The Gateway to Ardrath

After days of traversing the endless expanse of the Stone Bridge, the caravan finally neared signs of civilization. Fishermen could be seen casting their nets into the ocean, signaling that they were approaching the coastal edges of Ardrath, the Holy Land. Yet, despite these signs, no land was visible on the horizon.

Theron’s initial enthusiasm about reaching Ardrath had long faded, worn down by the monotony of the journey. Beside him, Lyra appeared increasingly anxious, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Orlan, however, understood her concern without needing words. It was the same worry that had kept her from letting Theron venture far from Bastreo: his sensitivity to Sol.

Ardrath, known for its dense population, had a high concentration of Sol energy. Lyra feared what the sudden influx of this energy might do to her son. As the caravan drew closer to their destination, her fears materialized. Theron began to sway, his face pale and his steps unsteady.

“I don’t feel so good,” he murmured, clutching his head.

Lyra, alarmed, steadied him with a hand. Though she had always known Theron’s condition, she hadn’t realized the extent of his sensitivity. Observing the remaining distance to the mainland, she concluded that his sensitivity had grown significantly over the years.

Orlan rummaged through his bag and pulled out a leather flask filled with water and a small pouch of dried green berries. Handing them to Theron, he said gently, “Drink some water and eat these. These berries help with Sol fluctuations. You’ll feel better soon.”

Theron obeyed, and though he felt some relief, his exhaustion lingered. Lyra, her worry slightly eased, urged him, “Rest, Theron. Let the medicine do its work.”

The other passengers in the caravan moved aside, offering Theron space to lie down. Lyra thanked them with quiet sincerity. Theron’s heavy eyelids soon closed, and he drifted into a restless sleep.

Sometime later, he heard a familiar voice, soft and reassuring, pulling him from his slumber. “Theron, wake up. We’ve arrived in Ardrath.”

Blinking himself awake, Theron saw Orlan and the other passengers unloading their belongings. Rubbing his eyes, he clambered down from the caravan, only to freeze in awe at the sight before him.

Towering above them were the colossal walls of Zanthera, a southern nation of Ardrath. The walls stretched skyward, appearing to cut through the heavens themselves. They were legendary structures that Theron had only heard about in stories, and now he stood before them.

“The tales didn’t do them justice,” Theron whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

Orlan chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “I told you they were tall. Believe me now?”

The massive walls, built during the First Great War a thousand years ago, were a testament to Ardrath’s formidable strength. Even after centuries, they stood as unyielding and glorious as the day they were constructed.

As Lyra finished paying the caravan driver, she approached Theron, her expression softening at the sight of his renewed excitement. “How are you feeling? Are you managing the Sol fluctuations?”

Theron turned to her, his eyes bright with newfound energy, and nodded eagerly. It was the assurance Lyra needed.

The caravan had brought them as far as the gates of Zanthera. From there, they would need to arrange transport to Lyriandor, where Kaelion Artheros’ surviving relatives lived. But first, it was time to bid farewell to Orlan, whose shop was in Zanthera.

“Say goodbye to Orlan,” Lyra urged.

Before Theron could speak, Orlan interjected with a grin, “No need for goodbyes. My shop is right here in Zanthera. I’ll visit whenever I can.”

Lyra smiled in relief. “Please keep an eye on him. Knowing you’re here will ease my mind.” She bowed deeply, her gratitude evident.

Orlan waved her off with a warm laugh. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

As Theron stood before the towering walls of Zanthera, he felt a surge of anticipation. The walls were only the beginning of the wonders—and challenges—that awaited him in this new chapter of his life.

The Royal Escort

As Lyra and Theron approached the visitors’ path to verify their purpose with the guards and enter Zanthera, two knights clad in gleaming Drakonium armor intercepted them. The armor bore the symbol of the Holy Assembly, marking them as Royal Guards. These elite soldiers were assigned to protect the rulers of each nation under the Holy Assembly’s rule. Among them, only the finest and most skilled warriors could rise to the rank of captain.

The Royal Guards were the only troops permitted to move freely between nations without prior authorization, a privilege granted due to their sacred duties. Their armor, forged from dragon scales, was both a symbol of their rank and a testament to their might.

There were three passageways for outsiders to enter Zanthera’s walls: one for visitors, which Lyra and Theron were using; another for traders and merchants, where Orlan had gone; and the final for royalty and nobles.

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One of the knights addressed Lyra with a respectful tone, his voice carrying the refinement of his station. “Lady Lyra, I presume? I am with the Royal Guards of Lyriandor.”

Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, I am Lyra,” she replied cautiously, wondering why they had come, as she had received no prior notice.

The knight continued, bowing slightly. “Forgive us for the lack of communication. We were sent by the Captain of Lyriandor’s Royal Guards, Sir Caidar.”

At the mention of Caidar, Lyra’s surprise faded, replaced by understanding. Caidar was not only a distant relative but also a close friend of her late husband, Kaelion. She had planned to leave Theron in Caidar’s care, where he had promised to ensure Theron received proper education in honor of his fallen friend, Kaelion.

Another knight approached and gestured toward the gates. “Please, this way. The carriage is prepared for your journey to Lyriandor.”

While Lyra now understood their presence, Theron remained confused, his young mind overwhelmed by the sight of the knights. He had never seen such figures before, and their Drakonium armor and weapons fascinated him. The sheer elegance and craftsmanship left him awestruck.

The knights led them toward a waiting carriage. Thanks to their escort, Lyra and Theron bypassed the visitor’s gate and the usual identity checks.

As they entered the city walls, Theron was struck by the transformation in scenery. Outside, the coastline was serene, with greenery stretching along the shoreline. Inside, the city of Zanthera was a bustling urban sprawl. Buildings of stone and timber stood in close quarters, guards patrolled the streets, and soldiers trained in open courtyards. The marketplace was alive with the hum of voices, the clinking of coins, and the scent of fresh produce and spices.

Theron’s excitement, however, was tinged with unease. The overwhelming energy of the bustling city felt both thrilling and alien to him. Without saying a word, he followed Lyra to the carriage and climbed in.

The knights mounted their horses and took their positions at the front of the carriage. As the journey began, Theron glanced out at the lively streets, his curiosity battling the uneasiness in his chest.

The journey to Lyriandor, however, would be brief compared to the long trek from Bastreo. Unlike Bastreo and Zanthera, separated by an ocean bridge, Zanthera and Lyriandor were neighboring nations. Stone-paved roads connected the two regions, making travel between them much swifter.

Theron sat silently beside his mother, gazing out at the landscape as it shifted with every passing mile. Though his journey had just begun, he could feel that each step brought him closer to something greater—something that would change his life forever.

Caidar’s Tragic Legacy

Theron didn’t know much about Caidar, but he knew one thing: Caidar was a renowned warrior and a good friend of his father, Kaelion Artheros. The stories spoke of his unparalleled skill and loyalty, not only in Lyriandor but throughout the Holy Land of Ardrath. His strength, knowledge, and unwavering dedication to the Vrynn dynasty had earned him the titles of Captain of the Royal Guard and Army Commander of Lyriandor. But now, he was merely a shadow of the man he once was.

In the past, Lyriandor and Elaris were a single nation ruled by the Vrynn family. However, as the nation grew too vast for one ruler to govern, tensions arose, leading to a civil war between the royal family and rebellious nobles. Caidar faced an agonizing decision during this conflict. He knew that if the nobles—motivated by greed and power—prevailed, the people would suffer. Yet his own younger brother, an equally skilled swordsman, had sided with the nobles. Torn between his loyalty to the crown, his duty to his country, and his love for his family, Caidar was thrust into an impossible choice.

The conflict culminated in a harrowing battle between Caidar and his brother. The Holy Assembly, fearing political repercussions, refrained from intervening and attempted to mediate the dispute diplomatically. However, the situation escalated when the nobles hired a skilled mercenary army to assassinate the king, appointing Caidar’s brother as their captain to distract him.

As the mercenaries ravaged the capital, Caidar sensed something was wrong. Leaving the battlefield, he rode straight to the castle, where his worst fears were confirmed: his younger brother was inside, standing over the king with a drawn blade.

Caidar tried desperately to reason with his brother, pleading for him to abandon his mission. But his words fell on deaf ears. Left with no other choice, Caidar upheld his duty as a knight of the Vrynn family, engaging his brother in a fateful duel. The battle ended with Caidar’s victory but at the unbearable cost of his brother’s life. The scars from that day—both physical and emotional—would haunt him forever.

The assassination attempt forced the Holy Assembly to intervene. To prevent further bloodshed, they divided the nation into two: Lyriandor and Elaris. Caidar was rewarded for his loyalty with the title of Captain of the Royal Guard, while the nobles responsible for the uprising were imprisoned for life. However, their leader’s son was crowned king of Elaris. Though he was a competent ruler, his hatred for the Vrynn family remained deeply rooted.

To strengthen Lyriandor’s future, the king of Lyriandor offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to Caidar, acknowledging his steadfast service. Reluctantly, Caidar accepted, hoping this union would bring some solace after the loss of his brother.

Soon after, another tragedy unfolded: the death of Kaelion Artheros. A desperate plea for aid had come from Bastreo, as hordes of Noxborn broke through the ancient wall built by the dragon god Drazhael Vytheris to protect human civilization. Kaelion led Bastreo’s army to delay the invasion, giving the people time to evacuate. Though the allied armies of neighboring nations, including Lyriandor, rushed to assist, they arrived too late to save Kaelion.

After the battle, Caidar searched frantically for his friend among the wounded and dead, but it was impossible for him to identify Kaelion’s remains. Filled with despair, he rode to Kaelion’s home in Bastreo, hoping to deliver the tragic news to his family. There, he encountered Orlan, who informed him that Lyra was tending to the wounded while Theron, just three years old, was staying with him.

When Caidar saw Theron, unaware of his father’s fate, a surge of guilt overwhelmed him. Though he knew he wasn’t responsible for Kaelion’s death, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed his friend. Struggling to contain his emotions, he promised Orlan, “Tell Lyra that I will help the boy in any way I can.”

Not long after Kaelion’s death, tragedy struck Caidar once more. His wife, the princess of Lyriandor, died during childbirth. The combined weight of losing his brother, Kaelion, and his wife broke Caidar’s spirit. His once-steady hands trembled whenever he picked up a sword, rendering him unable to fight. Only two trusted confidants—the wise commander of Lyriandor’s army and his assistant—knew of his condition.

Despite his grief, Caidar refused the court’s suggestions to remarry for the sake of producing an heir. Instead, he proposed adopting a child as his successor. The king, out of respect for Caidar’s late wife, approved the proposal.

Caidar chose a brilliant young boy with exceptional political aptitude, entrusting the wise commander to oversee military matters. Though the child’s lack of combat skills worried Caidar at times, he found solace in the boy’s intelligence and potential to lead Lyriandor into a stable future.

Despite his continued service, Caidar remained a man burdened by the weight of his past, unable to escape the scars left by the loss of those he loved.