Birthright: The Contested Seat

Kyran

Talia had been rather quiet since her grandfather's funeral. It wasn't the total silence she had endured in the forest after his death, but she spoke only when necessary. Kyran could sense her frustration. Her grandfather's life, her parents, and her past were all cloaked in mystery, and it seemed impossible to uncover any of it. He also knew that trying to force Talia to speak would only end badly for him, usually resulting in him nursing a bruise from her well-aimed strikes. So, as he had learned to do, he stood as her silent support, ready to be there when she needed him.

They walked silently to Namdi Zaaglaan's quarters for their lesson on Wurtheni isolationism. Last week, they had learned about the unification of Wurth, and Kyran found the story of Kwekwezi the Ash Spear particularly fascinating. He hoped that one day he could be as revered as Kwekwezi.

As they entered Namdi's chambers, they found he had already prepared seats for them. "Good morning, your grace, and to you, young Talia. Please sit, you've arrived just in time," said Namdi, his bright teeth shining as he smiled at them. 

"Today, we will be learning about Wurtheni isolationism," Namdi continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "There is a reason other nations know so little of Wurtheni customs and traditions. Do you know why?"

Neither Kyran nor Talia knew the answer. Kyran had always wondered why there was so little information about the Wurtheni. All he knew came from the stories told by Wurtheni merchants who frequented Brokepurse, but it was often hard to discern truth from fiction. Not that it mattered much to him—he had always enjoyed a good story.

"Not to worry, I would be surprised if you did," Namdi chimed in, noticing their puzzled expressions. "Our culture and customs are deeply rooted in and intertwined with our religion. When my people first began to worship Firaloth, the Volcano God, we wanted to share our worship with the world. However, our culture was deemed strange and foreign. Firaloth's name fell from the mocking lips of ignorant men. It was then that Wurth withdrew within itself. We would not suffer our god to be mocked."

Namdi's eyes flashed with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he recounted the history. "Isolation became our shield, preserving our beliefs and practices from the scorn of outsiders. This self-imposed seclusion allowed us to develop a rich and unique culture, but it also meant that much of what we hold dear remains a mystery to the rest of the world."

"People can be so cruel," said Kyran, feeling genuinely sympathetic. He imagined how he would feel if he spread the word of his gods and was met with mockery. It would be infuriating and humiliating. He felt a surge of anger on behalf of the Wurtheni and realized he understood them a bit better now.

"Yes, cruel indeed. What came next was worse," said Namdi, his voice tinged with a solemn sadness. "Over time, the world began to take offense to Wurth's beliefs. To believe in Firaloth was to deny the gods of other lands. Indeed, all nations warred with each other at this time, yet Wurth was still young and incapable of protecting itself."

Namdi paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "Our people faced persecution not just from one nation, but from many. They saw our faith as a threat to their own gods and sought to extinguish it. Wurth was besieged by enemies on all sides, and our fledgling nation was not yet strong enough to defend itself adequately."

Kyran's mind raced with the implications. He could see the struggle and pain that must have marked those early years. "So, isolation was a necessity as much as it was a choice," he mused aloud, understanding dawning on him.

"Precisely," Namdi affirmed. "Isolation became our sanctuary. By turning inward, we could focus on building our strength and preserving our culture without the constant threat of external hostility. It allowed us to develop our own unique identity, one that we could protect and cherish."