The whispers of the forest were carried by the wind, swaying the leaves in its wake. A winged creature flew by, casting a dark shadow as it soared above. Its eyes glinted like gold as it hastened towards Amara city, Old Salaria.
A feathered messenger perched atop a small, wooden cylinder mounted on the towering walls. A vigilant guard gingerly extracted a scroll from the tiny receptacle fastened to the bird's leg. "Is this the last one?" he inquired, casting his gaze up at the bird. With a shrill cry, the winged messenger took flight once more. Upon perusing the message, the guard handed it to his partner, who busily repackaged the contents into a more general form, carefully arranging the delicate sheets of parchment with utmost care.
A grander presence approached, causing the observer to marvel in awe. "An Eagle?" he exclaimed, as the bird swooped down to land gracefully before him. The gust of wind caused by the eagle's flapping wings sent papers scattering in all directions, creating a chaotic mess on the table. The eagle stretched its wings to their full span, before carefully folding them back in. Its golden eyes flickered with an uncanny intelligence as it surveyed the surroundings with keen interest.
"What an irksome fowl! Its sender must be an arrogant noble," muttered the man, as he attempted to clear the chaos wrought by the bird's arrival. The other individual approached, carefully extracting the letter from the tiny compartment attached to the bird's leg. It was necessary to verify the letter's contents before handing it over to the intended recipient. However, there were certain exceptions, particularly when it came to letters that contained information on the movements of esteemed individuals and their confidential affairs.
His eyes squinted as he examined the letter's exterior, struggling to read the minuscule script. "From Mité ... To Mr. Widdleson?!" he exclaimed before his expression swiftly returned to its prior calm. His hands halted in their motion to unravel the letter's contents. The gravity of its secrecy rendered it strictly forbidden to be opened by anyone but its intended recipient.
"From Mité? That rascal ... Did he purposely send an eagle this time?" inquired the man, tapping the pile of letters, attempting to neaten them into a neat stack. "Doesn't he usually rely on crows for such matters?" pondered his companion, unrolling the paper with care. Suddenly, the individual in the back approached the bird with a brusque air. "This bird will always be trouble another day! I won't allow Mité to use it again!" he exclaimed gruffly, tearing off the letter compartment and tag fastened to the eagle's leg. The bird flapped its wings frantically, filling the small room with gusts of air before soaring off into the skies once more.
"You impudent fowl! Never set foot in this place again!" he bellowed, slamming the empty tube against the wall. "You've gone and done it now," remarked his companion, retrieving an object that had been hurled to the ground. His gaze swept over the chaotic table once more. "Let's get to it. You should finish preparing the letter while I straighten this mess out," he said, painstakingly gathering the scattered letters. His friend picked up a small missive from the ground, studying it with interest. "This needs to be delivered, huh ..." he murmured, slipping the letter into his pocket.
The resounding clash of metal plates echoed through the air, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps descending the tower's winding staircase. Though the sun had yet to reach its zenith, mothers were already out and about, their shopping baskets overflowing with fresh produce. The streets were alive with the sounds of children running about, playing, and frolicking in the sun. As he emerged from the tower door, he greeted the many people who strolled by, some carrying packages, others simply enjoying a leisurely walk with companions. Even the youngsters paused to marvel at his presence, their tiny fingers stretching out to touch the glinting iron plates he wore.
In the land of Salaria, the great Amara City stands tall as the capital of the eastern realm. Its majestic walls loom high, nestled at the foot of the imposing Manoko Mountains. Though some might scoff at its less-than-strategic location, no crisis has ever plagued the city's thriving economy.
As one wanders through the city's winding streets and alleyways, statues loom from every nook and cranny. Among them, the most revered depicts a woman sowing seed, the very embodiment of the Goddess of Fertility, Demitria. Salaria's soil has long been blessed by this deity's touch, yielding bountiful harvests without the need for any artificial aid. No pestilence has ever ravaged the farmlands, and droughts that afflict other lands never seem to take root in this idyllic realm.
Indeed, those who call Salaria home know they have been blessed, and none more so than the citizens of Amara City, whose walls protect them from any threat. Amidst the bustling marketplace, one can hear the joyful laughter of children playing, merchants hawking their wares, and the gentle murmur of prayers to Demitria, thanking her for her endless bounty. It is said that those who set foot in Amara City can feel the goddess's presence, bringing peace and prosperity to all who dwell within her walls.
The grand churches of Amara City stand tall and proud, their doors open to all who seek solace and guidance. In front of the largest church stands a towering statue of the divine Demitria, her face serene and benevolent, a beacon of hope for all who pass by.
The people of Salaria remain steadfast in their devotion, despite the changes that have befallen their land. Long ago, the once-united realm was split into two: 'Old Salaria' and 'Salaria,' the latter of which now falls under the dominion of Albalbel, the God of War.
Despite the upheaval, Demitria's grace has not faded. Her blessing still rests upon the fertile soil of Salaria, ensuring that even in the face of war and strife, the land remains fruitful and abundant. Though some have turned to Bell for strength and protection, many still hold fast to the ancient ways.
Amidst the bustling city streets, the faithful can be seen making their way to and from the churches, their faces alight with the fire of their devotion. And though the tides of change continue to sweep across the land, the people of Salaria hold fast to the hope that Demitria's divine grace will guide them through even the darkest of days.
Once upon a time, the land of Salaria was a vast region in the south of the Agrin forest, nestled alongside Agriraslia, the sprawling territory belonging to the God of War. At the heart of Salaria lay the grand city of Haudensaun, a bustling metropolis that served as a beacon of civilization and progress.
But as with all great cities, Haudensaun was not without its troubles. The people who lived in the western reaches of the city were devout followers of the Goddess Demitria, obedient to her every word and command. They built grand temples in her honor, offering her sacrifices and prayers in the hopes of winning her favor and protection.
To the east of the city, however, the religious fervor was not as strong. The people who dwelled in this region had a more secular outlook on life, viewing the gods and goddesses as distant figures who played little role in their daily lives. This divide between east and west was a source of tension and disagreement among the citizens of Salaria, a boundary point of view that separated the people into two distinct groups.
In the wake of a great crisis that befell the land of Salaria, the people of the western regions made a fateful decision. After a vicious attack left their beloved city of Haudensaun in ruins, they turned to their neighbors in Agriraslia for aid and protection. The westerners pledged their loyalty to the God of War, hoping that by doing so they could safeguard their people and rebuild their shattered homes.
But not all the people of Salaria were willing to abandon their faith and their land so easily. Those who lived in the eastern regions of the land refused to bow down to the might of Agriraslia, vowing to remain loyal to the Goddess Demitria no matter what. They broke away from the westerners and established a new territory with a new capital, using the name 'Old Salaria' as a testament to their unbroken allegiance to their beloved goddess.
As time passed, the differences between these two factions grew ever wider, fueled by mutual mistrust and animosity. The westerners became more and more intertwined with Agriraslia, gradually losing their own identity and culture in the process. Meanwhile, the easterners of Old Salaria remained steadfast in their devotion to Demitria, clinging to their traditions and way of life.
Eventually, these differences erupted into open conflict, and a bloody civil war ravaged the land of Salaria. Brother fought brother, and the very land itself was rent asunder by the fierce battles that raged across its surface. In the end, the war left scars that would never fully heal, a bitter reminder of the price that was paid for the division of a once-great people.
Despite the chaos and devastation wrought by the civil war, the people of Old Salaria remained steadfast in their faith. Even as rumors swirled of the death of their beloved goddess Demitria, they refused to believe that she had truly left them. They clung to the hope that she was still watching over them, guiding them through the darkest of times.
In the wake of the war, the easterners of Old Salaria doubled down on their religious practices, building new churches and statues in every city to honor their goddess. Their faces were filled with joy and contentment, a reflection of the unshakable faith that sustained them through even the most trying of circumstances.
And though the rest of the world may have viewed them as naive or foolish for their unshakable devotion, the people of Old Salaria knew that their faith was what had kept them strong in the face of adversity. For they believed that as long as they remained true to their goddess and to each other, they would never be truly defeated.
As the sun filtered in through the multicolored glass windows of the great church, a young girl named Grace knelt in prayer, her eyes closed and her palms pressed tightly together. Her face was serene, bathed in the soft light of the morning sun.
As she prayed, a figure appeared at the door of the church and called out to her. "I knew you would be here, Grace," the voice said. It was the maid who had been assigned to look after her.
At the sound of the voice, Grace finished her prayer and turned to face the newcomer. "Hmph!" she exclaimed, a hint of playfulness in her voice. Then, she stood and reached out to take the maid's hand.
As they made their way out of the church, Grace and Kath encountered a nun who had just arrived. The nun approached them with a friendly wave, calling out to Kath, "Hello there! Is that really her?"
Kath remained silent, and the nun turned her attention to Grace, smiling warmly at her. But the young girl, unused to meeting strangers, shrank back, hiding behind Kath's skirts.
"Aw, don't be scared," the nun said, sensing Grace's fear. "I'm Katherine's younger sister. You can call me Sis Lili. I love coming to church, just like you. And your eyes are so beautiful! Don't be afraid to say hello, okay?"
"Shouldn't you have been at the church this morning, Lili?" asked Katherine with a quizzical look on her face. Lili looked apologetic as she replied, "I'm so sorry. Since mother left early this morning, I had to stay home to clean the house." Katherine nodded in understanding, relieved that nothing had gone wrong. "Let's go, Grace," she said, pulling the young girl's hand.
"You seem to be in a hurry," Lili observed as she fell in step with them.
As they were about to leave, Lili turned to Grace and said something, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Listen, my sister is getting married this month. You know what that means, don't you? You're going to have a little sister!" Katherine rolled her eyes at her sister's comment. "Don't say anything strange, Lili," she chided, before taking Grace's hand and leading her away.
As they walked, Grace stole a quick glance back at Lili, who was waving goodbye with a smile on her face. Grace waved back, her own smile stretching from ear to ear.
As Katherine approached the grand gates of Grace's estate, she was met with a stoic guard who promptly greeted her. She offered a curt nod in response before continuing down the winding path leading to the medium-sized mansion nestled amidst a vast, sprawling field.
The grounds were immaculate, with lush, well-manicured grass lining a path that ran down the center of the field. As they approached the front door, a middle-aged valet appeared to greet them with a bow.
"Greetings, my lady Grace," the valet said with a respectful nod. "Sir Lloyd arrived earlier and was eagerly inquiring about your whereabouts. Sadly, he had to depart on urgent business." At the mention of Sir Lloyd, Grace's face lit up with delight. However, her expression quickly soured as the valet revealed the man's sudden departure. "Do not speak in such a way, Ian," Katherine chided.
With a deferential step back, the valet Ian promptly opened the door, allowing the two women to enter the grand foyer of the mansion.
The grand foyer of the mansion stretched before Katherine and Grace, an expansive room with two sweeping staircases that spiraled upward to the upper floors. The room was sparsely furnished, a long red carpet running through the center of the space, devoid of any adornment. Despite the ample light filtering in through the grand front windows, the room was dim, casting deep shadows across the space. To dispel the darkness, a massive decorative lamp hung in the center of the room, its warm light casting a soft glow over the women as they made their way up the stairs. With measured steps, they ascended the grand curved staircases, taking their time, with no sense of urgency in their movements.
As Katherine and Grace approached, a figure upon a creaking rocking chair heaved a sigh of relief and spoke, "Thank goodness. Nothing bad happened to you," her voice resonating with relief. Grace released Katherine's hand and strode towards the figure on the rocking chair, who disclosed, "Your father departed not long ago." Grace drew near, until she was right beside, and announced, "I'm home, Mama." Grace wrapped her arms around her mother's form, who smiled in response, taking hold of Grace's hands that clung to her. "Your father is indeed a busy man, my dear," Grace's mother revealed with a gentle tone.
A horse-drawn carriage, the sound of hooves echoing off the cobblestone streets, pulled up to the imposing stone edifice. The carriage entered through the grand entrance, eventually halting in a spacious room that served as the stopping point for the train. A man with a sleep-deprived countenance stepped out, offering gratitude to the coachman, who remained seated in the carriage. "Thank you," the man, identified as Mr. Lloyd, declared. The coachman, with an air of deference, responded, "At your service, Mr. Lloyd."
Without wasting any time, Lloyd rushed through the building, scarcely acknowledging those he passed. He ascended the winding staircase and arrived at a wide door, flanked by two heavily-armed guards, who dutifully swung it open for him. Inside the room, a gathering of influential personalities was seated in a circular formation around a series of expansive tables.
Everyone in the room looked at him who had just arrived.
"... It's all about the previous plan of taking over ... Haudensaun."
Those were the first sentence he heard in the room.