The Martyr

Not too far north of the valley, lay the capital city, Fantasium, which was built along a major river that flows through the Highland region. The capital sprawled endlessly, hosting a population of just over one million, a truly impressive feat that no nation—enemy nor foe—could scoff at.

A vast wall that stood the height of twenty men surrounded the inner city, crafted from neatly placed stone bricks. Every few hundred paces large watchtowers erect out of the walls, guarded with soldiers who stand as silent sentinels. Outside of the walls there were many small buildings and huts crafted from wood, which were mainly inhabited and manned by the poorest of poor. It was common for the people who lived just outside the wall to die of malnutrition, or if they were lucky, a life marked by exploitation and poverty.

The buildings that adorned the interior of the wall rarely peaked above three of four stories high—with some exceptions, the buildings were usually narrow and tall, mostly made of stone, and decorated with wooden frames and thatched roofs.

The streets—which were paved with cobblestone—were usually restrictive in size, causing confusion with its winding paths, making Fantasium appear as a never ending labyrinth, with seemingly no escape. The buildings stood in the way of the sun, acting as obstructions, and casting most of the streets in a constant dull and dark grey.

Amidst the dull and dark atmosphere of the inner city, lay vast openings used as marketplaces, where the sun could touch the ground freely, and where life was not soaked in constant grey shade. In these markets, the roar of greedy merchants and tradesmen were commonplace, their stalls being little more than wooden structures, decorated with food, clothes and ornaments.

The city hosted several large cathedrals surrounded by expansive graveyards—and mass graves for those of lower status. The only place where greenery flourished inside the walls were at these holy sites, making them some of the most notable places in the capital. The enormously tall spires of the cathedrals, which stood as beacons amongst the sea of buildings, made them easy to locate. The interior of these holy places were vast and empty, with not much more than an altar and many rows of seats. It was required that upmost silence was maintained within the place of worship and the grounds surrounding it, as not to upset their god, "Samh."

Just outside of the walls, a row of horses and carriages marched through the impoverished outer limits, with Jean sitting as a passenger, his composure as solid as ever, although the men seemed rather nervous and tense as they came towards the entrance.

Both Judith and Gabriel have parted ways with the Tri Firma well over a week ago, and they have slipped the mind of Jean, as the commander had greater concerns at the moment.

they approached the gate, with the wall stood as a barrier between the soldiers and the inner city, Jean got out of the carriage to talk to the guards who stood before them.

"Micah, Is that you?" Asks the commander, his composure breaking just a little, as curiosity creeps in.

The guard stands there with a warm smile, as if too old friends had just reunited. "Oh Jean, I remember you, back when we both aspired to be commanders, I wish I was in your position right now!"

"It's a gift and a curse my old friend. anyway, I'll talk to you later, can you open the gate, important matters to tend to," he says, his tone sincere and grateful, although clearly laced with a sense of urgency.

They both shared a solemn nod, before Jean walked back to his carriage and the gate was opened allowing entrance into the capital.

For some time they carriages traveled through the narrow and winding roads, the citizens staring in admiration at the large carriages that marched through their cobblestone paths.

Their desired location was the kings residence, which was a castle situated on a small island amidst the city's major river. They ventured to meet the monarch, along with his generals, as they needed to discuss what had happened in the southern valley. A few days prior a messenger was sent to the capital, which notified the government of the Tri Firma's tragedy, causing this meeting to be called.

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As they cross the bridge and enter the castle's grounds, they are greeted by the king, who was standing outside patiently, surrounded by his servants.

Jean leaves his carriage, before walking over to the king and bowing down, the rest of the Tri Firma sitting motionless knowing that they will have to stay outside till the meeting concludes.

"You may rise Jean, now follow me to the meeting," says the king bluntly, his tone condescending, yet laced with importance and urgency.

Jean nods before he follows behind the old monarch, "What have you heard Augustus? I can dispel whatever rumours may have can your way."

"Silence, we will not talk on this matter until we reach our destination!" Replies the king, his tone clearly frustrated by this comment, although his demeanour not changing at all.

With a elegant push from Augustus, both doors open, allowing Jean to view the large and vast marble dining hall, adorned by even more marble sculptures of former kings and queens, the place being dimly lit by lamps, as there were no windows at all..

Arround the table sat four men, with two available seats, one at both ends. The men seemed to be on average rather old, although they were dressed in fine garments. their eyebrows furrowed in judgement as they seen the commander walk in, although one sat, far too immersed in his document, to pay much attention.

Augustus walks to his seat at the other end of the table and so too does Jean at the opposite end, as all the nobles stare at the commander.

The silence was broken by the king, causing all the nobles head to snap arround and focus on Augustus, "Edward is dead, and now you must stand as the representative for the Tri Firma." Jean didnt respond to the monarch's comment, as he didn't feel necessary in this scenario.

A bald noble with little more than a mustache, who was wearing a red garment over his head spoke up, "Speak infront of your king! You are a Tri Firma swine, may Samh strike you down!"

Jean, who was clearly angry, replied, "Sorry, I did not know if it was my place to speak."

A small chuckle escaped from the lips of the youngest noble, who had long elegant hair, and seemed to be a similar age to Jean.

"You are a true embarrassment to our religion, you dare name your army after it?" He says, his tone clearly mocking as he stared at Jean.

The commander opened his mouth to retort, although the king cut him off before speaking, with a rather compassionate tone, "Forgive their ignorance, as I was a close ally of Edward and I hope to be a close ally of you aswell. Edward was a great man who made the nobles tolerate the Tri Firma, but after his death, many of the nobles have now once again became hostile to your men."

Jean nods at the king before responding, his tone laced with a new found understanding, "I understand my king, so before we move on to a different topic, may we adress one thing."

The king allows it, and the other nobles nod unwillingly, their boredom made clear.

"Do you think Edward would have chosen me to be the other commander if I was some brute? No. Do not view me as such. If you listen to my words and view my actions, and you still believe I am a bad fit, so be it, please express your anger. But before that, please suspend your feelings, and think of the greater good. If you have issues with my men's conduct, we can sort that out, now let's please get back on track," Jean says, his tone calm, yet demanding.

Their is an akward moment where the nobles look arround at one another, not knowing what to think, before their gaze all collectively wanders to the king, who has just broken out into a fit of laughter.

"Jean!" The king cries, "You will be great." The angry nobles glare at the new representative, their faces clearly painted with a seething rage, although none speaking up.

"Now onto important matters," Augustus says, his laughter simmering back down to his serious tone, "May we tell you what the messenger told us. You may correct any errors with their report."

Jean nodded, and with a smile, the king began to speak, "We were told by one of your men—who left prior to your whole group returning, that Edward lead a raid that cleansed all of the slave army, although this came to ruin, when the place was ablaze by tactically placed petroleum. This resulted in the deaths of every single slave, slaver, and soldier who raided this place. The only escapee to our knowledge was Abe, but we were told you sorted this out, is this true?"

"Yes, my king," replies Jean, his tone clearly mournful, and his head bowed down in defeat.

The youngest noble once again piped up, "I hope with the death of so many brutes, the new Tri Firma can be a honourable army," his voice sarcastic and insulting, causing a great rage to build up inside of Jean.

"Forgive me for saying this in the presence of the king, but I believe the only one without honour, would be you! Do not drag the dead into your hatred," roars Jean who is now standing up, and perching himself forward to look into the noble's eyes.

"Stop it Sir Cattleman," says the noble next to him, who sat as a buffer between both Jean and the young man.

The man's plea to end this argument were ignored, as Cattleman continued, who himself was now standing up with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "Oh please, your army is filled with nobles bastard sons. You should be greatful to us nobles that you are standing here, as your father was generous enough to allow you to get into the army."

Jean gritted his teeth before the man between him and Cattleman stood up and spoke, "Young Sir Cattleman! You would not speak like this to Edward, and you will not speak like this to Jean! I have my issues with the Tri Firma, but this is not the place to speak on it!"

Both the commander and the young noble opened their mouths as if they were about to speak, but the king interrupted. "I belive this meeting is over, you may all leave now, although Jean, you stay here."

Two nobles left first, giving dirty looks at the commander, then Cattleman left after staring down Jean, and finally the noble who stopped the argument took the time to handshake the new representative and introduce himself. "The name's Cazan, forgive Cattleman's words," he spoke before he too left, leaving the place to just the king and Jean.

"You seem like a good man, do not let anger cloud your decisions again," the monarch mentions, as he looks across to a marble statue of the first king.

The statue depicts a heroic man, standing tall, his beard covering most of his face, with long silky and elegant hair, he was adorned in the clothes of common men, the only indication of royalty being his crown.

Jean's gaze fall over to the statue aswell, "who was the first king?" He asks, his tone soft yet curious.

"Sigil was a man who cared, he was a great ruler, but he could never have made the kingdom, Fantasium, what it is today. He didn't kill, he didng war, and he was far too logical. So don't be like him."

Jean nods confidently before the king requests him to leave and so he does.