Chapter 18
Parents and children
Upper Earth Month, 2nd Day, 20.00
Antilene sipped from the small cup of coffee. The slightly roasted taste of the drink that caressed her palate gave her vigor, relieving the drowsiness that gripped her.
Her personal cook had prepared a perfect dinner to be able to cope with the cold of that winter evening. Spelt soup accompanied by fresh fish and a rich portion of vegetables. For dessert, sweet bread was kept company with a small bowl filled with honey.
She savored each small bite, letting the flavor of the food moisten her lips. The girl ate slowly as she read a collection of poems that Aeneas had brought her.
Maybe I should read the reports, but nothing interesting has been happening for days. Well, these poems by Donte of Karsanas are not so much better. So pleased with himself.
After she had finished eating, the half-elf began to clean up all the clutter that had accumulated in the kitchen. When one is endowed with super-human reflexes, a speed that breaks through the common human sense and spatial perception that far exceeds that of any other human being, it should be easy to succeed at mundane chores.
Yet, the last time I tried to use my abilities to finish quickly it did not go too well.
The sound of broken dishes and smashed glasses dating back to the last time she had tried to use her super speed to finish quickly still rumbled in her ears.
I wonder, if I had waitress-type classes would it be different?
Calmly, the girl began to put everything back in its place. Mundane gestures, repeated hundreds and hundreds of times, were in many cases a more than acceptable pastime to succeed in overcoming despondency.
When she had finished, with the swiftness of a jaguar, she headed for her private library. Placed on numerous shelves were some of the Theocracy's most valuable and rare books.
In addition to a reproduction of the Six Great Gods Gospels, the fundamental religious text of Slaine's doctrine, there were various collections of the most diverse topics. Not only religious texts, but collections of poetry, short stories, and philosophical and military disquisitions.
Some tomes could have been considered apocryphal and, for the most fervent followers, even blasphemous. In particular, a collection of legends gathered after the disaster of the Evil Deities was one of the half-elf's favorite readings.
The Nine Goddesses, I wonder if they really exist or are just silly superstitions. If the former were true, they could prove to be a great addition to our military might. Indeed, perhaps they might even be able to defeat me. They are deities, after all.
Some might have found it unbecoming for a girl of her age to continually have a head full of battles and silly superstitions. Even the Cardinals would, probably, have preferred that she hurry up and find a husband so she could churn out many small weapons from her belly. Almost as if she were not a human being but a miniature factory. Always ready to be operational.
The Nine Goddesses, against whom not even the evil deities could do anything. The dreamer sleeping at the bottom of the ocean, rumored to shape the reality around her. The flying city in the middle of the desert, guarded by invincible guardians. And more. Empires of monsters and creatures beyond imagination lurk in the meanders of this world. Legends and superstitions mingle with numerous realities and traditions about which we still know too little.
All in all, the region in which her homeland was located was just one of the small dots that characterized the planet. In her little pond, she was the strongest, certainly. Those who could compete with her could be counted on the fingers of her hands, and most of these belonged to an ancestral race now almost extinct.
But what if someone came along who could defeat me? Someone against whom not even Rufus could do anything? What would become of the Theocracy? Of my cherished land? Of the proof that I existed?
A rather depressing thought. Many might even have called it defeatist.
Without the Theocracy, what would my life be like now? Worse? Better? If my mother had not been rescued, against whom would my anger now be directed? Against those I now consider friends and family, superiors and subordinates?
In another reality, she stood proudly by her father's side. In the endless sea of possibilities, Silksuntecks burned with blazing flames under the leadership of an army of monsters commanded by her.
Blasphemy.
Those thoughts alone were enough to be a threat against all that was sacred in the realm of the Gods.
In the end, what do I really want? To continue to protect what is dear to me? Or a life of new experiences, away from a routine that is trapping me? If only I had the answer I so long for.
To become one of the protagonists of those stories she so loved to read, to meet new people, and savor new perspectives. To leave that country so much cherished, but hated with a discomforting passion at the same time.
Yes. Part of her hated the Theocracy. She would never admit it to anyone, but that was how she felt. How could two emotions so at antipodes coexist in the same person? Antilene did not know, but that tormented her more than anything else in the world.
There was a chain, invisible, that twisted her neck, cut off her breath, and brought all those silly boyhood dreams to ruin. The duty that flowed from her position, from her history, clashed with her aspirations, reducing the latter to an empty desire.
"You still have a task to complete." Faine's voice was calm and quiet, almost devoid of any emotion. But it echoed in Antilene's head with the force of a thousand hurricanes.
The half-elf's palms were white, pale, and devoid of any sign of violence. But once upon a time, blood covered them so much that the color of her complexion resembled that of a granulated red.
"Here," how long had her mother been dead? How much longer would her ghost be at her side? "This is a sword. From today I will teach you how to wield it."
How old was she then? Twenty? Thirty?
"It hurts mom. It hurts so much." Her childish voice, broken with weeping and pain, was begging for mercy.
"It's for your sake!"
Or for yours, mother? Was I your daughter, or your weapon? Why don't you answer me? Oh, right. You can't now.
How could Faine be sure that her daughter would demonstrate those fighting skills she so yearned for? Of course, time had proven her right. Sure, Antilene had shown more talent than others. In all the history of the Theocracy, the half-elf had been the one most blessed by the blood of the Gods.
But it was a judgment in retrospect. At the time, who could have imagined it? Who could have thought that reducing on the verge of death, again and again and again, a little girl would yield those results?
Had it been a coincidence? Or a game of fate?
"Remember, Antilene. Mother will love you forever."
Was it really love that she had? How could something so abstract be measured? A matter-of-fact phrase to mask what Faine really felt.
"I'm doing this for your sake. Someday you will thank me."
Maybe I will, mother. I wish someday I could wake up from my sleep and be able to shout to the four winds 'My mother loved me. She loved me like no one else.'
Weapons as childhood companions and deep wounds as sweet mementos of infancy. These, were her legacy. These, were her most precious memories.
"One day mankind will reach its paradise. My child, your task is to guide them to a new future. Only then, can we rest in peace. Our watch will end. The tree of wisdom will satiate us with its fruit of a thousand flavors. And we descendants of the Gods will be free at last."
"Free from what, mother?" The split lip, the beatings that adorned her body like a precious dress, the blood that gushed from her forehead as a spring of pure water flows from the mountain's jaws.
Yet, that day when Faine had devoted more than a few brief moments to her instruction had been one of the most cherished moments in the half-elf's life. It was a bittersweet fruit that had grown within her heart, but that was, with time, beginning to wither.
"From our servitude." Her eyes were so devoid of emotions. Their lifeless glow had stuck in Antilene's mind. Although decades had passed, that dull, dark color like a starless night recapitulated in the nightmares of the guardian of humanity.
At one time, she saw in that dimness a monster lurking, ready to devour her at any moment. In the child's eyes, it was waiting for nothing more than a small imperfection, a small mistake to unleash its fury.
"What does it mean to be a slave, Mother?" She had asked so foolishly. The lost little girl had remained the same even after ages had passed.
"It means not having control over one's life, over one's actions. Each of us is a slave, because everything we carry out is predetermined by a design we are not given to know. We call faith that hope that does not cause us to capitulate in despair. If we lose it, we can only be discouraged to realize that we are only weak and pathetic beings whose fate may be decided by the whim of beings we do not understand."
"I don't get it, mommy." And even now, she could not claim to have fully understood her mother's speeches.
"Someday, I hope, you will understand," she had wielded her weapon again. The beast that lurked in her eyes seemed to be getting closer and closer. "And now, let's resume with training."
That time, the training was even harder than usual. The violence of her parent's blows made Antilene come close to death more than once.
If I could see you again today, what would I think of you, Faine? Would I condemn you, for being so horrible to me? Would I pity you, because I can understand your pain?
A parent should love their child, regardless of the circumstances under which he was born. This should have been the reality of things.
But what we think is right and just clashes with the harshness of real life. Maybe my mother hated me. Or maybe she loved me. Or maybe her feelings were too complex to be encapsulated in single words.
Human beings, no, all creatures with reason were striving to match the endless images of the people they interacted with. But, and this was the tragedy of impersonal relationships, only different fractions of a whole could be grasped. And, in trying to fit all these many pieces together, only something approaching reality could be reconstructed.
Faine had been a horrible mother, a victim of violence, captain of the Black Scriptures, and hero of humanity. Each of these definitions described her, but they alone were not enough. Trying to reduce her only to her hatred of the king or her duty to the Theocracy was not enough.
I will respect your wish, mother. It will be the last gift I can give you. Perhaps the only one I may have given you. I will kill my father. And then I will gain what you have never been able to achieve. I will prove that I am superior to you.
Upper Earth Month, 7th day, 13.00
The power of the sun in the palm of my hands.
The early afternoon light brought its blessing to Evasha's forest. In that sea of trees, the rays penetrated with gentle fragility, illuminating the steep forest paths with warm light.
Decem let that light illuminate his skin. The beauty of nature was but one of the countless ornaments to his greatness.
He smoothed his beautiful hair, the feeling of its silkiness brought joy to his fingers. Before his splendid eyes, whose luster would have put even the most precious of gems to shame, a handful of boys and girls of the most diverse ages waited, shrouded in terror, for his orders.
Their looks filled with dread caused a trickle of disgust in the king. If only vomiting had not been such a rabble-rousing action, he would not have hesitated to regurgitate his disdain. Maybe then they would finally understand how immense his contempt and disappointment for them was.
Father, how fortunate you were to receive from the hands of fate such a wonderful gift as me. I can do nothing but show, once again, all my gratitude for the love you have given me.
He sighed. The memories of his late parent were always a mixture of pride and sadness that blended like a mixture of watercolors decorating the canvas of his soul.
"You!" He turned to one of the members of his progeny. The submissive tone of the indicated boy's gait was so pathetic that he could be compared to a stupid beast. Certainly not a bearer of the greatness that should have distinguished their lineage. "Tell your brothers and sisters that we have now arrived. The Dragon's Jaws are in sight."
"Certainly, father." Father. That word sounded so wrong when spoken by that rotten apple.
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The Dragon's Jaws. One of the most dangerous territories within the forest of Evasha. Dangerous, of course, not for a chosen one like Decem.
After this final task, each piece will be put in its place. Oh, just a little more and the fun will begin. The coveted success is only a few meters away from me.
The joy of finally being able to imagine his dream come true had to clash with the immense disappointment of the daunting reality given by the sight of his children.
Lacking all grace and regality, they moved like a shapeless mass devoid of discipline. The word order seemed unknown to their march. Their faces, marked by resignation and sadness, were an insult to his magnificence.
They were oblivious to the good fortune they had been granted. Decem found himself thinking, once again, of his late father. Surely, he could never have tolerated that urge for disobedience that shone through their every look and gesture.
But the elf king knew that he was endowed with a lethal flaw. His generosity and patience. If only he could have gotten rid of them, he would have achieved the perfection he so yearned for. But foolish sentimentality is hard to let go of.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot reach your heights, Father. I hope that from where you look at me you can forgive this imperfect son of yours. Believe me, I would gladly free myself from these chains of benevolence that prevent me from achieving the results to which I so aspire. To which we aspired together.
"Father," the boy he had addressed earlier had dared to divert him from his thoughts. The color of his eyes was the same as his, but without the radiance that characterized true royalty. "We are not alone."
Indeed, strange creatures had begun to surround them. Their shape was similar to that of reptiles, but they were equipped with sharp claws and small wings growing on their backs. Their length did not exceed three meters, and the craggy, brownish scales blended naturally into their surroundings.
"Earth drakes," Decem recognized them. Distantly related to the more fearsome dragons, those beasts were endowed with various out-of-the-ordinary fighting skills. They were not as good at flying as other dragons, but they could dig into the ground and sense enemies standing on the earth with ease, or even shake the ground once a day. "This will be a perfect test for you children."
"Father, what do you mean?" His son asked him with a note of fear. The sweat that pivoted on his forehead was not an auspicious sign in the king's eyes.
"It's simple," he tried to remain calm. It was the duty of a good parent to mentor his offspring. Even if their stupidity was a constant affront to his existence. "I do not need you to reach my goal. Take this as a test. Those who can survive can be admitted into the ranks of my new army. The others... Well, we won't have lost anything important. Don't you think so?"
Whatever his name was-for Decem it did not matter. Only the strong deserved to remain engraved in his memory- gave him a look full of despondency.
For a moment, his son seemed about to say something. But he stopped instantly as he became aware of the sternness emanating from his father's face.
"I have understood," he had finally accepted his role. Perhaps he was not as much of a failure as the king thought. "We won't let you down, father."
"It would be difficult to fail to meet even my already very low expectations," Decem merely replied. He was tired, so tired. Being surrounded constantly by incompetents was a titanic effort even for someone as great as he was. "Proceed. When I return, I don't want to find a single one of these horrid creatures."
His children began to give battle. A few of them, those he had judged most promising, had received some of his treasures. Nothing too valuable, of course. But still, he could not have allowed them to fall into undeserving hands.
The earth drakes lashed out at his children. Some of them reacted swiftly, managing to repel the assault. A few magical arrows departed from enchanted bows, penetrating the enemies' clad carapace. But it was not enough, as their resistance was far greater than what little damage the young elves could inflict.
The confrontation then passed to the physical plane. A couple of the members of that ill-matched family managed to disentangle themselves gracefully from the beasts' attacks, counterattacking at the right moment with the short swords they carried.
Others, however, could do nothing and found themselves at the mercy of the monsters. The youngest, especially, were almost utterly unable to resist. Within seconds, their blood stained the ground as limbs and pieces of skin quickly fell away from their owners.
The older siblings tried to stand as shields, arousing the wrath of the elf ruler.
"Don't you understand that this way you are not giving them a chance to grow? Your selfishness is nothing but an obstacle to achieving the high peaks to which you should aspire." But it seemed that his words could not reach them.
Patience. If they believe that nurturing will lead to something concrete, I will let them continue. Only the strongest survive. It will be a good lesson for those who manage to not die.
As the crush of battle began to spread to the surrounding area, Decem resumed his march. A small group of earth drakes stood between him and his path.
The creatures, for a moment that seemed endless, appeared on the verge of attacking him. Sharp teeth in plain sight, ready to sink into flesh. But as the king's gaze turned to them, their ferocity began to fade.
In its place, another feeling began to manifest. A sound similar to the cry of a frightened child was produced by those monstrous mouths.
At the passing of the rightful ruler of the world, heir to those who most could claim legitimacy on the throne that dominated every known land and sea, those creatures understood their place within the hierarchical scale.
He, Decem, was the king. All others, the subjects. The sooner all other living beings understood their place, as those foolish and miserable little beings now did, the sooner the world would finally know peace under his enlightened leadership.
Yes, because once he achieved his goal, conflicts would finally disappear. As his father had done before him, he would create a new utopia on earth. In which only one race, his own, would lead all lower ones to a new paradise.
That was the task of the few chosen. A task he had accepted with the utmost self-sacrifice. He envied all those foolish mortals. A God like him leading them was the greatest gift they could have received.
Father, I am so close to fulfilling your vision. My fingers brush against that dream. I am almost there. Just a little further and you will see your wish come true. A world of peace, with our people at the summit. Just a little more ...just a little more.
An icy scornful grin adorned his face as his gait grew faster and faster. He popped into a clearing, whose vegetation was so dense that not even the most impetuous of the sun's rays entered.
In the center of that space filled with greenery stood a small stone altar, on the surface of which were carved some words whose meaning was lost to time.
Decem approached the small construction and, after resting his hand on its top, shouted at the top of his lungs. "DECEM HOUGAN, RULER OF THE ELVEN KINGDOM OF EVASHA, CALL BEFORE HIM ASHUAK FRAHR SSISSTH, ALSO KNOWN AS THE JUDGE OF THE FOREST."
His voice exploded like a rumble of thunder in the silence of the place, breaking the monotony of the peace that had reigned unchallenged until that moment. Thousands of birds, frightened by that display of power, fled away, abandoning the branches of the trees where they had established their abode.
Decem waited. He did not have to wait long before the master arrived to give him his warm welcome.
"How dare you enter this place, mortal? Do you not value your life?" Suddenly, a voice. Firm and powerful as a mountain, the tone was shaded by an ancient, mystical feeling. The history of the world was beginning to unfold from those words spoken so decisively.
Strange as it may have seemed, for a moment the elf king had the impression that the sounds coming out of the being's mouth did not perfectly match those heard by his royal ears. That strange feeling soon disappeared, replaced by the wonderment aroused by the one who had just proffered the speech.
But who was his interlocutor? Vaguely resembling the earth drakes from just before, he was distinguished from them by his considerable bulk and graceful bearing.
Its size, which reached tens of meters, stood proudly within the clearing. It was covered with scales, all glistening with various shades of green, from the dark hue of emeralds to the shiny shade of dew-soaked grass. That vast assemblage of colors created an optical illusion of movement on the body of what was, for all intents and purposes, a dragon of the best kind.
"As I said, my name is Decem," a pair of blank, glowing eyes continued to stare at him. Those glowing orbs on the ancient guardian's face concealed within them an infernal fury that asked nothing more than to be let loose. But to those who controlled the fate of the world, it was nothing more than the light play of a frightened fool. "From today, I will be your new master."
Can a dragon externalize emotions that are usually attributed to inferior beings like humans? Ashukar's jaw stretched wide, his razor-sharp jaws glittered like the finest silver, while his eyebrows twitched in a stunned expression.
"Ahahahahahahahahah," he looked as if he was about to start crying, such was the hilarity of the situation from his point of view. "It's been a long time since I've heard such a funny statement. I must thank you, king of the elves, for bringing amusement to this gray day."
"I am glad you found this entertaining. But I'm afraid it's not a joke. No. Believe me, Emerald Dragon Lord, when I tell you that I have never been more serious in my life."
"Do you realize what you are asserting?" Inquired the dragon. His joviality of earlier was beginning to be replaced by a strange feeling. One that went back centuries and centuries. "I abhor violence. But don't think I'm not willing to set aside my beliefs if it comes to teaching an impertinent young man a lesson."
"Ehehehe," this time it was the elf ruler who laughed. But his was not a laugh filled with life and hope like Ashukar's. It was diabolical, hellish, and edged with an aftertaste of blood and violence. "I would be so curious to see you try. But don't be scared. If you should not be willing to come along with me nicely, I have several alternatives available. Tell me, those you protect are located nearby, are they not? I could use them for my own projects. Although I would much prefer the complete specimen."
"You..." The forest judge, also considered the strongest of Evasha's 15 lords, began, metaphorically, to spit flames. His anger seemed on the verge of exploding as his figure overshadowed Decem more and more. "Who gave you this information?"
"A king never reveals his secrets. So, have you decided to put yourself at my service? Don't force me to use more persuasive methods. It is such a waste of time," a grimace resembling the impious smile of the most perverse of fiends appeared on the man's face. "And time, as you well know, is more valuable than any precious material."
"Who are you? You are no ordinary elf, that's for sure." For the first time since the conversation began, the Emerald Dragon Lord began to feel uncomfortable. "Not since the days of the Evil Deities have I sensed such malevolence. Are you one of the survivors of those bearers of ruin?"
"I have nothing to do with those foolish beings. Deities, what a stupid joke. In my comparison, they were nothing but trash. Unlike them, my conquest will not end in defeat."
The king's scornful reply cut through Ashukar's last remaining hesitation like a blade cutting through paper. "I cannot allow such perfidy to continue to defile the world!"
Decem sighed. The Emerald Dragon Lord was about to begin his offensive.
Once again, diplomacy proved futile. When will these fools learn their place in the order of things? I would do without violence, but some know only this language, unfortunately.
"Behe..."
He began his invocation. The earth shook, and the ground began to rip into infinite fragments as the dragon was about to deliver its attack.
Starting from nostrils covered with emerald scales, a trumpet of unheard-of power was emitted as a hell-breath from the giant lizard's mouth.
A gust of wind, capable of distorting the air and melting space into infinite folds, broke down the sound barrier, heading toward the elf ruler.
"... Moth!"
An unspeakable horror began to take shape. The very avatar of the fury of the pristine earth stood in defense of its master. The impact of the sonic boom with its armor covered with countless precious minerals caused a gigantic explosion that spread over the beast's body.
The grotesque creature had not suffered even the slightest scratch. It began to move, its tiny legs jerking with unexpected speed for its size.
"What is that... that thing?" Ashukar tried to keep his cool, preparing to launch another attack.
"Your bane."
Behemoth's gigantic hands, which in contrast to his lower body gave him an even more absurd appearance, grabbed the neck of the forest judge before he could react.
"Now, kneel!"
Ashukar was made to sprawl on the ground. His breathing became so short that even Decem was able to notice the terror he was beginning to feel.
The spikes of earth that sprouted from his invocation made contact with the dragon's scale-covered skin, starting, against all logic, to break them apart. Rivulets of blood began to gush from the lord's skin, while his wails of pain brought joy to the king's ears.
Sweeter than any nectar, the fear and despair his opponents felt when they realized what an insurmountable wall they had defied was the favorite meal of the heir of the Greed King.
"Do you yield?"
The Emerald Dragon Lord looked at him with a stare filled with contempt. That hatred he showed was so pathetic. "Never!" A glow sprang from his eyes as Decem felt a strange light pervade him.
The elf king was no longer inside the Dragon's Jaws, but in a royal palace. One he knew all too well. His own.
Where am I? This place...I recognize it. How did I get back here?
"Son, you have returned."
That voice so familiar, that love so overwhelming. He could make no mistake. Decem hesitated to turn around, afraid to realize it was just a dream. An illusion.
"Father!"
Seeing his beloved parent again, he could not hold back tears of emotion. The ruthless ruler of the elves was no more. In his place, a child who missed his father too much had taken his place.
"Father, you are alive!"
"Of course, son. Did you think something bad happened to me?"
"How happy I am to see you again. Don't abandon me anymore, please!" They embraced, the joy too much to contain.
"Why should I ever leave you, Decem?" Decem. When his parent spoke his name, the elf could finally feel alive. The aspirations of conquest lost their meaning, for his heart was finally fulfilled.
"You... you do not remember?"
"How could I ever abandon my beloved son?"
"But...but you did. You went away, leaving me alone. And you never came back." The last memory the elf king had of him began to settle back into his mind.
That proud back leaving his son behind, never to return.
Right. None of this is real. What a fool.
He regained control of himself. That fictitious reality was gone. His body had returned to its original form.
"How...how did you get free?" Ashukar, still under Behemoth's yoke, was incredulous. "You should have remained a few more hours under the effect of my illusion."
"Psionic attack. Interesting. Unfortunately for you, I am not trash like your previous opponents!" The king's anger was struggling not to overflow from his entire being. What an affront he had suffered! He should have executed that overgrown lizard instantly.
But he desisted. He still had plans for him.
"Behemoth, stronger."
The Emerald Dragon Lord was pushed even lower. His whole body was now touching the ground.
"Arghhhhh!"
His cries of pain, coupled with seeing him in such a pitiful state, brought an ounce of relief to Decem's soul. Although he would have gladly savored even more of that delicious moment -maybe by gradually tearing off those scales that covered the dragon's body, forcibly pulling away those wings he seemed to be so proud of, or even gouging all his teeth out of his mouth one by one- he had wasted far too much time.
"Last chance. I will count to three. If you haven't given up by then, say goodbye to your life. And your children's. One... Two..."
"All right, all right." He was finally convinced. Couldn't he have shown that discernment from the beginning? "Just don't hurt the little ones. Please, don't. They are the last emerald dragons left on this part of the continent."
To feel such apprehension for useless creatures. Pathetic. But that weakness could have been used to his advantage.
"If you cooperate, I promise no harm will come to them. Are you ready to listen to me now?"
"Yes..." Good, the dragon finally understood who was the master and who was the servant.
"Then pay attention, for I will not repeat it a second time. Your first task is simple. Do you know where Crescent Lake is?"
The Emerald Dragon Lord nodded his head, the rest of his body still immobilized by Behemoth, to imply that he knew the answer.
"Splendid. More or less a hundred kilometers from there is a large wooden building, made entirely by me. From above it is impossible not to recognize it. Go there, and you will find others like you waiting for my instructions. I will get in touch as soon as possible. All clear?"
"... Crystal clear." Was that contempt he sensed? It didn't matter. If everything had followed his design, for that insolent reptile there would not be much longer to live.
"Perfect. And, of course, don't try to escape. Otherwise..." He did not need to finish the sentence. They both knew what was at stake.
"Now, if you please, I'll return to my children. You are not the only one who has to think about the future of his race."
The king recalled his trusty shield to himself, and then let himself be carried back to the place where he had left his progeny. He did not turn around, for he knew that the Emerald Dragon Lord would not dare raise his head, not as long as Decem remained there at least.
To his surprise, as many as three members of his original group had survived. The one he had pinned as the momentary group leader, unfortunately, had failed to make it. His body, barely recognizable, lay lifeless on the banks of the path.
A pity, but better that he had proved his meager worth in such an insignificant matter as that.
As soon as they noticed him, those who had remained began to approach their parent. One girl, who had recently entered her teens, addressed him.
"Father, I'm sorry to say that only we are left. Everyone else is dead." Her gaze was turned downward, probably because of the shame she felt at having failed him.
"Perfect," that had been, all in all, a fruitful day. He could lower his expectations once in a while. A ruler's job was also to recognize the merits, however meager, of his subjects. "What is your name?"
"R-Ruri."
"You and your brothers gather the remaining equipment. After that, we will return to the capital at once."
"Yes, father." Decem noticed that some tears were streaming down her face. Was it so much despair that she had failed to meet his expectations fully? Well, it didn't matter.
The king's mind was focused on a single point, miles away. A place where some detestable ants had gathered in recent years, thinking they could challenge his reign.
But all this is coming to an end. My daughter, your father is coming for you.