Location: New town, and settlement for nareth survivors.
Time: Noon.
The sun still shined at its highest. The air shimmered faintly with heat as Tomas, Jori, and the other survivors of town nareth rested within their new settlement, the new town captain serric stood guard over.
Rows of soldier tents flapped softly in the breeze.
Under a broad shade, the survivors of town nareth, sat in silence. Tomas and Jori moved between them, handing out bread and water.
Children with dirt-streaked faces ate with trembling hands, clutching at their mothers' sleeves.
Some women sat together, whispering soft words to calm their little ones. An old woman stared blankly into space, her bread untouched, the tin cup of water beside her glinting in the light. Old men sat cross-legged nearby, chewing slowly, washing each bite down with careful sips of water.
When the last piece of bread was handed out, Tomas and Jori finally slumped to the ground beneath a shade. Sweat streaked through the dust on their faces as they tore at their own rations, half-loaves of coarse bread and a single shared bottle of water.
"I never thought," Jori muttered, staring at the broken bread in his calloused hands, his lips dry and cracked, "that I'd live to be this happy over something as common as bread."
Tomas was already chewing, his jaw working slowly. He let out a long sigh, then swallowed.
"You're right," he said. "Back in Nareth, I used to dream about expensive food and drinks like emberwine, roasted pig, and berries. But after days of running, starving, scraping for anything to eat" he gave a faint laugh, bitter but warm "i think bread might just be a blessing."
Both young men chuckled quietly, the sound carrying like a fragile echo through the shade. Jori's stomach growled loud enough to draw a mocking laugh from Tomas.
Then both of them bit into their bread with a shared sense of gratitude, washing it down with swigs of water.
"Thanks to you, Jori," Tomas said after a moment, glancing at the others sitting under the shade. "At least this many survived."
Jori followed his gaze, counting silently. "Twenty-six of us," he said at last. His voice softened. "And you and I are the only youth left in nareth"
Tomas nodded, tilting his head as if he was mentally arranging them.
"Ten children in all, mostly six to nine years old clinging to their mothers, five of them," he said. "The rest are nine old men and one old woman, all past their sixties. Which makes you and me the only ones left to carry the heavy lifting."
Jori's face darkened slightly as he stared off into open space. "That night," he murmured, "when the flames devoured nareth and I told everyone to search for survivors… there was another boy, a youth like us, He ran alongside you and some of the old men to help save survivors, by my calculations he should still be alive, but he is missing"
Tomas squinted his eys, trying to remeber "I tried, Jori," he admitted, his voice low. "But I can barely remember anything but fire and screaming. Honestly, When you told us to go back in and save who we could, I wanted to run away. I thought I'd never make it out. But then I saw some of the old men following your orders, and I… I just couldn't run away. I had to go back in."
He gave a faint, awkward smile, still chewing. "I've always been scared of everything. But that night, going back into those burning buildings, and saving those women and those kids… I felt… different. Like I wasn't that scared person anymore."
Jori nodded joyfully in response to tomas. "That feeling…" he said slowly, "I know it. It feels like… a reward for bravery."
He leaned back, letting the shared moment hang between them.
The quiet moment was immediately broken by the heavy crunching of boots. As jori and tomas lifted their heads to see two Calvasset soldiers approaching, rifles strapped across their backs. Both soldiers come to a halt in front of jori and tomas.
"You two," the first soldier barked. "Captain Serric of House Calvasset wants to see you. Now."
Jori and Tomas exchanged a quick glance at each other, then at the survivors. Several of the survivors had paused mid-bite, watching jori and tomas silently, their expressions weary but curious.
"Let's go tomas," Jori said, rising to his feet. He tucked the rest of his bread into his pocket and grabbed the bottle of water. Tomas followed, brushing crumbs from his lap. Together they stepped into the sun, walking behind the calvasset guards.
Location: Town Olsmere
The midday sun cast pale light over Olsmere, glinting faintly against the patched metal roofs and steaming water pumps scattered through the town. Slowly, life was returning children's quiet chatter mixed with the clanking of tools from workers, survivors building crude systems for clean water and rationed food.
Then a bell tolled once, its hollow note summoning the people to the town's meeting hall. One by one, men and women emerged from tents and work sheds, their boots crunching on the ground as they made their way inside the hall.
Soon, the hall was filled with over fifty people, some of their faces still worn with grief, and stubborn resolve.
Near the back, Mira slipped in quietly, her bandaged hand hidden under her shawl. Mrs. Trinket's face brightened at once when she spotted her, as she pulled Mira into a brief hug before they stood side by side ready to witness the towns meeting.
At the front of the hall, Keith stood on a slightly raised platform. His leather coat and polished boots gave him the sharp look of a low noble, though exhaustion was written on his face.
"I have just returned from Calensport," keith began, his voice steady but carrying weight. "I bring news from calensport. The elections for Asterra's next sovereign have been officially announced. And they will be taking place on the first of Solmere, three days from now."
A ripple of gasps spread through the hall, followed by hushed murmurs. Some members of olsmere exchanged unreadable glances, others kept their expressions hard and blank.
Keith's gaze moved across the crowd. "I am expected to cast my vote as one of the nations low nobles," he continued, "but I have chosen to come here first, to the people I grew up with and seek your voices. This decision should not be mine alone. I wish to hear from all of you: Which high noble do you believe should rule Asterra?"
The hall was silent for a while, the weight of his words sinking into the people of olsmere. Then a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Elections!?" Abel the inciter, shouted from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Then he immediately stands upright, stepping forward. "Tell us, Keith, when will Lord Marric, the acting sovereign, issue funds from Asterra's banks to help olsmere rebuild what we've lost? Or does the capital expect us to live under tents forever?"
Murmurs flared again, louder this time.
"Aye, it's true!" someone cried.
"It's about time they remembered us!" another shouted.
Keith raised his hands, but before he could speak, Sir George one of Olsmere's council elders stands up immediately, his voice fierce.
"As acting sovereign, Lord Marric has the power to grant relief funds immediately, the elections shouldnt be priority above matters like rebuilding" Sir George said. "That is the law!. Days have passed, and all the petitions we sent have been met with silence. Meanwhile, we have already spent sixty-three thousand Crowns from our treasury to build pumps for clean water, to put up tents, to feed mouths and now our coffers run dry! In the coming weeks, we will not be able to feed the people in this town. And we are meant to wait quietly while they play politics in Calensport?"
A roar of voices rose at once, echoing through the hall and spilling into the streets.
"Yes!"
"It is true!"
"Why must we starve while they hold banquets in the capital?"
Keith stood frozen for a moment, the uproar crashing around him. His eyes darted instinctively to the back of the hall, where Mrs. Trinket met his gaze. She shook her head with pity for her husband, keith. The kind of pity that carried love with it.
"This is how Olsmere's council argues even over beer," she whispered to Mira, her voice barely containing a laugh.
Mira pressed a hand to her lips, as she chuckled despite the tension.
Keith caught sight of his wife giggling at his frustration, and his stern expression softened. He bent down, snatched up a metal rod from the floor, and struck it sharply against the wall.
CLANG.
The ringing note echoed loud and clear, silencing the crowd almost at once.
"Please hear me out," Keith said, lowering the rod and letting it drop with a dull thud. "There is alot going on in asterra, even the high nobles are faced with matters that goes far beyond our heads. Paper works are moving around ten times the usual, this is truly not an easy time"
The hall grew still, everyone watching him speak, their countenance filled with quest for more inquiry.
"You're a low noble!" Abel barked suddenly, his voice sharp, cutting through the heavy air. "Find a way to get words to Lord Marric himself, so that he can approve funds for olsmere. Aren't you supposed to be good at those sorts of things?"
Keith's jaw tightened. "No," he replied firmly, gesturing with his hands to calm the hall. "That is not how things work."
He took a slow breath, steadying himself before continuing.
"Since the night of the attack, I have been making appearances in Calensport, pushing papers for our petitions, hoping for even a single audience with a high noble. But as you all know, they are currently very occupied with other matters, and their time with the common folks is brief."
Abel smirked from where he stood, leaning lazily on the wall.
"Isn't that a shame? That a noble like you can't even reach another noble? I'd quit my job if I were you."
Part of the crowd laughed, some slapping their knees in cruel amusement.
Keith's gaze darkened. He looked toward the back of the hall, where his wife and Mira stood. Their frowns seemed to give him strength.
"Like i said, I have made appearances" Keith repeated, his voice firmer now. "And because of my small influence as a low noble, I was granted a leeway to process petitions for the release of funds for our town, a leverage many villages without a noble will never have."
The laughter died away. The hall grew quiet as Keith continued.
"But for reasons beyond me, the process is slow. The funds are not being disbursed. This is why I have sought every chance to find an audience with a high noble, though their appearances in the capital are rare and brief."
His eyes locked on Abel as he spoke the last words, letting the weight of them hang in the air.
"I will write to my house," Keith said after a pause. "And rally fifty thousand crowns. And if no progress is made, I will travel to Solherene myself and take the remaining sum as a loan."
Sir George immediately rises from his seat once again, his expression unreadable.
"These loans you speak of…" he said slowly, "In whose name do you intend to take them?"
The hall stilled. All eyes turned to Keith, waiting for his response.
Keith straightened, looking first at George, then Abel, then the members of olsmere who watched him with calculating eyes.
"In my name, i will take the loans" he said finally. "When the town's petitions are approved, I will see that the loan is repaid with the funds we receive from calensport"
A tense silence stretched until George nodded, his expression softening.
"I have no quarrel with that, Keith," he said in a calmer tone. "But understand, we have served Solherene for years. None of us wish to deepen our debts with solherene you know"
"Aye," voices murmured around the room.
"Solherene isn't one to gamble with," another man added. "Even for twenty crowns, they'll bleed you dry before you sleep!"
Laughter erupted briefly, breaking the tension as some tapped each other's shoulders joyfully.