1218-07-19
The people of Zandu and the people of New Miso came together to celebrate the new year—or so they said. In truth, they were celebrating the death of their leader. With Kran's passing, Keel had become the new leader, and this celebration was for him.
New Miso is similar to Zandu in many ways, with their wooden huts, but there are many differences. For one, New Miso is located on the eastern coast of Ghar, which allows them to trade with Ralian and UIK merchants both to the east and west. Some buildings were coming together, being built with clay, and decorated with graffiti markings. Some had names like Kran or Keel, while others were adorned with symbols of flowers, and some with other designs.
In the center of the market square stood a massive, unfinished palace, resembling the Pantheon of Old Miso. The building was still under construction—wooden pillars stood unfinished, and only plans lay scattered on the ground. The plans were labeled with names like "bedrooms," "meeting rooms," and even "throne rooms."
Where my father sat on the throne. The thought made me sad. I thought about how different my life would have been if I still had my father. I had watched him fall, I had watched him die. Yet, I wasn't there for my brother when he died gloriously in battle. He had fought in a "wind of glory."
Along with the people of Zandu, I brought some of the ancient artifacts, hoping to sell them to merchants in exchange for materials, weapons, or anything useful. Anything that could help us.
The people of Zandu are quite different from the people of New Miso. While New Miso has people of all ages, they remain disconnected from many things. They've never interacted with a dragon. While they get to build and grow, we've been pushed further and further into the dirt. Yet, it didn't matter. Our bond—our pact with New Miso—is closer than that of Momba.
Though it's only a verbal bond, I trusted them. Maybe that's my problem.
I don't blame them for what they did. They didn't want their people to die. They wanted to survive. No one has killed a dragon, and it's undeniable that they wanted to stay safe.
Dragons in this world have only ever died for one reason: natural causes, whether it's from old age or from being in the wrong environment. The skeletons of dragons I've seen have all belonged to leaders.
Outside the city there was an open space was a pit, its edges marked by carefully arranged stones forming a circle. A giant banquet table stretched alongside it, so long it seemed to vanish into the horizon.The pit was empty.
Piles of wooden weapons—spears, halberds, and swords—lined the arena's edges, stacked neatly to the left and right. The arena itself was modest, roughly the size of a small boat, yet spacious enough for combatants to move freely and run if needed.
Yet the festivities hadn't started as they start at night.
I watched as they fought, and I could see the excitement in his eyes. He wanted to start, and his taji had three small circles embroidered on its blue cloth. I was proud of him.
I played with Ada, and a small, solemn smile crossed my face.
Kell called me over, and I took Ada from A. He looked confused but let me take her. I walked with her, happy that she could walk now. Yet, she would not remember this moment—or at least, I hoped she wouldn't.
I watched as Ronan, the athletic merchant, stood tall on the beach. His long, light brown hair whipped in the wind, and his dark eyes gleamed with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much power he held. His ships, laden with gemstones from Rali, creaked gently as they bobbed in the water nearby. He was a man of wealth, and he made sure everyone knew it.
Kell approached us, his footsteps heavy in the sand. I didn't bother looking at him right away. He was a presence. He greeted Ronan..
"Ronan," Kell said with a smirk, "you're finally here."
"I'm early this time," Ronan laughed. "Last time I was late."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kell asked, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.
Before Ronan could respond, I interrupted, my curiosity getting the best of me. "Who is he?"
"He's the Merchant King's son," Kell answered, his tone less than impressed. "Ronan. He owes me this one."
Ronan smiled, his dark eyes glinting. "I've heard you have some important goods for me to take."
We nodded in response, and I could see Ada's confused expression as she watched the exchange. She was too young to understand the complexities of trade and politics, but I wished I could explain it all to her. Maybe one day.
Ronan turned his gaze back to Kell, his voice smooth and confident. "My family rules Rali. Anything else you need?"
Kell snorted. "Clay and marble are good, but not much else."
"The palace is coming along well," Ronan added, his smile returning as he glanced over at the half-finished structure in the distance.
I looked at him, my brow furrowing in suspicion. "You're a prince. Why are you all the way here?"
Ronan didn't flinch at my question. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, amused. "The sea's my calling," he replied simply. "Trade. It's a part of me."
If Kell trusted him, so would I.
I didn't respond, instead glancing over to Ada. She was in my arms, clutching at my tunic, her small face full of confusion. I walked toward the merchants, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The trade was about to be made, and I could already feel the ache of it in my chest. I handed her over to the traders, my voice soft.
A's eyes widened, and he began to cry. "What are you doing?"
I clenched my jaw, feeling the words like daggers, but I didn't react. I had to do this for her, for both of us. "Any life, on any continent, is better than living in Ghar," I said quietly, almost as if I were trying to convince myself more than him.
"She won't remember this, I hope. She'll have a better life."
A pulled at my shirt grabbing and tugging at it.
As the merchants led her away, I turned to Kell by his side—a thin boy with shackled wrists. His wide, fearful eyes met mine, and I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll take care of them," I told him, my voice firm, despite the tightness in my chest. "I swear it. And I'll take good care of them."
"I hate you!" he cried, his voice breaking with the force of the words. "I hate you, Loret!"
The words A spoke stunned deep within my soul, and yet they made me more determined. Hopefully, he would forget this moment as well, I thought, even though I knew that wasn't likely.
The boy nodded, his lips trembling. "You'll treat us well, won't you?"
"I will," Ronan assured him. "I will."
'Please." A begged
The silence overtook us and no one spoke both Kell and I decided if this is what we truly wanted to do.
"What will you do with the ance?" he asked.
I glanced over at the ance, still lying in a bag in the sand. I turned to Ronan, my gaze lingering on him for a moment before I spoke.
Ronan's voice was calm. "I'll buy it," he said. "But it's best to turn it into weapons—something useful. A sword, a dagger, something that can be wielded by someone who knows how to fight."
I nodded slowly. "Weapons. That makes sense."
"Don't waste it," Ronan added. "That thing could be worth more than all the gemstones I've traded."
I thought for a moment, the decision settling in my mind like a stone in water. "We'll turn it into weapons."
The traders agreed, murmuring amongst themselves, and Ronan gave me a final nod.
"I'll make sure Rose gets what she deserves," Ronan said, his voice softer now. "She'll be the queen of merchants, one day. She'll have more power than anyone could imagine."
I glanced at Ada, far off in the distance now, and then back at Rory. My heart ached at the thought of her not remembering this moment, but I couldn't let myself dwell on it. I had to focus on the future. "Take good care of her," I said, my voice quiet but resolute. "She's special."
As the merchant ships began to pull away, the sails catching the wind, I watched them go. The sea had claimed them, and for once, I was grateful for it. The future felt uncertain, but it was in motion—something I hadn't felt in a long time.
The sound of A's cries filled the air, sharp and raw. I could feel the weight of them settle over me.
A fell to the ground, his knees hitting the dirt with a thud, overcome by grief.
I looked to Kell, searching his face for some kind of answer.
"Who was that?" I asked.
Kell's gaze shifted to me.
"He's my younger brother, Rory."