Athena: The Song of War

In the kingdom of Basilica, there was a popular belief that if it didn't rain during the first night of winter, the following year would be harsh. But if it rained, the next year would be prosperous. Whether this belief had any basis or not was hard to know, but it didn't matter to the Basilican people.

Inside their homes or in establishments like taverns and brothels, people were celebrating or sleeping with a smile full of expectation for the next year, after all, a torrential storm was falling over the kingdom on that winter night.

Inside the castle, in the highest part of the capital, in his chambers, seated near the fireplace which was the only source of light in the room, in a large armchair lined with black bison fur, King Artios Basilian IV watched the winter storm gain strength.

Lightning cut through the sky in large electric branches accompanied by thunderous roars and dazzling flashes of lightning. The winds whistled intensely as they blew the white curtain of rain in all directions. This was seen as a good omen not only by the people but also by the king.

Of course, such a storm brought not only good expectations but also worries. Somewhere in the kingdom, a flood might be happening or a herd might be getting electrocuted. However, the king had already prepared funds for this, and even though he was concerned, he was hopeful for the future.

Artios Basilian IV was the thirteenth king of Basilica. A man tall in height and muscular. With hair as black as the veil of night and eyes as blue as the sky, he was a handsome man desired by many noble maidens even with the severe scar marking the left side of his face.

However, the king already had everything and everyone he desired. His kingdom was the most prosperous among the southern kingdoms of the continent, he had two beautiful queens awaiting their children at this moment, and his four princesses were growing up healthy. Nothing else was needed because he was a happy man.

After some time contemplating the incessant storm, the monarch rose and walked through his room to the bookshelf. In the dimness of the room, he reached for an old and heavy book from the highest shelf. It had a thick leather cover, hemp pages, and its faded title written in black and red ink was "Kings and Ages," a book documenting the eras from each king's perspective. Artios held the book as if it were a fragile newborn, returned to his armchair near the fireplace, and opened it to the pages written by his father.

The book was not a precise document. Not all the previous kings were fair or even decent rulers. But Artios did not doubt his father's words and always read his thoughts left in that book in search of some hidden advice.

— "Today I learned that I shouldn't get used to calmness," Artios read from the pages written over a decade ago. "This war has to end. I don't want to have to send my last son and lose him too"... father...

This was the documentation about the war that had claimed the lives of Artios's two older brothers. In the end, he had to go to the battlefield and, with some sacrifices, put an end to the civil war that had plagued the kingdom for a whole year.

The king turned the page upon understanding his father's words. He was content with the current calmness of the kingdom and happy with what he had. This was obviously good, but he shouldn't get too comfortable and become careless. With this thought, the family of his first queen, the Deucalions, came to his mind.

The Deucalion were one of the six ducal families of the kingdom. However, the Deucalion stood out even among their peers. With a military strength equivalent to that of the royal knights and a fortune that rivaled the king's own, they could not be underestimated or forgotten. And they certainly wouldn't allow themselves to be.

The king sighed, closed the book, and looked out the window thoughtfully. The winter storm still raged on, bringing back feelings of good omens, allowing the monarch to let go of the tension and settle into the armchair, awaiting the sleep that was yet to come.

At the castle gates, the garrison sought shelter from the storm as best they could. They had rooms built within the high and wide walls, but the night was so cold and damp that not even the fire in the center of these rooms was enough to warm them up.

— Argh! I know that rain on the first day of winter is a good sign, but did it have to be a storm? — complained Robson, one of the younger guards, upon returning from his patrol.

— Stop complaining, lad — said Freddie, scratching his completely white beard. He then reached for the kettle over the fire and filled a mug with mulled wine. Sit down and warm yourself up.

— I'm not complaining — retorted Robson as he sat down. He took the mug of wine, blew on it near his chin to warm his wet face, took a sip of the hot drink, and continued — I'm just saying the goddess didn't have to send a storm.

— Goddess? — Freddie looked at Robson with a questioning expression, but then noticed the shining star pendant hanging around his colleague's neck. — Ah... "Faith of the Sacred Light" wasn't it?

— Yeah — Robson said as he held the star pendant between his fingers and kissed the symbol with a smile.

— As your father's son, shouldn't you devote yourself to his god?

Robson glanced at Freddie with a skeptical look, but then drank a bit more of his mulled wine as he realized his colleague wasn't entirely wrong. His parents were devoted to an ancient goddess, the goddess of life and magic, Ura'an. In fact, almost the entire kingdom worshipped this goddess, and it was normal for children to inherit their father's beliefs, but — usually, yes, but when I heard the words of the missionaries, I felt like those were meant for me...

Still listening to Robson, Freddie grabbed a piece of bread, dipped it in the mulled wine, and ate with some disinterest while he thought about his homeland where they believed in beings that exhibited true power, like Chionothýella, one of the seven ancient dragons, the ancient white dragon.

Unlike the Basilican deities, Ura'an and the goddess of the Sacred Light Faith, dragons were present in the world all the time, like the Wanderer Mountain, Gargantuan, the Electric Storm, Theikós, or the Flying Inferno, Ifrit. Freddie couldn't see the point in devoting himself to someone who couldn't interfere in his life.

— Well, everyone has their own faith and reasons for devoting themselves to it. Who am I to question your faith? — Freddie said as he stood up, thus ending the conversation as he left for his patrol.

As Freddie stepped out the door, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and carefully walked the stone path along the wall. On normal nights, one could have a good view of the High City, the noble part of the kingdom's capital, with its few mansions, a forest called "The King's Grove," and a vast garden. But the rain was dense, creating a blinding curtain along with the nighttime darkness.

Despite the storm, Freddie was accustomed to tempestuous weather and had faced even more severe storms in his days in his homeland, before coming to Basilica as part of the escort for the second queen. This experience had honed his senses, allowing him to perceive things others might not. When he spotted the light of a lantern approaching at a steady pace along the road from the queens' palaces, the soldier hurried back and shouted into the corridors — OPEN THE GATES!

— What's happening? — Robson asked.

— Someone is coming down Silver Road.

— In this storm? Are you hallucinating?

— Doubting me, lad? — Freddie growled at Robson, who shrank back.

They both descended the stairs to the gates, which were being opened, and waited. But after a few minutes, nothing appeared, and Robson gave his veteran a questioning look, teasing that he was getting old. However, Freddie remained in front of the open gates without saying a single word until — there is.

A faint orange light from a lantern stood out, swaying in the stormy darkness. A man covered by a drenched cloak approached on a horse exhaling warm breath into the cold air — I need to speak urgently with your Majesty, the king! — announced the man from atop the horse.

In the royal quarters, sleep still eluded Artios, who was now reading a book he had received as a gift on his last birthday. The book talked about a new agricultural method that promised to improve crops by at least ten percent. It was a compelling promise and theoretically achievable, but it wasn't an engaging read, and the king closed the book.

— Your Majesty — a voice came from behind the door — are you awake?

— Yes, come in — replied Artios.

The door opened with the king's permission, revealing Kalmir, the prime minister and right-hand man of the king. He was a stout and slender man with graying black hair and greenish-blue eyes, and as usual, since his wife's passing five years earlier, he was dressed in black from head to toe.

— Your Majesty, this man says he has a message for you — the prime minister said as he brought a completely drenched man forward to the door.

The man wore simple clothing in green and brown, possibly a woodsman or huntsman. As he stood before the king, he knelt on one knee and placed his closed fist over his heart — I seek your forgiveness for disturbing your rest, my king.

— No need for that — said Artios, now standing. — What's the message?

— There are two, my king — the man replied. — I come from the White Palace and serve Her Majesty, Queen Karina. My initial mission was to announce that Her Majesty went into labor two hours ago. She sent me here to keep you informed.

Upon hearing the messenger's words, the king's heart quickened, but he remained composed. There was still another message to be heard — and the other message?

— When I passed by the Queen's Tower, to let the horse rest a bit and warm up, the first queen, her Majesty Helena also went into labor and requests your presence.

— Both at the same time? That is a blessing! — said the king with a big smile — Kalmir, have the horses prepared, we're going to my wives.

— My king, her Majesty only asked to inform you. She does not wish for your Majesty to venture out in this storm and risk unnecessary danger.

— Unnecessary? — Artios's eyes flashed with anger.

— These are not my words, my king! — the messenger cowered. — These are the words of Queen Karina.

— She does not want me there?

— Artios, your queen is wise. Both are, and her Majesty, Queen Karina values your health and safety. It's not that she doesn't want you there. After all, what woman wants to be alone at such an important moment?

Kalmir was not only the prime minister but also a friend and mentor to his king. There were moments when, despite being a grown man, Artios's temperament got the best of him and he needed someone to clarify his vision.

The king looked at Kalmir with distaste for understanding that his friend's words had merit and wisdom. His heart pounded in his chest with a mixture of happiness and apprehension. Finally, he sat back down — if I can't see one, I won't go to the other.

— That's a wise decision, my king — Kalmir turned to the messenger and handed him a silver coin — good job bringing such wonderful news. You can seek out one of the watchmaids. She will feed and accommodate you.

— Will it take long? — Artios asked Kalmir after they were left alone.

Kalmir poured two glasses of wine and sat facing the king after handing him one of the glasses. —Don't worry so much. Both palaces have clerics and midwives at their disposal. And you should know better than I do about how long it takes. I didn't have children, but you — Kalmir smiled and raised his glass in a congratulatory gesture — are going for six tonight.

Artios looked at the glass in his hand and drank its contents in one gulp. The king took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm his anxiety. But the hours passed slowly when one was sober. — Well, then let's celebrate — the king said, reaching for the small bell on the bedside table next to him and ringing it.

As hours passed slowly, but the men didn't notice the leisurely flow of time. They drank good wines, were served good food, and talked about the past while waiting for the future.

— Your Majesty, do you remember when that pageboy asked to be your pupil and challenged you to a duel under that condition?

The king laughed. — Yes. What happened to him?

Kalmir reached for his wine glass and drank to help the cheese down his throat. — Ah, after my king defeated him, he continued training, so I took him under my wing.

— I didn't know that. And then?

— After two years, he decided to travel the world to broaden his horizons as a form of training. Occasionally, I still receive letters from him.

The king looked into his friend and mentor's nostalgic eyes. A man who never had children and treated his pupils as such. He was a second father above all. — Then he's my brother.

Kalmir smiled fondly at the king's words. The wrinkles around his eyes told the story of his life. There was no sadness. — Yrio would love to hear those words.

— When he returns, send him to me. I want to have another duel with him.

As they conversed, the storm continued its torment outside. Lightning raced recklessly across the sky, sometimes striking anything within reach, and furious thunder roared in all directions. The lightning continued its light show, and the wind continued its dance in the pouring rain. It was as if the winter storm was trying to drown the kingdom, but then everything suddenly stopped.

Something was wrong, and the two men could feel the sudden difference in the air, which seemed to vibrate. Artios stood up, approached the window, and as he lifted the curtain that had been lowered at some point, both were surprised by the scene unfolding outside.

On the other side of the King's Grove, at the White Palace where a dense magical energy emanated, the fifth princess of the kingdom of Basilica was being born at the same time as her brother in the dark Tower of the Queen, while hundreds or perhaps thousands of stars fell from the clear night sky.