Dusk kissed the La’Sarien Forest. Luna’s veil began to usher in the night as Sevidon arrived at Meskotav as the moon ascended, casting its gentle glow upon the gathering crowd within. Councilors acknowledged his presence with nods and greetings as they streamed toward the meeting hall.

“General Sevidon, it’s a pleasure to see you,” a councilor hailed, striding toward him. “What news from the Karin King? I trust all is well?” they inquired with genuine concern.

“It’s good to see you again, Councilor. The King sends his regards. I’ll share the details inside,” he replied, his tone measured.

“Very well.” The councilor’s smile dimmed as a shadow crossed their face. “I’ve heard whispers from our Sulin brethren. The Sulin Prince appeared quite agitated upon his arrival, clashing with some of the Sulin councilors. It doesn’t bode well from their perspective,” the councilor confided in a hushed tone.

“Yes, the Sulin prince has urgently convened the council. It’s fortunate you arrived just in time. You’ll hear firsthand what transpired,” added another councilor, offering a glimpse into the unfolding drama.

Intrigued by the brewing tension between the Sulin king and Glaivel, he voiced his curiosity. “Then let us not wait any further and head inside.”

“Certainly. We shall excuse ourselves,” the councilor said, bowing respectfully along with their companion before making their way to their designated seats.

The chamber reverberated with the murmur of voices as attendees took their seats, anticipation hung in the air. Glaivel, standing at the center, patiently awaited the settling of the crowd. As he walked down, his observant eyes caught the telltale signs on Glaivel’s face — defeat etched into every line.

A rush of memories flooded his mind, drawing a parallel between Glaivel’s present expression and a distant, haunting recollection. The weight of history hung in the silence.

Greeting Karin councilors along the way, he joined the assembly. As the room hushed, the only audible sounds were the closing doors, signaling the commencement of their gathering. He looked around and saw the faces of the councilors on both sides. It seemed it was already evident on what Glaivel was about to say. He took a deep breath as clenched his fist and listened closely to Glaivel.

“My kin, respected Karinhawi Councilors,” Glaivel began with a sense of urgency, his eyes scanning the assembled faces. “I return with news that I hope our esteemed visitor, the Imperial Diplomat, perceives without malice. I must express my belief that my father’s recent decision is the epitome of selfishness.”

A collective gasp swept through the assembly. Sevidon, taken aback, widened his eyes in astonishment, mirroring the surrounding reactions. Glaivel, known for seldom addressing both factions, had broken tradition tonight.

“The Great, Sulinhawi King, has already made his thoughts known. I, too, share in this displeasure, for he has declined the Imperial Trasidar’s request,” Glaivel continued, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

A groan resonated through the council chambers as Glaivel delved into the heart of the matter.

“For far too long, the Sulin King has perceived an unwavering obligation to aid the Empire. Even in olden times, the Sulinhawis felt beholden to the Empire when it has done nothing for us or to our benefit, for our sacrifices,” Glaivel bellowed as he gazed around the room.

The air already felt tense after his declaration. All he could feel and hear was the disappointment of not just his Karin brothers, but unexpectedly, — the Sulins as well. He looked at Glaivel, who seemed as though the words he said were daggers stabbed in his back. “The scars of the last Great War bear witness to the shedding of not only imperial blood but also Sulinhawi and Karinhawi’s blood. We will never again be made as sacrifices for the survival of the empire because of their own mistakes,”

The room fell into a stunned silence, not only on the Karin’s side but also among the Sulinhawi councilors. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room, gauging the varied reactions of the councilors as the weight of the news settled in.

“My fellow councilors of the Sulinhawis,” he suddenly called out, drawing the attention of all present as he moved to the center of the hall.

“I implore you now. Consider the current situation. We cannot afford setbacks that may jeopardize the peace and stability Arumar currently enjoys. Think about what Unibeltrasia is experiencing. This era of peace has fostered growth for every nation, not just the Empire. I implore your wisdom to speak on behalf of the Sulinhawis as a whole, not just the Sulin King,” he urged.

Murmurs and whispers stirred among the Sulinhawi councilors as they listened to his plea.

“What are you doing?” Glaivel asked him directly.

“What you should’ve done after delivering your message,” Sevidon replied calmly and in a hushed tone.

“What makes you think I won’t do what you just did?” Glaivel clarified, growing visibly impatient, his hands already clenched.

“Glaivel, let me be frank with you, as I have been for the longest of time. You cannot do what I just did. You simply do not have the will to do it on your own,” Sevidon asserted in a serious tone.

“How dare you!” Glaivel shouted.

“Respected General,” the Head Sulin Councilor stood up and called out. “There is a reason why the Council of Meskotav has the Alassar Eira in place. I believe you, of all people, should know that.”

He acknowledged as he looked at the Head Sulin Councilor, “I am aware of the Council’s mechanism to settle disputes, a way for us to collaborate without straining relations. However, Meskotav was granted special power to override the king’s decision if it was a matter of national security. Is that not the case as well, Head Councilor?”

The Head Councilor met his gaze. “You are right. We do have that authority. But what makes you think we will ever defy the wishes of His Majesty, the Sulin King? That clause - though in place, was never acted upon nor enforced in all of our existence.”

He sighed at the problem that the bureaucracy that was put in place had presented. “Because Meskotav was given autonomy under such circumstances. And right now, Tamiron fits all of that,” he pointed out, though it seemed the Head Councilor had already made up his mind.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He was having none of it. Always in a dead-lock because of this dispute. The very thing that should be benefiting both of their people, for he felt like being used to harm it instead. “We will respect your decision regarding the matter, then.” He immediately said. “However, may I ask what the Sulinhawis would do if Tamiron is marching towards Eiventolf?” He looked at the Sulin councilors as his statement shocked them.

He looked at every single one of them. “When the surrounding kingdoms have fallen or are busy defending their own against his onslaught. What will you do then?” he inquired once more, but as expected, the Sulinhawi councilors remained silent.

“Classic Sulinhawi isolationism,” he scoffed as he laughed, casting a critical gaze across the assembly. “It’s not your concern until it becomes yours. That kind of thinking birthed the very unrest that led to the Trodonars’ uprising.” He pointed out to everyone.

“The Trasidars sought aid back then, but everyone turned a blind eye. Karinhawis fell, the Tigris were overwhelmed, and the Falcons lost everything but the Great Tree. It’s a somber chapter in our history, all due to selfishness.” he added, frustration was all but evident in his voice.

“Since then, the Trasidars have been benevolent, uniting to ensure our safety while confronting threats like Xerxecia. They embraced the responsibility of shielding us from the horrors of war, acting on what they saw as their destiny as children of the Great Animos Freigurd,” he emphasized, his gaze encompassing the entire assembly. “Protectors. And now, you are spitting on their faces.”

“Look at you, speaking like an imperial dog,” a Sulin councilor retorted, shocking everyone.

“Look at the leeches who benefit from the safety the Empire provides,” he shot back, the angered councilor restrained by fellow Sulins.

After taking a deep breath, he continued, “The Sulinhawis prospered through the trade that flourished over centuries. It not only benefited the Karins and other Free Kingdoms but also the Sulinhawis. Together, we recovered from the scars of the ancient war—all because of the Empire’s policies: open borders, trade with other realms, and, crucially, protection. Are you suggesting that the Sulinhawis lack the basic logic that you simply don’t care? Are you admitting to being hypocrites?"

“How dare you!” multiple Sulin councilors called out.

“In the Great War, a shared memory,” he continued, cutting through their protests. “The Trodonars seized Karinhawi lands and most of the central empire. Our territory, along with half of the Tigris, was taken, leaving only the Great Tree of the Mystic Falcons. Do you recall the Empire’s response? They rallied, hitting the forces encroaching on the Sulinhawi capital, breaking a month-long siege in the La’Sarien Forest. After that, they urged everyone to strike. Yes, it took months, but together, we pushed back and ended the threat.”

He directed his gaze at Glaivel, whose fists were clenched. “Don’t portray us as ungrateful children!” Glaivel shouted.

“But you are!” he retorted. “All of you are!” he shouted at every one of the Sulin council.

“Don’t you dare think that we don’t know the consequences? Do not mistake our desire to stay out of imperial affairs as indifference to how they could impact us!” Glaivel countered.

“Then why didn’t you stand up to your king and make him aware of the consequences? To make him understand?” he fired back. Glaivel fell silent. He then turned his gaze to the Sulin councilors. “Why not break with tradition and command your prince to go?”

He scoffed as Glaivel avoided his gaze.

“Typical Sulinhawis, consumed by your own desire for self-preservation. Even on the brink of extinction, you persist in your isolationist ways. Now, a looming threat, potentially catastrophic as that of the Trodonars of old, is emerging. We have a chance to stop it, once and for all, and yet you choose to cower!” he shouted as Glaivel’s rage echoed through the hall as he gripped him by the neck, pinning him against the wall. Guards and the entire council were on high alert, taken aback by Glaivel’s sudden outburst.

“Do you dare call me a coward? Label us all as cowards?” Glaivel thundered, maintaining his hold with a forearm. “How dare you,” he whispered sharply.

“You remain a coward after all these years,” he declared, pushing Glaivel away.

Turning his attention to the assembled council, he declared, “There’s a reason the Trasidars have called upon all of us. We cannot afford to let this threat fester. I will not allow the mistakes of the past to be repeated today. I will not. Not on my watch,” he said.

Then he turned his gaze to a guard on top. Just beside the twin Animos, Uarea and Derulesund, her armor was different from the rest. “I invoke Alassar Eira.” Gasps reverberated through the room. Glaivel released his grip and strode to the opposite end, drawing his sword.

“You cannot invoke Alassar Eira. You have no right!” protested a Sulin councilor.

“Yes, they do,” asserted the guard with the distinct attire, adorned with feathers of various hues, with only the mouth visible. “The agreement was made long ago, under the same moon we have tonight. Anyone can call for the tradition. It has been written.”

“Our Prince is above such traditions, especially from the likes of him! Even a shaman guard like you cannot enforce that upon them!” shouted a Sulin councilor in defiance.

“I am the appointed guardian of the old ways and traditions, tasked to intervene when they are invoked. To question my judgment is to challenge the very essence of your way of life,” declared the shaman guard as the councilor gritted his teeth.

“You have no authority here!” shouted one of the Sulin councilors, but the guard paid no mind.

“We are all Hawis! General Sevidon, whether Sulinhawi or Karinhawi, holds the same right to invoke such traditions! There’s no way we can stop that now; Prince Glaivel has clearly agreed to it!” emphasized a Karin councilor.

“How dare you question my resolve? I’m the Sulinhawi Prince!” Glaivel suddenly shouted, his sword pointed as he paced left and right.

“Your resolve? Don’t make me laugh,” he retorted, drawing both his swords. “You have none of it.” Glaivel let out a battle cry and lunged at him, but he perfectly deflected the strike with his sword.

“You have no idea what I have to go through!” Glaivel exclaimed.

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?!” he shouted back, skillfully blocking Glaivel’s attacks. Focused on Glaivel, he sensed they were on equal footing, but he knew he had one advantage.

Dodging Glaivel’s strike, he impaled his sword onto the floor, then swiftly seized Glaivel’s cape, pulling hard and throwing him to the ground. He scratched Glaivel’s face with the tip of his sword, drawing first blood. Glaivel was put in his place.

“We may stand on equal ground, but I will always have one advantage over you,” he declared, pointing his sword, now stained with Glaivel’s blood. “I always have a clear head.”

“The challenge is concluded! General Sevidon drew first blood!” announced a guard overseeing the duel. “By the ancient agreement, the one who draws first blood in Alassar Eira becomes the blood slaver of the defeated, the blood slave. Only when the Blood Slaver deems the blood oath fulfilled will the blood slave be released,” she explained, formalizing the Alassar Eira.

Uproar ensued, particularly from the Sulin side, vehemently disagreeing with the results. The shaman guard slammed her spear on the floor, silencing the dissenting Sulin side. “Do I sense an objection from the Sulinhawis then?” she glared at them.

The head Sulin councilor cleared his throat and stood up. “We shall respect the results of this Alassar Eira.”

“Good,” then the shaman guard turned to him, “What does the Blood Slaver require of the blood slave?” she inquired as she sheathed both swords.

“The blood slave already knows what he needs to be released, keeper,” he responded, heading towards the exit.

“Then it shall be,” the shaman guard signaled with another slam of her spear, indicating the sealing of Alassar Eira.

He sighed, contemplating the recent events. Glancing at Glaivel, who glared at him while rising slowly, he felt the weight of Glaivel’s anger.

“Once the oath is fulfilled by the Blood Slave, come back to me so that I can mark its end,” instructed the shaman guard to Glaivel, her gaze firm.

Glaivel then locked eyes with him, harboring intense resentment. “Let us see if you can prove me wrong,” he challenged Glaivel as he stood up. “Let us see what a Sulinhawi really is. Selfish or not.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Sevidon,” warned Glaivel as he wiped the blood from his cheek.

“No, I’ve already made it once,” he replied, walking away. “I trusted you once. Never again.”

End of Chapter X