Sallitia: Age of War

1

As the sun sank below the horizon, casting a warm, red glow over the kingdom of Sallitia, king Eburon breathed in the tranquil scent of the forest. The gentle rustle of leaves seemed to sing a lullaby, reminding him of the hard-won peace that now blessed his people. This moment of quiet was precious, yet it was soon interrupted by the steady clip-clop of hooves. Eburon turned to see his wife, queen Laralythia, and their son, prince Alvanar, riding into the courtyard.

The little prince, who wore a wide grin, was perched atop a young doe—a gift for his birthday, which he cherished dearly. Laralythia, despite her growing belly, had insisted on accompanying Alvanar on his riding exercises, even as everyone urged her to rest.

Eburon approached them, offering his hand to help his wife down from her horse. “Laralythia, you shouldn’t push yourself.” he said softly, his voice thick with concern. “You know how much it worries me.”

She rolled her eyes, though affection sparkled in them as she took his hand. “Oh, Eburon, please. While you were off fighting dragons, I managed an entire kingdom—and I was pregnant then, too. A little riding won't do any harm.” She laughed, kissing him on the cheek, her teasing touch as light as a summer breeze.

“Ada, ada!” Alvanar called out, his bright, eager face framed by the last light of day. “We saw a family of deer in the forest! And one looked just like you!”

Eburon laughed heartily, touched by his son’s innocent comparisons. Alvanar had always likened his father to a deer, ever since he first saw Eburon’s crown—a majestic circlet crafted from forest branches and red autumn leaves.

“Is that so?” Eburon chuckled, bending down to scoop Alvanar up into his arms. “Well, young sir, it’s getting late. Time to settle down for the night.”

“Nooo!” Alvanar protested with a mischievous grin. In a flash, the young elf squirmed free of his father’s grasp and bolted toward the palace. His laughter rang out, light and free, bouncing off the castle walls and filling the evening air with warmth.

Laralythia sighed, shaking her head with an amused smile. “Go after him, my love. I’ll put the doe and horse in the stable and catch up with you.”

Eburon nodded, giving her a gentle squeeze of the hand before heading off into the palace. He wandered from room to room, calling for Alvanar, yet there was no sign of the little prince. After a moment, a grin tugged at Eburon’s lips—he knew exactly where his son might be.

In his and Laralythia’s quarters, he noticed the closet door was slightly ajar, barely noticeable. “Hmm.” he mused aloud, voice thick with exaggerated uncertainty. “It seems Alvanar isn’t here either. Perhaps I’ll have to search elsewhere…”

Instead of leaving, he stealthily slipped behind the closet door, pressing himself into the shadows. Moments later, a small hand pushed the door open, and a little face peeked inside. Alvanar’s eyes darted about, his expression gleeful but cautious.

Just as Alvanar thought the coast was clear, Eburon sprang from his hiding place, sweeping the boy up with a playful growl. “Aha! I have you now, you little trickster!” he declared, tickling Alvanar’s ribs until he squealed with laughter.

Alvanar’s laughter was infectious, a joyous sound that filled Eburon’s heart. They both collapsed onto the bed, catching their breath, their smiles mirroring each other’s.

“Ada,” Alvanar said once his giggles faded, “I still don’t feel sleepy.”

“Well,” Eburon replied, settling his son comfortably on his lap, “how about I tell you a story?”

Alvanar’s eyes widened, eager and full of wonder. He leaned in close, his attention riveted. Eburon’s deep voice softened as he began, “Once upon a time, a young man ventured into the forest to find food for his village. But as he wandered among the trees, he heard the most beautiful song—a melody so enchanting it seemed woven from the essence of the stars themselves.”

“What happened next, Ada?” Alvanar whispered, his small hands clutching his father’s tunic.

Eburon’s eyes took on a faraway look as he continued, “He followed the song until he reached a clearing where an ancient willow tree stood alone, shrouded in silver moonlight. And there, under the branches, was an elf maiden with hair as red as fire and eyes as green as the deep forest. She was singing, her voice like a river of magic flowing through the night.”

“She must have been very beautiful.” Alvanar murmured, enraptured.

“She was.” Eburon agreed. “The young man was captivated. He asked her to come back with him to his village, but she only shook her head, smiling sadly. The young man kept returning, day after day, but he never asked her to leave again. They became close friends, their bond growing strong.”

“What happened then, Ada?”

“One day,” Eburon said, his voice heavy, “the young man came to the maiden with a yellow flower. He told her she had captured his heart, and he asked for her hand in marriage. But the elf maiden’s face grew sorrowful. ‘I can never marry you,’ she said, ‘for my life is bound to this tree, my home.’”

“But the young man was angry. He returned to his village and fetched an axe, determined to free her by cutting down the tree. When night fell, he went back to her glade. She begged him to stop, but he did not listen. With each strike of his axe, the tree’s ancient roots groaned, and when the willow finally fell, the elf maiden collapsed.”

Eburon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “As she crossed the forest’s edge, her body transformed into a delicate flower that bloomed only for a single night. For she was not just any elf, but the guardian of the forest itself. And thus, the young man lost what he loved most, because he tried to possess that which was not his to take.”

Alvanar’s eyes were wide, his young mind absorbing every detail. “Ada,” he whispered, “will I be a great elven king one day, like the ones in the stories?”

Before Eburon could answer, they heard a soft voice behind them. “Of course you will.” said Laralythia, her voice warm as she entered the room and settled beside them. “You have the heart of a king already, my brave Alvanar.”

With a gentle smile, she began to hum an elven lullaby, her voice a soft, soothing melody:

"Ter i lóme, nai lye ómanya rahtuva, 
Or i súre, nai lyenna órenya wilyuva… 
Nai loruvalye, hendu holine… 
Nai loruvalye, eli calime… 
Á sasta ingalya or telcunyat, 
Nanwie nauvar ilye olorilyar…"

(Through the night, let my voice reach you, through the wind, let my heart fly to you… Sleep, eyes closed… Sleep, stars are shining bright… Rest your head in my lap; all your dreams will come true…)

The gentle rhythm of her lullaby carried the prince into a deep, peaceful slumber. Eburon and Laralythia exchanged a quiet smile, watching their son with love and hope in their hearts.

They held each other close, cherishing this moment of peace, even as they both silently hoped that Sallitia would remain safe for him to one day inherit.