The village of Rivenstead nestled in the valley like a untouched pearl inside an oylster, hidden beneath towering cliffs and the dense embrace of the Eldermire Forest. Cobblestone paths wove between sturdy cottages, their thatched roofs bending under the weight of time. The river Vehlis, clear as polished glass, carved its way through the land, feeding the soil and the people alike. Smoke coiled lazily from chimney stacks, carrying the scent of fresh bread and burning oak.

     The world beyond Rivenstead barely acknowledged its existence, and the villagers preferred it that way. Here, life was simple, unbroken by war or the schemes of the powerful. The people of Rivenstead toiled with their hands, shaping the earth, harvesting grain, tending to livestock. Laughter often echoed through the fields, and children ran barefoot through the meadows, untouched by the weight of the world.

     It was a village of submission, though few saw it that way. The Chain dictated their fates, and so they followed it, as had their ancestors before them.

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     The morning was a melody, songs of birds and the soothing sun rising through the valley. The boy, Auren, was used to waking early. His father, Edrin, always said that the world belonged to those who greeted the dawn with open arms.

"A day well met is a battle half-won",  Edrin had often chuckled.

Auren didn't always understand his father. He was a man of contradictions, a farmer with the heart of a warrior. He spent his days working the fields, bartering in the village square, and teaching Auren how to mend fishing nets. But then there were moments—brief and fleeting—where something in him shifted. He moved like a predator, eyes sharp as a blade, as if waiting for something unseen. It never lasted long. The next moment, he'd be grinning again, running his fingers through Auren’s hair, his voice rich with mirth.

That morning, they stood by the riverbank. Edrin was teaching Auren how to catch fish with his bare hands.

"Too slow!" Edrin laughed as another silver-scaled shape slipped through Auren’s grasp.

"They're too fast!"

"That’s because you’re thinking too much. Don’t think—feel. The river isn’t your enemy; it wants to help you. You just have to listen."

Auren scowled, but he tried again. This time, he let the water run between his fingers, waiting instead of rushing. A flicker—a shimmer of movement beneath the surface—and then, in a single motion, his hands snapped forward. Water splashed, and when he lifted his arms, a fish wriggled wildly in his grasp.

Edrin clapped him on the back. "There you go, lad! Now, You are listening!"

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Auren, but before he could say anything, a sound rang through the air.

A horn. Low, deep, and unmistakable.

The village went silent.

Edrin’s smile faded. His entire stance shifted—his playfulness gone like a breath in the wind. His jaw clenched. He turned towards the village, his voice quiet but firm.

"Auren... Go home. Now."

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By the time Auren reached the village square, they had already arrived.

A group of armored men, their cloaks bearing the sigil- A hound- of the house Valthrone . At their center, astride a massive black horse, sat Hadric Valthorne son of Lord Valthorne himself. He was a man of luxury—too much for a man who did too little—and he held himself with the weight of authority. A thin smile curled his lips as he looked upon the villagers.

"People of Rivenstead", he began, his voice smooth and practiced. "I trust the harvest has been plentiful this year?"

The villagers did not respond, knowing the obvious , They remained still.

Valthorne continued as if he hadn’t noticed the silence. "His Lordship requires an additional tithe this season. Due to unforeseen intensity of the war , the tax has been increased. Effective immediately."

A murmur spread through the crowd—fear, not respect.

Yet, none of them dared to step forward.

They will have to starve if they are to pay another another tithe. Some might even resort to theft. Poverty makes a man do things, he never would.

Edrin stepped forward.

"We have already paid," he said, voice steady.

Valthorne turned his gaze to him, amused. "And you will pay again. His Lordship’s will is absolute. Or do you question it?"

Edrin’s eyes locked onto the noble’s, Fed up with the tyranny. "I question nothing. I DENY it."

A gasp rippled through the villagers. The weight of his words was suffocating. No one denied a command given by the Chain.

Auren’s heart pounded in his chest. His father stood alone, unmoving, while the others lowered their gazes in submission.

Valthorne’s smile thinned. "You speak bold words for a farmer. But the Chain is clear. To deny an order from above… is treason."

Edrin laughed. "Is that what they tell you? That the Chain is law, and law is unbreakable?" His voice was laced with something dangerous. "Tell me, Lord Valthorne, did you earn your power? Did you fight for it? Or did you take it like a dog handed a bone?"

Valthorne’s face darkened. He gestured, and one of his enforcers stepped forward—an armored warrior, eyes vacant yet ruthless, bound to Valthorne’s will by the Chain.

"Then let this be your lesson," Valthorne said. "You don't need to pay, You will not be here to pay anything."

The warrior struck.

Steel met flesh. Edrin staggered. Blood dyed his chest. The villagers did not cry ,they did not move—they could not, For they feared the same fate will befall them. 

Auren tried to move. He wanted to scream. He felt his world crumble right before his eyes. he wanted to fight. But he couldn’t ,he was too weak to even stand against them. The weight of the Chain was crushing, forcing his body to remain still, making him watch as his father crumpled to the ground.

Edrin’s breath came in ragged gasps. He turned his head slightly, just enough to meet Auren's eyes.

And he smiled.

"Even if the whole world demands you must kneel… stand." he whispered, voice trembling.

Then, he was still.

Auren’s vision blurred. Something inside him cracked. 

He stumbled and tried to reach his father, he felt the weight of the chains acting on him.

But something in him screamed against it. Fought against it . Raged against it.

For the first time, the weight of the Chain wavered.