Do not fear the fat lion, who admires his own fur, lying among his equals.

Fear the skinny lion, who wanders desperately and alone, without a reason to fear death.

Unknown Authorship

*

Ohana feels her hair wet and her back sore because of the night before. The ship she is on board had to pass through rough waters and a problem with the inaccuracy of the navigation instruments made a long trip even longer than it should.

The ship in question is named “Undine” and is a ship used to transport nobles, emissaries and, mainly, important traders, used to travel between the two civilized continents.

The dryad on board feels out of place. Although the feeling is familiar to her, it is impossible to not feel a little homesick. Dryads, by nature, are attached to their birthplace and no matter how much she travels, Ohana does not stop dreaming with the trees and rivers of the Great Forest. She keeps dreaming, every night, about hunting mornings and nights of conversations around campfires. About the smell of earth and wild animals.

-Land! I see land!

The scream comes from the highest point of the mast, intoned by the ship’s assistant cook, who used the post to rest between shifts.

The boat sways, following the movement of the waves, allowing Ohana to spot, at the limit of her vision, a blurred point, hidden among the infinite blue: The highest point of the coastal mountains. It is the first sign of the Eastern Continent.

*

The entry to the kingdom of Fiandel was not a big surprise for Arthur, since, on the first day, he was allowed to pass through the gates as a traveler.

For that reason, when Rinlia guided him through the city, the boy observed, with little interest, the large stone wall, the square buildings with little architectural refinement and the large circulation of people using the wide streets of the main road.

Galaaz, on the other hand, almost could not keep up with the others, distracted by the grandeur of everything. The lupine, used to the forest and the natural way in which buildings were integrated with nature, is both amazed and horrified by the way people of Fiandel bent nature to their will to make room for the best possible accommodations for a huge number of residents.

After all, those who could afford to pay the costs and taxes of a residence in the big capital, in addition to the security provided by the walls and the most respected army in the world, enjoyed well-paved roads and first-rate services provided by the best artisans, dressmakers, blacksmiths and leaders of other segments. As a capital that did not favors trades in large quantities – like Vivre –, Fiandel’s merchants were those capable of sustaining their business with a lower number of sales, valuing the quality and high price of the products.

All these changes, for an inhabitant of this world, make Fiandel an experience that is almost too much to handle at once.

For Arthur, however, the view of the capital was not so impressive. He recognized, at first, the difference from that city to other places he had seen in this world, but the memory of the great metropoles from Earth inhibits him from feeling the shock just for seeing the stone walls or rectangular buildings of five or six floors, distributed throughout.

The sight of the great castle, however, got his attention. After all, the building would be big enough to rival the Earthly Taj Mahal – without the same artistic refinement and built with darker colored stones.

The entrance to the castle was guided by a large hall and, on both sides, statues of men and women of different races guided the visitors towards the great central gate.

-They pay homage to those who influenced Fiandel’s history. – The elf says, responding to the boy’s thought, pointing to the castle. – The last one was made a few years ago. It belongs to my father.

The pride in the elf’s voice is obvious. The statue pointed by her is that of a tall elf, with broad shoulders and long, white hair, carrying a spear and pointing it upwards.

-What did he do?

-He guided our armies in the last battle against the kingdom of Markav. – She notices his expression. – It is a border kingdom, with which Fiandel has always disputed territory. After my father conquered the lands in battle, Markav had to admit defeat. Since then, Fiandel’s right to those land has not been challenged.

The boy waves, admiring the marble image. Despite the dark stones used to sculpt all the images, the boy can imagine that the elf’s hair was as light as his daughter’s. He imagined him fighting and instinctively feared to be the target of that spear.

-Come on, Arthur. The king is waiting for us. – Rinlia is the first to leave the contemplative state, guiding the boy and the wolf to the gates.

*

Fiandel’s Castle is large enough to be the house of the larger number of nobles on the entire continent. The nobles housed there are powerful enough to move entire armies at the mere mention of a threat.

The castle corridors are patrolled by the most skilled warriors and wizards in the kingdom. The battle force gathered between those walls would be enough to take down most of the defenses of any kingdom in the blink of an eye.

The rooms of the castle of Fiandel are occupied by the wisest members of the most diverse communities. The knowledge gathered there would be enough to face the most erudite capitals.

From the Castle’s gateways, big merchants enter and leave every day. The goods entering and leaving there are the most desirable on the entire planet. Only the softest fabric, the juiciest fruit, the most pleasant drink pass through those corridors.

There was never a successful attack on Fiandel’s castle. There was never an attempt of invasion that could threaten the outer gates. Not even a projectile touched those walls, such was the outer guard of that fortress.

The four watch towers extend at the cardinal points. The building, built hundreds of years ago, expresses the rigor and inflexibility of the character of this nation. The entire structure is shaped in rectangles, complemented only by the adornments around the concrete rectangles, large pilasters with a sinuous exterior and cut in the most beautiful shapes.

The south side of the castle is covered by an immense garden, filled with flowers of different colors and shapes. At certain points, flowering trees are placed with their pink, resplendent flowers. The place has an angelical tone. Next to the castle, there is also a large greenhouse, which cultivates the most precious herbs the kingdom could find.

And, to top it all off, on the north side of the castle is placed the largest human monument in the history of this world: Placed at the back of the castle is a statue taller than the watchtowers themselves. The image of a warrior, who holds a sword with both hands. A sword that is stuck in the ground, over the place where the remains of the First Great King are buried. The monarch who initiated the great reign over the Continent of Men and initiated Fiandel’s supremacy over other nations.

The light of the moon dimly illuminates the metal of the sword, which reflects a yellowish light that spreads everywhere.

-I thought I’d find you here.

The voice sounds clear over the tombs of the royal cemetery. The soil upon which only monarchs and direct candidates to the throne can step.

The one who talks is a man with thick black beard, wearing a thick fur cloak. He is robust and his eyes are black and deep. His features are square and, his expression, rigorous. Despite his appearance, he doesn’t seem angry or imposing. His face contorts slightly, showing the tip of a smile towards the young man placed in front of the giant sword.

The Young man dresses in costumes similar to those of his interlocutor, but there is no beard on his face or rigor in his expression. His features are youthful and there is lightness in his walk.

Taken from his reflective moment, the young man turns to the one who called him.

-How can I be of service, my king?

The man in the fur cloak smiles even more. Njalmar was almost always in a good mood around his children. After all, they are his children, no matter if none of them were generated by his own body.

-I was after you for a while, Cornell. We need to talk.

The young man’s features retract slightly.

-Did something happen, father?

-No, my son. – Njalmar shakes his head. – Not yet.

-I do not understand.

The king looks around, looking for someone’s presence. He thought of looking for a more secluded spot, but no place would be more private than the royal tomb. Only other heirs to the crown could stand there.

-I believe someone wants to frame Yvanna. Someone wants us to turn our back to her.

-How?

Cornell’s expression is one of confusion. His gaze falters for an instant, seeking for an explanation. The king does not wait.

-Yesterday morning, something was found among the belongings of the captain of the royal guard.

-Bernard? What did they find?

The king puts his hand inside his own mantle. He removes it after a moment and offers a small piece of cloth to his son.

For a few moments, the young man looks at the fabric, with no idea what is happening. After a few seconds, however, he understands what item is that.

At the margin of the fabric, embroidered with a curvy letter, are the letters Y and M, intertwined by a red thread.

-This is Yvanna’s scarf. – The prince babbles, trying to understand the situation.

-Yes. You know how important this item is to her, don’t you?

-But… Yvanna never lost this scarf, even after all this time. This… Is the only item of Miranda that she still has.

-I know that. Precisely for that reason, finding this item in the guard captain’s belongings would rise a lot of unfortunate questions.

Cornel brings the scarf to his face.

-It has her smell.

-Cornell.

The king’s call causes the son to look up.

-Yes?

-Do you understand what this scarf means?

-Yes, father.

King and prince face each other in front of the ancestral statue. Not as king and prince, but as father and son, regardless of what the nobles may say about the royal succession.

-This scarf is the only thing left of your sister. It is Yvanna’s most precious asset. I doubt that she would purposely leave it behind. We were lucky that the captain of the guard found this before someone else…

-What did Bernard say?

-He said he found this handkerchief among his belongings by chance. It was among things he hadn’t touched in a long time. He came to me, claiming that he noticed minor changes in his rooms and that, despite not knowing the reason for the item chosen, he knew who it belonged to.

-Why did he think the scarf was dangerous evidence? He could have just discarded it…

-Bernard has been in charge of the guard for a long time. He knows that nothing is so simple.

-That’s right. If anyone mentioned having found this among Bernard’s things, it would have been an asset for an accuser. The consequences would be dire. – Cornel puts his hand through his hair, agitated.

-I would be sure that Bernard and Yvanna are lovers. It would be a huge blow to both you and me.

Njalmar approaches his son and puts a hand on his shoulder. The stunned young man does not look at his father. Contemplative, he arranges the facts in his mind with slow phrases.

-A political attack now? But why? It has to be for a strong reason. It is very risky to try to attack Bernard, because we would not question his loyalty. Is this an attack on Yvanna? But what would they gain by doing such thing?

A gleam passes through the young man’s gaze, who looks up at Njalmar. The king smiles, satisfied.

-Do you understand?

-Yes… She was in Vivre.

-The agreement is well underway, but there are those in the castle who are not happy about it. If everything goes well, a meeting will be held soon with the Queen of Vivre. According to Rinlia, despite some setbacks, our goal is well underway.

The prince stays silent, weighing the facts in his mind.

-Yes, the deal is well underway. But… If someone is trying to weaken the crown’s political power…

-We will have to fight back.

-I have to get married.

Njalmar shakes his head, positively.

-This alliance with other kingdoms will cost me a lot. My position will be weakened. Therefore, you need to strengthen yourself. A marriage can improve your image as a family man. Dwarves love that kind of stability. In addition, your image already improved among the elves after the battle at Rendall. And, even if you are not a warrior, everybody knows that your ability as a wizard is only inferior to that of Armenvald. Keep up the training with him and they will respect you even more.

-Are you really going to resign after this?

Njalmar smiles.

-Who knows. I may not even have the chance to do that. Someone might try to kill me. – Cornell’s expression immediately shows signs of despair. Njalmar waves his hand. – Don’t worry about it. It is precisely to avoid such problems that I want to strengthen your position. It would be foolish to kill me if you become such a strong candidate. Furthermore, your brothers and sisters have already publicly expressed support for your nomination as the next king.

-Don’t you think that a rushed marriage could be a sign of weakness?

-No. Yvanna is special. She has contacts in all kingdoms. She is one of the best diplomats in our kingdom and she doesn’t even use that power often. I don’t even know how far her influence goes. Besides, she is a natural warrior. Although she is Rinlia’s subordinate, outside the army that vampire is untouchable. I want you two to get married because, right now, she may be one of the biggest threats to your nomination.

-Father, please… How could she-

-Do not underestimate Yvanna. – Njalmar’s gaze shines brighter. – I suggested that you make her your wife because she would be a formidable opponent if she were not by your side. You have no idea about the amount of support other kingdoms would give to her. Her stance in favor of peaceful resolutions is tempting to our neighbors. Also, the longevity of vampires is something that nobles and merchants love. It means stability in power.

Cornell keeps his eyes on Njalmar’s face. Its interior is agitated and the exterior does not disguise as it should. His hands sweat and he dries them, wiping both against his cloak.

-You’re right. It was not for nothing that I made the promise to her when we were at Rendall. – He takes a deep breath. – Let’s do it, dad. Tomorrow I will be meeting with my brothers and sisters. I will organize visits to the nobles. Yvanna and I will also make the preparations. The wedding will be ready before the end of the month.

Njalmar waves.

-I will send the messengers to neighboring kingdoms, inviting the most important families.

-I also have to talk to Armenvald. As a magician, I need to learn the ceremonial.

-Yes… You are right. I taught you only the fighters ceremonial.

-This is a minor problem. – He shakes his head. – Immediately, we have to deal with bigger problems. Rinlia is on her way to the castle. What… - He hesitates.

-You should never be afraid to ask me something, my son.

-What do you intend to do with the boy? From the reports, he appears to really be the Destroyer from the Prophecy of the End.

-I will do what every king of Fiandel has an obligation to do. – He looks up at the statue. – I will find a way to use this opportunity in favor of our people.

-And if it is not something you can do?

There is no sign of hesitation in the king’s voice.

-Then, I will crush him with all the strength of our kingdom.

The prince bows, with a half-smile on his face.

-My king? Can I leave?

Njalmar, with an ironic smile, makes a gesture with his hand.

-Go, my son. I will be with you and the others soon.

Young Cornell walks away, leaving the king alone in the cemetery, with the statue at his back. Njalmar turns to the image of the first king. Up close, it is almost impossible to see the statue’s head.

At the foot of the statue is a gold plate, with the following inscription:

[Akia Issa Nkosi - The “Sovereign”]

[First King on Fiandel]

Njalmar looks at the sign for a few moments, whispering to himself:

-I hope all our power is enough, my son.

*

*