22 of Voidor

Year of 1273 of the Sixteenth Cycle

The Road to the capital

’In the year 1194, the Lands of Humanity were ruled by a republic of sorts. Each distinct part of their culture had a representative. Even by the opinions of most modern scholars it was considered a forward step in the world, perhaps rivalling that of Hidi Townships. However, when Humanity received their next Champion - he quickly took about dismantling this republic, empowering the Noble Houses in order to raise funds and men for a conquest. Of course, at this point, any reader understands who this is. The next few pages will be dedicated to detailing the life and known abilities of the Sorcerer-King — for it seems you can hardly talk about the humans nowadays without it creeping up.’

- History of the Human, Sixteenth Cycle; p. 124

As the city of Edgehaven comes into view, towering above the horizon like a sentinel, the first thing one notices are the colossal walls. Made from pure Dawnstone that seems to fully devour the horizon, they rise like mountains, creating an impenetrable barrier around the city. Legends tell of the walls glowing with an otherworldly light, capable of driving back any invading force.

Edgehaven was the Sorcerer-King’s seat of power -- so no doubt he wished it well protected. Our rickety cart jostles along the worn roads, and I look out over fields of purple grass that stretch as far as the eye can see. The grass is a common sight near areas where Death has been spilt, a grim reminder of what is to come; for today is the day of the annual Das'en'uei, a sacred festival that marks the passing of another year.

Despite the celebratory occasion, there is an unspoken tension in the air between my father and me. We have been travelling in silence for hours, lost in our own thoughts and worries. Every glance towards Edgehaven makes me afraid. A City on the edge of the world. Beyond it, there is only ocean and then the void. Those who have made travel to the true edge tell it is mortally terrifying; an ocean dies, falling from the world into nothingness - a never-ending waterfall. I look over at Father. Wind blows through the thick mane on his head. The wind seems stronger here.

“Father, you should rest. Let me hold the reigns for a while.” I say, and he shakes his head. “For forty years I have held the reigns of these horses; or their forebears. It brings me comfort before the battle. To know that I can touch another living thing without seeking to destroy it.” As he speaks, he places a hand on the rump of one of the horses, barely able to reach. “I should have liked to have one of these beasts carry me into battle. To feel the wind rushing through my hair as I bring my sword down upon the foes of my empire. Alas, I shall have to settle for this.”

I look out over the walls to look at the spires that rise ever higher. Each House of particular worth has one - except ours. We are cast down with the other dying Houses, barely a step away from the dwellers of the lower reaches. “What do they claim, Father? Land?”

He shakes his head slowly. “They demand land, yes, but what they claim is more of a symbolic victory than any other. There is a tomb that was granted to us by the Sorcerer-King himself. What words were passed from him to my father — and as such the purpose of the tomb, I do not know, but I am certain we were told to guard it. I have been to it once, when I was younger, and found it filled my thoughts with fear. I turned away. I was not ready for it. I believe it might hold a great deal of power, or perhaps knowledge. Today they seek to snatch it away. Either they seek something or they seek to hurt us. I am not yet sure which.” He says, then looks away from the cart and coughs into the air.

I Conjure a small blade of light and take comfort in the grip, the weight of it in my hand. "I will defend it if I have to," I repeat, determined to protect our family's honour and legacy. My father looks at me, his eyes filled with an unfamiliar fear. I've seen him hard and determined before, but never like this. His expression quickly changes, and he tips his head ever so slightly. "You will not fight today. You are not ready," he says firmly.

“If it should come to it, I will fight. I will not sit idle whilst our lands are taken from us.” I say, staring him down. I have fought the man a thousand times. He would win, but he would be so drained he would lose the first Das’en’uei. He looks me up and down, then chuckles. “The spirit is strong, Kyallan - but your skill and body are not yet ready. Do not rush to a quick death. As the only son left to continue the line, our enemies will see you like a mountain of riches ready for the taking. They will not hesitate to make it a deadly bout.”

I am silent for a moment, but a question burns in my mind. “Father, I have felt pain. You have stabbed me, cut me down the bone, and I've taken blows from hammers. I know pain, but I have always felt fear too. The fear of death. Do you still feel it?”

He gazes out towards the city and speaks in a voice heavy with memories. “In my younger years, I felt this fear every time I rode this route. As the city came into view, the fear would grip me tight, for I knew that each year could have been my last. I had hoped that this fear would dissipate when you were born, Kyallan. That with you as my heir, our House would have a chance. But instead, the fear only grew stronger.

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I realised that now I had a legacy to uphold and that the failure of one generation would lead to the collapse of another until eventually everything was broken. It was not the thought of dying that filled me with dread, but the thought of leaving behind an unfulfilled legacy, of having failed to do everything in my power to ensure the survival of our House. But now, I have done all that I can do. I have created my legacy. I do not fear anymore.”

I nod, feeling these words like a battering ram on a city gate. I am scared of leaving Mother without a son. I am scared for the House that will perish without me. I am scared that I will not live to complete everything I wish to do. Though… what do I want to do? Our cart reaches the city wall, and Father drives it on a large wooden box. "Brace yourself, Kyallan. It's a strange sensation," Father warns as we begin to ascend.

The carriage lurches upward, and my stomach drops with it. Surprisingly, the horses remain calm and silent as we continue to rise. I step out of the cover and onto the seat beside Father. Looking up, I realise that we're... flying? The wall to our left changes texture as we ascend higher and higher until we're nearly at the top of the Walls of Dawn. Suddenly, the platform stops moving, and the invisible pressure that had been on me disappears.

Confused, I ask Father, "What was that?" He responds with a small smile on his face. "The Noble Houses cannot be seen roaming the streets at the same level as the dregs of the city. Instead, we use the high-roads, and entrances to the city built at the top of the Walls of Dawn. It is something borrowed from the Koltor when they still considered us allies.”

As we emerge from the passageway, Edgehaven unfolds before us in all its glory. The sheer size of the city takes my breath away, making me feel small and insignificant. I had heard stories and seen pictures, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. Towering dawnstone-clad buildings with spiked roofs dominate the skyline, their points piercing the clouds above. Intersecting roads weave together like a spider's web, connecting disparate parts of the city into a single, massive organism.

But it's not just the buildings that catch my eye. For every spike, there exists a lush green garden surrounding it in four distinct quarters, forming a disjointed circle around the towers, red, purple, green and blue grasses in equilibrium. It's as if the city is a living, breathing creature that has been tamed and cultivated by its inhabitants. I peer down towards the lower reaches of the city, but all I see is darkness. My father's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Light only reaches the dregs when it is above the city," he explains, gesturing towards the sun. "It will be hours before they can even see in front of their faces."

“Why are they still there? I could not imagine being enshrouded in darkness.” I ask, and he shakes his head. “Some people are not strong enough to change their lives — to fight for something. The lower reaches have only become like this since the Sorcerer-King’s death. Trade has stopped flowing, and Edgehaven has become less and less prominent in the world. If they were smart, they would simply relocate themselves. They fight for scraps down there, like animals.” His voice trails off, and we both sit still in silence for a few moments, just taking in the view of the sprawling city.

There’s a strange feeling in my chest, a feeling that I've felt before, but not so distantly. Shame. Shame for the actions of the Nobles who have squandered their power instead of using it to re-create glory. Instead of bringing their strength to bear on the rest of the world, they squabble amongst themselves for positions of power. Their cruelty and cowardice are a waste of the opportunities they have been given.

It fills me with a silent sort of rage, but I know that there's nothing I can do but let it simmer. Even so, I find my mind wandering.

What could I do if I had been born under better circumstances?

We continue along the high-roads until we reach a tower that stands out from the rest, smaller in size. Our carriage is parked in a small stone building, and our horses are led to the surrounding green patches to rest and graze. Father walks into the tower, and I follow him inside. The air is cooler and the windows filter the early morning sun.

We travelled at night as part of my father's idea for safety. He fears the possibility of assassins lurking about, and that travelling under the cover of darkness minimises our risk of being attacked. Father takes me to a room that is dusty and musty, evidence of our House's poverty. It seems that hiring a maid is deemed an unnecessary expense, and that burning feeling in my chest resurfaces.

"Let us rest now," my father says. "The Das'en'uei begins in the hour before midday and ends only when the blood has finished spilling. We must arrive at least an hour early. There is time to sleep. I will rest first, and you will stand guard." I nod, and he extends his arm. I grasp it firmly, a silent vow to protect him while he rests.

As my father closes his eyes and begins to drift off to sleep, I take a seat by the window, keeping watch over the tower and its surroundings. The city outside is bustling with activity, even in the early hours of the day. Merchants hurry to their shops, carts roll by, and people go about their business, lost in their own thoughts and concerns.

I do not know the rules of who may use the highroads, but it seems that as long as they do not dress in rags and are smart enough to give way to Noble Houses; they are considered worthy. I try to stay alert, but my mind wanders.

I am tired, and my eyes close.

There’s a sweet melody being played outside.

It feels like a tender caress, and instantly I am transported back into my room, Mother sitting beside me; reading me a story.

She tells me of a tomb gifted to us by the Sorcerer-King, and I feel a hand on my shoulder pulling me towards it as I dream of what is to come.