"Oh, it's dawn already," Sivera remarked, his voice tinged with amazement as he noticed a tiny ray of sunlight filtering through the cave entrance. The whole night had passed in conversation with Griswa, the hours slipping away unnoticed in their exchange of stories and ideas. With the realization that morning had arrived, Sivera knew there was no time for sleep.
As they continued their conversation, Griswa's curiosity led him to inquire about the modified armor that Sivera wore. It was a piece of equipment that had become synonymous with Sivera's identity, a symbol of his resilience and resourcefulness. Sivera explained that much of what they possessed, including the armor, was acquired through the heists they conducted in the city of Shiyahval. These daring raids targeted the wealthy Yahunyen families, seizing whatever valuables they could lay their hands on. However, the armor itself was obtained during one of their most audacious endeavors—entering Mackenas Tower, the tallest skyscraper in the world.
Standing at a staggering height of 10,547 feet, the tower loomed over the city of Shiyahval like a colossus. Within its towering walls lay a hub of activity, encompassing business, technology, and political discourse. Sivera recounted how they had navigated through its labyrinthine chambers, uncovering secrets and treasures hidden within. The top floor, shaped like a noble crown, served as a meeting place for ministers and nobles to discuss matters of state. It was here that the elite of Mackenas gathered to deliberate on the economy, among other pressing issues.
At Griswa's prompting, Sivera explained the concept of economy, tailored to their world's reality. "In our world, the economy is like a web spun by the Yahunyens to ensnare and exploit us," he began. "They control everything—how much we work, what we produce, and how much we earn. They hoard wealth and resources for themselves, leaving us with scraps to survive on." He went on to elaborate, describing how the Yahunyens manipulated the economy to maintain their power and privilege. "They keep us enslaved, working tirelessly to line their pockets while we struggle to make ends meet," Sivera explained. "They thrive on our labor and sufferings, growing richer and more powerful with each passing day."
Griswa listened intently, absorbing Sivera's words with keen interest.
Sivera's frustration and disillusionment poured out in a torrent of words, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries of oppression. "And this is how things have been for thousands of years, and that's what I hate," he declared, his tone laced with bitterness. "I feel ashamed of my own country's people bearing oppression for thousands of years, like idiots! In the end, the world didn't change, it was just newly framed, just like an old picture. Changing the frame of a picture doesn't change the picture. First they worked with hammers, now they work with machines, but nothing changes the fact that they are not slaves. Nothing changes the fact that we are still in rule, just like you said, true freedom is when you achieve it and not borrow it, because they are always going to be behind you, like moneylenders."
Griswa, mature beyond his years and filled with a quiet wisdom, listened intently to Sivera's impassioned speech. As Sivera expressed his frustration and disillusionment with the state of their society, Griswa's admiration for him only grew.
"Awesome," Griswa acknowledged simply, his voice carrying a depth of respect and understanding.
Yesdar stirred from his slumber with a series of sleepy yawns. Rubbing his eyes and blinking against the brightness, he shuffled over to where Sivera and Griswa were seated, their voices still engaged in conversation.
"What are you guys doing?" Yesdar mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Didn't you sleep at all?"
Sivera chuckled at Yesdar's groggy state, exchanging a knowing glance with Griswa. "We've been having quite the enlightening conversation, my young friend," he replied, gesturing for Yesdar to join them. "Come, sit with us."
As Yesdar settled himself on the ground, his curiosity piqued. "What have you been talking about all night?" he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his words.
Griswa leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual," he replied casually. "The meaning of life, the secrets of the universe, that sort of thing."
Yesdar rolled his eyes playfully. "Right, because you two are definitely experts on that," he teased, earning a chuckle from Sivera.
"Well, we do have our moments of wisdom," Sivera remarked with a grin. "But mostly we've just been sharing stories and discussing our plans for the future."
"Yesdar, my boy," Griswa said, turning to face him with a twinkle in his eye, "You've missed quite the riveting conversation."
"Yes, you should have heard Sivera's impassioned speech about the state of our world," Griswa added, nodding in Sivera's direction. "It was truly inspiring."
Yesdar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really?" he said, leaning in closer. "What did you say, Sivera?"
Sivera chuckled, feeling a sense of pride at Yesdar's interest. "Well, I may have expressed some frustrations about the way things are," he admitted. "But Griswa here seemed to think it was 'awesome'."
"Yes, 'awesome' is definitely the word I would use," Griswa agreed with a nod. "Your words really resonated with me, Sivera."
Yesdar grinned, amused by their banter. "Well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," he said. "I was too busy dreaming about flying dragons to join your late-night philosophical discussions."
Sivera laughed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Ah, Yesdar, always with your head in the clouds," he teased. "But speaking of dragons, did you know that Griswa here once tamed a wild one with nothing but a sandstone and a smile?"
Griswa glanced at Sivera, his expression remaining neutral but with a slight tilt of his head. "I think you might be exaggerating just a bit," he remarked calmly. "Nothing like that happened." stated Griswa tilting his head towards Yesdar this time.
Sivera nodded in acknowledgment, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps, but jokes." he conceded, his tone light.
Their exchange brought a small smile to Yesdar's face as he observed their interaction. "You two always have interesting discussions," he remarked, stifling a yawn.
Griswa nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he replied simply, his gaze thoughtful.
Sivera chuckled softly. "Well, there's never a dull moment with us," he said, his tone light-hearted.
Yesdar grinned, feeling the warmth, "That's for sure," he agreed, settling in to listen to their conversation.
Yesdar, still half-asleep, furrowed his brow in concentration. "Wait, I think I was dreaming about something else too, it did have some connection with flying dragons," he said slowly, trying to recall the events of the night. "Oh yeah, I remember now! I was thinking about the fight between you and Malaes, Sivera. But then I must have fallen asleep because I don't remember anything after that."
Sivera burst into laughter, unable to contain his amusement. "But don't worry, it was nothing serious. Just a little disagreement between a father and his daughter."
END OF PART 1
In the grand chamber of the World Noble Palace, Horozonday sat upon his throne, his expression grave and his mind consumed by deep contemplation. The vast chamber, typically bustling with ministers and advisors, stood eerily empty, save for the echoing footsteps of Awaya as she entered, her high-heeled shoes announcing her presence with each confident stride.
Horozonday's sharp eyes flickered to her as she approached, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Awaya, the world's top female World Noble, was known for her sharp wit and fearless demeanor, never one to shy away from teasing the formidable Horozonday.
"What's this, old man? Sitting alone in the early morning, lost in thought?" Awaya's voice rang out, laced with amusement. "Could it be that you're pondering over your son's latest antics?"
Horozonday's lips quirked into a smirk as he inclined his head in acknowledgment. "You might not be far off the mark, my dear Awaya," he replied, his voice tinged with dry humor. "It seems my son's incompetence knows no bounds."
Awaya chuckled, a mischievous gleam dancing in her eyes. "Ah, yes, Walith, the epitome of noble folly," she quipped, her tone teasing. "Why ever did you send him to rule a state, old man? Surely, as a World Noble, he has no need for such trivial matters."
Horozonday's gaze hardened slightly as he regarded Awaya. "He is my son, after all," he said, his voice betraying a hint of frustration. "And like me, he must learn the burdens of leadership. Unfortunately, it seems he lacks the wit and fortitude to handle even the simplest of tasks."
"And so, he comes crawling back to you for help," Awaya remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "How utterly predictable."
Horozonday's jaw clenched as he nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he replied tersely. "He begs for my assistance with every state issue that crosses his path. Economic matters, slave rebellions—"
"Slave rebellions?" Awaya interrupted, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Surely you jest, old man. To think that your son cannot even handle such trivial matters on his own."
Horozonday's expression darkened, his gaze hardening with resolve. "It is a disgrace," he admitted, his voice low and steely. "But he must learn. He must learn that the burdens of leadership come with responsibilities that cannot be shirked."
"And if he fails to learn?" Awaya inquired, her voice softening slightly with genuine concern.
Horozonday's lips twisted into a grim smile. "Then his punishment will be severe indeed," he replied, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. "For a World Noble to falter in his duties is not just a failure of leadership—it is a stain upon his honor."
As the weight of Horozonday's words hung heavy in the air, Awaya regarded him with newfound respect. Despite his advanced age, there was a fierce determination in Horozonday's gaze, a determination to uphold the legacy of the Ehasor Nobles at any cost.
Horozonday, his demeanor as steely as his gaze, brooded upon his son Walith's inadequacies as a ruler. His voice, deep and resonant, carried the weight of centuries of wisdom as he delved into the complexities of ultimate supremacy.
"Titles and positions," he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade, "are but hollow vessels. True dominion, true ascendancy, lies not in the trappings of authority, but in the unyielding strength and the character of 'the world beneath my feet', as you don't just walk the land, you crush the land and overawe."
Awaya listened intently, her gaze unwavering as Horozonday peeled back the layers of conventional wisdom, revealing a truth that resonated deep within her soul.
"In this world," he declared, his voice thundering with a sense of profound conviction, "there are no absolutes. No one ruler reigns supreme over all. Instead, there are many potentates, each holding sway in their own domain."
His words hung in the air like a potent spell, casting a mesmerizing aura over the chamber. Awaya felt a shiver run down her spine as she absorbed the magnitude of his words, the raw power contained within them.
Horozonday's eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality as he continued, his words dripping with a potent mix of wisdom and defiance. "True sovereignty," he proclaimed, his voice a booming crescendo that reverberated off the chamber walls, "lies in one's ability to defy the constraints of logic and reason. To transcend the boundaries of what is deemed possible, and emerge victorious against all odds, whatever you do, whatever action you take, you either define logic or defy logic."
He leaned in closer, his gaze locking with hers in a silent challenge. "To be a sovereign," he declared, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed through the chamber, "is to be indestructible. To forge one's own destiny, to define one's own path, and to defy all who would seek to stand in your way, that is the 'Ambitious Blood'."
With a glance at Awaya, Horozonday continued, his words carrying the weight of a prophecy yet to be fulfilled. "And I want my son to embody such greatness. To be the living embodiment of indomitability. To carve his own legacy, to shape his own destiny, and to defy the very fabric of reality itself as we are blessed by power of our Gods."
As Horozonday's words washed over her, Awaya felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. In that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of greatness—a force of nature, a titan among men, and a sovereign in his own right.
"Your words, old man," she began, her voice a soft murmur against the storm of silence, "hold a power that transcends mere speech. They carry the weight of centuries, the echo of ages past."
Horozonday regarded her with a knowing gaze, his eyes alight with the fire of knowledge that burned within him. "It is not the words themselves that hold power," he replied, his voice a rumbling undertone that resonated with the authority of ages, "but the soul from which they spring forth."
His words hung in the air like a cloak of wisdom, enveloping them both in a mantle of reverence. Awaya felt a tremor of awe course through her veins as she pondered the depth of his insight.
"A beggar's wisest words," Horozonday continued, his tone measured and deliberate, "are of little value if they fall upon deaf ears. And yet, the most mundane utterances of a renowned figure may find their place in the annals of history."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle upon them like a heavy fog. "But I am neither a beggar nor a renowned figure speaking garbage," he declared, his voice resounding with the certainty of his own supremacy.
"I am..."
Awaya nodded, her admiration for the old sage deepening with each passing moment. She had always known him to be a figure of power and authority, but now, as she sat in his presence, she could feel the weight of his presence bearing down upon her like an immovable force.
"And yet," she ventured, her voice barely a whisper amidst the grandeur of the chamber, "even in your greatness, there lies a humility that defies explanation."
Horozonday smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes as he regarded her with a sense of paternal affection. "Humility," he mused, his voice a gentle caress against the fabric of reality, "is the mark of a true ruler. For in humility, we find the strength to acknowledge our own limitations, and the wisdom to seek guidance from those who possess knowledge beyond our own."
He leaned in closer, his gaze locking with hers in a silent pact of understanding. "I may be a king among men," he proclaimed, his voice a solemn vow that echoed through the chamber, "but even kings must bow before Gods who gave them the power."
"I see, but for now what about Walith and the rebel group?" asked Awaya after hearing Horozonday's all cliche words.
"In this age of technological advancement," Horozonday began, his voice carrying the weight of the future, "we possess tools of unparalleled power and sophistication. Our scientists have crafted wonders beyond imagination, and it is time we harness their full potential."
With a subtle gesture, he declared that a marvel of artificial intelligence, had been crafted with the utmost precision and ingenuity.
"That," he declared, his tone infused with certainty, "will be our greatest weapon in the fight against the rebels. With its aid, Walith himself will lead the charge, ensuring the success of our endeavor."
As Horozonday's words settled upon the chamber, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The stage was set for a confrontation unlike any other, where the forces of innovation and progress would clash with the shadows of rebellion.
"The next heist, will be their final heist," he proclaimed, his voice resolute. "And Walith himself, will make sure of THAT."