Even inside the gates, the Jeweled City felt distant.

Cephragon was a massive city, broken up into sections. Inside the west gate, where travelers often entered and stayed, there was a bustling block of stores, market stalls, and lodging houses. Further inward, the wealthy took up residence in stone and marble mansions, just outside the center. And at the center, there was the Jeweled City, a royal palace complex made of brilliant aquamarine crystal, with a great spire at its core. These were the towers that travelers could see for miles from the west and the north and the south, and the towers that blocked the sunset each evening, as if nothing could be more brilliant than them.

The residential sections completely encircled the Jeweled City, and in Cephragon’s easternmost section, closest to the dock gates, the mahallas lay. This is where the workers lived, in the rundown buildings on the outskirts of the city. Abandoned one and two-story shop buildings, lodging houses, and shacks were filled room to room with dock laborers, fishermen, farm hands, and sailors, and some rooms were shared by two or more families.

As Heror helped Thaeolai cross the cobble street toward a shanty, he glanced at the towers to the west. They appeared so close, looming over him as they stretched toward the golden sky, from bases obscured by the section wall. But Heror had never been allowed into the royal oval. It had been years since he’d even tried to reach the west gate. For a moment, he pondered dropping everything and sprinting for the exit – forcing his way past the guards and running through the city center.

Today’s the day I leave to find my mother.

The day was almost over. And Heror, tired and bruised and dirty, turned away from his escape, back toward the mahallas. He helped Thaeolai across the street, toward one of the smaller lodging houses. As he walked, vagrants and vagabonds wandered the slums. Aimless voices assailed the evening air. Not far down the way, a drunken preacher swayed and spoke loudly, to all and to none.

“… and His love is true! In His boundless wisdom, Bor sees thine struggle, and with weary eyes, He calls you to him! You ask yourselves why you are here, in the doldrums of despair… and it is because you do not answer the call! You turn your backs on Him and do evil in the shadows! You must repent from your wicked ways, my brothers and sisters! Only then wilt thou be lifted from this place! Only then wilt thou feel the Divines’ warmth and receive the blessings of the Al-Ra – health, prosperity, love, and peace! Only then wilt thou…”

The voice faded as Heror crossed. When he reached his lodging house, he entered the front door with Thaeolai, and Ucankacei was waiting for them. The old elf sat at a dusty wooden table, quietly eating from a plate he’d prepared for himself. He was thinly built and hunched over from decades of work, and his hair was a smooth gray, loosely combed over. His skin had dulled from a golden color to a light bronze, and as he looked up from his plate, his sea green eyes lit up at the sight of his housemate – with a twinkle that could brighten any room.

“Heror!” he exclaimed with a smile, his voice jubilant. “Good to see you!”

Heror walked past the entry room to the far end of the hallway, and into a small room where a bed roll sat on the floor. He gently laid down Thaeolai, who was too exhausted to move. Once she was settled, he went out into the main room, joining Ucankacei at the table.

“You’re back early,” Ucankacei noted. “There’s water in the basin.”

Heror nodded and went to the wooden counter by the southern wall. He cupped his hands in the basin and drank the handful, then grabbed a small clay cup and filled it with water. He took the clay cup back across the lodging house, into Thaeolai’s room. He knelt down beside her, holding the cup in his hands.

“Thae,” he said.

At first, Thaeolai said nothing, her eyes closed. Heror ran a hand across her forehead. Beneath her blonde hair, he could feel a small bump where she’d been hit.

“Thaeolai,” he said again.

Thaeolai blinked tiredly, then took a deep breath, lying on her side. Heror held the cup close to her face, and after a moment, Thaeolai leaned forward and took a sip. Heror then took out the pepon.

“I’ll leave these here with you,” Heror told her.

“Thank you,” Thaeolai murmured, her voice barely audible.

Heror returned to the dining room and sat down again, wincing as he fit his sore legs beneath the table. For a moment, the house was silent, save for the weak clanks of Ucankacei’s wooden fork against his plate. Outside, the light of the sunset began to fade. Across the road, distant voices could be heard as more people came in from the docks.

“What happened?” Ucankacei asked, motioning to the cut on the bridge of Heror’s nose.

Heror said nothing at first. Then he looked at Ucankacei’s plate.

“Got any food?” Heror asked simply.

Ucankacei eyed the young man for a moment, then nodded and stood. He went to a cupboard in the corner behind him and swung open the door. Then he pulled out another bowl with a cloth wrapped over it. He set the bowl down on the table and removed the cloth, revealing a small assortment of meats.

“Managed to get some beef from the market. Told you I was saving up for it, ” Ucankacei said. “Not the best cuts, but I cooked it as best as I could. Also some gleamfish leftover from today’s haul.”

Heror quickly grabbed the cooked beef and bit into it, lips smacking as he savored his first meal of the day. Though still tired, he felt a bit of energy come back to him as he ate.

“How was today?” He asked Ucankacei through stuffed mouthfuls.

“A lot better take than usual,” Ucankacei said with a small smile. “A khilii ship came in and spooked the fish toward shore. Made around thirty Kivs, and was able to take the rest of the stock back here.”

“Where were you?” Heror asked, chewing slowly.

“Craelai’s Lagoon, to the north,” Ucankacei answered.

“The basiisks didn’t give you any trouble?”

“They did. Prehistoric nuisances, scaly simpletons…” Ucankacei lamented. “But I know how to deal with them by now.”

Heror took another bite of the beef. His dry mouth started to water.

“I saw a purk a little ways out,” Ucankacei continued, letting out a small laugh. “Had to be almost three feet long! I thought I could spear it, but I threw out my shoulder instead. Ha… embarrassing.”

“Did you hear anything about what the navy ship was doing, coming back?” Heror asked, his mind set on the ship after hearing it mentioned again.

“Some rumors,” Ucankacei said with a nod, before glancing up at Heror from his plate. “Why? Did you hear something?”

Heror paused for a second, then met Ucankacei’s gaze.

“Destus said war has started.”

Ucankacei let out a small laugh, then finished his final bite and stood from his seat. He went to the wash basin against the west wall and poured some water into it, cleaning off his plate.

“You’ve got to be careful about what you hear from him,” Ucankacei warned, wiping off his plate with a cloth. “The Rhirefolk love to sensationalize things.”

“He said he has connections,” Heror offered.

“What exactly did he say?” Ucankacei asked, glancing toward Heror.

“Well…” Heror started, thinking back. “He said the Midans broke through the border wall.”

Ucankacei let out another laugh.

“What?” Heror asked.

The old man slid the clay plate onto a stack in the corner and turned around, resting his hands on the wooden counter.

“You think Destus has actually seen the border wall?” Ucankacei chuckled.

“I don’t know,” Heror muttered.

“I have,” Ucankacei continued. “Fifty years ago, I was an officer in the Ardysan army. I was stationed there plenty of times. It’s twenty-five feet tall all the way across, and fifty feet tall at the gates. Three metras thick of pure, compacted stone and brick. There are stairs to the top on our side, where archers and keatuuchan stand ready on a fortified walkway, dropping boulders and arrows and flames and lightning down onto invading forces. And behind the wall, there are over a dozen Khi Thung -- fortresses spaced out across the border, where thousands of the King’s foot soldiers stand by to provide reinforcements.”

He paced to the south window, peering up at the sky as the stars made a reappearance.

“No one just breaks through the border wall,” Ucankacei concluded. “This isn’t the first time the Midans have tried. And it won’t be the last time they fail.”

Heror fell silent, finishing his food. Ucankacei eyed the boy, then pursed his lips and sat back down at the table.

“On a related note,” Ucankacei added. “You want another sword lesson tonight? You picked up the forte counter well.”

Heror shook his head, now diving into the gleamfish meat.

“I think I need to rest,” Heror replied with a sigh. “There’ll be time to learn more tomorrow.”

“But we haven’t had a lesson in a week,” Ucankacei countered. “Is something wrong? I think you have tremendous potential.”

Heror frowned and gazed at the window, his thoughts dwelling on the western gate again. After a moment, he shook his head again and took another bite of his meal.

“What’s the point?” Heror muttered. “I’ll never use it.”

“But Heror, you already have,” Ucankacei argued. “The art of the sword isn’t a mere combat exercise. It’s deeper than that. To wield a sword, you need endurance. You need imagination. And you need an unflinching resolve, both physically and mentally. These are traits you use in every walk of life. The sword not only necessitates these traits, but develops them further.”

“What are you getting at?” Heror murmured.

“Swordcraft isn’t just waving around a blade carelessly,” Ucankacei carried on as he sat up straight, a regal tone in his voice. “It’s resilience. It’s perseverance. It’s… are you swallowing those whole??”

Heror popped another gleamfish in his mouth and looked at the plate. Only two remained. His cheeks full, he blinked, then slid the plate to the center of the table.

“Leave some for Thaeolai,” Ucankacei told him with a slight chuckle. “Or me, preferably.”

Heror swallowed and let out a small burp, then dropped a hand to his stomach. Ucankacei smiled and continued.

“Swordcraft is an extension of some of the most essential qualities of life,” Ucankacei explained. “And by the art of the sword, you can become more resilient, more adaptable, and more steady in crisis. In my opinion, these are already strengths of yours.”

“They’re not,” Heror glowered, shaking his head.

Ucankacei eyed the young man with a look of concern, but soon, his warm smile came back. He stood, spreading his hands out on the table.

“Maybe one day you’ll see it as I do,” he told him. “But all in good time… I suppose.”

At that moment, there was stirring from the other end of the shanty, and Heror turned to see Thaeolai walking gingerly into the dining room. Ucankacei offered her a smile, but the girl did not return the gesture as she sat down beside Heror.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Thaeolai,” Ucankacei said. “How are you?”

Thaeolai didn’t answer. Ucankacei took a deep breath and stood, making his way to the cabinets on the far wall.

There was a fragile silence in the dwelling; the silence of a fractured home. Three inhabitants, from three separate families. They cared for one another, and worked for one another, but in these moments, Heror could tell Ucankacei didn’t understand them as much as he’d like to. There was an understanding that only came from blood, Heror surmised.

Ucankacei had told the young ones about his family, but scarcely spoke of them. How he’d been born in a lower-class family, in a small wetland town called Yhvvel, north of Fyre and the guard tower that watched over the city. His father was a lowly station commander, and Ucankacei followed him to the army at just 20 years old. He never saw his mother again after that, and his father died of sickness ten years later. The army became his family. For the better part of seventy years, Ucankacei traveled back and forth across Ardys, even beyond the border at times, rising to the rank of officer.

Ucankacei never told them what happened after that, but Heror could tell he’d been cast aside. His sword arm was weaker. His joints creaked. Even his eyes, as jubilant and jovial as they so often appeared, had a gray haze that lingered. As if a past injury had never healed.

Thaeolai’s story was different. She was born to an affluent family just outside the Jeweled City. Ten years ago, she’d been caught thieving. Barely a juvenile, they threw her out onto the street without a word. Heror never forgot that.

He suspected this was one reason why Thaeolai never liked the idea of him leaving to find his mother. How much could a mother be worth, if hers was worth nothing? A mother that cast him aside, just like hers had done?

Night soon came upon them. Heror retreated to his lodging room, across from Thaeolai’s. He had a view of the dock gate from his glassless window. By luck, or the grace of the Gods, it was a clear night, with no rain or wind coming from the east, and no moon.

Ucankacei had warned him before not to go out on nights with a new moon. He said it was dangerous – that the protector god Gantuin wasn’t out to watch over them. There had been nights before where Heror didn’t listen – he didn’t care for Ucankacei’s superstitions. But on this night, he stayed in. He needed the rest.

Tired and worn, with his face turned away from the window, Heror began to drift to sleep. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the bedroll.

Some time later, his eyes jolted awake, stirred by commotion outside.

“Heror!” He heard Ucankacei call from the other room. “Thae!”

Blinking himself awake, Heror rose to his feet and went into the living room to find Ucankacei and Thaeolai standing by the door. Outside, people from the mahallas were starting to gather, bathed in collected torchlight. Beyond the crowd and noise, Heror could see orange glints of what appeared to be armor, but nothing was clear.

“What’s going on?” Heror asked.

“Guards are here,” Ucankacei replied, turning to Heror. “Is this about you two? What exactly did you get yourselves into today?”

“I don’t think so,” Heror answered, sharing a suspicious glance with Thaeolai. “Come on.”

Heror led the two out into the street, where the noise only grew louder. Dock workers and laborers hurled insults and jeers toward the visitors. As Heror slipped through the crowd, making his way toward the front, he saw what was causing the stir.

In the middle of the cobblestone courtyard, two dozen Ardysan soldiers stood, and ahead of them, five Opelites led the group, their black armored robes bearing the sigil of elvish royalty. The four robed elves on the ends wore intricate hoods that concealed their faces, but the center figure’s hood was down, revealing bright golden skin, sharp yellow eyes, and a rigid face with the authority of age. Around his neck, he bore a gilded necklace with the flowering Sun symbol, honoring the Gods of the Divine Consortium.

“Is that the King?” Thaeolai asked, leaning in to be heard.

“No,” Ucankacei muttered, shaking his head as he stood next to them. “But that’s one of his Kci Talon. Equally impressive.”

“Chi… thalon?” Thaeolai struggled.

“Kci Talon,” Ucankacei corrected. “Elite battle whyzards. His most trusted guardians. Almost never seen in public.”

The center Opelite tried to calm the crowd, lifting his hand in a gesture of concession. But the laborers would not quiet down. After a moment, the Kci Talon leader whispered a command to those at his side. In a quick, strong motion, the four robed elves beside him raised their arms, all at once sending monstrous plumes of fire into the sky with closed fists. There was a noise like thunder, and the courtyard rumbled as a shockwave rolled through the masses. When the mages retracted their spells, the courtyard was completely silent, save for a few coughs near the back.

“Good,” the center Kci Talon started, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “Now that that’s settled…”

The royal wizard reached into his robe and pulled out a scroll. As he spread the golden rollers, a gilded sheet of parchment stretched before him. The mage took a deep breath. His eyes then rose to the crowd.

“My name is Li-kei,” the elf stated. “On this day, the 14th of Rimvalen, I approach on behalf of Kcirun Cirei, the 125th King of Ardys, chosen of Opela, vessel of the divine Blood. I come today with an urgent message that requires action. The northern border wall has been breached, east of Tularis.”

Murmurs started to make their way through the crowd again. Heror glanced at Ucankacei, who was silent in disbelief.

“Hostilities continue at the border as the Midans persist in their attempt at entry,” Li-kei went on. “For now, we have contained them at the site of the breach, but we need more numbers.”

Now Li-Kei’s eyes fell onto the scroll. He read the elvish etchings.

“All able-bodied men are to report to the Crystal Tower tomorrow morning for medical inspection and assignments pending approval. Additionally, all practitioners of keawal and keatuu, please report as well. All potential charges of unlawful practice are hereby lifted. You will also submit to inspections by myself and the rest of the Kci Talon. Those who pass will be kept and trained. Those who fail will move on to the general inspection. A census will be taken at the inspection. If you meet the qualifications and you do not come, you will be subject to incarceration.”

There was silence from the masses. Li-Kei looked around, then rolled up the scroll, its frame clinking lightly in the empty night air.

“That is all,” he concluded. “Idvae.”

The Kci Talon reorganized and turned in silence, and the Ardysan soldiers followed. As they left, voices murmured and raised in the crowd. In moments, the whyzards disappeared, and confusion fell over the courtyard. Families returned to their lodging homes with haste, parents tugging children along with them, while others lingered, talking amongst themselves in urgent tongues.

After a moment, Ucankacei turned without a word and started back to the lodging house. Thaeolai shot Heror a glance before following Ucankacei through the crowd. She hurried back to the house, and upon entering, she found Ucankacei pacing just beyond the entryway, muttering to himself.

“Ucankacei,” she started. “Are you okay?”

Ucankacei stopped, then froze, his thoughts running fast. He then turned and went to the east end of the room, where a small wooden chest sat. He opened it and pulled out a dented elvish sword. He held the damaged blade up to his face with a frail arm, inspecting its wear.

“You’re not actually thinking about going, are you?” Thaeolai scoffed, concern seeping into her voice.

It was then that Heror walked in, standing next to Thaeolai. Ucankacei’s eyes jumped between them, wide and frantic.

“My Kingdom needs me,” the old man said, turning his attention back to the blade.

“No, they don’t,” Heror argued.

Ucankacei took a hammer from the chest and glanced at Heror, his brow creased. Then he stood and motioned to the chest.

“Come grab your sword,” Ucankacei said. “We’re doing a lesson.”

Ucankacei went over to the dining table, while Thaeolai stepped forward. The old man set the sword down on the table and started striking the dent with the hammer – with no care for the table itself.

“Ucankacei, with respect, I think your fighting days are behind you,” Thaeolai reasoned.

“Heror, sword!” Ucankacei repeated, pointing to the chest.

“No!” Heror lashed out.

“Are you deaf, boy?” Ucankacei growled, showing a fiery side. “The northern border wall has been breached! I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“I understand it!”

“Good! Then come get your sword and get ready to fight!”

“I’m not fighting.”

Ucankacei paused his hammer work and stared at Heror, his mouth agape. Heror took a step forward into the living room.

“You think they care whether or not you get killed on the battlefield?” Heror exclaimed. “They don’t care about us. They want to save themselves, not the Kingdom. I guarantee you, if we go to that inspection tomorrow, they’ll put us on the front line. Fresh meat to slow the Midans down while they cower behind the gates.”

“This is not the time to take a stand against… an ‘oppressive’ government,” Ucankacei scoffed. “The Midans are coming and they intend to kill every last one of us!”

“Let them come!” Heror seethed. “I’ll be gone!”

Now both Thaeolai and Ucankacei eyed the young man. Heror saw their confusion and shook his head.

“How can neither of you see this golden opportunity in front of you?” Heror went on. “For years, we’ve only dreamed of going beyond the gates, and now, they’re going to take us there. They’ll give us food, weapons, and armor, and then we can…”

He trailed off, feeling the sharpness of Ucankacei’s stare. He glanced at Thaeolai, then he lost his words.

“We can…”

“Desert,” Ucankacei concluded.

“That’s not what I was going to say…”

“But that’s what you plan on doing,” Ucankacei said. “Deserting.”

Heror found himself at a loss. He opened his mouth, but he could not refute Ucankacei’s claim. Ucankacei frowned and shook his head, turning away from Heror.

“I will spare you my sharper words,” the old man glowered, before scoffing and shaking his head again. “No loyalty.”

“I don’t owe Ardys any loyalty,” Heror argued. “And neither do you. They wouldn’t even notice you’ve gone. They haven’t noticed you since you left the army. Have they ever sent anyone to check on you? Have they supported you in any way? No. You got older, you lost value in their eyes, and they left you to collect dust.”

“‘Left me to collect dust,’” Ucankacei mocked before turning back to Heror. “I wasn’t the only one left to collect dust!”

Heror froze. Ucankacei noticed the effect of his words, and his frustration turned to sadness. The old man shook his head and sighed, his eyes falling to the floor.

“These dreams of freedom… are not ones I share with you,” he said. “It’s not always better on the other side. I took an oath a century ago. That is what’s most important to me.”

Heror watched as Ucankacei returned to his hammer work, carelessly denting the table as he struck metal. The boy shook his head in frustration and turned to Thaeolai.

“Thae, you have to agree with me,” he pleaded. “This is our chance to leave. I can find my mother. You could go to Tephire. We could see the world.”

Thaeolai bit her lip, then shrunk against the doorframe.

“I don’t know, Heror,” she said. “I…”

She paused, seeing the excitement leave his eyes, like a breeze blowing out a candle.

“It’s not safe,” she went on. “Let’s… let’s say you somehow manage to leave. You’re now a criminal in Ardys. Wanted for desertion. Likely marked for death. How do you plan on getting to Pylantheum? You want to travel hundreds of miles west to the Bay of Ocinion, and risk capture and execution? Or do you want to travel north through the Mides? The only way through is beyond the border wall. Once you get past that point, you’re in a war zone, in enemy territory. In an unfamiliar place. How do you get to Pylantheum then? And when you get there, how do you get through the desert? What then? You said it yourself. That desert is larger than the entire Kingdom of Ardys. ”

Heror took a deep breath and grinded his teeth. She could tell he was frustrated. She blinked, feeling her skin flush. She glanced at Ucankacei – who’d stopped his work and now looked at them – and then she turned back toward Heror, placing a hand on his arm.

“I’m not trying to kill your spirit,” Thaeolai persisted. “I just… I know how eager you can be sometimes. But if you do this… you could wind up dead. Neither of us want that to happen.”

The lodging house was silent. Heror shifted his gaze between Thaeolai and Ucankacei – his brow furrowed, and his sharp blue eyes fierce. After a moment, he turned toward the bunk rooms, granting Thaeolai only half a glance.

“At least I’d have a choice,” he said softly.

With that, Heror retired into his quarters, closing the creaky wooden door behind him. Thaeolai sighed and shook her head. She looked at Ucankacei, who frowned and returned to his work.

“He’s stubborn,” Ucankacei muttered. “He’ll learn.”

The night deepened. Soon, Ucankacei went to bed, leaving his slightly-crooked sword on the wooden table in the front room. Thaeolai also went to her quarters, but after hours of sleepless thoughts, she stood and went across the hall to Heror’s room. She found Heror lying with his face toward the window. She sat down next to him and gently touched his shoulder. She could feel him stirring; she knew he was still awake.

“I hate this place as much as you do,” she said. “You know that. And you know I’d leave with you and travel the Kingdoms if I had the chance. But even after we leave to fight at the border… I think we’ll still be walled in. Just… in a different way.”

Heror didn’t answer. Thaeolai attempted an embrace.

“As long as we stay together, maybe we can wait it out,” Thaeolai tried to reason with him. “And maybe, in a few years, if the fighting dies down… maybe we can sneak away. Maybe then we can escape.”

Heror didn’t answer. Thaeolai waited. After a moment, she leaned in closer.

“Heror?”

Heror squirmed away from her, and spoke as he faced the wall.

“Please leave, Thaeolai.”

Thaeolai felt her eyes start to well up and she quickly rose from the bed. She started for the door, then turned to say one more thing. But before the words could escape her mouth, she bit her lip and left, shutting the door behind her.