As soon as Martin closed the door, the carriage began to move, and he unrolled the map. “Here we are.”

Indenuel leaned forward, his eyes darting all over the map. “So this is…”

“The entire world,” Martin said. There were three land masses, measured by the best cartographers.

“And this is us?” Indenuel asked, pointing to the center land mass.

“Yes. This is Santollia, here.” Martin pointed to the southern half of the central land mass. “And Oramin is here.” Martin pointed to the northern half of the central land mass.

“Do the Oraminians still own it?” Indenuel asked.

“Of course,” Martin said.

“I thought Santollia and Oramin would be bigger. The other two land masses are a lot larger,” Indenuel said.

“Technically our land mass connects with Zimoro and Dengria. See here?” Martin asked, pointing to a small strip of land coming out of the middle of Oramin on the left side. “This connects Oramin with Zimoro. Have you met a Zimoran?”

Indenuel shook his head. “I hear they have violet eyes. Is that true?”

“It is.”

Indenuel focused again on the small strip of land between Oramin and Zimoro. “That’s small.”

“It stretches for miles in real life,” Martin said.

Indenuel followed the strip of land from Oramin to Zimoro, then followed the land until it stretched out to Dengria.

“Dengria seems a lot larger than Zimoro,” Indenuel said.

“They are. Though this northern part of their country is almost completely covered in ice. But don’t forget their true pride.” Martin made sure Indenuel noticed the three dozen islands breaking off from the mainland. “Some of these southern islands I’m told are quite the paradise. Though the northern ones are just chunks of ice in the ocean.”

“And they have brown eyes?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes. There aren’t as many Dengrians or Zimorans in Santollia City, but we do have a few,” Martin said.

“And then this one?” Indenuel asked, turning his attention to the final land mass next to Santollia and Oramin. “This is Kiam?”

“Large, isn’t it.”

Indenuel frowned, and Martin didn’t blame him. While the two other land masses had markers for mountains, rivers, and even roads, Kiam was a large octaval land mass with Kiam in the middle. “That entire land mass is all Kiamese people?” Indenuel asked.

“All grey eyed individuals, serving the Grand Empress herself, as far as we are aware. I’m sure they all have different cultures and languages within this country since it is so large, but they are a private race and have refused most scholars. None, now that we’re at war.”

“So what do we know about them?” Indenuel asked.

“They are a population that pride themselves on their military. The entire country is ruled by the Grand Empress, and the military keeps everyone in line. They are prepared for anything, and their battle skills are incredible. We didn’t know these people existed until a hundred and fifty years ago. We promised not to get involved in any of their wars if they didn’t get involved with ours. Technically they never did when we were fighting Oramin, Zimoro, and Dengria.”

“And then they struck us first?” Indenuel asked.

“Correct. While the ink was still drying on the peace treaties between the other countries,” Martin said.

Indenuel nodded, the confusion still on his face. Martin adjusted the map a little more. “You have been troubled all morning. What is this about?”

His gaze never left the map. “I met a man on my morning walk.” Martin kept himself from immediately shrugging the man off as a radical. Whoever it was had clearly shaken the boy, and brushing it aside wasn’t going to help matters. “He told me things that made me realize I don’t know anything about this war we’re fighting with Kiam.”

“And did he paint the High Elders in a favorable light?” Martin asked. Indenuel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. “Ask your questions. I know you have them.”

Indenuel finally tore his gaze from the map to give Martin a curious look. “You’re not angry?”

“I am a High Elder. If I got angry at everyone who disagreed with me, I would not be a good example of God’s love and forgiveness.”

Indenuel nodded then closed his eyes. It was something Martin noticed he did when he was doing something that made him anxious. “Is it true that the High Elders will force Kiam to change their culture and religion if we conquer them?”

Martin refrained from laughing. Instead he smiled. “Of course not, Indenuel.”

“Unless it’s discovered they have slaves?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes. That we must put a stop to. The dehumanizing of tree talkers is evil. Just because a person can commune with trees, does not mean God intended them to work the fields. My colleague, Navir, one of the strongest tree talkers in the world, is himself a scholar and happens to be one of the best scholars in the world. The Oraminians and the Zimorans claimed to follow our religion, yet believed slavery was justified. This is concerning. These tree talkers were being sold like animals and treated even worse. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who is born with the power to talk to trees is immediately placed in slave houses to work in the fields. Anyone born with the gift to commune with the dead are given the opportunity to move up in their government and hold positions of wealth and power. God has cursed the Oraminians and Zimorans for such barbaric ways, such that the God-given gifts of healing and weather control are rarely if ever born among them. They only have tree talking and speaking to the dead.”

“But what if a tree talker is born among the noblemen?” Indenuel asked.

“It doesn’t matter to them. The tree talker is made a slave. Though Oramin and Zimoro have had slavery even before the Great Flood, so speakers of the dead never marry a tree talker, and so far there have only been a few recorded cases of a tree talker born of two speakers of the dead, and vice versa. Like will be born of like, as they say.”

“And Dengria?” Indenuel asked.

“They don’t practice slavery. However…” Martin tried to word this as carefully as he could. “There have been concerns raised among the Dengrians that, as your new friend mentioned, we wouldn’t stop with slavery, and we would force everyone to strictly follow our words.”

Indenuel seemed to study Martin. “Is there any truth to that?”

Martin continued to let Indenuel study him. “There was about six months between the end of the War of Four Nations and the beginning of the War with Kiam where we were getting a book together to help those that follow our religion better understand the doctrine. These miscommunications have caused devilish practices, and we wanted to clear those up. But it was placed to one side once Kiam invaded.”

The troubled look returned to Indenuel’s face. “How many other miscommunications are there?”

Martin didn’t say anything for a moment. “Not too many more. Now, let’s talk about the history of the War of Four Nations.” Martin fully expected Indenuel to interrupt, so he kept talking before Indenuel could. “Twenty-five years ago, Leon the Healer went to Oramin to spread the good word of God, to convince the Oraminians to stop slavery. Leon was an advocate for the freedom of tree talkers, and he quickly gained support from Oraminian slaves, more than the government wanted. Leon, to his credit, tried to go about it peacefully, but his body was discovered outside a tavern fifty miles away from the last time we were able to contact him. The slaves rebelled, and we helped them.” Martin pointed to Oramin. “Oramin fought by themselves for five years before Zimoro became their allies and fought along side them.” Martin tapped on Zimoro. “We fought for four more years before Dengria joined sides with Zimoro and Oramin.” Martin placed a finger on Dengria on the map. “Oramin stopped their practice of slavery and switched sides, becoming our allies. It was a very long five more years before the war came to an end, and we won. We had six months of peace before Kiam struck,” Martin said, pointing to Kiam.

“Why would Kiam strike us?” Indenuel asked.

“They are people of honor. They promised not to get involved in our war. Once it was done, they started their own,” Martin said. He gave a sad sort of smile. “I have to respect them for that.”

“So…” Indenuel trailed off again, staring at the map. “So you’re sure the High Elders aren’t…” Martin waited, watching the boy squirm in his seat. “That the High Elders aren’t going to change Kiamese culture and traditions, making everyone listen to you, giving you and the other High Elders the power to control everyone?”

Martin gave a smile, one he hoped showed Indenuel kindness. “That would be impossible, Indenuel.”

“But these rules of doctrine you hope to write out, Kiam doesn’t believe in our religion. Would you force it on them?” Indenuel asked.

“We know little of Kiamese religion, but if we are to live in harmony with each other, it is vital to know more about each other. We would give them the book of doctrine so they understood us and…” Indenuel waited, eyes narrowing. “We would ask they do the same about their religion and culture.”

Indenuel frowned. “And if they refused?”

“We’re already fighting a war, Indenuel.”

Indenuel stared at Kiam on the map. “They just want to be left alone, don’t they?”

“Kiam has put up many barriers against us. Members of the King’s Court are only allowed in certain places in Kiam, even before this war started. Kiam has spent centuries alone, and when we discovered them, they kicked us out almost immediately. There is something about them they don’t want us to know, and if we went to war because we wanted to end slavery, something tells us whatever they’re doing might be worse.”

“But… it doesn’t seem right,” Indenuel said.

“They struck us first, Indenuel. Some have speculated they have slaves there as well. Don’t you think all the slaves should be freed?”

“They might not have slaves,” Indenuel said.

“True. And in that case, should they win the war, they would be the world power instead of us,” Martin said.