Heroes in the Mirror

Chapter 1 - Past

It was the year of the Aggregate. A quinquennial event where the rulers of the lands across the seas convened with one another, discussing conflicts and murmuring behind bejeweled hands their mockery of my country. The Aggregate always took place here. I presumed that was because our land held no threat and nothing of value to them. A cesspit of the vilest excrement, they would whisper to one another, while loudly and falsely claiming how picturesque the scenery was.

What they did not realize at that time, though, was that soon this kingdom would not be under the thumb of a tyrannical king.

No.

When the Aggregate met, there would be no whispers of the filth that infested this land. When they arrived, it would be to the coronation of a new ruler, and with him, the rebirth of a once prosperous land.

Our country had not always been mocked for its poor land and even poorer people. It had once been beautiful, eclipsing all others that tried to compete. Elemdalya, its former and glorious name, was unmatched in all of its aspects. Our building were stronger, inlaid with minerals of numerous varieties. Our streets were wide, built of brick and stone imported from the mountains in the north. Our people were peaceful, using the magic of the elements to thrive and grow. We were unstoppable under the wise guidance of our leader, the Ever King.

Or so we thought.

They came swiftly. We had not even known of their existence, for there was no mention of their names. Then they stormed our country and massacred everyone who fought back. They hunted down and slaughtered all of our Elemendis, using their own foreign form of magic. Their magic was dark, something so unnatural could never be used for anything but destruction. Quickly, the word of the violence spread, and suddenly everyone heard the rumors of this new ruthless foe.

Every kingdom knew that Elemdalya fell to the Daraians.

And so the other lands immediately offered their support of our land's defeat. They tucked their tales and let the Daraians ruin our country and rename it Nedalya.

Then for thirty years, while our people were oppressed by the Daraian ruler, the foreign dignitaries visited during the Aggregate and haughtily laughed at us, for we were the once mighty kingdom and look at us then. Oppressed and treated like animals by the new ruler's soldiers.

They would pay for their permitting of such horrendous violence. The kingdoms across the sea would beg for Elemdalya's forgiveness. But the Daraians...they would not be granted such mercies.

Those were the promises that I spoke to myself each night before retiring to my small room. It was located in an inn in my hometown city of Basaliad. The room itself was a luxury compared to most of the living conditions of my fellow countrymen. It was tiny, barely ten feet in either direction and only around seven feet tall, but it had a straw mattress, a wall sconce, and enough room for me to pace when sleep evades me. Though the walls were thin, they were there, another thing I could call a luxury at that time. Most citizens of Nedalya lived on the street, and those with a room in a building were nobles to them.

I stretched out and reached for my shoe, sliding it up my foot and lacing it up the calf. The soles of my footwear were thin, practically nonexistent, but they covered my feet and softened the sound of my heavy footsteps. I would need that that night. Grasping the hilt of the blade that rested on the itchy fabric of my mattress, I slid it into the leather sheath hanging from my hips. Then I stood, my tall height reaching just a foot shy of the low ceiling. I walked to the door, but stopped when I passed the mirror fragments I stuck to the wall.

My reflection, broken like the pieces of shattered glass on the wall, glared back at me. I could not see my face as a whole, for I had not been able to get the mismatching mirror pieces to fit together when I first rented the room, but I was able to piece together what I looked like. A glass shard, one of the larger ones I had found on the street, revealed one gray eye, and another piece displayed a flash of my blonde hair. When I shifted to the left and tilted my head at just the right angle, I saw the sharp hollow of my cheeks, a result of malnutrition. Another piece showed my jawline, sharper than other people's. I glanced down at the other mirror fragments pinned to the wall. There were not enough of them to let me see what my physique appeared like, but if I was stripped of my tunic, I knew I would see some portions of a chest corded with muscle, despite the lack of food.