Prologue
The peaceful serenity of the palace grounds was shattered by the sound of hooves thundering down the main road. A lone rider, sweat streaked across his face, urged his horse forward with desperation in his eyes. Dust and the heat of the midday sun clung to his tattered cloak as he approached the gates, the urgency in his every movement clear.
He reached the palace gates, breathless and frantic, his heart racing as if it might beat right out of his chest. The guards stepped forward, raising their spears in a practiced motion to halt his advance.
“Apologies, but I am in a hurry,” the messenger pleaded, his voice strained and full of panic. He clutched a sealed letter in his hand, knuckles white from the grip. “This must reach the king immediately. It’s a matter of life and death.”
The guards exchanged a look, their usual calm demeanor slipping slightly in the face of his urgency. Without hesitation, they moved to let him through, understanding the weight of his words even if they did not yet understand the cause. The messenger, barely able to catch his breath, was swiftly escorted through the palace corridors. The was from Kalghari, a region under the country of Calvaris.
Kingdom of Calvaris, painting the skies in hues of amber and gold, as though the heavens themselves reflected the wealth of the land. Nestled between mighty neighbors and the sprawling expanse of the eastern sea, Calvaris was more than a nation; it was a beacon of prosperity, culture, and resilience.
Each of the four regions of the kingdom bore its own identity, united under the banner of King Aldred II. In the east, Sumatra’s bustling ports woke to the sound of ships loading barrels of seafood, silk, and exotic spices bound for foreign shores. Zibebwa, the southern heartland, stretched endlessly with its fertile fields of wheat, sugarcane, and rice, the lifeblood of the kingdom’s economy. To the west lay Kalghari, rugged and industrious, its people toiling in gold mines and quarries that had built the grand palaces of Carus.
Carus itself was the crown jewel, standing at the kingdom’s center—a city of towering spires and marble streets where the mighty palace of King Aldred II loomed. From this heart of Calvaris, King Aldred ruled with a steady hand, his leadership a source of pride for the people. He was a just king, a ruler who listened to the voices of farmers, merchants, and soldiers alike.
The council that advised him was composed of twelve ministers representing the kingdom’s vast interests—agriculture, trade, defense, education, and more—each playing a role in ensuring Calvaris's success. Three royal advisors, elders steeped in wisdom and history, served as the king’s closest confidants, providing guidance in the most delicate matters.
Yet, even amidst the kingdom’s prosperity, the shadow of tension loomed on the western border. Arabama, with its rival ambitions, contested the lands near Kalghari—a border steeped in precious metals and an even more precious history. For years, the disputes had simmered, flaring into minor skirmishes but never full-scale war. Still, the threat remained like a storm cloud on the horizon, dark and unyielding.
The Border
King Aldred often thought of the conflicts between Calvaris and Arabama during his early morning walks in the palace gardens. This day was no different. Clad in a simple tunic, he paced the pathways, hands clasped behind his back, as he pondered reports from the border. His council had suggested increasing the number of troops stationed in Kalghari, but Aldred hesitated. Peace had been his goal since ascending to the throne, following in his late father’s footsteps.
“Your Majesty,” a voice called softly. It was Eryndel, the eldest of his royal advisors, his silver hair catching the morning light. “The council awaits your decision on the matter of Arabama. Shall we proceed with the reinforcements?”
King Aldred turned to him, his expression contemplative. “Do we strengthen the border with soldiers or with dialogue, Eryndel? Reinforcements will make us appear prepared for war. But war is what I wish to avoid.”
Eryndel bowed his head in agreement. “A fine line, Your Majesty, between preparation and provocation. Perhaps a delegation to Arabama would serve as a first step. A gesture of diplomacy before the blade is drawn.”
The king nodded slowly. “I shall consider it. Summon the council for this afternoon. I will hear their thoughts.”
As the day unfolded, news arrived that a delegation from Thalvoria, their northern ally, was due to visit within the week. The timing was fortuitous. Calvaris's alliance with Thalvoria had proven invaluable, and their shared borders ensured mutual protection. But Aldred knew alliances, like gold, required careful maintenance.
The Kingdom of Calvaris thrived, yet the threads of its peace and prosperity felt fragile. Between external threats and the undercurrents of political intrigue within the council, the king faced challenges that would test the very foundation of his rule.
As the bell in the tower tolled noon, Aldred stood by his window overlooking Carus, the bustling streets alive with merchants and citizens. In his heart, he knew the peace Calvaris enjoyed could not be taken for granted. The time for difficult decisions was drawing near.
---
That afternoon, the twelve council members arrived. They were the wealthiest and most powerful politicians in Calvaris, each wielding influence over the nation’s vital sectors—trade, agriculture, defense, and more. Seated beside King Aldred II was his son, Prince Philip, the heir to the throne. From a young age, King Aldred had made it his mission to prepare his son to lead, teaching him the delicate balance required to maintain both the kingdom’s order and its prosperity.
Prince Philip sat silently, absorbing the atmosphere of the meeting. His father’s firm but just leadership had always been a source of admiration, and now, he felt the weight of the crown more than ever.
King Aldred spoke first, breaking the silence. “What news do we have from the west?” He directed his question to Julius Vanjans, Minister of defense and military,one of the wealthiest council members and a loyal ally of the throne.
Julius, with his customary calm demeanor, nodded before responding, “The discussions between our envoy and the Kingdom of Arabama have gone well, Your Majesty. Arabama has agreed to the terms of the treaty designed to ease tensions along the western border. They have pledged to honor the peace.”
“That’s good to hear,” King Aldred replied, his tone measured but hopeful. He glanced at Prince Philip, silently sharing the weight of the news with him.
But not everyone in the room was so optimistic. Edrigo Bork, Minister of Foreign Relation, another influential council member, leaned forward, his sharp eyes glinting with skepticism. “Your Majesty, I believe we must prepare for whatever Arabama might do. Promises are fragile things. Not every agreement is meant to last. One day, we might wake up to find the western territories under Arabama’s control.”
Edrigo’s reputation preceded him—known for his wealth, ambition, and power-driven mindset. His words, though filled with caution, revealed the deeper unrest that simmered within him.
Aris William, Minister of Trade and Industry, a council member from the Sumatra region and part of the influential William family, was quick to respond. “Why prepare for a war that hasn’t come? If we act rashly, we risk escalating tensions. What we need is restraint, not military buildup.”
“Restraint?” Edrigo scoffed, raising his voice. “And when will you act, Aris? When the enemy is at our doorstep, sword drawn, while we sleep?”
Aris’s face hardened, his gaze unwavering. “I won’t act out of fear, Edrigo. If we prepare for war where there is none, we might find ourselves creating the very conflict we fear.”
“And you think fear is the problem?” Edrigo shot back, his voice tinged with mocking contempt. “You would rather sit idly by, hoping the enemy stays at bay? You’re more afraid of the cost of war than the actual threat!”
Aris stood up, his fists clenched. “I am not afraid of war, Edrigo. But I refuse to be dragged into it recklessly!”
“Enough!” King Aldred’s voice rang out, commanding silence. The tension that had been building in the room dissipated as Aris reluctantly took his seat again, his glare fixed on Edrigo.
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King Aldred let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again. “I agree with Aris. Peace is the greater priority.” He turned his gaze to Edrigo, his words calm but firm. “Strength alone does not justify war. Peace requires more than military might. It demands wisdom.”
Edrigo bristled at the king’s words but kept his silence. After a moment, he responded, “But, Your Majesty, our military is strong. We can crush Arabama swiftly. We are wealthier, we have more soldiers, and we have the advantage.”
King Aldred’s eyes softened, but his voice remained steady. “Strength is a tool, not a weapon of oppression. War is not always the solution to preserve peace.”
He turned to shift the discussion, sensing that further debate on the topic would only divide the council further. “Have the shipments of flour for the ports been arranged?” he asked, turning to Aris William, hoping to move the conversation into calmer waters.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aris replied promptly. “We are only awaiting the last ten sacks of flour from Zibebwa. Once they arrive, the ship will be ready to sail for Asiktan.”
Eryndel, the king’s eldest advisor, approached the king quietly, leaning in to speak in a low voice. “Your Majesty, the Thalvoria delegation will arrive in two days.”
King Aldred nodded in acknowledgment. He turned to the palace staff who stood by the doors. “Prepare accommodations for our arriving guests,” he instructed them.
Rising from his seat, King Aldred stood tall, his presence commanding the attention of the room. “This meeting is adjourned. You may all leave.”
The council members began to exit the room, their steps echoing on the marble floors. Edrigo, however, lingered. His face was flushed with irritation, and he glanced at King Aldred one last time before turning to leave. His mind seemed already to be plotting, always looking for the next opportunity to gain power.
King Aldred watched him go, his thoughts momentarily heavy. Despite the promises of peace, the shadow of conflict loomed large. The kingdom was at a crossroads, and the king knew that the decisions made in the coming days would shape the future of Calvaris for generations.
---
Khalesie the Queen’s Wisdom
As the councilors filed out of the chamber, their discussions lingered in the air—fragments of strategy and debate echoing off the marble walls. King Aldred remained seated, his hands resting heavily on the carved arms of his throne. His gaze drifted to the golden map of Calvaris etched into the chamber’s floor, the borders of his kingdom gleaming faintly in the dim afternoon light.
The weight of leadership pressed down on him. Decisions made here would ripple through generations, shaping the kingdom’s future. For all his wisdom, Aldred often questioned if his path—this delicate balancing act of peace and power—was the right one. Edrigo's warnings rang in his ears, a bitter reminder of how fragile alliances could be.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Philip, still seated beside him. His son’s silence was thoughtful, his youthful face contemplative in a way that seemed beyond his years. Aldred studied him for a moment, seeing not just a boy but the glimmer of the king he would someday become.
"Philip," Aldred said, breaking the silence. His voice was gentler now, stripped of the commanding tone he used with the council.
Philip blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "Yes, Father?"
"What do you think of today’s meeting?" Aldred leaned forward, his expression soft but searching.
Philip hesitated. "I think… it’s complicated," he said carefully. "Edrigo wants us to be strong, but Aris doesn’t want war. They both seem right in their own ways."
Aldred allowed himself a faint smile. "A king must often weigh two truths, even when they seem to oppose one another. It is the hardest part of leadership." He rested a hand on Philip’s shoulder. "Come. There’s something I want you to see."
Rising, Aldred guided his son out of the council chamber and down a quiet corridor. As they walked, the light streaming through the arched windows bathed the stone floors in golden warmth. Outside, the bustling streets of Carus stretched far into the distance.
They came to a stop at a balcony overlooking the palace gardens. Below, a group of children from the palace staff played freely in the grassy expanse, their laughter rising like birdsong into the air. Philip stepped forward, leaning against the stone railing, his eyes fixed on them.
"You’ve been inside these walls your entire life," Aldred said, his voice low and thoughtful. "You’ve seen the council chambers, the halls of history, and the rooms where decisions that shape our kingdom are made. But this…" He gestured to the children below. "This is what we protect. Their joy, their freedom. That is the heart of Calvaris."
Philip hesitated, his gaze fixed on the children below. “Father, do you really think I can lead the kingdom the way you do?” he asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.
King Aldred crouched down to meet his son’s eyes. “Philip, you are young, and there is much to learn,” he said, his tone kind but firm. “But one day, I know you will lead this kingdom with wisdom and strength. You’ll surpass everything I’ve accomplished, my son. Just remember this, Philip: a king’s strength lies not in his sword, nor his crown, but in the lives he serves.”
The boy nodded slowly, his small hands gripping the balcony railing. “I understand, Father.” Aldred’s words carried a weight that made his chest feel tight, but at the same time, they sparked a quiet determination within him.
“Your mother wishes to speak with you,” Aldred added, his tone softening further.
“Yes, Father,” Philip replied, bowing slightly before heading toward his mother’s chambers. But as he walked through the grand hallways, he carried with him a trace of sadness. His heart yearned for something simple yet unattainable—the freedom to run and play as other children did.
--+
“Mother, Father said you wanted to see me,” Philip said as he entered Queen Khalesie’s chambers.
Queen Khalesie, the daughter of the esteemed King Jhamir and Queen Zhara of Asiktan, embodied grace and compassion in every aspect of her life. Her upbringing in the vibrant and prosperous kingdom of Asiktan had instilled in her not only a refined elegance but also a deep understanding of duty and love. Known for her kindness and gentle nature, she was a queen adored by the people of Calvaris, who admired her unwavering dedication to the kingdom and its future.
Above all, Queen Khalesie was a devoted mother, her heart fiercely protective of her children. She saw in them not just heirs to the throne, but the embodiment of hope for a brighter future. To her, nothing mattered more than their well-being, happiness, and growth into compassionate leaders. She would move mountains, if necessary, to shield them from harm and ensure they knew the warmth of a mother’s unconditional love.
The queen, seated by the window with the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on her, turned to him. She was gently brushing her younger daughter Princess Dianna’s hair. “Come here, my son. Sit beside me,” she said with a kind smile, patting the space next to her.
Philip approached and sat down, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Khalesie studied his face, her motherly intuition sensing the unease he tried to hide. She cupped his cheek with one hand, her touch tender. “Why do you look so sad, my son?” she asked softly.
“It’s nothing, Mother,” Philip replied, lowering his eyes.
Khalesie exchanged a knowing glance with Dianna, who remained quiet but watched her brother intently.
“You miss something you’ve never had, don’t you?” the queen asked gently. “You want to play outside, don’t you?”
Philip’s head lifted, his eyes wide with surprise. “How did you know?” he whispered.
Khalesie smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Because I’m your mother. And I know what’s in your heart.” She paused, then added, “Don’t worry, my son. I’ll speak to your father and ask him to let you play outside.”
Philip’s face lit up, a rare and pure excitement spreading across his features. “Really, Mother? Can I bring Dianna with me?”
“Of course, my son,” Khalesie said, her voice like a balm to his worries. “But only if you promise to stay close to the palace and take care of your sister.”
“You hear that, Dianna?” Philip turned to his sister, his joy infectious. “We’re going to play outside tomorrow!”
Princess Dianna grinned, clapping her hands together. “Mother, can we play with the other children too?”
Khalesie chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear, but don’t stray too far from your brother, understood?”
“Yes, Mother,” Dianna said with a radiant smile.
---
Later that evening, Queen Khalesie broached the subject with King Aldred as they prepared for bed. The warmth of candlelight danced across the chamber as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Aldred, I think we should let the children play outside,” she said gently.
The king sighed, his brow furrowing. “They already play inside the palace. They’re safe here,” he replied, his tone cautious.
“Yes, but they’re children,” Khalesie said, her voice laced with a mother’s wisdom. “Philip needs to experience the world outside these walls, even if it’s just a small part of it. He needs to see and understand the people he’ll one day lead. How can he be a good king if he doesn’t know their lives?”
Aldred sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m thinking of their safety, Khalesie. Philip carries the weight of this kingdom’s future. You know that better than anyone.”
Khalesie moved closer, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “I do,” she said softly. “And I also know the value of happiness. Let them have this, Aldred, even if it’s just for a little while. They’re still so young—Philip is only ten, and Dianna is six. Let them be children while they can.”
Aldred turned to meet her gaze, his stern expression softening under her tender plea. “What if something happens?” he asked quietly, the worry in his voice unmistakable.
“Joseph and the servants will watch over them,” Khalesie assured him. “You trust Joseph, don’t you?”
General Joseph Vanjans, the younger brother of Julius Vanjans, a member of the council. Like his brother, his loyalty to the king and the country is unparalleled.
The king sighed deeply, finally nodding. “Fine. But they must stay within the palace grounds, and they won’t stay out long.”
Khalesie smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Aldred kissed Khalesie back and gently laid her down on the bed. His kisses trailed downward, lingering at her chest. Khalesie ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close. Aldred removed his garments, as well as those of his wife, their bodies drawn together in the warmth of the moment. That night, their chamber was filled with passion and the unspoken language of love.
As the candles burned lower, and the moment of full of love, King Aldred lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Though he had relented, the unease in his heart remained. For all his strength as a ruler, he could not protect his children from every danger—nor from the weight of their destiny.
---
Black Cloak
The next morning, the palace grounds were alive with activity. Servants prepared an area near the gardens for Prince Philip and Princess Dianna to play. The news of the children being allowed outside the palace for the first time had spread among the staff, and