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Ben Kmeczik

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Nahator's Run

Notwarr
Ongoing 6452 Words

Nahator's Run

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As I grow older I find myself wondering more and more if those who would eventually change the world, would know just how much they will lose while fighting for their dreams, would still go on? Or would they settle for that they already have, refusing to sacrifice their happiness for the greater good? If I were to stand there again, in Shora's Gaze, and I would know what my actions are about to bring upon myself - as well as the freedom and hope they would bring for my people -, I know not if I would still do what I did. Maybe it's for the best that none of us knows the consequences for our actions. This way, I was there to alter history forever.

I was born in great Shurrah, the land of slavers and warlords. A slave of Clan Ralar, I had no rights and no control over my own life. Of my place of birth and parents I have little memory. Like many others at the time, I was sent into the desert as soon as I was able to lift a shovel. The terraforming of the Deadland was gaining momentum at the time. Clan Ralar had many gardens, being one of the first clans who diverted their efforts from conquest to terraforming.

I was sent to Midmorning, a new garden, little more than desert when I arrived. Life as a labourer in a fledgeling garden was not easy. Toiling away in the hot sun during the day, then sleeping in crowded rooms in the night. Many have not survived long in these conditions and even those who did have given up on life, focusing only on their next meal and resting when able to. But not I. There must be more to life than this and I will find it.

So I kept my head down and worked. As manual labour, the work was backbraking. Digging trenches, planting the watercatchers and hauling sand. Gods, so much hauling! As time went by and the labourers kept dying, more slaves were brought in to replace them. Those who were here since the beginning have been moved to construction. There, we worked alongside the Marred, the commoners in Shurrah.

Not only had we had to work just as hard, but everything we did had to be precise, otherwise buildings would fall apart, people could be crushed and then we would certainly be executed. Thankfully that never happened. After a few years, the Engineer's Council started taking apprentices from the workforce. Those who showed resilience towards the working conditions were chosen. I ended up under the hand of one Mehezarr Ralar, a construction engineer, second only to the Gardener himself.

Mehezarr was a hard man. Tough, but fair. Under his guidence I learned much about architecture, dam-building, planning and other matters related to engineering. More importantly however, I learned how to lead people, how to divide up the work, how to spot talent as well as troublemakers and to ignore the workers' concerns in favor of getting the work done. At that time I saw that as being cold and uncaring. Little did I know that in time I'd come to appreciate this lesson most.

The good Master eventually passed away from sickness. To everyone's surprise, out of all of his apprentices, he left me -a slave - as the next construction engineer for the Midmorning garden. By that time, the place barely resembled a desert. Grass and bushes covered much of the former dunes. A thin forest lay to the north, with a few small creeks inside. At times even rain was falling, although most of the water was still brought in by canals or the watercarriers. The average temperature was much lower than it used to be and slaves died a lot less, thank the Gods.

In honor for my long years of service to the garden, I was freed and raised to the rank of Marred, when I joined the Engineer's Council. At that time I could have left Midmorning Garden. I had no cause to complain however. Life as an engineer was everything a slave could ever dream of. No hard labour, plenty of food and drink and my own house with servants. I was even allowed to have a family, but I had no intention to. And maybe, I never should have. Maybe I should have just left, go north into the country, live a comfortable life as a now free man. But I went down a different path.

When I was overseeing the work, sometimes I still talked with the slaves. As a former slave myself, I cared about their working conditions and tried to help them when I could. Why make them suffer like I did when there are other options? I often asked myself. It was during one of these talks when I first saw Naria, a girl working in the kitchens. I have never before seen someone so pretty. I often dined and lunched with the slaves after that, just so I could see her. After a while we started talking and I fell in love with her. And in time, she returned my feelings as well.

Since our first talks I knew I wanted a family with her. No, a Life with her. Slaves are not allowed to marry, however, and as a member of the Marred I couldn't own slaves to be together that way. And Clan Ralar rarely frees slaves. My talents at engineering were enough to earn my freedom, but I doubted it would be enough for both of us. I still had to try something and so I went to the Gardener. He would forward my request to the Chief. Trueblood like him would never live in the desert alongside the workers.

To my surprise, Chief Ralar agreed, even blessed our union under the Twin Gods. He made it clear however that now I owe him a favor. The type of favor that could not be forced upon one of the Marred, even by a Trueblood. In hindsight, I should have thought longer about what could he possibly ask of me, but at the time I thought of nothing but Naria.

A life with her was worth more than any favor, I felt at the time. Never have I thought, that a man can be this happy, let alone one who was born a slave. Every day I woke up with a smile and the first thing I saw each morning was her face. Being the construction engineer was no easy job, but with her supporting me, I felt like I was able to move mountains.

During those years I got close to the Gardener. He taught me a lot about the different plants we used and the general aspects of terraforming. I got the feeling that he wanted me to eventually replace him as Gardener. Which sounds insane, a former slave as gardener, so I never gave it much thought, I had my work cut out for me in the present. And Naria was with child.

It was around this time that Chief Ralar came to collect the debt owned. My own apprentice was to replace me as engineer and I to leave the garden. Clan Ralar made peace with a rival clan know as Missar. Clan Missar had no experience with terraforming, yet they attempted to build a garden of their own. As part of the pact, Ralar was to send an experienced gardener to Clan Missar's garden. And since Chief Ralar didn't want to rob any of his gardens of its gardener, the choice fell on me.

And so I gathered my family - my wife, Naria and our daughter, Hallia - and left the place where I lived my whole. Clan Missar's garden, called Shora's Gaze, laid far to the west, almost at the sea. After a long and tiring journey we arrived.

I knew that Shora's Gaze was a new garden, but knowing it was different than actually seeing it for the first time. Vast desert with a few buildings and a single water tank. Just like how Midmorning looked like when I first arrived there, many years ago, as a child. However, I wasn't young anymore and Naria has never even seen a fresh garden. This will be harder than we thought.

Life under Missar rule was different than under Clan Ralar. Clan Missar wasn't so cold towards their slaves. They often told them that - in a way - they are also members of the clan. Even if they can't wear the name, they should be proud of that. And they believed the clansmen. Some of them even called themselves Missar where the Marred couldn't hear. Naria, Hallia and I had to take up the Missar name as all members of the Marred caste should.

The slaves were obedient toward me as well, I doubt they knew that we were formerly slaves too. There was also the Marred working in the garden and my own Engineer's Council. This amount of respect and responsibility was new to me. Without Naria, I don't know how would I have dealt with the pressure.

Complete strangers looking up to me, obeying my every word. And as they worked I saw the same expresion in their faces I saw in my fellow slaves during the early years of Midmorning. The complete hopelessness of a slave forced to work in the desert. There is more to life than this. For some of us anyway. But maybe, now I could make it a reality for all of us.

At first I did try to turn Shora's Gaze into a real garden, lush and beautiful, just like Midmorning. The work was slow, slower than I remembered. It could've been because I wasn't such a great gardener, but our resources were also limited. Clan Missar's engineers hadn't the experience that the engineers in Midmorning did. Clan Ralar wasn't about to give up their power they gained from terraforming for some peace pact, so the only gave them their most expendable gardener. Me.

The sight of the scorching desert each morning slowly eroded not only my spirit, but Naria's as well. Her once sparkling eyes now rarely looked up from the ground. She arrived in Midmorning when it was already blooming, she'd never seen the lifeless desert, she wasn't used to it. I might have been able to bear the desert myself, but seeing the life draining away from my wife and knowing that my daughter will probably have the same fate was more than I could bear.

I broke my back over in Midmorning. Built a life there. And one day I was just sent away as a bargaining chip. After all we did for Clan Ralar, they forced us once again to live in the desert. Sure, it was part of the bargain, but all I asked was to marry someone they didn't even fully consider a person. And in return they took my whole life away. Well, never again. Never again will we be the plaything of the Trueblood, never again will we work for a land whose bounty we won't be allowed to enjoy. Even if Shora's Gaze could be turned into a bountiful land, by that time, we'd be dead.

From time to time I joined the slaves by the fire in the evening. I told them tales from the early days of Midmorning, how slaves just like them died and were replaced by the thousands. How those who survived were evetually sent away. How uncaring the Trueblood really is. They were loyal to their masters at first, but eventually as the first slaves started to die, many have flocked to my ideals.

The Marred got wind of what I was doing. They tried to warn me against disobaying Chief Missar, but it was Chief Missar how bid them to obey me. So they could do nothing of substance against me. For now.

Years passed and people were growing restless. They now expected me to lead them away from servitude and I was seriously considering abandoning the garden, but where to go? We can't go north, we would run straight into the arms of Clan Missar. Going east or west is not much better, the Deadland stretches from sea to sea, in the best case, we would end up in another garden and Clan Missar would get word of it. No, the only choice is to go south.

South, where few have ventured before and those who did never returned. No one has ever crossed the desert before, according to legend. But then again, no one has really tried to cross it since the first gardens were established. I learned a lot about surviving in the desert in both Midmorning and Shora's Gaze and my people are now used to live here as well. We had more of a chance than anyone before. But why would we run? We actually had a life here even if it wasn't the best. We had food, drink and - above all - we had no idea just how far south the desert stretches. What if there is no end to it? What if we reach the end and the land there is no better than the desert itself? Should we throw away everything we have for merely the hope of something better? Should I throw away everything for merely the hope of something better? With a daughter who just barely learned to walk?

Again, the clan chiefs took the decision away from me. Chief Missar heard of the rumors I've been spreading and sent some of his men to take me away. Take a Gardener away. That was unheard of, but Chief Missar was famously hot-headed. Some of the marred were happy to see me go, but others looked angry at the clan soldiers, who were sent to take me away. I had a bad feeling about this.

When they attempted to seize me, my wife tried to stop them and they impaled her without a second thought. At seeing this, my blood boiled and I threw myself at them. Some of the Marred joined me and we slew them, without any further casualities. I lifted the facemask of their leader and my heart stopped as I saw the pitchblack skin under it. A Trueblood. We slew a Trueblood. We would all die for that. Slowly. Children, adults, slaves and the Marred alike.

We buried our dead, but had no time to mourn. I sent out scouts into the desert to find the best path for us, but also sent some north so we have warning when the Missar army approaches looking for their men. In the meantime, we prepared for the journey. We used the construction materials to build carts, we made bags out of leather and put the samplings given for the garden into them to collect their water. All the tools not needed for travelling was left behind. When the northern scouts returned with word of an army heading our way, we were ready to head out. And so we did.

Even though I lived in the desert for so long, traveling it was harder than I thought. During the day, the heat made it hard to travel for long. And at night, the treacherous dunes injured many a careless scout. We kept to the south. At daylight, we based our route on the sun's path. I don't know if the Missar army ever tried to follow us, but we've never seen them.

At night the stars were our guides. During these treks in the dark, the group was silent. And I found myself often thinking about Naria. How I'll never see her again. She would be alive if not for my restlessness. Maybe she eventually would've found her peace in Shora's Gaze and the light would've returned to her eyes. But that would never happen now. I lost her forever. And how much more I'll lose...

Not all of us wanted to leave, but we were all forced to. I expected that argument to surface eventually, but the consequences were more dire than I could've foreseen. At first there was only complaining from those who would've rather stayed. Then there were arguments between the two sides and eventually they came to blows. During one of these fights someone died, the first victim of the journey, one of those who didn't want to leave. And to worsen the situatinon, the killer was the same young man who slayed the Trueblood. 

That night I awoke to screaming and noises of battle. To this day I don't know who started the fighting, but by the time I left my tent victims lay on the ground from both sides. Men fighting and killing each other, women and children huddling in the tents crying was the sight that welcomed me. At first I tried to talk down the fighters, but they were not paying any attention to me. Then to my surprise, the women got up and ran between the men crying and screaming, doing their best to talk down their loved ones from fighting.

Even though tensions were high, the men both hungry and angry, the women somehow managed to calm them down. Although I was glad that cooler heads prevailed, the sight of women soothing their men made me miss Naria more than ever before. But she was gone and I had Hallia to take care of. Thus I had to find a solution so that a massacre like this wouldn't happen again.

But there was not much I could've done. We chose to part ways from those who wanted to stay. They were a third of us and they took a third of our remaining water and food and headed north, back to Shora's Gaze, to Clan Missar. I never learned what happened to them. The rest of us continued south with many injured and our spirits low.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months and all we saw was the unending desert. Our numbers ever dwindled and so did our hope. When I looked at the faces following me, I saw the same look they had in the garden. That same hopelessness, that same acceptance of death. Was that all that was waiting for us? To die in the desert without home or hope? This can't be it. There must be more to life than that.

But where? Where would we find that 'more'? Everywhere I looked I saw only more desert. Abd we marched. We marched anyway. Through the hunger, the thirst, the heat and the pain, the less and less of us that remained, marched ever south.

When our food ran out and the weak kept dying, we were forced to make hard decisions. We consumed those who couldn't make it as a last choice to stay alive. Many were disgusted with ourselves, myself included, but there was no other option. And we paid the price for our transgessons.

Not long after we started eating our own some started to fall ill. Before the day was out, the whole camp had came down with some sort of disease. Some had chills, others were feverish. We had no medicine, no food and barely any water. Most couldn't fight off the disease and passed away during the night. I myself stayed up as long as I could - fighting the chills - to take care of my Hallia. Then exhaustion took the better of me and I fell asleep.

I woke the next morning to my chills gone. I saw Hallia sleeping, so I left the tent to check on the rest of the camp. As I expected, most didn't live to see the morning. People too tired to weep sat in front of their tents looking at the air in front of them. Some were bringing out their dead, putting them in the leather bags we used to condense the plants at the beginning of our journey. They planned to drink the condense water from those bodies. We survived consuming the dead once, why not again? Besides what other choice do we have?

I went back to my tent to wake Hallia, but when I touched her, my heart stopped. She wasn't breathing. I collapsed next to her.I shook her, trying to wake her to no avail. When I finally realized she was gone I tried to cry. But I too was way too exhausted for that. Then I walked out of the tent and left.

I left the camp and just walked aimlessly. All hope was gone. There isn't more to life than this. We were meant for the desert and we will die here. All we did, all I did was for nothing. How many people died so far? Alla of them could've had a better life, even as a slave. Even I - one born as a slave - had success in life. I loved and was loved back. I had a beautiful daughter and gorgeous wife. All that's gone now, all because I wanted more, more than what I had. And I had everything, what could be more than that?

I was granted the chance to lead. Lead where? To the exact same fate I was trying to avoid. To die worthlessly in the desert. But the Gods are crueler than that. The biggest fool - who thought he could cross an unending desert - should be the one to watch all his followers die before he too will pass. Nothing more awaited me or so I thought.

I have no idea how long I was wandering with these type of thoughts in my head. As the sky darkened, I collapsed. When I woke it was night. A clear, cloudless night. The full moon was high up on the sky, shining its pale light on the desert. And something in the distance shined back at it. I couldn't discern what it was, so I moved closer. And closer. And eventually I saw it. It was the reflection of the moon from a small creek. A creek!!

I ran up to it and dunked my head into the water and drank. I almost drowned but couldn't stop drinking. When I felt myself starting to pass out, I lifted my head from the water, took a deep breath and continued drinking. When I couldn't drink anymore I crawled into the creek and laid on my back, up to my ears in the cool water. I looked at the moon and laughed. Laughed like a maniac.

Eventually I stood up and went back to our camp. It was dawning when I arrived. I went to my tent, but found no trace of Hallia. Her body was gone, probably added to the rest to drain the water from them. A cruel fate, but it didn't matter, we won't be drinking that water. 

I told of the creek to my fellow survivors. Most didn't believe me or didn't care, but some still listened. We took a cart and as many empty waterskins as we could carry and went back. After returning with the filled up waterskins, hope once again returned to the survivors. The less than one hundred of us who remained packed the camp and set out toward the creek.

After everyone drank their fill, we decided to follow it back to its origin. After all, this much water couldn't have come from nowhere. We followed the creek for three days and nights, drinking its water when we were thirsty and eating the few plants that grew at its side when we were hungry. Finally we arrived at a range of low, rocky hills stretching from east to the west. The creek originated from somewhere among the rocks. 

We climbed the rocks and from the top looked south. When we looked around from the top, none could believe their eyes. I knew there was more to life, but this, I couldn't imagine.

South of the hills was a land unlike anything I've seen in my life. Rolling grasslands stretching all along the hills, creeks and rivers criss-crossing it, each carrying more water than we had with us when we set out from Shora's Gaze. Beyond the grass, a forest. A forest larger than Midmorning Garden, more trees than any of us could even imagine. And even further, beyond the forest, mountains, so tall their peaks were covered by clouds.

Some fell to their kness, others started crying. Most however - myself included - did both at the same time. I didn't stop staring for a long time. I couldn't. But then I forced myself to. I went and climbed the largest rock I could find on that hilltop and looked at the ragged, tired, injured, teary-eyed people. My people. And I spoke:

"Men! Women! Many have been our struggles. Many have been our losses. And many is our pain and suffering. We set out for a new life and now that life beckons us. That land down there is ours and so I claim it. I - Nahator Missar - claim this land for those who left their home for a better life. I claim this land for those who stayed true to our goal and never wavered. I claim this land for those who pushed through betrayal, hunger, thirst, sickness, loss, pain and suffering hanging on to little more than the thin hope of something better. To honor those who fell on this journey I name this land Hallia and I claim this land for Us!"

Year 1 sNr (since Nahator's run)

The sun shone down from the sky. Its rays did not carry much warmth this early in the morning, but it was enough to at least chase away the cold mists of the dawn. 

The tiny settlement of Sunrest was still quiet however. Most residents were asleep in their wooden homes scattered around the small stone structure of Castle Missar. 

As the air began to fill with songs of the earliest birds, the settlers also awoke. The shutters on windows opened, to let in the first light of the morning. Soon the doors opened as well, the still sleepy people pouring out onto the streets. They were all heading in the same direction.

Meridan walked along the earthen road, kicking pebbles still half asleep. A cool morning breeze grazed his face, bringing him out of his hazy state. He thought about the speech he soon has to give. No need to be fully awake for that, however. The same speech he gave every morning for the past year will suffice. For now, anyway.

Even this much time after they arrived in the place they called Hallia, the memory of the desert lived vividly in their minds. And how could it not? Many of their friends and family died in the crossing. Of the thousands of runaway slaves and workers, only a handful remained. Less than a hundred.

Meridan stood at the edge of an open field, wtih the last of the shacks now behind him. He walked up to a stone foundation standing in the middle of the field. Upon the stones was a wooden wall, bearing the memries of those who didn't make it.

Various carving of small figurines lay at the base of the wall. Necklaces, rings and other pieces of jewellery hung from nails beaten into the wood, alongside with crude drawings and paintings, shoes fit for babies and pieces of clothing. Each represented someone worth remembering, who did not get the chance to see their new home.

The crowd was gathering silently around the memorial. Meridan stepped on the stone structure, facing the crowd. He waited. As the last of the settlers arrived he began his usual speech.

"Friends! We gathered here today to remember the Lost. Those who gave their lives so we can stand here now."Stand here for what? - Meridan thought to himself. - A few shacks and a bunch of hopeless people.

"Forget not journey here! And forget not the cruelty of the shurrans! We chosen few are granted the chance to make a new kingdom. A place without the violence and the strife of our forebearers." A chance we can do nothing with. There's barely any of us left and even them are stuck in the past.

"With these thoughts in mind, Brothers and Sisters, rise! Rise and make this day worthy of remembrance. Make this day, worthy of Their sacrifice!" Worthy how? By farming and hunting like any other day, just to survive?

With emotionless, tired faces the crowd rose. The speech achieved nothing, again. It was good enough to keep them going, but for how long? They had no realistic future here, no matter what King Nahator said. Nahator, who also left the morning's gathering with barely a light in his eyes.

As Meridan watched the crowd trickling away, a young woman caught his eyes. She was standing still, looking at him. When only the two of them remained, she approached Meridan.

Leana. One of the few surviving Marred. A former worker, who lost both her parents and two sisters in the desert. An orphan in every sense of the word. Meridan knew her well. How could he, not, there wasn't many of them left.

"Your speech was nice. But it didn't make anyone happy." - said Leana in a thin voice - "You only ever talk about the past. What about the future?"

"The future?" - replied Meridan in a strict tone - " I was talking about the future. The future we need to build". Meridan tried to leave, but she stood in his way. " Let me go, child." - said the somewhat older former slave in a calm, but annoyed tone.

"No. I want to talk to you. People listen to you, but you no longer inspire them. It was your idea to build the Wall of Memories, but it's been a year and noone moved on." - Leana was moving closer and closer to Meridan. When she was just an arm's length from him, she said: "It was you, Meridan, who stopped us from despair. Now give us hope! Please."

"Hope? What kind of hope? Look around you, girl! There's barely a handful of us left and we are not getting any younger. We don't have enough to raise children and nobody is coming to join us." - Meridan gave long sigh and gently pushed the girl out of his way. "We don't have a future" - said he as he left.

Leana rushed after him. She grabbed his arm when she reached him and turned him towards the Wall. "What about them?" - she asked while pointing at the memorial - "Isn't it your message to make Them proud? Would they be proud at us? Watching us waste away here after they gave their lives in the crossing?"

"And just what should we do!?" - bellowed Meridan, now angry - "We don't have resources we had in Shurrah. There's no metal here to build proper tools. No grain to farm or animals to raise. All we can do is hunt and gather like the tribes of old. People can only go on for so lomg, while all they have to look forward to is what we have here."

"Then give them something more. My mother once told me that my father never worked hard in his entire life until she was with him. Men will only do just enough to survive, unless they have someone to take care of. So give it to them!"

"You are talking about a family. With whom? There is but one woman for every five men and even them not all young enough to bear children."

"Men will take care of their wives just as well as their children. And that's every women and every fifth men looking forward to something. A third of our people."

"With two thirds looking on in jealousy..."

"For now. But not for long."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, we crossed the desert once..."

Meridan was finally truly caught off-guard. "We crossed it once?! Yes and lost almost everyone on the way! I hope you don't expect these survivors to go through that once again!"

"Of course not! Let me finish!" - said Leana angrily - "We still have seeds of the desert plants, we used for terraforming in Shurrah. We could build a road through the desert, so others could join us."

"Well, " - replied Meridan, lost in thought - "that would be a large effort. A lot harder, than building houses here."

"Hard enough to warrant two thirds of our people?" - asked Leana with a suggestive tone.

"Well, maybe. Let's sit down and think about this." - replied Meridan with a smile on his face. 

Morning turned into afternoon and afternoon into evening. The sun was now setting behind the sea in the west. The warm air was cooling down and the sky was darkening.

Meridan and Leana spent the day talking about how to bring back their people from despair. In the end, they realised that there is but one solution: Religion. An idea of a higher goal, that you would be rewarded in the next as long as you try your best in this one. After all, there was no way to guarantee that working hard alone will bring you happiness. A former slave, Meridan knew that all too well.

"Just one last thing, Leana. You, if anyone, is capable ofbearing children. If we go through with this idea, you and the other young women will be all but forced into it. Is that what you wish?"

"No. But it is what I must do."- said Leana with a stark face. In the dim light of the setting sun, her face looked more mature than it really was. Meridan looked at her in amazement. This young girl would force herself through the pain of childbirth again and again, until death or old age rips the ability from her, just to keep the future of their people - no, their Nation - alive? While he - who only has to work harder than before - would give up? No. But still...

"Leana." - said Meridan while looking at the ground - "I'm not sure I can do this. I..."

"Meridan..."

"No! Wait. Let me finish!" - said Meridan calmly - "I can't convince the people the people to believe in the future. Not alone." Meridan looked up, into Leana's dark, sparkling eyes. "I need you. Or at least, your help."

Leana leaned close to Meridan. She planted her hands gently on his cheeks and looked him in the eyes. "If you promise, to continue fighting for our people, I will stay by your side until death makes us part."

"I promise."

Leana kissed him gently.

From the east, the sun rose the next morning. It's rays once again chasing away the morning mist. The air was slowly getting warmer and the first songbirds awoke. Soon after, the settlers of Hallia followed. Shuffling to the Wall os Memories once again.

But when they arrived, they noticed something. Something new. On the top of the wall were two new carvings, dwarfing the others. One of the sun and one of the moon. And not only that, but when the first settlers arrived, Meridan and Leana were already waiting there, Meridan standing under the sun and Leana under the moon.

Meridan shot a glance at King Nahator, who gave a quick bow of his head. Meridan - with a nervous smile on his face - began.

"Brothers!" - shouted Meridan, while stepping forward from the Wall. The unusual tone woke up most of the half asleep settlers. They were now listening. really listening. "The Sun has risen once again over our Land. The Sun that guided us here. The Sun that burned those who tried to follow us. The Sun that still guards our borders from the shurran warlords."

Meridan felt his nervousness melting away, as he got into the speech. "Our work now begins. Men of the south! We did not cross the desert, to waste away here. We did not pushed on after our loved ones died, just to live out the rest of our lives in wooden shacks, leaving nothing behind. Our lives can have meaning once again, but only if WE give it one!". The crowd was now paying attention. They all held their breath as Meridan spoke to them.

"Rise, now! Rise, now Brothers under the Sun. Go forth and make this Land truly ours! Make Hallia into a kingdom worthy of remembrance, for only You have the strength to do so!" - with his speech over, Meridan moved back to the Wall. Leana now moved forward.

"Sisters!" - she began in a gentler tone. "The Moon has sset once again. She guarded us in our sleep as She did in the desert. She did not do so, so we can give up hope and die here, but to carry it forward."

"Women of the south! A new day has dawned and with its light it carries our duty. The duty to support our Men, while carrying the next generation."

"Rise, now! Rise, now Sisters under the Moon. Go forth and carry this Nation into the future. Make Hallia into a nation worthy of remembrance, for only You have the will to do so."

By this point everyone in the crowd was standing up. Their gazes fixed upon the pair standing under the carvings of the celestial bodies.

"All hail the Sun!" - said a male voice from somewhere in the crowd. "All hail the Sun!" - replied what seemed like the rest of the men.

"All hail the Moon!" - shouted a girly voice. "All hail the Moon!" - answered a smaal chorus of female voices.

With that, the crowd began walking away to do their works. Their faces were bright, their eyes sparkling. Low murmurs of conversation were heard everywhere. The younger women in the crowd were exchanging glances with the younger men. Only one man stood still.

King Nahator Missar was standing straight as a tree, looking at the pair on the stone pedestal. He waved for them to come to him.

"You did well," - started the king- "but now it is your responsibility to keep their spirits up. They will turn to you, when things get tough, are you prepared for that."

" At this moment, I am prepared for anything." - said Meridan while firmly holding Leana's hand.

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