(Before the End, I Returned)
Chapter 2
Pryan and his father, Arel Gwanar, the Viscount of Ardmere, walked side by side along the mountain path that marked the northern edge of their land.
Ardmere lay within the Dukedom of Eirholt, the third largest dukedom of the Empire of Valerion. It was not the richest nor the most powerful, but it was known throughout the empire as a land where people lived well enough to smile. The fields below stretched wide and fertile, broken only by quiet villages, stone roads, and windmills that turned steadily with the passing breeze. Life here moved at a slower pace, steady and reliable, like the ticking of a clock that never rushed.
Below them, Ardenfall rested in the valley, its low stone rooftops gathered along the bend of the river, surrounded by fields that gradually faded into the distance, where the rest of Ardmere lay beyond sight.
Beyond the mountain ridge rose the borderlands of the Fourth Dukedom, separated by jagged peaks that served both as protection and responsibility. As Viscount, Arel ruled these lands with measured care. Ardmere was neither poor nor extravagant. Its people lived modestly, worked honestly, and trusted that tomorrow would resemble today. The towns carried an old-world feel, not untouched by progress, yet unhurried by it, as if time itself had decided to linger here a little longer.
In the year 1100 of the Aurelian Calendar, such peace was considered a blessing rather than a guarantee.
Arel paused near the summit.
"Pryan, one day this land will be yours to protect," he said. "The people who live here are your people. The Emperor has entrusted us with a responsibility—to protect the smiles of those he holds dear. And we feel the same."
He placed a hand on Pryan's shoulder.
"I don't ask you to be powerful," his father continued softly. "I only want you to be a good person. Remember this, Pryan. I am your father, and I will always stand by you."
Pryan fell silent.
For a moment, his chest tightened, as if the weight of those words reached deeper than they should have. He lowered his gaze, steadying himself.
"Father," he said quietly, "I am your child. And the people of this land are mine too. I, Pryan, swear on my name that I will protect those who are dear to me."
A gentle smile crossed Arel's face.
"Good," he said. "That makes me happy."
Pryan hesitated.
"Father, I—" His voice faltered. He wanted to throw his arms around him, to cry, to let everything spill out. Instead, he swallowed and forced the words through. "I will become a good and strong boy. I will protect you, Mother, and our people."
Arel smiled faintly.
"Pryan."
He pulled his son into a gentle embrace, one hand resting on Pryan's head as he held him close.
Arel released him first and turned back toward the narrow path.
The wind softened as they began their descent, their footsteps steady against the worn stone. Pines and broad-leafed trees lined the path, their branches swaying gently as sunlight filtered through the leaves. With each step downward, the valley slowly slipped from view, Ardenfall disappearing behind the curve of the mountain.
Pryan walked beside his father in silence, his small hand brushing against Arel's cloak as they moved. The scent of earth and wood lingered in the air, familiar and calming.
They continued down the mountain together, leaving the height behind and returning to the life that waited below.