Having sold the last copy of the Paper, Lilly made her way to Elder Hall. She was excited; the Paper didn’t always sell out. The farm boy story had proven compelling and, she thought with pride, well-written.

She ascended the white marble steps of Elder Hall, one of the most impressive buildings in all of Brightholme. The hall was carved primarily from white marble, quarried from the Shimmering Peaks, the mountain range bordering Brightholme to the east. It stretched nearly a quarter of the block just north of City Center and Godknight Tower, its width outreaching its height nearly fivefold. When the sun was at its peak and the sky was cloudless, citizens often had to shield their eyes when passing the grand, glorious hub of Safehaven.

Lilly harbored both love and hate for this place. It was undeniably beautiful, the interior spacious with high ceilings and magnificent arches. Richly stitched tapestries and finely rendered paintings, crafted by the country’s finest artists, adorned the walls. As a child, she had run rampant, exploring the rooms, playing in the grand library, making friends with the cooks and servers in the massive kitchen.

However, much like the Elders themselves, the place reeked of pretension and opulence. All were said to be equal in Brightholme. While the Elders essentially managed things, they were not considered “rulers.” But without some kind of organization or semblance of a government, even a god-led country would devolve into chaos.

They referred to themselves as ‘Servants of the People,’ and the Godknight as Brightholme’s Guardian.

Lilly knew this to be nonsense. The Elders reveled in their standing, benefiting from every advantage they got.

She didn’t have to venture deep into the hall to find her father. He was outside the Assembly Chamber, engrossed in a discussion with three other Elders she knew well. They spoke rapidly, in hushed tones, as if discussing the most dire of business. Her father was dressed in the purple and blue robe representing his position as the High Elder. The rest wore robes of the same design, but the blue was replaced by red. Lilly had always preferred the attire of the “normal” Elders over that of the High Elder’s. But she had to admit, his purple and blue did seem more regal.

But she wasn’t a tailor, nor particularly interested in fashion. She was more concerned with the whys and the hows of people’s actions. The lies they told. The secrets they kept.

She walked softly towards her father, grinning slyly. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed her approach. She thrust her head over her father’s shoulder, asking in an overly loud voice, “What are you guys talking about?”

They gasped, genuinely startled, and backed away. Lilly’s playful smile faded when she noticed their lack of amusement. They were a stodgy bunch, sure, but they’d always been indulgent, if not amused by, Lilly’s silliness.

Her father grabbed her by the arm, more forcefully than she liked, and pulled her into the Assembly Chamber without another word to his colleagues. The largest room in the entire Hall, the Assembly Chamber was the main meeting place of the Elders. A long, wide, intricately detailed white marble table dominated the room. Equally ornate marble chairs—a dozen, one for each Elder—were neatly tucked under the table. The walls were adorned with the finest of the Hall’s art and lined with tables holding pristine white vases filled with the land’s prettiest flowers.

“What were you thinking, Lilliana?” he snapped, releasing her arm with a mild shove. “Interrupting us like that? That was incredibly disrespectful.”

Lilly frowned, confused. Her father was generally stern, but this seemed like an overreaction. “I was just playing, father.”

“Playing?” He scoffed. He made a ‘tsk’ sound and flung his hand dramatically in the air. The gesture, his entire demeanor, irritated her. So, she did what she always did when her father pissed her off—she attacked.

“Why didn’t you acknowledge me earlier?” she asked, her tone carrying a bit more bite than usual. “In the City Center. I know you saw me.”

He leaned in, practically snarling, and for a moment, Lilly didn’t recognize him. “An Elder’s daughter should not be selling cheap, worthless wares. You’re better than that.” He jabbed his finger towards her chest.

“It’s not cheap,” she countered. “Or worthless. It’s more than that. I’m informing people, telling them what’s going on in the world around them.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “What do they need to know? They’re fine.”

“Father, I don’t think—”

“I want you to stop it, Lilliana. Stop with this silly hobby and start taking your life seriously.”

“Stop it? Are you kidding?”

“No, I am most certainly not ‘kidding.’” He folded his hands and huffed, as if he believed he had just ended the conversation.

“No way,” Lilly retorted, mimicking his stubbornness by folding her own arms. “It’s important to me. I’m sorry you can’t see that. But I’m not stopping.”

He held his pose for a moment, the snarl on his face intensifying. “Eh,” he grunted, and turned away from Lilly, walking over to one of the wide rectangular windows.

Lilly followed him. “What’s going on with the Godknight?” she asked, deciding to push her luck a little. “He didn’t show up for Adjudication this morning. And I’m pretty sure he was in the Tower. Right?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied brusquely, not turning from the window.

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing? That’s not normal, Father. As far as I know, it’s never happened.”

He turned back to face her. “I told you it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Of course, I’m going to worry about it. It’s my job!”

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Before her eyes, her father seemed to grow ten feet taller. She’d only seen him this furious a handful of times, mostly when she was very little. She felt like that now; very little. Very small.

“It is not your job!” he roared.

“Oh, right,” she said. “My job is to be an Elder’s daughter.”

She had impressed herself, not only not backing down in the face of his anger but striking back. She watched as his shoulders slumped, the anger draining from him like water down a drain. “That’s not what I meant.”

He shook his head and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair. He sat down wearily, resting his head in his hand.

She felt sympathy for him. Something was going on, and it was clearly affecting him. Part of her wanted to comfort him. But another, stronger part felt like a door had just been opened. And she wanted to walk through it.

She moved to the table and stood near him. “Father,” she began, keeping her tone even and respectful. “I’ve heard some things. About the world outside of Brightholme.”

He looked up at her, the weariness still evident. “Lilliana, what have I told you about the rest of the world? The world outside of Brightholme.”

“I know. But—”

“But nothing.” He stood, straightened up his robe. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “You will stop this. Stop this now.”

It was not a request. It was a command.

Lilly definitely did not like that.

“No,” she said, her own voice rising. “I won’t. In fact, I want to leave this place.”

Her father’s jaw fell open, his eyes wide with horror. His reaction was almost comical, and Lilly had to stifle an inappropriate urge to laugh.

He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, a hint of desperation in his gesture. “Lilliana, no. There’s nothing out there. Nothing but madness and death.”

“I want to see for myself. Brightholme is great and all. But maybe… maybe it’s not for me.”

His mouth opened and closed several times, struggling to find words through his shock and horror. Lilly continued.

“Besides, I think there might be something wrong. Something about to happen. I’ve been talking to people, people who’ve only recently come to Brightholme. And I can’t really pinpoint what it is, but I have a sense…”

“A sense? A sense of what?”

She paused, frowned, considered. Was there any wisdom in sharing this with him? If not with him, then with who?

“I think an attack is coming,” she said at last. “An invasion, maybe.”

He actually laughed at her. She felt her cheeks flush with annoyance and embarrassment. Still, she pressed on.

“I could go out there. See for myself. Then come back. Report it to you, and the Elders. Report it to the people.”

“The ‘people.’ In your ‘Paper?’” he asked derisively.

“Yes, Father. In my ‘Paper.’”

He shook his head. “Lilliana, this is ridiculous,” he said, softer than before, as if he were explaining a basic truth to a simple child. “Brightholme is safe from any kind of attack. Invasion or otherwise. It’s been over a hundred and fifty years since anyone has even tried.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“A few of the old kingdoms tried, in the earliest days of Brightholme. The Godknight knew they would come. He repelled them—easily—and sent a clear message to each of them to never try again. And none have. And none will.”

“But Father,” she countered. “You yourself haven’t been outside of Brightholme in two hundred years, right? Since it was founded? How do you know what’s out there? How do any of you know what’s out there?”

“The Godknight knows.”

“Does he?”

That same look of shock and horror on his face. ‘Such blasphemy,’ she thought but chose not to say. The Godknight was their guardian, not their actual God; they’d always been told as much. He forbade anyone to worship him, wouldn’t allow churches to be built in his honor. Nobody ever knelt before Godknight Tower in prayer.

But Lilly knew better. Whether the majority of the people of Brightholme ever showed it or not, deep down, they all deified him. How could they not? But with that deification came a trust and faith so absolute that none ever considered the Godknight might be fallible—as Lilly was doing now.

“Father,” she continued, “you’ve always been close to him. Maybe closer than anyone else. Which has let me be close to him, in a way. And I’ve watched him. Paid attention.”

He tilted his head in expectation, eyebrows raised. No going back now.

“Don’t you think, maybe...there might be something wrong with—”

He thrust his finger in her face. “Do not speak like that! Do you understand?” More anger, more aggression, erupted from nowhere. So much, and so unlike him.

But she was growing weary of this. She was getting nowhere. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever.”

“And you can just forget the idea of leaving. You have everything you could possibly need here, in Brightholme. And Safehaven, the safest, most beautiful city in the world.

“And whether you like it or not, you are an Elder’s daughter. And an Aeonic. You have a very, very long life ahead of you. I’ve allowed you your leeway, allowed you to grow and to explore and become your own person. But you have a responsibility. A duty. To Brightholme and its people. One day you will be an Elder...”

He prattled on, but she’d heard all this before. Since she was a child, she had been groomed for her life decades, perhaps centuries, away. Her responsibilities. Her destiny, already planned out.

“And don’t go talking to people about ‘invasions’ or some such nonsense,” he continued, as she slowly started to tune him out. “Or something being ‘wrong’ with the Godknight. Don’t print it in your silly ‘Paper.’ You’ll only worry people needlessly, people who are living perfectly contented, peaceful lives.”

She said nothing. Just looked at him, frustrated and tired. He got the hint, seemed content that the conversation was over. And he had won.

He bent down and gave her a kiss on top of the head. It was quick, cursory. By rote and duty. Then he left the chamber.

Lilly went to the same window her father had been looking out of. She observed the people, going about their lives, perfectly happy and secure.

She felt trapped. But not beaten. Her resolve to take control of her life never wavered. Maybe her father forbade her from leaving. But she’d defied him before. Did she have the courage to do so again?

She pondered life outside, for the millionth time. Wondered what was out there.

Her thoughts shifted back to her father, and his reactions to her fears of a possible attack on Brightholme. Of Windham’s similarly curious reaction earlier.

She felt a pit forming in her stomach. Something was wrong. She was sure of it.

Something was going to happen. Something bad. But when? She needed to know, needed to investigate. Before it was too late.