keep hoping.”
The eyes remained fixed on Beud, but silent. The sea of people was calm and even still. Then a singular sound emerged, timid and small. A sound of noses squeezing air accompanied by drops coming out of eyes. The sound grew louder, spreading like an instant and contagious disease. Only when the crying contaminated everyone present, was the silence broken by a joint cry of joy and comfort. The poor wretches began to move forward, walking, as they did not have the strength to run. They looked at Beud as if they were looking at a sun that they had not had the right or the pleasure of seeing for a long time. Everyone celebrated and thanked as they approached, so many voices and words at the same time that it was impossible to understand. But they were all expressions of gratitude.
The crowd, previously distant and even frightened, advanced and surrounded Beud and Otes, forming a closed patch of people in the city again. Beud chose not to even take a single step with any of his four paws; unlike his brother, Beud could crush anyone, especially people as fragile as those.
Even amidst all the thanks and adoration, Beud had something to do.
“I’m sorry,” he said weakly, and yet those closest to him paused to listen. “But I have come to seek my brother. There is something that requires the king’s attention at this time.”
The silence did not last long, but now the sound changed to the mass movement of people in two directions.
“Make way,” some shouted, coordinating the massive mass. “Make way for the king to his brother.”
A clear corridor formed between Otes and Beud, and through it the king of Oasis walked. He was not known for his height, but he was not short; somewhere around 5’9”. He had slightly wavy brown hair that reached his shoulders. A young face with orange eyes, for he was only twenty years old, but with the maturity that carried the weight of his great deed. He was not a mountain of muscle, which disappointed many, but his strong physique impressed all who saw him without armor. Instead of flesh, scales could be seen on the left side of his neck, scales that seemed to come from other parts of his body, but could not be seen because of the armor he wore.
Mytrani, the king’s armor, forged by the current king of Goriath, the dwarven capital of the world, Gralim. Like Beud, completely white; it seemed to emit its own light when touched by the rays of the sun. His shoulders were beautifully shaped like dragons’ heads, and a cape even whiter and purer than the armor itself.
But the subtle presence that everyone admired when they noticed it was at the king’s waist. Drakynea, one of the 100 blessings given by the gods to the First Hero Gilasus to defeat the Colossus and taken from the stone by Otes at the age of 18 in New Gilasia, the capital of the Gilasi in the Gorpuren Archipelago, south of the continent. Forged by the god of metal and justice, Kion, the sword was not a monstrosity in size, but it shone in the eyes of anyone, such was its quality and beauty. Everything, absolutely everything about that weapon was made of metal, from the tip of its reflective blade to the tip of the handle, both connected by a metallic ornament in the shape of a dragon’s head. That weapon remained reserved and unnoticed inside its silver sheath while everyone looked at its famous wielder and his extravagant armor, but it was that quiet and cold blade that killed the one who terrorized the world and ruined the lives of everyone present there. Otes had plenty of room to walk, but it was not big enough for the arms and hands of those people not to reach him. He walked while being touched by those he left behind. People touched him as if he were a god, they wanted to feel that the man who killed the beast and who walked in front of them was real. In the same way that they never believed that Gralgor could be killed, they wanted to reinforce the existence and power of the one who killed him.
Touching Otes meant he was real. His being real made them believe that evil, no matter how powerful and oppressive, could be defeated.
Elysium. Some called it that, because that word was powerful in their religion. Otesis did not discriminate or force any belief. There, everyone was united by the desire for a better world. Thus, it was difficult for there to be no faith that was not present within the walls of that powerful city. And each one had a name for the king.
Elisium. The Elenics called it, devotees of the Elenic faith in the pantheon of the Crodilian region.
Raaru. The Osilists of the Osilist faith called it, devotees of the pantheon of the Kereth Desert.
Val Esir. The Avorgists hailed it, faithful to the gods of the cold north of Joturn.
Kiseirian. Few were heard to speak of it, for they were Shinkists, coming from the isolated region of Desoria and who worshipped the gods of their land.
Etshikar. Otes was called this by the Mesonists, those who worshipped the pantheon of the Angoria region.
These were the great pantheons of Eredwyn and the most numerous religions. There were still solitary gods, who were not part of these great divine families (the god Kion himself is a solitary god), whose devotees also had a word equivalent to the others to address the king, but their numbers were too high to be listed, apart from the beliefs that worshipped deities from other planes, in addition to the gods of the Ethereal Plane.
Despite coming from different parts of the world, being from different cultures, and being devotees of different deities, they all shared the same faith that Otes was the man who saved them, who avenged them, and who would protect them. Despite being different words, each name that Otes was called in each religion meant the same thing.
Savior.
Everyone watched with happiness, hope and celebration as their savior said goodbye atop his dragon and brother. Beud took flight and then left, leaving the excited and hopeful crowd free to seek their places in Otesis. To begin their new lives in that city, where, who knows, one day, they would find their happiness.
Flying toward the top of the city, the sight of Beud and Otes generated cheers of support wherever they were seen. From those who had lived in the city for a while, they were used to it.
“When you looked at me, I thought you wanted me to talk,” Otes said, feeling freer and lighter on his brother’s back.
“And I did,” Beud replied. “But those people had their lives destroyed and tormented by a dragon. I don’t want them to fear me, Otes. I don’t want them to fear anything anymore.”
“You know that’s impossible, don’t you, brother?”
“Maybe. But them not fearing me anymore is a start.”
“You’re better at talking to them than I am. Would you like to trade places?” Otes suggested, jokingly, but not really.
“I could have helped,” Beud replied, with honest seriousness. “But you were the one who struck the blow that killed Gralgor. The people need you, brother, they need hope.”
“Hope,” he said, not really feeling the word he had just said. “It’s been two years since we killed that monster. And the world hasn’t gotten any better since then.”
“Two years ago, those lively people we just saw celebrating the futures this city allowed them to believe were possible didn’t need a reason to kill themselves; the lives they had and the world they lived in gave them enough reasons. The world won’t heal in a couple of years, Otes, we still have a long way to go.”
Otes gave up. There was no way to beat his brother’s optimism.
“You still haven’t told me why you came to me.”
“You may be a king, but you’re also a husband, and a father.”
Otes made a quick guess.
“Did Nalya send you?”
“No,” Beud said. “To repeat what my wife told me, ‘she didn’t even need it.’”
A chill ran through Otes’s heart.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Beud’s three heads laughed.
“Don’t worry,” he said, easing his brother’s fear. “They just need to remember you’re there, especially at a time like this.”
“I would be with them all the time,” Otes said with dissatisfaction. “But they themselves say that those who come to this city need me more than they do.”
“That’s not wrong,” Beud agreed. “But you spent more than half the day welcoming the new people. No one would judge you for taking time for your own family.”
“You know, brother,” Otes called after him. “I think we had too many good wives for us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Beud said with a sarcastic smile, laughing again, and even Otes couldn’t help but laugh along with his brother.
Beud, after climbing all of Otesis, up to the last level, stopped in the air with his wings flapping to remain standing next to one of the balconies of Drakyoniar, the royal palace where Otes and his family lived, the highest point of the last level but not the highest of Otesis.
Otes jumped from his brother’s back directly onto the balcony with its clean, polished, white floor.
“Where are you going now, brother?” Otes asked the dragon whose flapping wings kept him in the air next to the balcony.
“To the same place as you: to the side of my wives. See you later, brother.”
Beud climbed a little higher, heading towards the east side of the palace where the tower where he lived with his dragon wives was.
The balcony was large, and half-moon shaped. It had a parapet made of silver with a filigree appearance that formed dragons along its design. The wind blew the king’s cape as well as leaves coming from small trees that grew on prominences on the walls outside the palace.
Otes walked and entered the room, passing through thin, translucent curtains. There on a gigantic, square bed, covered by an immense sheet of almost reflective fabric and with countless maids around her, taking care of her, was Otes’ wife: Tyzel.
A beautiful elf with long blond hair that would fall over the edges of a normal bed, but in this immense bed they lay next to her. Her face was beautiful and at the same time aggressively strong, in addition to having several scars on the lower part of her neck, and three enormous ones that went up to her left cheek in the shape of claws. And these were just the scars visible at that moment.
It was no surprise, Tyzel was a warrior who fought against the Successor Voligar, ruler of the northern region of Joturn. Before Otes brought her to Otesis, she led her own warband, one of several around the world that opposed the tyrannies supported by the dragon Gralgor. Despite her reputation for strength and rigidity, at that moment she could not be more contrary to that.
She wore light clothes, so as not to squeeze her large belly. Otes walked towards the bed.
My king. Otes never got used to this.
The maids bowed their heads respectfully and moved aside so that Otes could reach his wife. He bent down briefly, placing his hand on her wet forehead. Her breathing was labored, her previously closed eyes opened to look at the one who touched her, and upon seeing his face she was able to breathe easily, smile happily and breathe calmly.
“You don’t seem to be,” Otes said calmly as he smoothed her. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Tyzel took a few seconds. She wanted to use her energy to enjoy her husband’s presence.
“No,” she replied with a quiet smile. “Just strange. This is my first time being a mother, Otes.”
“You’ll do fine. The birth is coming soon. You’re strong, Tyzel.”
“She’ll be more,” Tyzel said, bringing the king’s hand to her belly, large and smooth—as if she could already hold the child they’d created together. “She’ll be the toughest of them all. More so than her mother.”
“How are you so sure it’ll be a girl?”
“Intuition,” Tyzel replied with a certain irony. An irony that a third person didn’t have the delicacy to handle.
“What she calls ‘intuition’ I call ‘whoever has already made two girls can expect a third,’” said the kind Lady Izy, giving a light slap so that Otes’ hand moved away from his wife’s belly. “And take your hand away from there! I told you not to touch your belly with the armor, the weight might bother the child.”
Otes had already forgotten about the old woman’s presence at that moment, something he always seemed to strive to achieve. He had wanted to get rid of Izy a few times, but there was no one who could replace her. The strict and grumpy Lady Izy is a panda ursidae (a large species of humanoid bear) who had recently reached old age. In addition to her race and age, her occupation was something for which she was quite well-known. She was the head maid of the Drakyoniar royal palace. In short, she was responsible for the beauty, cleanliness and organization of the royal family’s residence, as well as the well-being and health of the family itself. And, at that moment, her focus was on taking care of the pregnant Queen Tyzel who was in her last week (or last days) before giving birth. She had assumed the position of head maid a little over a year ago, and it had already been more than enough for the king to recognize her exceptional leadership talent and dedication to taking care of the palace and those who lived there. Just as this time was more than enough for him to get used to her strong personality.
Lady Izy did not respect or respond to Otes as a king, only as a husband and father. And when it came to these last two roles, Izy was like an Eye of God that watched and judged the king’s every action, just waiting for the smallest and most insignificant mistake or negligence to massacre him with insults and corrections that would make even a grown man beg for his mother.
Otes was an excellent husband and father, but Izy never seemed to let him relax in these two roles. It was probably her way of knowing that he would continue to be good at it, and perhaps even pushing him to improve. But if there was a reason why Lady Izy suffocated him with so many demands, it was because Otes was young. Too young, at least to form a family that older men had not been able to have. He had already taken on a lot of family responsibility for someone so young, and Izy felt obligated to always remind him of this responsibility. And sometimes that reminder did not even come from old Lady Izy.
Dada.
The word coming from the corner of the room interrupted the look of disgust and preference for Izy’s non-existence with which Otes was staring at her. He smiled and looked to that corner, but returned his gaze to Tyzel, as if asking for permission.
“You can go,” she said with a smile. “Our daughter has not yet been born for you to need to take care of her. It may only be a few hours, but for that little one it was an eternity away from you.”
Otes squeezed her hand, thanking the woman Tyzel was. He stood up and walked to the center of the room. A woman who was sitting in the corner did the same, coming out of the shadows with two babies in her arms.
The woman was human and red-haired the color of blood, with eyes as blue as the sky. Her name was Nalya, and her left arm carried the youngest child. This one had one hand glued to her mother and the other extended equally to Otes. The older child, who was in Nalya’s right arm, was difficult to hold, as half of her body was leaning forward with both arms stretched out to reach the king as quickly as possible.
Dada.
Otes smiled when he saw how much desire the little one had for him. Nalya tried her best to hold the older one, until she finally passed into Otes’ arms, hugging him and calming down completely, as if she wanted to sleep there with her head on his armor’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Nalya said, impressed by how easily Otes calmed her. “I’ve been trying to get her to sleep for a while, but as soon as she heard your voice…”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Otes said, looking at the little person smiling with closed eyes in his arm. “It’s not my fault I’m such a good father.” Otes spoke as he held his firstborn and approached Nalya to kiss her on the mouth quickly, as there would be a moment for him and his first wife to kiss and more.
A good father. This made Izy sigh mockingly next to Tyzel. “Frankly, two wives. How could two women like you have the misfortune to marry an incompetent like him?”
Otes had his back to Izy, and yet it was possible to imagine the look on his face as he tried to hold back the insult. She had been in office for over a year now, and he still had never gotten used to someone criticizing him every time he was in the same place. Lady Izy didn’t bother Otes for fun (or at least not just for that), but because he was a young father, even by Eredwyn’s standards. And besides, he decided he was man enough to support two wives simultaneously. And Izy would test him to the end to see if he could really handle it. “It can’t be helped, Otes,” Nalya said. “She just likes you a lot more.” She didn’t say it like she felt inferior or even like she was a bad mother. It was just reality. “Maybe it’s the name,” he replied with a proud smile. “Maybe that’s it, if only she were old enough to know.” With his first wife, Otes had already had two daughters. The youngest, who was calm in her mother’s arms and was less than half a year old, was Ainolia. The eldest, who was more than half a year old and almost a year old, and who had jumped using her mother as a boost to throw herself at her father, was the king’s firstborn; her name was Otesia. These were Otes’ first two daughters; the first two of twelve. Otes’ third daughter, and Tyzel’s first, was still being generated in the womb of the king’s second wife. Girls with great personalities, great deeds, who would inherit the great qualities of their parents; who would not only mark history, but define it. The eldest daughter’s preference for her father was known throughout the Otesian Era (especially by those who would spend a lot of time in Drakyoniar), but few knew that it existed even before she knew that those holding her were her mother and father. Otesia had always carried the weight of her name, and it was during the First Siege of Otesis that the eldest daughter — even before she was a single year old — would understand what it meant to bear his name.
Someone knocked three times on the door. The knocks were brief, but they made the door shake. Izy, who was the only one free at the moment, having dismissed all the other maids so that the royal family would have privacy, opened it.
The entire view of the portal was filled with a huge head of pure rock with blue lights forming a mouth and two eyes. This was Garnio (or at least his head, from what everyone in the room could see), Queen Nalya’s Helavic Golem who kept watch outside the room.
“Excuse me, Mistress Nalya,” the stone giant spoke, with a robust, slow and timid voice.
“Yes, Garnio,” the queen asked him to continue.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking around as he apologized. “But Master Solion wishes to speak with the king.”
“Let him come.”
The golem stood up in the hallway outside, making way to show the aven (a species of bird people) owl, helaw wizard and close friend of Otes, Solion. He had the features of a tawny owl, already beginning his senior life, as he was already much older than most there.
“Solion, what happened?” Otes asked, still with Otesia in his arms.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Otes,” Solion said with concern. “It’s the crack. It’s glowing. Kion wishes to speak.”
Kion. The god who created and brought down the city of Otesis from the heavens, as well as forged the very sword Drakynea that at that moment resided at the king’s waist, the weapon that killed the End of the World.
Otes didn’t answer him immediately, because there was no way he would refuse to go at that moment, not for something so important.
“Izy…” Otes was calling her.
“I know, I know,” the old woman said, taking the little eldest in her arms. “Go settle your business as king and savior of the world with the god who protects us all. I will take care of the little creature you call your daughter.”
Otes looked at Nalya with her second daughter in her arms, almost hesitating to go, but in truth he was just saying goodbye. She nodded, just as Tyzel did the same lying on the bed. With his wives dismissed, the king left with his wizard.
“At least he managed to get her to sleep before he left,” Izy complained, holding Otesia in her soft, furry arms. “Does he think she likes him because of his name? Tyzel, when yours is born, name her Tyzelia.”
“Maybe I’ll name her Izylia. That way she won’t leave your side,” Tyzel said, joking back.
“No, thank you,” Izy replied. “From what I can see, I’m going to have to take care of a lot of children with the way he makes daughters. Having one like that would get in the way of taking care of the others.”
Both wives laughed at that moment.
“You shouldn’t criticize him so much, Lady Izy,” Nalya said. “He’s the king of Otesis and the savior of the world. It would be selfish of us to expect him to ignore everything else to stay with us.”
“Before he’s king and savior, he’s a father,” Izy replied harshly. “A father’s main focus should be his family. And I’m going to tease him until he understands that.”
“Believe me,” Tyzel said from the bed. “I think he understands.”
Suddenly the second queen contracted in pain, a tightness coming from deep within her. Izy and Nalya rushed to her side, afraid that the child would want to be born at that moment. But Tyzel reassured them after relaxing again. It was just a contraction.
“Nalya, you already have two,” the second queen told the first. “This will be my first time being a mother. I’m going to need some tips.”
“Tips?” Nalya asked, disappointed at such a request. “Tyzel, I’m not going to give you any tips. I’ll help you with whatever you need. You won’t be alone.”
They both smiled at each other. It was a happy surprise for Otes, who upon bringing another woman home as his second wife, she and the first had become fast friends right away. Without envy or dislike, they lived together without problems.
“We have to lighten his load, don’t we?” Tyzel asked, running his hand over her belly.
“Yes, we will have to take care of ourselves,” Nalya said, prophesying. “Because I believe we will not be able to demand attention from Otes in the next few days. He will be very busy, I fear.”
Everyone always said that Queen Nalya was wise. But seer, was something that not even she called herself, although it was quite appropriate at that moment.
Otes and Solion descended the stairs of Drakyoniar. One warrior wearing imposing armor and a divine sword at his waist; the other, a mage in pale and brown robes, humbly light and religious, with a haglia (the main symbol of the Helawic religion. It has the shape of two opposing and distant arches cut by a horizontal line) drawn on the back of his cloak; Solion carried Wigli, his wooden staff quite tall — but no taller than its bearer — and with the haglia forming the top of it.
Together, they walked; and Otes, being young, was in a hurry. However, he slowed his steps to always stay beside the aven.
“Solion, you could fly to the floor we are heading to,” Otes said. “Why walk?”
“For the same reason you don’t simply jump that same height,” the mage replied calmly. “As a mystic, you would not suffer any damage from the fall. So why do we walk instead of flying or jumping?” He paused, as if he wanted Otes to answer; but that was not it. He simply wanted him to yearn for the answer more. “Because there is no need. There are no lives in danger or enemies at our gates.”
“The god Kion wants to speak,” Otes said, dreaming of answering him. “There may be soon.”
“Of that I have no doubt. And it is even more reason for us to walk. I have hurried for years to find you, so that you would save my people and protect them. Now that I have finally fulfilled the mission given to me by my spirit, I cherish every moment of peace that Helavis allows me to have. For I know that the new mission I have given myself will be even more arduous.”
“And what would that mission be?” Otes asked, not imagining what would be more difficult for that helaw than saving his own people from years of captivity and slavery, and bringing them to a glorious and powerful city that would not only shelter them but also protect them. Otes wanted to know the wizard’s answer, and his doubt was replaced by apprehension when Solion answered:
“To help you with yours.”
His mission. The mission of the greatest hero, the one who killed the dragon. Otes remembered his mission. He was not the one who imposed it on himself, it was more than that, bigger than him. He could not escape this obligation, no matter how much he intended in his thoughts before leaving for the continent to eliminate the Beast.
But now, the thought of abandoning the world to fate no longer permeated the mind of the now king. At least not since the one who bears his name was born. It was the first time he felt he needed to fight. Not wanting, needing.
To eliminate Gralgor, the Living Nightmare, that had indeed been a mission that Otes had given himself. But now, ridding the world of the tyrants who now finally had the freedom to not only be ambitious, as they had been doing since the monster was breathing, but to wage war and conquer lands and people they believed belonged to them, was a mission the world had given him.
Otes’ apprehension was not caused by Solion reminding him of this mission, but rather by his inability to fulfill it. He had already been defeated that same year by one of those he needed to defeat. Otes was brought to the ground in body and mind, his motivation as much as his body was hit by the enemy’s mace. Regardless of how he felt, he himself was the only person in that city who had doubts about his ability to achieve this great, yet distant feat. And it was good at that moment that he was accompanied by one of those people.
“Compared to the mission I have now, the one my spirit assigned me years ago begins to seem simple,” Solion said in a tone of calm hope. “However, despite the difficulty and the odds, it is possible to accomplish.
“It will be a long road.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Solion said, unfazed. “But it will not be a lonely one. I promised you, Otes, do not forget: helawic magic serves Otesis. Whatever the limits of my power, I promise to overcome them to bring us closer to our goal. Peace. Count on me until the end.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Otes said, truly relieved. “I am glad to hear that. Now I understand what you meant. We have a long and difficult road of war ahead of us. That is why we must take advantage of the intervals of calm and peace to walk.”
“So let us walk, Otes. There will be moments to run, but not now,” Solion urged. “Let us take advantage of this rare moment in which we can talk trivially, for they will be rare. I want to enjoy every step. As you said, the road will be long.”
“I just hope old age doesn’t take you away from me before we reach our end, my friend,” Otes joked, and they both laughed lightly.
“You never know. I may be old already, but perhaps you will be the one waiting for me on the other side. And I hope that’s not the case.”
It was at these times that Otes remembered that he wasn’t in the presence of a faithful who saw him as a legendary savior, a warrior who saw him as a great leader, or even a citizen who saw him as a perfect king. He was in the presence of a friend. One who had taught him great lessons. One who would accompany him with loyalty and wisdom until his final days.
And talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company, they walked on.
The king and his wizard had arrived at the king’s throne room. It had been only two years since the city, as well as that throne and the hall that contained it, had been brought to this world by the god Kion. Even so, Otes had spent little time there; political and military discussions, as well as meetings with their closest vassals, were not yet required meetings, since Otesis, at that time, was completely focused on receiving people who were fleeing the oppressions of the world’s tyrannies. The city was new; there were still no institutions for the people to recognize, not even positions to be given to figures, as there had not yet been enough time to ascertain the competence of any of them for any function that the city might need. When it came to military authorities, the city would need them immensely in the near future.
The only true and recognized authority was that of Otes Abiak as king. Apart from that, each followed and obeyed whoever they considered to be an obvious leader, these already having morals and reputation even before that city touched the ground of the world. Two of these examples were present in the throne room when Otes and Solion arrived, being called by Solion’s agents, while he himself called the king.
One of them was the centaur Paicran; a proud and honorable warrior of his kind. With brown skin, he had long, straight dark brown hair that almost touched the horse’s back of his body. If there was anyone to lead the army in Otes’ absence, it would be Paicran, as he was the leader of the largest of the war bands before Gralgor’s death, in addition to being the first of these leaders to swear loyalty to Otes, promising to fight for Otesis and the dream that that city represented. The other person was called Magli, an old Turto (a short species of turtle people) who leaned on his staff with both hands. He was the closest thing the Helaws had to a leader in the city, as well as Solion’s tutor. The Aven was old, but the Turto was even older. The hall had a polished gray floor, the cleanliness of which reflected faintly like pure marble. There were no pillars, just a huge empty space, at least in those days, between the immense gate and the throne on the other side of the hall, except for the rays of sunlight that entered and stopped in the air, coming from the gigantic and clean windows on the right side of the hall. Opposite to where Solion and Otes had arrived, the throne. Made of pure silver steel, it stood still, just after three steps that extended from one wall to the other; the ends of both arms of the throne were shaped like dragons’ heads, and another head formed the top of the head of the throne. There was a large space between the throne and the wall behind it, which was opposite the entrance gate to the hall; a part of the ceiling of this space—the middle part, which did not touch any of the side walls of the room—was nonexistent, leaving room for an unobstructed view of the sky. Due to a spell, rainwater did not enter the room; that hole seemed to exist simply to allow something large to enter and exit the throne room.
Solion separated from Otes, going to Magli’s side, approaching his tutor with a respectful greeting. The king approached the middle of the hall when everyone slightly lowered their heads to receive the king. As Otes took the first step into the second half of the hall, his eyes rolled rapidly to the ceiling until that image was surpassed. The skull of Gralgor himself, The End of the World, adorned the ceiling of the throne room.
It was the death of the dragon that allowed the god Kion to have enough influence to bring the city of Otesis to the Mortal Plane. The corpse of the First Calamity had been lifted into the sky, illuminated by a pillar of light that drove away the dark clouds, and from this portal the city descended. At the top of Otesis, the Drakyoniar royal palace materialized around Gralgor’s dead body, as if with it as its core.
Kion had modeled the ground floor of the palace after Gralgor’s body, so that no matter where one stood on this floor, one would see a portion of the Beast’s skeleton upon looking up. And one of the ends of the body, the dragon’s skull, decorated the throne room of the king and the man who had killed him.
After the skull on the ceiling had disappeared from his view, Otes turned back to the throne. He passed his three companions — Paicran on the right; and Magli and Solion on the left — equally respectful, as they treated him. He climbed the three low but wide and deep steps. A light flickered from the floor between him and the throne. It came from a small fissure, a crack that not even a newborn’s finger could fit in. Despite its size, the intermittent light was strong and enormous, being very visible, lightly touching the high ceiling of the hall.
Otes stopped near the fissure. It was not something caused by damage or violence, it had been there forever. It was as noticeable in that hall as a strand of hair in the wind, but the light it emitted made it easily findable. Its shape was that of a cut, a thin and symmetrical cut, made to be there. The fissure flashed a golden light at equal intervals of appearance and disappearance. The king’s face shone with the touch of that light that came from the fissure. He took Drakynea out of its sheath and began to fit it; starting at the tip until he reached the limit that was half the blade, when the fissure was completely filled and the tip of the sword finally hit the end of the hole.
The light that had previously flashed from the fissure now ran through Drakynea in the form of golden lines that made the sword glow like an intimate and comfortable fire. Otes did not let go of the hilt of his weapon at any moment; when the sword fit perfectly, his mind had been transported. Transported to only hear the one who had made both the sword and the city: the god Kion himself.
“Otes,” Kion greeted him. His voice made a human’s mental body tremble. Not in an oppressive or intimidating way, but in a way that was simply irreducibly superior, in a way that showed the undeniable difference between them: a mortal and a god.
“Kion,” Otes greeted him back, without flinching or faltering, for he knew that this god was not the type to appreciate flattery or false devotion. To Kion, the actions of mortals were more important than their prayers, even those directed at him. They had spoken before, Otes knew how to handle this kind of encounter. “What is the reason for the summons?”
“From now on every second will be important,” the god informed almost hurriedly. “War is coming to Otesis. The king of the east marches.”
Otes had only been king of Otesis for two years, but he was well aware of the state of the world from the refugees who were arriving day after day. As such, he was well aware of the tyrants who ruled the continent, and this king from the east was no exception.
“Golenat?” Otes asked, the image of the demon flashing through his mind. “Is he marching on Otesis?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Otes. But the barrier won’t protect this city this time,” Kion stated, and Otes worried.
“No enemy has ever passed through the barrier since this city was created. You said it would last a few more years, at least.”
“And it will,” Kion decreed with certainty in his voice. “When he arrives, the barrier will be up, but it won’t stop him. It stops the advance of mortal enemy forces. Golenat, like most of his army, was not created in the Mortal Plane, but in the Ethereal Plane.”
“Will they simply pass through without any resistance?” Otes asked, not questioning the fact that these enemies were capable of crossing it.
“There will be resistance, they will be weakened, but their numbers will not diminish. Golenat, like all those who can pass through the barrier, are Interegors, beings created by gods from a part of their own power, from their own essence. When killed, they return in essence form to the god who created them. Luckily for you, the gods who created Golenat and his troops are not Eredwyan gods. However, because they are weakened after passing through my barrier, when killed they will be remade some time later outside the barrier.”
“So even weakened, their numbers are infinite,” Otes says, almost angry. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s right,” Kion confirms, seeing the frustration on Otes’ face. That couldn’t turn into despair. “I wouldn’t ask you to prepare for a losing battle, Otes. Even if it’s late, it’s possible to stop the demons from crossing the barrier until it breaks down the moment I told you.”
“If it’s possible, then why didn’t you do it that way since you decided to bring this city to our world?”
“Unfortunately, I and those who now march to attack you have the same origin. We may be different beings, but we are both from the Ethereal Plane. That’s why they can cross the barrier I created. If I could stop every enemy from crossing it, believe me, I would have done it. He’s the only one capable of doing it, the first one who will reach the walls of Otesis.”
“From what you say, there’s nothing you can do. How do you plan to make the barrier stop their advance once and for all?”
“That’s a task for another entity to perform,” Kion said, leaving Otes curious. “I called you to inform you of the approaching enemy, to prepare the city for battle. The one who will make the barrier stronger will not be me or you. Your task will be that of a warrior and king: to defend the city and its people.”
Otes didn’t argue, but he wasn’t satisfied. Their salvation was assigned to a being whose nature he didn’t even know. Each one had their own task and function, that’s what Kion believed.
“That’s all you need at this moment. Anything more would distract you from your duty. Now, go. Prepare the top and the city for battle. And bring the wizard to the hall for the sword. I need to speak with him.”
“The wizard?” Otes wondered. “Solion?”
“No,” Kion answered. “The other one.”
Day turned to night. Otes watched Otesis from his perch, seeing spots of light illuminate the lower levels of the city. Solion approached the king leaning over the parapet.
“Any information from your tutor, Solion?” Otes asked, without beating around the bush.
After the king dropped the sword, the leader of the Helaw people and Solion’s tutor, Magli, walked over to the sword to speak with Kion. What was said was on his mind.
I need to pray.
“That’s all he told me about his conversation with Kion, Otes. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more.”
“He sees you as more than an apprentice, he sees you as a son, doesn’t he?”
“And I see you as a father,” Solion stated, certainty in his voice.
“And yet he was unable to reveal the plan to save this city to you. We are unable to see a conclusion to this battle in which we did not die fighting endless hordes.”
“People cannot know that an enemy has the ability to not only cross the barrier, but to continue attacking us uninterruptedly,” Solion advised. “Many have already grown accustomed to the security this city makes them feel. The chaos and despair generated by the threat to that security is a problem we must and must avoid.”
“You are right,” Otes agreed, without needing to think much. “If the people fall, the city will fall with them. We must keep alive, for as long as possible, the hope that this city represents.”
Hearing Otes say that put a smile on Solion’s beak, and made his eyebrows rise slightly.
“However,” Solion began to add. “I believe we must tell the truth to the leaders of the warbands.”
During Gralgor’s time, numerous warbands formed to combat the tyrannies supported by the dragon. These warbands operated separately across the continent, and were the only considerable force against the oppression of Gralgor, and his now Successors. With his death, many of these bands, as well as non-combatants, migrated to the safety of Otesis, seeing the city as more than a safe haven, but as a fortress and the ultimate symbol of the fight against everything they fought and will fight.
“They will be the pillars of much of our forces,” Solion explained. “If they do not know the truth about the infinity we face, they may disband with their troops the moment they realize there will be no end to the enemies.”
“Don’t you think they will disband now if they know?” Otes questioned. “I honestly wouldn’t judge anyone who did. The odds are not only against us, we don’t even know what our chance is.” “You underestimate the will of these men, my friend. They fought against Gralgor’s tyranny even before you returned to this continent. They knew they would never free the world while the dragon lived, and that none of them had the ability to kill him. Still, they fought for years, freeing the slaves they could, helping those they could, and killing the enemies they encountered. It won’t be a few chances that will make them give up. We will need them to keep the army fighting, even when their will and courage weaken.”
Otes listened, and listened well. What Solion said made sense, but it didn’t convince Otes entirely. He had faith in Solion, because he knew him, even if only two years ago, Solion had already demonstrated his determination. Something these leaders had still done for Otes. Even so, the king thought it would be worth it.
“With them knowing the truth, they will do everything to keep their morale high. Keeping our pillars in ignorance will make them crumble more easily.”
“Correct,” Solion agreed. “While I think it is wrong not to tell the people and the majority of our army the truth about the approaching force, our situation is, to say the least… delicate. Conscientious leaders will keep the troops steady and motivated. If they know there is hope of victory, their soldiers will know it too.” Otes nodded curtly, finding it a bit too optimistic coming from Solion. But that was the wizard’s way, and Otes didn’t judge him for it. “Very well,” Otes continued. “Paicran is our top general, in charge of the bulk of the army, and he already knows the truth. I will summon these leaders and their most loyal captains to the throne room. There, behind closed doors, they will learn the truth and how important their actions will be.”
“Do you already have some candidates in mind, Otes?” Solion asked, a little surprised.
“Yes, I do. After all, I spend a lot of time with everyone who arrives. I know the leaders of the main warbands, the most famous ones. Yes, they will do,” Otes then stopped thinking about that subject for a moment, considering it closed. He then turned to Solion. “And what about you, my friend?”
“Me?”
“You will be the leader of our magical forces. You will keep them motivated, right?”
“I will do what I can,” Solion said humbly, with a certain insecurity. Not insecure about their chances of winning, but about his own ability to lead. “Even though I am old, although not that old, I have participated in few conflicts; none of this size, for sure. I hope I can make a difference. To inspire. To help.”
“Your people think more of you than you do of yourself,” Otes said with a smile, encouraging Solion. “You’ll do well, I know. I wouldn’t choose anyone else in your place.” The wizard felt his friend’s hand on his shoulder, as if transferring great motivation. “Thank you, Otes,” he said gratefully. “Thank you.” The king returned it with an encouraging smile. “Whatever Kion has planned, I hope it works,” Otes huffed, starting to retreat from that ledge. “Well, good night, Solion. This will be the last night of peace until the end of this battle. I want to spend it with my wives.” “Good night, Otes,” Solion wished. His casual expression changed as something emerged in his mind. “Otes, wait!” he called with some urgency. “What is it?” Otes asked, turning to listen to him. “Magli asked me to tell you Kion’s request for you.” That made Otes grow serious, and listen attentively. “And what request is that?
The king then heard something he had been asking for a long time.
“Resist.”