[Chapter I] - Black and White
[???'s POV]
Scandopleg, Scandovo, Lunfe
May 16th, 451
12.44 p.m.
A coup d' etat has taken place in Vernafol.
Those words were displayed on every screen in the main plaza of Scandopleg, a place known for its hustle and bustle. At any time of day, one could see Humans, Elves and Shapeshifters pacing back and forth, to and fro, in every possible direction.
I was one such person, going through the main plaza on my way to work. Normally, I would've continued walking without paying any attention to the screens that were scattered all over the plaza —an unremarkable, familiar sight at this point. However, today was different. Today there was something telling me it was worth stopping to see what's happening around me for once. Maybe it was the fact that many others were doing the same thing —you know, mob mentality, it's pretty hard to go against it. Maybe it was the lingering sensation in the air that something wasn't quite right. Whatever the reason, those words were displayed on every screen in the main plaza of Scandopleg.
A coup d' etat has taken place in Vernafol.
And they had left me frozen in place.
In its 451 years of history, Krelos has experienced its fair share of ups and downs. 451 years is nothing when it comes to a world's existence, but it's plenty of time to discover certain patterns.
There are two kinds of people; those who surrender to history, and those who surrender history to them.
When unrecorded, the life span of accountable history is very short —about two generations' worth of years, make that more or less a century. Any further than that, and history becomes telltale. The line between what actually happened and what people say that happened begins to blur. Memory —or rather, lack thereof— further reduces the aforementioned lifespan.
Perhaps that's why our ancestors felt the need to record the events that transpired before our time. In Krelos, the recording of history is done by the 'Ikklessias'. Ikklessias manage all matters of faith and leave records of the different events that have taken place in this land.
However, recorded history is dangerous. Because recorded history accounts for that which can't be otherwise accounted for, it is difficult to question it. That's why people tend to choose to believe what it says. Because it's easier. But recorded history, at the end of the day, is just information. Information that can be manipulated.
My job as a History teacher taught me not to take things at face value. When you don't take things at face value, you find it a bit easier to discover certain patterns.
Those patterns, in turn, point in a certain direction and reveal one hidden truth.
Ever since its creation, Krelos has been the playground of forces greater than itself.
"Hey, Nicolas," a feminine voice snapped me out of my train of thought. Turning around, I was met with a familiar sight; long, straight, tawny brown hair flowing in the wind and castleton green eyes full of kindness.
"Hey, Siule," I greeted back.
This was Siule Jies, my best friend.
"Can you believe it? This just feels so surreal. I don't know what to think." she commented, glancing up at one of the screens.
She was talking, of course, about the events taking place in Vernafol.
The geography of Krelos is indeed interesting. Including only four countries, each of them has a vast amount of land to host its citizens. Lunfe, Xalia and Nerovas form what we call the 'mainland'. In its centre, there lies a conglomerate of mountains that make life there unfeasible. Considered neutral territory, no country ever uses that part of the land. At least, not officially, although there are... theories.
Each country's population is easily determined; Nerovas is home to Shapeshifters, Xalia is inhabited by Elves and we Humans reside in Lunfe. Or well, that's how it was in the beginning, apparently, because today Lunfe is home not only to Humans but also to members of the other aforementioned species.
The fourth country to be mentioned is Vernafol. Vernafol is separated from the mainland by the Lunfe-Vernafol Ocean —very original name, I know. Only connected to Lunfe by Hyapei, a diminutive island at relatively equal distance from both countries, Vernafol is the land of Giants, and for obvious reasons, they live in isolation.
What little communication they have with the mainland —mostly to secure food from Xalia— is carried out via Lunfe. Hyapei is where the Vernafolean embassy is, and the people working there are the ones who are in charge of managing matters pertaining to the land of the Giants.
To us Lunfeans, Giants have always been heralded as our protectors, ever since they defended us from the attack of the Shapeshifters during the 'Mainland War', in the year 112 of the Krelos Calendar. In a way, the 'Mainland War' was the trigger for the creation of the world order we know today.
In our hour of need, the Giants had come to our aid, and so we unconsciously —or consciously— decided they'd always be there to protect us.
Them being in need of help was indeed surreal.
"I know what you mean. Vernafol had one of, if not the most, politically stable government of all the countries in Krelos. Whatever happened there, it's something that defies common sense. That much I'm certain of."
As if reacting to my thoughts, the display on the screens changed. Now, a human-like face was shown. Someone who was about to deliver a message, apparently. His hair was black and relatively long, and his lower face was covered in a very large beard. His eyes shook me to my very core.
If there ever was such a thing as a visual definition of 'power', this man was it.
"Good day to you, fellow citizens of Krelos —he began, his voice grave and intimidating. My name is Don Aix. I am the leader of Macros, the organisation behind the coup d' etat Vernafol is currently suffering."
My heart began to beat faster. This person was the one responsible for overthrowing the Vernafolean government.
"For the last 340 years, we Giants have served as the shield that protects Krelos from malice. Some may argue, and with reason, that not everything has been positive along the way, but whatever differences we had with our brothers and sisters from the other species, we were able to work them out through dialogue and diplomacy. We have accepted living in isolation for the benefit of the smaller species, and we have provided our services for the development of the mainland without protest. And so, we became less than what we actually are. History regards us as the protectors of Krelos. A title to wear with pride, certainly, but also not accurate to represent the importance of us Giants in this region. Krelos still exists thanks to us. We shouldn't just be respected. We should be worshipped."
I felt my throat close.
"We have discussed this matter with the former Vernafolean regime many times in the past, and the answer we got every single time was the same; mild and uncommitting. For that reason, we have decided to take matters into our own hands. These are our demands: we want the leaders of Lunfe, Xalia and Nerovas to acknowledge us Giants as the Supreme Rulers of Krelos. We wish for the nations of the mainland to relinquish the governing faculties of their countries to us. You have 24 hours to give us your answer. If we don't get a satisfying one, you'll have to be ready to face the consequences of your actions. I pray you make the right choice."
Those were his final words before the screens went off.
[Nicolas' POV]
Scandopleg, Scandovo, Lunfe
May 17th, 451
1.56 p.m.
... I will never forgive them for what they've done. Not Macros, and not Lunfe.
Xalia and Nerovas had surrendered to them. What kept Lunfe from doing so too? Pride? Greed?
As if that will bring my family back.
I stood in disbelief, vision blurred by tears, as I took in my surroundings. What yesterday had been Scandopleg's main plaza, the epitome of development, today was a wasteland of brown and red.
Utterly disgusting.
Siule was by my side, but to be honest, I didn't care. I didn't need emotional support. I needed answers. And there was only one place where I could get them.
Sorry, Siu.
About an hour later, I reached the building from where Weiss Geist managed the fates of Lunfe.
Charging forward, fueled by a force not my own, I didn't even register the guards trying to stop me until I burst through the marbled door that led to our governess' office. There, I saw Weiss Geist, dignified as ever, pearl white hair and crimson red eyes, speaking to a woman I did not recognise. Her eyes were of a similar red to Weiss', but her hair was the kind of black you only get after staring at the abyss.
"Your people have been slaughtered, Miss Geist! What else must you lose before you finally decide to take action!?" the black-haired woman asked, indignation clear in her voice.
The same kind of indignation I felt.
"...You have spoken your mind and I have listened attentively. Now, I kindly ask that you leave," Weiss answered. A cold, detached, unempathetic answer.
Why I did what I did, I'll never know. Maybe it was better to just let things go. Maybe it was better to move on. That's what reason told me.
All my life, I had lived acting out of reason rather than emotion. The heart may lead you astray. The mind does not. That's what I had concluded at an early age. And truth be told, it had worked out for me thus far.
Then, why did I do what I did?
I will never know.
Glancing at the black-haired woman storming out past me, I spoke.
"I will help you."
