Astraea

Everyone has their own version of the Great Rebellion.

Most adaptions were on the positive side, filled with the promise of a new world and a free land; something the Rebellion had striven for. Others would not be as generous, often delving into something more sinister and telling children the Rebellion had been nothing more than a clever distraction from what truly mattered.

Those kinds of storytellers did not last long within the quickly moving society of Galaxis. Kingdoms did not falter as they swiftly reconnected their ties with neighbouring lands and its people. Lords and leaders from all directions had heard the wind whisper of the Rebellion, of the great fall of ‘High Command,’ the term for life before the Rebellion.

As years passed, it seemed as though the struggling lives of the lower classes had never existed. Differences were recognised and dealt with in a manner which did not cause bloodshed. Yet mysteries would always come to light; no matter which kingdom the Gods above were looking down upon.

Many would claim the Gods had appeared in their true forms over the skies, lighting their kingdoms with judgement since Remiel, the God of Wrath, had destroyed his whole kingdom during the Rebellion Kane Ruskin had led.

Nike, the God of Minoas, had shown her face over the wall of her kingdom. Giant tusks grew from her cheeks and she rose her arms of six down across the border, smashing Minoas’ wall to dust and leaving Emvolo a separate island from Galaxis altogether in her wake. A Gods’ way of discarding their own family, it seemed.

The Gods’ power, witnessed by many, had been enough to hush the final threats between races. The people of Galaxis was nothing short of harsh truths the day the skies broke. Their existence among the Gods was nothing; yet their actions could be just enough to have the deities above come down on them and rip them apart, just to keep peace among their kingdoms.

Who were they to go against a Gods’ will? Thus, everyone laid their differences to rest harmoniously.

Astraea, in particular, had become well-known across all twelve kingdoms for its generous hospitality and gracious market town, Termitown. Over the years, many cultures and races had come together after the final alliance had been made between the King of Astraea and the Queen of Dike. Since that moment, Galaxis became Isonomia – a place of equality and justice.

Yet the mysteries would still occur and the boy covered in dust and mud seemed so out of place standing in the entrance to Gremma’s pub, Baltia. With only tattered remains of what had once been a button-down shirt and shorts, he stood barefoot and empty handed.

Gremma had looked up, following the motions of her regular customers scattered around the bar and their circular tables. No-one seemed quick to the boy’s aid. Whether it had been the consumption of alcohol and Shema milk curdling their brains, or the piercing shine of bright green eyes peaking from the mask of dirt; it was enough to leave the pub silent until the swinging door creaked and shut the boy in.

“Ya lost?” Gremma perked up. She leant over the bar, hands bracing her weight as she attempted to pick apart this boy’s muddy disguise. Perhaps she had seen him before, once or twice in the market. “Ya need me to find your parents or somethin’?”

The muddy boy said nothing. His dirt-defined lips were creased, and his brow was mingling with grit and sweat. Had he attempted to make contact with anyone in the room, it was a short-lived thought. He toppled, ankles bending in the wrong way and his knees clunked against the ground before his face smacked the floor.

The collision was enough for the room to move – chairs were pushed back, boots thudded. Hurried voices of worry and concern filtered the pub as the boy was surrounded.

“He’s dead!” One of the drunkards bellowed.

“Nah, he ain’t. I can see him breathing from back here.” Gremma moved, hauling herself over the bar. She shoved and parted the semi-crowd, tossing her dishcloth over her shoulder and kneeling to the boy. “Someone call the Medics from the castle. The king will know what to do with him.”