Pillar of Yita

Aleph lifted his head to look at his father. The King of Sand in his eyes was lean and solemn, with hands protruding from his robes that were little more than skin covering bones, veins bulging beneath the skin like a shadow seated upon the throne. Yet, only his eyes burned with fiery flames, exuding an awe-inspiring majesty.

He was long past the age of vigor, yet only his mind remained as sharp as a youth’s, just as it had been over a decade ago. At least in Aleph’s view, no one would dare to play tricks in front of this man—his own father—easily, and even he, as his son, often felt a touch of unease under this pressure.

But today Barbaltan’s tone was very gentle, just like an ordinary old man: ”Have you seen Berlede lately?”

Aleph nodded.

A low murmur of discussion arose around them, and people couldn’t help but speculate: Does the King of Sand’s softer attitude towards his eldest son signify something? Everyone secretly guessed the deeper meaning behind this change in attitude, the ministers cast meaningful glances at Aleph, and even his brothers looked over with a hint of envy.

Yet Aleph didn’t dare to take a single deep breath. Affia often said he should inherit the throne, or perhaps her sister should, but his feelings towards this throne were quite special, neither eager nor resistant. It was rather how he should interact with his father, the king, that made him feel more tense.

Barbaltan clearly understood his son’s temperament well.

He sparingly said no more, only gazing past his eldest son’s shoulder, where outside the palace, the Master of Ceremonies was lifting a beam of starlight out of the bonfire, the brilliant light connecting heaven and earth as if a shimmering star were slowly rising from the darkness. He still remembered the shocking scene of the Star Ceremony he attended as a child for the first time, when his father told him that only those with higher status could receive the blessing of the Holy Fire from the front position.

At that time, he secretly swore in his heart that one day he would stand in the foremost position, meet the King of Sand, and receive the blessing of the Holy Fire’s radiance. Back then, the Penelope Family was merely an unnoticed branch. Later, his wishes all came true, he no longer needed to meet the King of Sand, for he himself had become the King of Sand.

Yet the visions of the past gradually faded away, becoming a less important goal. The intentions he wanted to achieve became more while simultaneously diminishing; taking over the throne from his father, his former enemies dwindled one by one, and what remained in his memory was just a single encounter.

”Barbaltan, in the future, I will guard this land with you.”

”I have a secret to tell you.”

After the layers of phantom scenes vanished, he returned to this familiar yet unfamiliar palace again.

Barbaltan looked at the young man in front of him, who somewhat resembled his past self, and sighed, ”Aleph, do you still remember Albert’s matter?”

Aleph instantly recalled his brother who died of a plague; it was a major epidemic a decade ago, which came right after that war—war brings plague, which is well-known among the people of Eteliria. The plague swept in from Nogness, even affecting the southern territories of Colin Ishurian, and naturally, Istania could not escape.

The infant survival rate among the Istania people of this era was extremely low, often falling to strange and sudden illnesses, despite the starlight, the survival rate was only about fifty percent. Of course, if Aleph knew the history of another world, he might feel fortunate, for compared to the roughly equivalent era in another world, Eteliria was much luckier.

His younger brother was actually not much younger than him, nearly considered ’grown up,’ but still, he unfortunately perished in that specific plague. He was already nine at the time, and quite aware, so this incident remained vividly in his memory.

Aleph was slightly puzzled, considering his father had many offspring, with many not surviving to maturity, he rarely brought up these matters, so why mention Albert’s case today? He reluctantly raised his head, only to see his father staring directly at him, startling him into lowering his gaze again.

”In the blink of an eye, another decade has passed.”

”Thirteen years ago, I was ordered to march, never considering I could return alive from Nogness, but ultimately we, along with the Colin people, defeated the Empire.”

The King of Sand seemed to be narrating something, yet it appeared almost as self-talk. ”Aleph, sometimes knowing the right people is vital; during that war I made some friends, like that Prince up north, and some Holy Chosen ones. They helped me significantly, and wasn’t your grandfather the same?”

The man on the throne recalled the past, the hall grew slightly quieter. However, the old courtiers and the new nobles displayed different expressions, those who experienced the brutal battle thirteen years ago all showing expressions of remembrance. The war’s ferocity is recorded in today’s annals, of those who participated, scarcely one in ten returned, and those who stayed could be called fortunate.

While the new nobles who rose in the past decade revealed slightly subtle expressions, in such circumstances, they naturally appeared slightly awkward.