Sword Brother

At dawn, a thin mist floated above the ruins. Washed and dressed in clean clothes, Gaël stood in the great square, upright, his gaze weary but resolute, beside his mother and brother.

He no longer wore gloves, he no longer needed them.

To his left, Kaëlan, his childhood friend, had just joined him with his own family.

The central square of Kernéval was packed with people. Hundreds of tired faces pressed against one another, all turned toward the elevated platform of gray stone and dark wood.

After the shock of the attack, the refined elegance of the wealthy had given way to ruthless pragmatism. Extravagance had become an ill-placed luxury, and everyone, rich or poor, had to adapt to a world that no longer forgave frivolity.

Only a small few still dared to wear bright colors, as if refusing to bend in the face of adversity, but these flashes of defiance faded into a sea of grays and browns, where true luxury was now simply having clothes that were intact and clean.

Before the silent crowd, the four representatives of Kernéval stood once again. Their silhouettes, outlined against the cold morning light, inspired both respect and apprehension. At the forefront, the archon, his face hollowed by a sleepless night, wore a thin, almost forced smile, a mask that barely concealed the immense burden he carried.

Kaëlan muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving the stage.

"What's he going to announce this time?"

Gaël shrugged slightly. He wanted to believe in comforting news.

"Good news, I hope..." he whispered, without conviction.

Kaëlan let out a short, bitter laugh.

"That would be too much to ask from these old men."

The Archon raised his hand, and with a simple gesture, silence fell. The murmurs vanished into the crisp morning air. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of exhaustion and an inescapable gravity.

"Kernéval has endured the night."

A sigh swept across the square. Some closed their eyes briefly, relieved. Others lowered their heads, knowing this respite was only temporary.

"The hordes have been repelled, but we have lost more brave souls. Kernéval still bleeds."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the crowd. No further explanation was needed, nearly every family here had suffered a loss.

"For the protection of our city and our future, we must grow stronger."

Eyes lifted toward him, some hesitant, others carrying that spark that only survival can ignite. The gaunt features of peasants, merchants, and artisans, the hardened expressions of the surviving soldiers... all listened.

"The council deliberated through the night," he continued, his voice heavy with fatigue but unwavering in resolve.

"Several decrees take effect as of today. As of now."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of fear and hope. The archon raised his hand again. Silence returned.

"The city's resources will be redirected to ensure our survival. Luxury goods will be requisitioned to secure the support of neighboring city-states. Our workforce will be assigned to reconstruction... and defense. Strict rationing will be enforced in the coming months."

A low, discontented rumble rose from the crowd but quickly faded under the weight of reality. Everyone knew luxury had no place in a city that bled.

The old man took a deep breath, his gaze hardening even more.

"Many of our watchmen have fallen. Our soldiers too." His voice almost broke, but he steadied himself. "We need new, brave hearts to hold our walls. Mercenaries will be recruited for now... but it is here, among us, that the next generation of defenders must be forged."

A rough voice called out from the crowd:

"Who will tend our fields if our sons become soldiers?!"

The archon met the man's gaze without flinching.

"If our walls fall, there will be no fields left to cultivate," he replied simply. The murmurs of approval that followed drowned out any further protest.

"That is why..." he continued, his voice taking on a more solemn tone, "exceptional resources will be allocated to the training of new defenders."

Whispers rippled through the crowd, but it was his next words that sent a jolt through them:

"The Academy of the Golden Tree was the first to answer our call."

Silence. Then, a wave of hushed, astonished murmurs.

"They have offered to open their doors to an unprecedented number of recruits, ready to undergo an intensive accelerated training."

The whispers turned to exclamations. The luminic Academy of the Golden Tree… the greatest in the West. A privilege so costly that most wouldn't even dare dream of sending their children there.

The archon raised a hand, calming the growing fervor.

"I know what this means," he said, his voice gentler but no less firm. "This training is expensive. Too expensive for most of us. But..." He paused, and in his eyes flickered a rare glimmer of hope. "The city will cover half the costs. Not for the academy... but for you. For the families who send their sons and daughters to train and fight for Kernéval. Because the academy will not ask for payment to train our children."

A ripple of approval spread through the crowd. Parents exchanged glances, torn between pride and fear. Sending a child there was an opportunity… but it also meant not seeing them for months, even years. And it meant training them for a dangerous life.

The archon was not finished.

"And that is not all," he went on, his voice now carrying an undeniable conviction.

"A special ceremony will be held at our sacred stones. We will attempt once more to awaken the Lumen in our youngest."

A hush swept through the square. Some made signs of reverence, others bowed their heads in silent prayer. The Lumen... the supreme blessing. The only light against the darkness.

"More than ever, we need new radiance keepers," the archon declared. "For Kernéval. For our future."

A heavy silence fell. Then... a voice, faint but clear, rang out:

"I will go."

A boy, no older than sixteen, clenched his fists, his face pale but determined. Then another voice. A woman, her throat tight with emotion:

"My son will go too."

Gaël's eyes widened in surprise as he heard the voice of his mother.

"Mama?"

"Like your father, you will be a soldier. For you, a tainted… this is an opportunity you cannot afford to miss!"

Gaël didn't know how to respond, but he saw the glistening determination in his mother's eyes. The decision she had just made was not an easy one, but it was necessary.

Slowly, murmurs of approval spread through the crowd. The fearful glances, hesitant at first, began to shift, filling with something new. Determination.

"At last, help and reinforcements are on their way. Fendracine, Avalbrume, and Vetrucia have heard our call and share in our suffering. They are sending provisions, artisans, lutech engineers. We are not alone."

A wave of relief rippled across the square. If the neighboring cities were offering their support, it meant fortified walls, enough food to sustain them, weapons forged to withstand the next assaults.

Then, the archon's voice dropped slightly, as if weighing each word with care.

"But the independence we have fought so hard to preserve… will come at a price."

Outcries erupted. Kernéval had always fiercely protected its unique resources, renowned across the western reaches of the old continent.

Kaëlan crossed his arms, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"They're going to sell off our most precious assets for scraps. Just look at that merchant representative! He doesn't seem like the least bit of a loser in all this. What a vulture! I bet he'll find a way to profit from this mess."

Gaël didn't answer. His mind was elsewhere.

The archon continued, listing the agreements made, the reinforcements promised, the resources exchanged. Precious shipments of sacred algae, plants found nowhere else, would be sent to Fendracine. The pearl oysters, a symbol of Kernéval's trade, would fill the coffers of neighboring cities as payment.

But none of that mattered to Gaël.

His thoughts had latched onto a single thing.

The Academy of the Golden Tree.