The royal envoys wore different colored outfits, and each color had a meaning related to the purpose of their mission. From the moment they stepped into the Delve family's manor, Soren had a hunch something was off.
That color was the one worn when royal envoys came to propose marriage to anyone who was supposed to join the royal family. Soren knew something wasn't quite right, but he never thought he was the one chosen by The Mother Tree.
Captain Valerick couldn't believe it when Soren told him why he had to run out of town. He was pretty shocked when he found out that Soren was the one picked by The Mother Tree to become the next empress. Valerick had heard that the empress of Veridian never considered gender because they were chosen by The Mother Tree, but he had never known how that could happen.
Men can't get pregnant or give birth.
"Commander, this whole situation is coming up pretty quick."
Soren looked at Valerick and Kael (a field officer in the unit and one of Soren's trusted colleagues) returned his gaze. Meanwhile, the Basalt Guard behind them looked on in bewilderment as the situation unfolded.
"You can't just leave on a whim, everything has to follow the traditional rules, even in Dreadmoor." Valerick spoke again.
Usually, before the "bearer of the heir" leaves, which is chosen by the Mother Tree, the city throws a farewell party. The celebration lasts three days before the departure for the palace and matrimony with the king. It's also a way to honor the bride's family.
After all, in Arboris tradition, being chosen as a 'Queen' is an honor.
But before he left for Veridian, Soren told Malakor that he'd negotiate with the new king to have just one kid and that he wanted to be sent back to Dreadmoor after. He didn't want to become the official queen, he just wanted to fulfill his duty as a bearer of the heritage designated by The Mother Tree.
"Commander, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I'm curious to know if you fully understand what you just said." Malakor wasn't happy, but Soren laid out his conditions for leaving right away and not taking the celebration part.
"If it would be all right, I would like to inquire about the possibility of returning to Dreadmoor once I have completed my task. Regardless of the king's decision, I will graciously accept it."
Malakor didn't say anything else after that, he just walked away, leaving Soren behind, and the man took that to mean Malakor agreed with what he wanted.
"I just found out as well, completely out of the blue. I'm leaving everything in your hands, Valerick, including my family." Soren delivered his final message. He put his right hand over his left chest. Instantly, everyone did the same thing, the soldiers' military salute at Dreadmoor.
It was a quick and hurried goodbye. As Soren got into the horse-drawn carriage, he could hear his mom sobbing—she still couldn't bear to let him go to Veridian. Being a bearer wasn't exactly a source of pride for a Commander Knight like him.
The carriage was like a luxury version of a cathedral, all about showing off Veridian's wealth. It was called a "Gilded Palanquin" and was designed to take the precious stuff through the streets of Arboris. It looked like it had been created from moonlight and polished silk, with a pale, cream-coloured ivory surface that shone with an odd, porcelain-like glow. Its frame was covered in baroque filigree, vines of sculpted bone and precious metal, all mimicking the relentless, twisting growth of the tree roots. Two royal coachmen dressed all in white were holding the reins.
The seats were covered in deep-tufted velvet in a shade of bruised rose, as soft as a Northern snowdrift. Sheer, gossamer curtains hung like frozen waterfalls from the windows, promising a bit of privacy. There were four crystal lamps hanging from the roof, looking like frozen explosions of light. Their amber glow was meant to cut through the shadows of the palace, even when the sun weren't shining. And...the strong jasmine scent. His large frame, standing six feet, didn't make the space feel cramped. The plush seat was more comfortable than the saddles he'd always ridden, including the one on his trusty warhorse, Alberon. His beloved horse.
He hadn't even said goodbye to the horse he had raised since he was a kid.
Soren wore his Commander Knight's ceremonial robes, he didn't plan on giving up his identity as a Knight, even though he had come to the palace as the king's "Queen." He wouldn't change his clothes like Malakor asked, and he wouldn't even take off his old military boots he'd worn on his travels as a Commander Knight.
His mother and the servants packed his clothes into three big suitcases to take with him. He carried a sword at his waist, which he always wore. He sat in the horse-drawn carriage and let out a long sigh.
When he heard that the cure for Mordessa's illness was the sap of the Mother Tree, he was pretty surprised. It's even more interesting when learning that the sap only appears once every 10 years, just like the tree's annual fruiting cycle.
As a native of Arboris, Soren is deeply connected to the story of The Mother Tree. Ever since he was a kid, everyone's always talked about how amazing the Mother Tree is. The tree is like the guardian of the nation of Arboris and can only grow within the Veridian Palace. The Mother Tree grew hundreds of thousands of years ago inside the Veridian Palace when Arboris was experiencing a long drought. The tree, which had been small from the start, grew to a massive size overnight and performed many miracles. That's all Soren knows.
There's no extra info on how The Mother Tree caused a man to get pregnant and give birth.
Soren leaned back against the horse-drawn carriage seat, he was starting to feel tired. It wasn't a particularly long journey for him, but the feeling made him uncomfortable and claustrophobic inside.
"Veridian feels like they're trampling on my pride," he muttered.
If it weren't for his younger sister, he would have definitely turned down the king's request, even though it was an order. He'd rather die as a Knight Commander than be part of the royal family.
The journey took five hours. Soren opened his eyes in surprise as the horse-drawn carriage crossed the threshold of Arboris, the jagged and majestic border where the skeletal bite of the North finally gives way to the emerald hunger of the kingdom of Veridia. It's a place where the cold, honest mountain rocks meet the secrets of a beautiful, blood-soaked valley. When it's not snowing, this gate is a beautiful green oasis. This grand old entrance, weathered by a thousand winters, remains a silent and wooded witness to the laws established within the kingdom beyond. There are narrow, winding paths that are covered in pale dust, cutting through the vibrant valley floor. They reflect the last of the sun's rays as they lead to the city centre.
And the noise began to grow louder.
Soren realized that he had fallen asleep easily during the trip, he hadn't known that the smell he'd disliked from the start had actually helped him sleep more deeply.
He opened his eyes wide, stretched his body a bit, and started paying close attention. The sound was like a joyful cry, a mix of voices and instruments. Soren was curious.
"We have reached the heart of downtown." The coachman said these words to Soren in a soft voice, but one that was still easy to hear.
Soren looked through the slightly parted curtains, and his eyes widened in surprise.
Arboris, the capital of Veridian, is a city where people live in a sun-drenched maze of flowers and stone. When the deep snows of the long winter have cleared, the city reveals its true "Terrible Perfection", looking like a garden that has swallowed up every bit of civilisation. It's a place of "Gleaming Sorrow," where the amazing architecture is constantly reclaimed by the constant vertical growth of the Mother Tree's influence. There are massive, pale lavender wisteria cascades from every balcony and rooftop, like frozen waterfalls of flowers that you'd normally see when the snow melts and spring arrives, their weight supported by intricate iron lattices. The buildings are made of warm, honey-coloured stone that seems to glow from within, even when the distant sun is pale and weak. Ornamental iron lamps stand as silent sentinels along the main roads, their glass panes ready to glow with amber light.
And now, the streets, covered in white snow, had hundreds of people crammed onto them. Old, young, and even children. They wore such beautiful clothes in such lovely colors. The people here wear clothes in much more interesting colors than the folks in Dreadmoor.
Soren's fingers were clenched as he held the curtain, watching the people welcome him. He knew they were both desperate and overjoyed at his arrival in the Kingdom of Veridian. Soren looked at the flags that had been hung, a bunch of contradictions. On one side of the street, there was a banner for King Caelum that was kind of hanging down. On the other side, people had put up gold ribbons and flowers on the balconies to welcome him as a "Queen."
"Welcome, Your Majesty!" the people cheered, some waving their hands.
The palace gates swung open with a heavy creak after such a long journey.
The kingdom of Veridian stands as a sprawling coastal metropolis where the ivory bones of society blend with the earth's relentless, flower-like hunger. Perched on top of jagged cliffs overlooking a sparkling sapphire sea, the city is a maze of cascading marble walkways and soaring baroque spires, all bathed in an ethereal golden glow that conceals the blood-soaked secrets beneath their foundations.
Every building in Veridian shows off the luxury of "Silk", made from sun-bleached stone and decorated with golden filigrees that copy the tangled roots of the Mother Tree.
Massive domed towers rise up like skeletal fingers towards a bruised purplish-blue sky, their facades decorated with intricate mosaics and ancestral emblems that watch over everyone with relentless attention.
Massive, fluted pillars hold up circular balconies that stick out into the turquoise depths, creating a sense of "Golden Melancholy" for the people who walk along them.
Circular pools of crystal-clear water were set into the marble plaza, showing off the impressive architecture and the slow, pale sunset in the distance.
But now everything looked white and cold after the long winter.
As the carriage doors opened, Soren stepped out. He was like a rough basalt pillar, clad in a leather breastplate and a gray woolen cloak. He refused to look like an "Queen." He was a Knight, and the sword at his waist was proof of that. He didn't want to come across as weak to the Veridians.
The high alchemist Malakor came over to Soren after getting out of the carriage, he smoothed out his cloak, which looked completely smooth. He didn't look over at Soren, "Don't worry about it, Commander," said Malakor, his voice standing in stark contrast to the cheers of the crowd outside. "It appears that you are the most beloved person in Veridia today. If I may offer a suggestion, it would be to consider presenting yourself in a manner that does not resemble that of a prisoner, but rather, that of a savior." He spoke barely above a whisper, but there was a strong undertone of sarcasm.
"I'll decide for myself, Alchemist," Soren replied, just as gently as Malakor had spoken.
Malakor ignored the sarcasm in his voice and pointed at the grand staircase. "The king is waiting. the tree might be experiencing some hunger. I would suggest not wasting your time." He wrapped up the brief conversation and walked ahead on Soren.
They walked down a long hallway and the palace servants and guards who greeted them looked at Soren with wide eyes. They looked at him with total astonishment. Soren had heard from Malakor that not a single person in the palace knew that the "Queen" chosen by The Mother Tree was a man.
It had been ages since a man was chosen as the bearer in Veridian, so it's no surprise they looked at Soren like they were seeing a ghost. They probably thought a beautiful, graceful young woman would emerge as queen. So when they saw a man who stood six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a muscular build, and a face covered in scars, they were absolutely stunned.
Soren looked around the hall.The hallway of the Veridian Kingdom was a space where the beauty was so extreme it felt like a biological assault on the senses. When Soren first stepped into this corridor, he was met with a labyrinth of light and gold that stood in stark defiance of the cold of the North.
The floor beneath Soren's boots wasn't stone, but a swirling, crystal-clear expanse of liquid emerald. It was glowing with a subterranean light, and was etched with glowing Veridian sigils that hummed with the rhythmic, possessive thrum of the Mother Tree's pulse. Every step felt like walking on a shimmering deep-water lake, where the reflections of the soaring arches danced like ghosts beneath the surface.
The corridor was lined with a series of gilded arches, made from what looked like calcified silk and gold-leafed bone.
The pillars weren't just there, they were moving, twisting and turning like the branches of a tree in winter, reaching for the ceiling, which was all golden and fading into the distance.
There were massive clusters of crystal hanging from the rafters like frozen explosions of light, casting an amber glow that illuminated the jasmine-scented fog clinging to the air.
To Soren, the Knight Commander, this hallway felt less like a palace and more like a cathedral to obsession. Through the tall, arched windows, the sunlit forest beyond looked on in silence, its trees and paths seeming to hold secrets. It was a kingdom of tension and anticipation, where the "Ice" of Dreadmoor had to adjust to a luxurious stillness, and where every sparkling tile was a reminder that he was no longer a soldier, but a ruler connected to a world built on beauty, but with a dark past.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and the scent of jasmine hit Soren's nose. It was the same scent he had been breathing in all along the hallway.
King Lucian Sol Veridian looked like a fragile porcelain doll. He was wearing golden silk, and he looked fragile. But it was that huge, stunning crown that made Soren's heart start pounding. The white gold band and the living thorns around it looked huge on Lucian's head, his greenish eyes stared straight ahead, and his lips appeared a bright red, matching his long, wavy hair. The color really stood out against his pale skin.
So beautiful, Soren thought to himself.
"The North is here." Malakor announced.
Lucian lowered his gaze. Soren, taken aback, bowed his head as a sign of respect for the king.
"Commander Soren Vane Delve."
Soren's ears turned red as the voice echoed throughout the room, he hadn't expected such a beautiful face to have a voice even deeper than his own. The voice was firm, but Soren could tell it was trembling.
"We are pleased to welcome you to the Kingdom of Veridian. I would be interested to hear about your journey." The question seemed a bit fake, like it was secretly putting Soren down, and he finally looked up. His eyes met those of the new king.
"A five-hour trip filled with unfamiliar smells, and a sense of being forced, in Your Majesty's opinion, was my trip pleasant?"
Malakor stepped forward, his face darkening. "Commander, mind your words. You are speaking to Grace."
"I'm talking to the guy who's going to be my husband, right?" Soren said, still looking at Lucian, who stood there completely still. "Will this conversation be just an ordinary one, or should I address you as Your Highness in every word I said?"
"Commander-"
Lucian raised his hand, telling Malakor to stop responding to Soren's words. He didn't look angry, per se. Actually, Soren could see that he looked kinda sad.
"I'm wondering if Lady Mordessa Valla is feeling better now that she has been treated with tree sap?"
Soren blinked, the question caught him off guard after what he had just said to King Lucian. The man's voice sounded worried, a far cry from the casual chitchat he'd shared earlier and Soren could tell that the man was seriously asking about it.
"Yeah... for now..." Soren replied, a bit uncomfortable.
Lucian just nodded slowly, then the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
"The ritual…" Malakor suddenly interrupted their conversation, "I apologize, Your Grace, Commander, but it is deemed necessary for the ritual to be carried out without delay. If it is of interest, the Marrow Pear is expected to reach full ripeness at midnight tonight. It might be beneficial for the Commander to take a brief respite before the ritual this evening." Malakor spoke in a more solid tone.
Lucian gave a signal to one of his servants, who quickly took the crown off his head and put it pretty close to the throne. He only wore a crown that big for special occasions, and Soren had heard it weighed as much as 3 kg. He got up slowly, looked at Soren for a second, told some of his servants to help Soren rest, and then finally left behind the throne.