Part -1
Lyssara Bravestone, the only registered 'Laureate' Adventurer in Wýrmfyrgeat, though she rarely participated in guild activities, sat with a tight, displeased expression as she entertained a guest she hadn't invited. Her face was pinched, as though she'd just bitten into a sour orange. The cause of her discomfort? None other than Demina Bravestone, head of Wýrmfyrgeat's Adventurers Guild, and her husband Valorion's foster father—making him, begrudgingly, her father-in-law.
"Lord Demina, how may I assist you today?" she asked, her tone polite but cold. Internally, she wished for nothing more than for the man to leave her in peace. But the manners ingrained in her during her upbringing in the heart of the Empire prevented her from letting her raw emotions slip through.
Demina, seemingly oblivious to—or perhaps purposefully ignoring—the strained atmosphere, gave her a wide, toothy grin. His voice was light, almost playful. "Oh ho ho, why so formal, my dear? This old man just came to check in on his son's family, nothing more!"
Lyssara's eyes narrowed. She was in no mood for games, and her patience with Demina's pretense had long worn thin. "Spare me the pleasantries, Lord Demina. We both know you didn't come here to exchange pleasantries. Get to the point."
The room fell silent, tension mounting as their gazes locked, neither backing down. Lyssara's simmering irritation was met by Demina's unshaken coolness.
Just then, the door creaked open, and the air shifted. "Grandpa!" Renji, Lyssara's young son, burst into the room carrying his baby sister, Lanesra, in his arms. His innocent excitement momentarily cut through the tension like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Why are you- ah what brings you here today Grandpa?"
Demina's face brightened instantly, as if all previous tension had evaporated. "Ohoho, my boy! How have you been?" he greeted warmly, ruffling Renji's hair. "Still behaving well, I hope?"
Renji beamed. "I'm fine, Grandpa! And yes ofcourse I am behaving well!"
The two shared a laugh, the sound filling the room and easing the weight in the air—at least for the moment. Lyssara watched the scene with distant eyes, her mind elsewhere despite the heartwarming exchange. She had long grown weary of these family pretenses.
"Ren," she called out, her tone firm but affectionate. "Hand me your sister. There's food prepared in the kitchen—go eat, wash up, and change into your gear. I'll meet you in the training grounds shortly."
Renji hesitated, glancing between his mother and Demina, sensing the underlying tension. Demina opened his mouth to interject, likely to suggest they postpone the meeting, but Lyssara cut him off before he could speak. "Now, Ren."
Reluctantly, Renji nodded, passing his sister into his mother's arms. "Yes, Mom," he muttered before darting out of the room, casting one last curious glance over his shoulder.
As soon as the door closed, the atmosphere shifted back into sharp focus. Demina sighed, his jovial mask falling away. "You shouldn't be so hard on the boy, Lyssara. He's young—"
Lyssara, bouncing Lanesra gently in her arms, fixed him with an unyielding stare. "Don't presume to lecture me about my son, Lord Demina. Now, say your piece and be done with it."
The older man's shoulders sagged, and he released a long breath, clearly resigning himself to the real reason for his visit. "It's the Flame Temple."
The words had barely left his mouth before Lyssara's eyes flashed with irritation, her mouth set in a hard line. She raised a hand to stop him. "Enough. Flame Temple this, Flame Temple that. Do you people ever tire of this circus?"
Demina pressed on, undeterred. "They're making moves—dangerous ones, Lyssara. And whether you like it or not, we're running out of time to act. Even you can't stay neutral in this forever."
Lyssara's grip on Lanesra tightened. Her voice was low, but her words sharp. "I won't help you. Or them. If the Flame Temple wants to play their games, they'll do it without me. And that will be true for you too."
"But don't you realise the threat they pose. Valorion—"
"Enough!" Her voice rose, the cool detachment she'd clung to cracking under the weight of her frustration. "If you want to discuss this further, take it up with my husband when he returns. I have nothing more to say on the matter."
"Lyssara, listen—"
"I said enough!" Her glare was ice-cold, leaving no room for argument.
Demina hesitated, his gaze searching her face for any sign of compromise, but found none. With a heavy sigh, he turned and made his way to the door. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Lyssara's eyes followed him until the door closed behind him, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She let out a long, exhausted sigh, her body relaxing slightly now that the encounter was over. She looked down at Lanesra, whose innocent gaze stared back at her, completely unaware of the storm that had just passed.
"I'm so tired of all this Flame Temple nonsense,"
she whispered to herself, let her words linger in the quiet room. As she gently bouncing her daughter in her arms, she allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability.
"If only Valorion wasn't so devoted to the Great Dragon Shrine... maybe—just maybe—life wouldn't feel like such a constant battle." Her lips pressed into a thin line as the thought crossed her mind. But that was just a wishful thinking, and she knew better than to indulge in it for long. With another deep breath, she straightened herself the days work just starting.
Part-2
Renji scarfed down his meal and geared up, ready to meet his mother at the training ground. It had been almost a fortnight since his father left on a mission, and during that time, his mother had taken over his training. Though it was called a "training ground," it was really just a fenced-off square with a small wooden chamber for storing weapons.
*Creaaak*
Renji glanced up as his mother, Lyssara, entered with her usual brisk pace. The sight of her brought on that same old, uneasy feeling. Despite the recent improvement in his relationship with his father, Renji couldn't ignore the strained connection with his mother, something he hadn't fully grasped until now. These past 14 days of training had confirmed it—when Lyssara looked at him, it wasn't just her son she saw.
"Ren!" she called, never using his full name. It was always "Ren," never "Renji."
"Why are you standing around? Come quickly!" she added, her voice forcing a kindness that felt painfully rehearsed.
"Yes, mother!" Renji replied, though the guilt gnawed at him. He had secrets he wasn't ready to share, not with her. Even though his father had accepted him, Renji hadn't yet accepted himself. He continued to play the part that everyone expected of him, hiding behind a mask of dutiful obedience.
"So," Lyssara began once he was closer, "today we'll finally decide which weapon you'll train with."
"Sword, mother. A longsword," Renji answered without hesitation.
"Huh? A sword? I thought a spear might suit you better."
"But I want to follow you and Father. I want to learn swordsmanship."
"Huh… and why is that? If you're worried about my teaching, don't be. There isn't a weapon in this world I can't wield, so I can teach you anything."
"But I want the sword," Renji repeated, standing firm.
Lyssara sighed. "Very well, if that's what you want."
"Thank you, mother."
"I heard your father already taught you the Arctic Sword School?"
"Yes, mother."
"I won't teach you that. It's reached its limit. If it were the Arctic Bow School, we might have had something to work with, but the sword style? It's already reached it's ultimate height. Instead, I'll teach you my own style—the Spectral Blade School."
Renji nodded, though the decision to dismiss his father's teaching stung. He said nothing.
"But before that," Lyssara continued, "attack me. Like you mean it."
Renji hesitated for a moment, eyeing the familiar necklace that always hung around her neck. He lunged, aiming straight for it, but she deflected him with ease.
"You can stop now," she said, dusting herself off. "I've got a clear idea of your abilities. But going for my necklace? Why not my arms or head?"
"I thought it would be pointless anywhere else. And as for the necklace, You always wear it, so I figured it would catch you off guard," Renji explained.
"Good thinking," she replied, a hint of approval in her tone. "Now, for your stance—"
"Training hard, I see."
A deep, familiar voice cut through the air. Valorion, his father, had returned from the mission. Both mother and son turned toward him, smiles lighting up their faces. Lyssara was the first to speak.
"Go get changed," she said, turning to Renji. "You'll want to spar with your father, right? I'll let you off the hook for today."
"Thank you, mother," Renji said, a small wave of relief washing over him.
Both playing the role of good Family to the perfection.
■-■ ■-■ ■-■
Part-3
[5th Gwanggaqua-Year 2029(1)- Capital City of Cynethron- 19th Aeons since the Great War]
It was the final month of the year, and as always, the capital of the Hēahcyne Empire dressed itself in splendor to welcome the arrival of the next. But this year, the grandeur of her beauty surpassed anything the previous years had ever seen before. The reason? This time, the capital didn't merely celebrate the occasion with her own people—she celebrated with the world. For this year marked the "Year of Freedom."
Though the festival itself was still ten days away, the anticipation in the air was palpable. People from distant lands had yet to arrive in full force, but the early signs of international importance were already apparent. Four of the Six Great Nations had already sent their ambassadors to the Imperial capital, and as the Hēahcyne Empire, the fifth of these great powers, stood as host to the gathering, the purpose of their visit became clearer by the day. This was no mere diplomatic visit, nor just a celebration; the weight of unspoken urgency hung in the cold winter breeze.
Despite the bright festivities on the surface, tension simmered beneath. After all, war still raged at the southern border between the proud Kingdom of Aethelmere, ruled by noble humans, and Fenrath, the land of primal, ferocious beasts. Their Century-long conflict almost reached it's 250th years now , showed no signs of relenting. In the meantime, the Elven kingdom of Elysianvale, distant and aloof, remained content to have little to no dealings with what they considered "lesser creatures." The Faunaris Kingdom, home to the half-human, half-animal Fauna, stood neutral—but resentful. Fenrath's refusal to recognize the Fauna as true beasts fueled their disdain, while Aethelmere's dismissal of their mixed blood as impure only deepened their mistrust.
In this intricate web of animosities and alliances, it was Lord Jesteron Wiseheart, [5th Seat-Hēahcyne Empire] , current Foreign Minister, and current head of the Duchy of Wiseheart, was chosen to lead this pivotal meeting. His reputation as a level-headed diplomat was well-earned, and today, he would need all his skills to navigate the impending storm.
The gathered leaders sat in a great hall, opulent yet somber, the weight of their shared history pressing down on their shoulders. Tensions ran high. The flickering candlelight threw shadows across faces marked by war, distrust, and weariness. Conversations had been halting, laced with bitterness and guardedness.
At last, Duke Jesteron stood, his commanding presence quieting the room. His voice, calm but edged with the gravity of the situation, cut through the heavy atmosphere.
"Let's get to why we're really here," Lord Jesteron said, his voice quiet refinement. His gaze swept across the room. "The proposal from the Ansuzrīkia Empire—the same empire that cast the shadow of the Great War - the World War. A war now remembered as Humanity's Second Mistake."