Episode 5: The Story of Valdora
The day began like any other, with the sun casting a golden hue across the training grounds. We had been called together by Mr. Noah, who stood before us with an air of solemnity. We had heard bits and pieces of Valdora's tale before—stories passed down through generations, filled with fragments of myth and legend.
But this time, Mr. Noah promised to reveal something different, a version of events that few had heard, a truth shrouded in secrecy and shadow.
"Valdora," he began, "12 year old, young prince of Dacrotas, was destined for greatness from birth. But his path was one of conflict—not just with the world outside, but within his own soul. Before Dacrotas became the Lands of Valdora, it was an empire built on fear, where power was concentrated in the hands of a few, and the common people lived under the oppressive yoke of red dust."
The kingdom of Dacrotas was vast, a dominion ruled by a single, overwhelming force: the power of the red dust. This mysterious substance, found deep in the earth, had the unique ability to control the minds of beasts. But this power was not available to everyone—only those of noble blood could wield it, and even then, their control extended only to a single creature.
The king, however, was different. As the ruler of Dacrotas, he alone possessed the ability to control multiple creatures, a feat made possible by an ancient amulet passed down through the royal line. This amulet was a closely guarded secret, and its true nature was known only to the king and a select few in his inner circle.
Valdora, the king's only son, was raised in the opulence of the royal palace, surrounded by luxury but also by the harsh realities of the empire's structure. From an early age, Valdora witnessed the brutal division between the nobles, who controlled the power of the red dust, and the commoners, who were subjugated under its influence. The nobles viewed the common people as inferior, and the creatures they controlled were used not just for labor but as instruments of war and oppression.
What made matters worse was how the common folk were forced to mine the dangerous red dust, often sent into treacherous places to gather the precious substance. Many perished, their lives treated as nothing more than tools for the ambitions of the nobles. These same people were then pushed to capture wild, untamed beasts, risking their lives so the nobles could control these creatures and add to their own power.
The empire's strength, after all, was founded on fear—fear of the nobles and their beasts, fear of the king's absolute authority, and fear of the unknown power that the red dust could bring.
Despite his privileged position, Valdora was deeply uncomfortable with the rigid hierarchy that defined his world. He had seen how the common people lived in constant fear, their lives dictated by the whims of the nobles who controlled the creatures that roamed the lands.
He understood, even as a child, that the system was unjust. But Valdora was also deeply loyal to his father. The king loved Valdora more than anything, his only son and heir. And Valdora, in return, could never bring himself to betray the man who had shown him nothing but love and care.
The bond between father and son was strong, and it held Valdora back from speaking out against the very system he despised.
The truth, however, was far more complicated than Valdora could fully understand. The king himself, despite wielding such immense power, was not entirely at ease with the empire's structure. There were nights when Valdora would catch glimpses of his father standing by the palace windows, his face etched with sorrow, as if weighed down by the burden of the kingdom. Though the king never spoke of it openly, Valdora began to suspect that his father did not approve of the racism and oppression that had taken root in Dacrotas.
The king's misery was palpable, and Valdora often wondered if it had something to do with the amulet itself—the source of his power and, perhaps, the source of his torment. But whatever the truth was, it remained locked away, a secret the king would never reveal, not even to his beloved son.
In the heart of the palace, hidden away in a grand chamber adorned with tapestries and ancient relics, resided the Drakoth. This creature, a monstrous beast with shimmering golden scales and eyes that burned with an ancient wisdom, was bound to the king through the power of red dust.
The Drakoth was the most powerful of all the creatures under the king's control, a living weapon that had helped Dacrotas conquer and subjugate its enemies.
But there was something different about the Drakoth—something only Valdora knew.
The Drakoth could speak, but only to Valdora.
The first time it had spoken to him was on a quiet night in the palace. Valdora had been alone in the chamber, staring into the creature's eyes when a voice, deep and resonant, echoed in his mind.
"You are not like the others," the Drakoth had said. "You see the world as it truly is."
Valdora had been startled, unsure whether the voice was real or a figment of his imagination. But as time passed, he realized that the Drakoth was truly communicating with him, speaking to him in ways no other creature ever had.
The bond between them was unlike any other in Dacrotas. The Drakoth was bound to the king by the red dust, unable to betray its master or break free from the control of the amulet. Yet it found a way to communicate with Valdora, whispering secrets of the kingdom's past and future.
It spoke of the dangers that lay ahead, warning Valdora of the growing unrest within the palace walls. "There is a storm coming," the Drakoth had said. "A threat that will rise from within."
Valdora listened, troubled by the creature's words. He knew that his father's ministers were powerful, each one vying for influence and control within the kingdom.
But it was Mathius, the most powerful of them all, who concerned him the most. Mathius was a master of red dust, and though he never revealed his true motives, Valdora could sense that Mathius harbored dangerous ambitions.
Unlike the other ministers, who were content to use the red dust for personal gain or political power, Mathius sought to push the limits of its potential. He wanted to harness its full strength, to control creatures beyond the forests and perhaps even extend its influence over people.
Mathius was shrewd, careful never to overstep his bounds in the king's presence, but Valdora had seen enough to know that he was a man to be wary of. The Drakoth's warnings only confirmed his suspicions. Though Mathius presented himself as loyal to the crown, there was something about him that unsettled Valdora, a hidden agenda that simmered beneath his calm exterior.
The days in the palace passed slowly, with Valdora growing ever more concerned about the direction in which the kingdom was heading. The nobles grew more arrogant with each passing year, their control over the beasts making them feel invincible. The common people suffered under their rule, treated as little more than expendable resources in the grand design of the empire. And all the while, Mathius worked in the shadows, seeking to expand the power of red dust in ways that the king would never approve of.
Despite his misgivings, Valdora remained loyal to his father. The king, for all his ruthlessness, was a man of great strength and wisdom. He understood the dangers of red dust better than anyone, which was why he kept the amulet so closely guarded. The amulet was the key to the kingdom's power, allowing the nobles to use red dust under the king's authority.
How this connection worked was a mystery—one that the king had never shared, even with Valdora. But it was clear that without the amulet, the nobles would lose their control over the beasts, and the empire would crumble.
The Drakoth, bound by the same power that allowed the king to control it, could not betray its master. Yet, through its secret conversations with Valdora, it hinted at the fragile nature of the kingdom's foundation.
The Drakoth's warnings were clear: the empire of Dacrotas was built on fear, and fear was a force that could turn on its wielder if not carefully managed.
As Valdora continued his quiet study of the palace, he kept his thoughts hidden. He could not reveal his distaste for the racism and oppression that plagued Dacrotas, nor could he openly question the use of red dust.
But he listened to the Drakoth's warnings, and deep down, he knew that a reckoning was coming. Whether it would be Mathius, the nobles, or something else entirely, Valdora could feel the tension rising, and he was determined to be ready when the time came.