Ishwari chisole
Winter arens
Weltharas continent
Eight days before destruction of Aravan island
The great hall, a cavernous space of stone and shadow, was magnificently adorned, though its grandeur felt hollow to many. Its formidable walls were almost entirely covered with a collection of ancient tapestries, each one a rich tapestry woven with threads of history and legend.
These intricate hangings depicted a proud lineage of kings and powerful emperors, their forms rendered with remarkable detail. One could discern the glint of their formidable swords, eternally clasped in their regal hands, and the unmistakable gleam of their jeweled crowns, still perfectly intact upon their heads. These very symbols of power, passed down through generations, were now held, both literally and figuratively, in the hand of the current king. Yet, despite the impressive display of his predecessors' might, this monarch was widely perceived as an unworthy king, a man whose spirit seemed to shrink beneath the weight of his inherited responsibilities. His own people, the very subjects he was sworn to protect and lead, whispered behind his back, their hushed tones carrying the damning accusation of "coward."
The burden of that unspoken judgment hung heavy in the air, a silent condemnation that no amount of historical grandeur could dispel. Interspersed strategically somewhere between these ancient and venerable tapestries, banners of the kingdom were proudly hung, swaying almost imperceptibly in the faint drafts that coursed through the vast hall. These were not mere flags, but rather striking black sheets, each one featuring exquisite silver embroidery that shimmered faintly in the dim, filtered light. The central motif meticulously woven into the fabric of these banners was the majestic image of a mammoth, its formidable, curving tusks rendered with astonishing accuracy. The artistry involved in their creation was immediately apparent; it was clear that these were the product of countless hours, indeed, days upon days of meticulous needlework, a testament to the dedication and skill of the artisans who had painstakingly brought them to life. The silver thread caught what little light there was, giving the impression that the mammoth was almost moving, its horn a glinting, powerful assertion of the kingdom's ancient strength and resilience, a stark contrast to the perceived weakness of its current ruler. The contrast between the vibrant, enduring symbols of the kingdom's past glory and the present monarch's perceived shortcomings was palpable, a silent narrative playing out within the very fabric of the hall's decor.
A raised dais featured marble steps leading to an unoccupied throne. The throne itself appeared ancient, with a mammoth carved into its handrest and two large white tusks adorning its top. Hundreds of chains encircled the throne, which was vast in size, seemingly designed to accommodate a hundred people.
Ishwari found herself perplexed, questioning the necessity of such a colossal throne for the current king. It suggested that a blood giant might occupy it, with ample space remaining for ten additional humans.
The thousand chains entwined around the throne writhed like snakes, as if anticipating something, but what?
Ishwari had heard numerous tales of sacrifice within the Kingdom of Winter Arens. However, as she observed this gargantuan throne, her mind became blank.
She watched, somewhat detached, as the king emerged from a side door.
He carried a scepter, and a crown adorned with seven golden tusks rested upon his head.
Ishwari nearly gasped upon seeing the king's face. He was young and appeared remarkably strong. She had anticipated an elderly, frail man who would flee at the slightest provocation, such as the buzzing of a mosquito. Yet, confronted with this image, she struggled to believe that this was the king who would flee in a battle.
His golden-brown hair flowed like water, and his eyes were a deep green hazel. As he turned to address the multitude of people gathered, his face, the color of milk, contrasted with his red armor and greaves embroidered with golden thread. He held a massive sword in his left hand, while his right hand grasped a golden scepter.
"I once again ask for something that... I know is impossible to fulfill," the king declared, his voice carrying an urgent plea, as if imploring everyone to undertake an act they should not.
"My people... you are like my family. I truly mean it... truly, i do. I am your king. Protection and prosperity are two promises I have failed to deliver. My people needed protection from the ghost king, but I... I failed. I fled that battle like a coward... Prosperity... Now this... this can be resolved. Listen, every one of you present here..."
The king was abruptly interrupted. A man from the throng shouted, "Why is there a man outside whipping us to death? Do you care to answer that... King?" He spat the word "King" with disdain.
The king's face grew grim; he appeared utterly unaware of the situation. "Is this true?" he inquired.
Several voices from the crowd erupted in shouts of disapproval. The king raised a hand, effectively quieting the enraged multitude. "My honorable knights," he stated, "who was he?"
One of the knights stepped forward and replied, "It was Breel, my lord."
"Bring him to me, would you?" the king's voice was as calm as a cool breeze.
...
"Breel. Why did you whip my people?"
"My king, you were—"
"No! No excuses. Come here!"
Breel ascended the raised dais with extreme apprehension. As he approached and bowed his head, the king smiled. "This is what I am willing to do for my people."
Abandoning his scepter with a loud thud, he drew his magnificent sword from its scabbard. Breel looked up. "No... My king, I did what—" With a single, clean strike, his head rolled down the dais, leaving a trail of warm blood. One of the knights immediately seized the head, opened a side door, and cast it away. Another knight grabbed the headless body and dragged it towards a back door. The king smiled and asked, "Anything else?"
World of sumaka through eyes of ancient mammoth —
Their species faced extinction due to relentless hunting for sustenance and raiment. These creatures provided efficient traversal, and humans occasionally rode them from one location to another. However, this utility eventually led to their demise, as humans, driven by a primal hunger, eradicated the entire species. The extraordinary danger posed by starving humans can lead to the extinction of even ancient animal species.
A benevolent king from the Winter Arens region intervened, preserving numerous mammoths by providing shelter and sustenance. His profound affection for animals and nature, however, did not prevent his assassination, nor the subsequent slaughter of the mammoths. Nevertheless, both the king and the mammoths were immortalized on the banners of Winter Arens.