1220-06-13
Ana "Silvercrest" Aquavelle:
Diplomacy between countries is stupid. I hate how nations pretend to be allies while they keep weapons of mass destruction hidden, waiting to unleash them. Every country has secrets they refuse to share.
Whether it is dragon pacts or something worse, it is all the same. If I had control, I would force kings into a battlefield and let them settle it themselves.
Whoever is strongest wins.
Why sacrifice hundreds of millions of lives each year when once every century, one or two champions could fight instead? Land would still change hands, but armies would not need to.
We live in the age of soldiers, where the nation with the most bodies tends to win. No one counts the lives burned away in the process.
War feels like one of the laws of this world.
The Laws are physical and spiritual contracts created by the strongest leaders of the Hundred Year War. Not everyone knows what those laws were, or what power they still hold. Every power in the world ties back to duty, to law, and to soul.
The ability to pact with dragons is one. The ability to make edicts is another. Even Lion's armor may be tied to it.
The strong enforce laws the weak don't even understand. The weak learn piece by piece, until new laws replace the old.
The Hundred Year War did not happen only for land or resources. Those mattered, but it was deeper than that. It was a stepping stone toward the next law, the next rule forced onto the world.
But what do I know? I am only a kid, right?
I know nothing about how the world works. Nothing about what it takes to become strong.
I want to.
I want to be strong.
To lead Khiz.
My life has been shaped by decisions made by people above me. Above you.
That should scare you.
You should want to be stronger. You should want to confront the ones who control you.
I keep seeing visions of my wish coming true. A giant peace meeting, the world's leaders gathered together. Each of them offers something, and in return, a red light spreads across the earth.
A new law is enacted. Nations are forced into conflict for survival. Every country would sacrifice anything for that. Allies. Kings. Queens. Dragons. Lion.
But I will not kneel. I will stand with my nation as a pillar.
I stand in the council room, waiting for another nation to arrive. The white halls of Pallas lead into a red and black chamber. A war room few ever see.
Adrian looks tired. Nervous. An expression I have never seen before.
This is the man in the books.The one who lost his arm. I have read his books, though I wonder how much of them were true.
I have seen more rulers in my life than most people ever will.
"Are you excited to meet him?" Lucius asks.
"Of course," I answered. "My father spoke highly of Tafari."
Kind of true. My father never told me anything good about him. He told me that over the last year, Tafari had gained complete control of Ghar, and was demanding others call it Loret.
His spies spotted a Maranona ship near the edge of Ghar last November
He told me Tafari killed his father, his mother, and emissaries from other nations, including the Tethambian terrorists.
Ruthless.
He slaughtered the last two Tethambians.
I had heard many things about the Tethambians. In Sha'tar, they were terrorists who tried to assassinate their queen. In Pallas, they were the people who were slaughtered.
Both things could be true. People always act like only one version is allowed to exist.
I wondered how Tafari earned such an infamous reputation. How it spread so thoroughly across the world.
And more than that, I wondered why Adrian trusted him.
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Sandals.
They moved with calm confidence. The ground belonged to them. I turned toward the door, my heart beating too fast.
The door creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
An older Black man, covered in scars across his face and arms. His curly hair was pulled into a narrow afro, carefully kept. His eyes are a deep red.
They carry no weapons.
A red cloak draped from his shoulders. It's long enough to hide most of his body. The fabric looked thick and formal. Hundreds of black dots lined it, shifting as he walked. The cloak hung open at the center.
Beneath it, a fitted tunic. Leather straps crossed his chest. Light armor guarded his forearms and shoulders. A reinforced belt held a sheathed weapon. Tall boots completed the uniform.
Then another set of footsteps followed.
A kid.
He looks slightly younger than me. A few years older than Lucius. The boy stood behind the older man. They looked nothing alike.
His skin is dark like the man's, but that is where the similarities ended.
His eyes are purple.
His hair is braided.
His cloak is purple, marked with only a few black dots..
The clothing beneath is nearly identical. A red mark sat across his chest. Shaped like a letter or scar I couldn't make out.
He stands slightly shorter than me. He doesn't seem to like me much.
His eyes landed on me.
A small smile appeared.
"It's great to see you again," Adrian says. He stood and offered his hand.
I can't tell who he's looking at, but I already know. The older man. The boy with purple eyes.
The older man steps forward, and he and Adrian shake hands. They both smile, like this is normal.
The boy keeps staring at me, like he's studying every detail.
"Who is she?" the boy asks.
"She's Ana," Adrian says with an easy smile. "She's visiting."
The boy's gaze locks onto mine. I've never seen eyes like his. Purple. Unnatural. Like the Kundras.
"Why don't you two get to know each other while we talk?"
I nod, and Adrian leaves with the older man.
Silence stretches.
"It's nice to meet you," I begin.
The boy doesn't respond.
Then he speaks, sharp and cold.
"What are you truly here for?"
"My father wants me to visit Pallas."
"Liar," he says. "You don't even believe that."
"It's true," I snapped, my voice rising. "How dare you…"
"Calm down," Lucius says firmly.
I force myself to breathe.
This boy has probably lived through endless conflict. I need to stay composed.
"What's your name?" I ask, extending my hand with a polite smile.
He hesitates, like he's deciding what to say.
"My name is…" He pauses. "Tafari."
I laugh. I can't stop myself.
"You can't be serious," I say, trying to contain it.
"The man who killed his father. The man who stopped a war. The one dragons fear. Tafari is nothing more than a child."
"You're lucky I'm in a peaceful mood," he mutters.
I almost laughed again.
"What would you do?"
"Whether you believe it or not," he says, voice low, "I am Tafari."
"Well, Tafari is slightly younger than me," I say, patting his head.
"How old are you, buddy?"
His expression twists with fury.
"How dare a woman patronize me," he growls, shoving my hand away. "I'm not here for you anyway."
He yanks a door open and storms into the hall. Lucius follows close behind.
Adrian and the older man are gone.
Tafari walks like he owns the castle. Like he's been here a hundred times.
We pass guards. No one stops us.
We pass officials. They barely react.
Some bow, but that's probably because Lucius trails behind us.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I need to see them," Tafari replies.
"And who might that be?"
He pauses, considering.
"Recently, I saved two Tethambians who fled Tethambai to avoid slaughter. In return for their protection, I gave Pallas a stockpile of acne."
"My father told me you killed them?"
He goes still.
"Well. That's the lie we agree to tell the world."
"What?"
He turns his head slightly.
"You think everything he tells you is fact?"
I freeze, unsure what to say.
I already know rulers spread stories until they become the truth.
I wonder how much of Tafari's legend is real.
I wonder how much is built on fear.
And even now, I still don't fully believe this boy is him.
But his words feel sharp enough to cut.
"My father told me Tafari killed a dragon," I say quietly. "Is that true?"
"It is."
I laugh again, but it dies fast.
Tafari stops. Lucius stops too.
He looks at me like I'm unbearable.
"You know nothing of strength," he says.
His glare hits like a wound.
"How much longer, Ana," he says, voice sharp, "how much longer will you stew in your own weakness?"
"What?"
"You want the world ruled by the strong," he spits, "yet you are weak. How much more hypocritical can you be?"
"You know nothing of my life."
"Oh, and mine has been easy?" he cuts in.
His voice rises.
"While you sit in thrones and learn dances like every other noble, I fight for everything I have."
He points to his cloak, his face unreadable. He looks angry, but calm, like he's had this conversation before.
"This taji!!" he yells. "This cloak! This is who I am! And you know nothing!"
"My life has been far from easy," I reply.
Comparing suffering is stupid. He wouldn't understand anything I've lived through.
"If I had the choice," he says, "to live your life or mine, I'd choose yours. You have no scars. You look like a normal girl."
"No scars?" My voice sharpens. "You know nothing about me."
"Then prove me wrong," he says. "Tell me one thing in your life that compares to mine."
He keeps walking. Lucius and I follow.
"I'm not telling you anything."
"We're more alike than you know," he mutters. "If you truly want to be strong, then come with me to Loret."
"I'll get strong with Pallas and UIK trainers. I don't need wild beasts to train me."
WHUUSH
He scoffs. "They're doing an awful job. You can't even see the strings."
"What strings?" I shout, hurrying after him.
He doesn't answer. He moves faster, down stairs, around corners, into halls I'm sure we aren't meant to enter.
He stops before a purple door. Silver embroidery curls across it. A strange purple gem covers the doorknob, different from any ance I've seen.
"What strings?" I demand again.
Voices murmur from the other side.
Tafari places his hand on the door.
The gem glows purple.
"What strings?" I repeat.
"HOLY," he snaps. "You're so annoying!!"
The glow fades. He turns back to me, exasperated.
"Fine. Lucius's ability ties strings to those around him. Only people with high perception can see them."
He twirls his fingers through the air.
"Like that string right there," he says. "You can sever them, but there's no point right now. Only those who can see them can cut them."
"And why haven't you cut the strings that bind you?"
He scoffs.
"There's no world where Lucius defeats me."
His gaze hardens.
"But in this world he may need my power."
I look around, shifting, searching for something invisible.
"Then teach me," I say. "Show me these strings. I'll go with you back to Loret."
He laughs.
"Think it over for a few more days. And I'll need to ask Mr. Kundra if he lets us."
"Tafari," I say, calling him by his name. "Call me by my name."
His eyes narrow.
"You need to earn your name," he says coldly. "Only when you're strong will you earn one."
"Is it because I'm a woman?"
"Partially," he says. "But more because that's how I was raised."
"I promise one day I'll defeat you, and be stronger than you."
"I look forward to the day you beat me," he adds, voice flat. "Women."
He turns back to the door and places his hand on the gem.
Purple light blooms again.
I watch Tafari, studying the way his purple eyes hold calm and fire at once. Could this boy really be the one my father spoke of? The one who killed, who ended wars, who struck fear into dragons?
Part of me believes it. He carries confidence like armor. He seems to hate women, though I'm not sure why.
Maybe he was beaten by one, and it bruised his pride.
Or maybe it's just how his world shaped him.