Chapter Sixty-One: The Birth of a Nation
The long hall smelled of parchment and ink rather than smoke and sweat. The fire still burned, but tonight its warmth was a backdrop to the work spread across the council table. Scrolls, ledgers, and wax-sealed slates cluttered the oak surface, each one a piece of the Hollow's future.
Kael sat at the head, his shadow stretching down the table. To his left sat Lyria, quill in hand, hair loose around her shoulders. To his right, Druaka loomed, quiet but intent, the gold bracelet she had gifted him glinting faintly in the firelight.
Thalos rubbed his beard as he spoke. "If we are to call ourselves a kingdom, then we need more than words. We need records — laws written down, so no man or woman may twist them to their favor."
Umbra's voice drifted like smoke. "And who shall keep these records? Who shall guard them? A kingdom without memory is no kingdom at all."
"A library," Lyria said, looking up. "A place of books and scrolls. A place for knowledge and truth, guarded and cared for. The elves will help — it is in our blood to preserve wisdom."
Fenrik slapped his hand on the table. "And a treasury! The dwarves brought ore, the caravans brought coin. We must safeguard it, measure it, use it wisely."
Kael raised his hand. "One at a time. We will build all of these things — a treasury, a library, a council chamber that does not smell of battle sweat. But first, we must decide who we are."
The room stilled.
Kael let his voice fill the silence. "What is our name? What will our children call their home, and what will our enemies whisper in fear?"
Thalos leaned forward. "The Hollow is what we are. It has sheltered us, held us. A Hollow, filled now with life."
Umbra's lips curved faintly. "Too simple. Too small. We need something that speaks of strength, of permanence."
Druaka shifted, her deep voice steady. "What about Ebon Hollow? The black heart that beat back the swamp and the bandits. Ebon speaks of shadow, of resilience, of fire hidden beneath the dark."
Kael looked around. Heads nodded, murmurs of approval spreading. "Ebon Hollow," he said, testing the words. They settled into the air like iron sinking into stone. "Then Ebon Hollow we shall be."
The days stretched into nights as the council set to work. Lyria's elegant script filled parchment after parchment, outlining laws that would touch every life:
Trade & Business: fair pricing enforced, theft punished by repayment thrice over, contracts bound by witness.
Marriage & Family: unions free of coercion, bonds between races recognized equally, children protected by law regardless of parentage.
Crimes: murder punished by blood, theft by repayment, treachery by exile or death.
Council Authority: decisions reached by majority, with Kael holding final say only in times of war.
Freedom of Faith: each race free to worship, so long as it harms none.
Umbra devised a records system, organizing scrolls into categories, creating the first roots of what would one day be a library. Fenrik counted and stacked coins, dwarf scribes scratching tallies into ledgers, building the first treasury. Thalos drafted rules of land ownership, ensuring farmers and craftsmen could build without fear of lords or masters.
Piece by piece, Ebon Hollow took shape — not just in stone and wood, but in parchment and ink, in words that would outlive them all.
When at last the meeting adjourned, Kael found himself outside beneath the winter stars. The cold stung his cheeks, his breath curling into silver mist. He expected solitude, but footsteps crunched behind him.
Lyria and Druaka emerged from the shadows, side by side. Their presence was so different — Lyria with her graceful poise, Druaka with her imposing frame and quiet strength — yet both looked at him with eyes that carried the same weight.
"You carry too much on your shoulders," Lyria murmured, brushing her hand against his arm.
"And yet you carry it well," Druaka added, her tusks catching the moonlight as she gave him a faint smile.
Kael exhaled slowly. "I don't know if I can do this forever. A crown is heavy before it's even on your head."
Lyria stepped closer, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Then don't carry it alone."
Druaka crossed her arms, boldness flashing in her gaze. "We chose this. To be at your side. Let us prove our worth."
For the first time since the battle, Kael laughed — low and tired, but real. He pulled them both close, one arm around Lyria, the other around Druaka. The warmth of their bodies pressed against him, their breaths misting the cold air.
No words were needed as the three of them stood beneath the stars, their bond unspoken yet undeniable. A king, and two women who would not just love him, but fight beside him, challenge him, and carry him when his strength faltered.
And so, as the ink dried on the first laws of Ebon Hollow, another kind of foundation was laid — one that no parchment could capture.