Silent Symphony

Prologue

A fire leapt cheerfully in the hearth, sending amber glows dancing about on the walls. The light twisted and spun to the spell of the drummers who took to the streets every night. Onward, the flames celebrated, unaware of the turmoil churning in the Cardinal Nations.

    A man stood precariously over the mantle, watching the fire with a hint of sorrow that turned his eyes dark. He worried that there might be a time in the near future where the flames would ignite with fury and dance upon the bodies of his people.

    He crossed his arms over his chest and studied the stitching in his gauntlets. They bore the proud blues of the North Cardinal, marking him as a leader he was not ready to be. He could lead them, he could govern them, he could be just and fair - but the four Cardinal Nations were on the brink of civil war, a war he had no power to stop. The East, who had sparked the hostilities all those years ago, had managed to rope the small nation of Anthra in on their scheme to overthrow the other three Cardinals as well as the United Confederation of Cities that dwelled between them.

    Together with the Eastern foot soldiers and Dra-Sorcerers, they were staging attacks on the South and West Cardinals, as well burning any Confederate village they met along the way.

    He nervously adjusted the buckles of his tunic as he envisioned the implications of the coming war. The North Cardinal was isolated by two small mountain ranges that merged together at the southern end; that and the winter's biting cold was all that had kept the forces of the East from advancing upon the North. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came; the mountains and the snow could keep war away for some many months -- maybe even a year if they were lucky -- but eventually, battle would come and his people would have to fight back.

    "Garrett," a soft voice called from somewhere behind him. He turned around in surprise but relaxed when his fellow ruler padded silently to his side. For a major of the loudest of the four Cardinal Nations, she still knew the value of silence. Garrett admired that.

    "Faylinn." He nodded and swept his helmet from the floor. It was more of ceremonial object than a means of protection - the helmet was constructed from a black oval of thick fabric over a heavier base with a short leather visor that conveniently shadowed his eyes from view. A plume of deep wine-colored feathers from the shallow tail hawk marked the major for who he was: a leader of the North Cardinal, the nation of rhythm, the home of the drum, and the final heartbeats that warded off the death of their dying country.

    There was once a time when the North Cardinal could draw deep from the essence of the sea and step forth to lead the four branches of the Nation against any adversaries in their path - they had possessed the power to steer the others from corruption as well as the ability to take control, and lead. In those times, a single rim shot from a brajé of the North was enough to stop a man's heart.

    But that time was no more.

    The North had secluded themselves at the beginning of all hostilities, and only they knew the secret passages out of the mountains. Showing the ways to an outsider was forbidden until the days of peace came again.

    Faylinn sent him the gentlest of smiles, probably sensing his unease. She wore a uniform identical to his own --  a black padded jerkin over a light tunic that was thin enough to fit under her gauntlets without being too snug. A slash of white, which expressed her rank among the Cardinals, halved her jerkin, and a velvet cape of deep blue fell down to the back of her knees, held up by two sections of steel links at the front of her shoulders. Her light, golden hair was pinned tightly away from her face and hands sheathed in white gloves held her helmet with care, if not caution.

    "Are you ready?" she asked quietly. Alone, she was such a different person than the soldier he normally heard barking above the drumline.

    Garrett sighed and turned his eyes back to the fire. Somehow he felt that she wasn't just asking about the night's festivities; she knew better than anyone that a war was coming.

"What am I supposed to do? Our people are not ready for a battle, much less a war."

    A warm hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Let them have this last week, then. Fortune has smiled upon us thus far and has granted us a little time. We will be ready when the time comes."

    "How can you be so sure?" Garrett demanded.

    Faylinn set down her helmet and took Garrett's out of his hands. The plume swayed gently, as if the feathers were still capable of flying. She paused for a moment before leaning up onto her toes and placing the helmet onto his head. The leather interior fit snuggly around his skull, yet there was no mistaking the weight it carried. Faylinn adjusted the it until the visor nearly covered his eyes and buckled the strap under his chin, making Garret feel like a child.

   "I don't know," Faylinn mused, picking her own helmet off the floor. She looked at it for a moment, then placed it on her head and started fiddling with the strap. "But I do know this -- the drums don't stop beating 'til our hearts do."

A/N
Generic map of nations up above

Edited 8.19.16 by skygardens thank chuuuu