Chapter 10
Time: 70 - 60 Years Before the Doom
POV: Kaelen Silvanor
Thirty years had transformed the Verdant Kin's hidden valley. Where once stood scattered huts, now rose the beginnings of a formidable city. Stone walls, still incomplete but visibly growing, embraced structures of living wood and carefully planned irrigation canals. Our population swelled, not just with the Verdant Kin's own children, but with families from the first few tribes who had peacefully assimilated, drawn by the promise of security and a future I could visibly build with my own hands. My Dukes had proven indispensable: Faelar Ambaron masterfully oversaw construction and the influx of new peoples, his calm demeanor reassuring nervous newcomers. Sylvani Lumiel meticulously organized resources and began establishing trade routes with more distant, neutral tribes. Aerion Caelenor's forges rang day and night, producing tools and the first crude, but resilient, iron weapons. And Valerius Ithilien drilled our growing warrior class, turning hunters into disciplined protectors.
But true unity for my people, the Ael'athar, required more. We needed to bring the larger, more powerful, and often hostile tribes into our fold. This couldn't be done merely by demonstration. It required negotiation, and if necessary, a show of undeniable force.
I called for a Grand Council of Tribes. Messengers, chosen for their swiftness and diplomatic skills, were dispatched to the major powers of our region: the fierce Stone-Skin Tribe, renowned for their hardened warriors and deep-earth dwellings; the elusive River-Whisperers, masters of the waterways and ambush; and the proud Sky-Dancers, who claimed dominion over the open savannas on the jungle's fringes. The invitation was simple: meet and discuss the future of Sothoryos, or face it unprepared.
Weeks later, the delegates arrived. Not in our burgeoning city, but at a neutral clearing several days' journey from our walls, a traditional meeting ground where ancient trees formed a natural amphitheater. I insisted on this neutral ground to signal respect, not immediate dominance.
The air thrummed with tension. Chiefs and shamans, warriors and elders, from a dozen different tribes filled the clearing. They were a motley mix: the Stone-Skins, broad and grim, their faces painted with ochre and clay; the River-Whisperers, lean and quick, their movements fluid as water; the Sky-Dancers, tall and adorned with feathers, their eyes sharp with pride. Suspicion hung heavy, thick as the jungle mist.
I stood at the center of my own delegation, flanked by my Dukes. My unchanging face, my aura of ancient power, drew every eye. Faelar Ambaron radiated calm authority beside me. Valerius Ithilien stood with quiet, watchful intensity, his hand never far from the hilt of his newly forged blade. Aerion Caelenor observed the other tribes' armaments with a knowing eye, while Sylvani Lumiel emanated a serene wisdom that seemed to cut through the hostility.
"Welcome," I began, my voice clear and carrying, amplified just subtly by my connection to the earth beneath us. "I am Kaelen Silvanor. I am of the Ael'athar, as many of you are. I have returned from long travels beyond these jungles, and I bring a warning, and a promise."
I spoke of the encroaching world: the slave ships from the coast, the diseases they sometimes carried, the slow but inexorable expansion of other civilizations. I spoke of the strength in unity, illustrating with images projected into their minds: thriving cities, vast fields, armies moving as one. I contrasted it with the current reality of isolated tribes, vulnerable to outside threats and internal squabbles.
"The time for isolated existence is ending," I declared. "We can either be swept away like leaves in a flood, or we can rise together, a mighty river that carves its own path. I offer you a choice: Join us. Share in our strength, our knowledge, our prosperity. Build a future that endures. Or fight us. Hold to your old ways, and face the storms alone, for they are coming."
A tense silence followed. Then, the Elder of the Stone-Skins, a man named Krag, whose face was a roadmap of old scars, grunted. "Your words are smooth, Pale Wanderer. But your ways are new. We live by strength. Why should we not simply take what you build?"
"Because you will fail," I stated, my voice unwavering. "I do not seek to rule by mere strength. I seek to unite. But know this: my strength is absolute. My people are growing. Our city rises. Our weapons are unlike any you possess."
To illustrate, I raised a hand. The ground before them rippled, and a section of the earth slowly, silently, rose into a perfectly smooth, unbreakable wall of fused stone, as tall as three men. Then, just as easily, I dissolved it back into the ground. A murmur of awe and fear rippled through the gathering. Aerion Caelenor stepped forward, drawing a glinting, black Valyrian-steel-like blade from his sheath – a weapon he had forged. The weapon hummed with subtle power.
The Chief of the River-Whisperers, a woman named Lyra (a common name among the Silvanar, though unrelated to the Elder Lyra), spoke next, her voice like flowing water. "We value our freedom, Kaelen Silvanor. Our waters are our refuge. What peace can you offer that is worth our ancient ways?"
"Peace through strength, Lady Lyra," I answered. "And prosperity through cooperation. Your mastery of the rivers will flow through our entire domain. Your wisdom of the waterways will guide our trade. You will be honored, and you will share in the wealth of a united people. Your tribe will not be subsumed; it will be integral."
The Chief of the Sky-Dancers, a proud young warrior named Zephyr, scowled. "We are free as the winds. We bow to no one. Your city ways are for caged beasts."
"Freedom is meaningless without security," I countered, meeting his defiant gaze. "And the winds, though free, can be shattered by a coming storm. My aim is not to cage you, but to build a storm shelter for all of us. You will lead our swift scouts, our airborne defenses. Your freedom will expand to encompass an entire continent, secured by walls of stone and blades of steel, and the power of a united people."
The discussions continued for days. Threats, boasts, demands, and cautious inquiries filled the air. My Dukes played their roles perfectly, each demonstrating their particular strengths: Faelar with his deep understanding of organization, Sylvani with her calm logic and knowledge of other cultures, Aerion with the undeniable quality of his metalwork, and Valerius with his disciplined, powerful presence.
Ultimately, the choice was laid bare: join or resist. The Stone-Skins, after a long, intense internal debate, chose to join, seeing the pragmatism in my power. The River-Whisperers, swayed by Sylvani's quiet diplomacy and the promise of expanded trade, cautiously agreed to an alliance. The Sky-Dancers, ever proud, chose to hold their ground, warning they would fight if we encroached further. They would be my first true military challenge.
As the sun set on the final day of the council, I knew the path ahead was long. We had gained allies, but also made a clear enemy. The stage was set for the expansion of my new empire. The unification of the Ael'athar had truly begun.