POV: Suraken Kamau
Year 716
Mopodi is a land blending civilisation and nature. Once, it was deemed a "neutral" country. Each continent includes at least one territory where the influence of war holds no sway. It's where deserters, the poor, and the ill seek refuge, utterly abandoned by the society that had exploited them without remorse. Yet it's also in this beautiful country that I was born, on 9 May 711. A year later, my little sister Ayana joined us.
As only a year separated us, we always behaved as if we were twins. Our parents even called us the "terror duo".
I inherited my father's eyes and skin, but also my mother's smooth, long hair, whilst Ayana inherited my mother's beauty and my father's temperament.
It was in this idyllic setting that I spent my childhood.
That year, I was five. I had a habit of venturing into the densest forests in the area despite our parents' warnings, even going so far as to confront snakes alongside Ayana and my friends.
I relished the luxury of freedom, sheltered from wars and tragedies.
My mother, Lien, was an accomplished blacksmith and passed on her knowledge to me. "Every metal has its soul, Suraken", she would say, "and it's up to you to discover it". Each day, after my chores, I would join her in the forge. She taught me to wield the hammer and anvil, to understand metal and fire. Under her watchful eye, I learnt to forge all manner of things. My first creation was a metal doll. In the forge, I saw not only the manufacture of weapons but also the engineering possibilities it offered.
My father, Kamau, taught me the art of combat. "Strength lies not in the weapon, but in the one who wields it", he explained. Every morning, before sunrise, we would go to the clearing near our house to train. He taught me to be swift, precise, and determined, to anticipate my opponent's movements, to use my strengths and compensate for my weaknesses.
The best thing he bequeathed me was his genetics. I was stronger and taller than any other child my age, which made me the guardian of my friends.
One day, as we were returning from a forest excursion with Ayana, we discovered a fair-skinned man lying on the ground, injured and dead. Pain and fatigue were visible on his face, and the visible parts of his body bore scars. My big brother instinct prompted me to send Ayana to alert our father, while I kept an eye on this stranger from a distance.
A few dozen minutes later, my father and other village men arrived on the scene. After carefully examining the battered body, he remained silent for a moment, his gaze lost on the horizon. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, he said: "He seems to be from Novea".
Among all the continents, Novea is the one with which Kibara is in the most tension. Although all continents wage war indiscriminately, certain tensions were present long before the HCC.
Yet, despite worries and fears, humanity and compassion prevailed.
My father carried the man determinedly to a safer place. My mother, always ready to help, quickly gathered bandages and medicinal herbs.
Meanwhile, the entire village of Mopodi had mobilised. In a small community like ours, news spreads quickly, and everyone soon knew that an injured stranger from Novea had been found. Every villager, inspired by my father's example, offered their help. Some brought food and water, others blankets and warm clothes. Even the children helped as they could.
Suddenly, the stranger awoke. Surrounded by concerned but kind faces, he first displayed a stoic expression before turning to my father, seeming to have understood that he was the one who had saved him, undoubtedly due to the aura he exuded. He opened his mouth and, despite his weak and hoarse voice, each word he uttered resonated in the solemn silence of the hut.
"My name is Jengo", he began, his voice trembling but determined. "I come from Novea. I fled... I fled the war."
He unveiled his story, one of battles and blood, of death and despair. He recounted how he had been forced to take up arms, to kill people he didn't know, for a cause he didn't really understand. He spoke of the guilt, the pain, the fear that had gnawed at him day after day, night after night.
"I couldn't take it anymore", he confessed, his hands hiding his tears. "I couldn't bear to kill anymore. So I fled. I fled the war, I fled death. I sought a place where I could live in peace".
When he finished telling his story, it was clear that everyone would sympathise, as many of them were here for the same reason.
Finally, the mayor broke the silence. "Jengo", he said in a gentle but firm voice. "You are welcome here. You can stay as long as you wish. We will help you build a house, start a new life. You no longer need to run. You have found a place to live in peace."
And that's exactly what happened. The villagers of Mopodi gathered to help Jengo. They worked together to build him a house, a small comfortable hut on the outskirts of the village. Despite his injuries, Jengo helped as much as he could, savouring every moment of peace and solidarity.
A few months later, rumours began to circulate throughout the small country. Passing travellers, merchants from distant lands, and messengers on swift horses brought tales of great upheavals in the outside world. The half-century of carnage had finally ended!
To understand how this came about, one must focus on global politics.
Each continent comprises a vast number of countries, each being a kingdom or a democracy. But when the HCC began, it was evident that the nations of each continent would form an alliance. The reason was simple: the continent that won the war would have authority over the world itself.
Thus, two authorities emerged. The first is a council gathering the leaders of each nation around a table, called "The Monarchs".
The second authority is quantified as one per continent, they have total authority over the continent and are called "Shahanshah".
No one really knows how or why this world war began, but no one ignores how it ended.
To maintain order and protect the Shahanshah, each soldier has the opportunity to prove themselves. By fighting for their lands, they demonstrate their patriotism, but when they prove their power through multiple battles, they have the opportunity to become the Shahanshah's guardians through a duel against the previous one, who will rejoin the war if defeated.
These individuals number two per Shahanshah, and it was during this period that we had the strongest in history. It was clear that a confrontation between two guardians could result in the annihilation of an entire country.
But as the war reached its climax, all the guardians pointed their weapons at the monarchs and Shahanshahs, not to depose them but to force them to sign an intercontinental peace treaty.
This treaty includes rules that must absolutely be respected, at the risk that all the guardians who secretly implemented this revolution would unite to end the existence of the concerned territory, including their authority figures.
Subsequently, they became the second most important authority figures on their continent, surpassing that of the monarchs, and acquired the title of "Peacers" by those who acclaim their bravery.
It is said that a council takes place each year, gathering the Peacers to discuss the state of the world.
When the rumour of the end of the war was confirmed, a great celebration took place throughout the country, nay, the entire world!
I remember seeing my mother nestling against my father in tears. "My darling, is it really over?" my mother asked, sobbing. "Yes... at last", my father whispered, his eyes fixed on our family.
As we all embraced, for a reason I cannot fathom, I remembered an expression quoted by the mayor of village.
"You know, Suraken, one must always beware of the calm before the storm".
Indeed, a year after the news, a terrible tragedy unfolded in the lives of each of Mopodi's inhabitants...