Indenuel rubbed his forehead as Martin’s mountain of information tried to settle in his brain. “How to Dengria, Zimoro, and Oramin feel about being conquered?”

It was an excellent question, and one Indenuel had the right to know. “For the most part, they have followed the treaties they each signed. There’s no more slavery in Zimoro and Oramin. We have the right to request aid in another war, like food, supplies, and men, which we are using, and they are giving. There are a few pockets of rebellion among the countries, as a few Zimorans believe Kiam will free them from their treaty and let them practice slavery again. But the rulers of the countries are working hard with us to stop the rebellions,” Martin said.

“And the slaves? Is it true when slavery was stopped that their economy fell, and they became dependent on us for survival?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes. That is true. We are graciously helping them get on their feet, making sure they can stand before we let go, so to speak,” Martin said.

Indenuel frowned. “And will Santollia let go?”

“Of course. When they’re ready.”

“When they’re ready, or when Santollia is?” Indenuel asked.

“It will be mutual, of course.”

Martin rolled his tongue over the bottom of his teeth, keeping his mouth closed so Indenuel couldn’t see. He hoped they could avoid the radicals. Hoped Indenuel wouldn’t have these questions. He wanted to take Indenuel to the Cathedral and keep him so busy that he didn’t worry about the politics that always went along with war, but hopefully this was the last Indenuel probed into the political side of war.

Indenuel stared at the map, lost in thought. Martin left him alone to study it. Indenuel squinted closer to the area of Santollia. He placed his finger on Santollia City and followed the small main road north for a while, then moved it ever so slightly past the indications of mountains. Indenuel found Mountain Pass, a place so small the road wouldn’t be written on this kind of map. None of the little towns past the mountains would.

“So you wish to make sure everyone has a better understanding of the doctrine?” Indenuel asked.

“We do. It is their choice whether they follow the religion we give, but if they profess to be of our religion, then we do not want God’s glorious name to be defiled by people thinking slavery is justified under Him,” Martin said. “And even if they aren’t of our religion, we never want slavery to be practiced while we have the power to stop it. In this we have been quite clear with the Kiamese people.”

The nod Indenuel gave was distracted as he stared at his village on the map. “What exactly is my role in all this?”

“Well, the prophecy says you’ll end the war,” Martin said.

“That’s quite vague,” Indenuel said.

Martin stared at Indenuel before slowly rolling up the map. He about invited Indenuel to the High Elder’s library once they returned to Santollia City, but he stopped himself. In the basement of the Cathedral, they had the ancient prophets’ words, many of them from before the Great Flood. Tucked away in the library they had the original parchment with the prophecies written on it. As the Warrior, Indenuel had every right to read those words, but Martin stopped himself from giving the invitation. Most of the words of the prophets delved into doctrine, but there were other books there too. The deep secrets came to mind. Secrets the High Elders swore to hide from the general public. Even the other prophecies weren’t meant for the common people. If Martin gave Indenuel the opportunity to enter the library, he could stumble onto them. Martin, who had spent his entire life studying religion and its doctrine had his faith shaken within two weeks of reading the prophets’ words. The boy was too young, and his religious upbringing wouldn’t be strong enough to handle it.

The High Elder’s library held many secrets. Too many secrets.

Martin pushed all these thoughts aside and smiled at Indenuel. “The prophecy says through you the war will end. Since we’ve discovered you in this one, this is the war that will end.”

“Ending a war doesn’t necessarily mean peace, though,” Indenuel said.

Martin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. He went through his studies of the prophecies in his mind. “Doesn’t it?” Martin asked.

“There’s all these pockets of rebellion, so to speak,” Indenuel said. “Say the war ends, I would still have to stop the rebellions, right?”

“I assume so,” Martin said. “With you being the Warrior, you bring a certain amount of weight to this calling that I as a High Elder do not have.”

Indenuel frowned, somehow looking more troubled than when they started this conversation. “So it says the war will end. Not that I bring peace?”

“I believe that is practically the same,” Martin said.

Indenuel glanced out the carriage window. “I don’t.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“If the war ends because of me, I want it also to be an era of peace.”

Martin nodded, impressed. “That is certainly a noble endeavor.”

“Peace for everyone,” Indenuel said, almost cutting Martin off.

He placed the rolled-up map across his lap. “You mean for the slaves?”

“Everyone, Martin. I am fully aware winning this war with Kiam means you and the other High Elders will become the world power.” His voice dropped. “And I want to make sure you don’t get too caught up in it.”

“We would never do such a thing,” Martin said.

“I understand your intent, Martin, but…” Indenuel paused again, then looked down at his hands. “You have no idea what it’s like to have nothing.”

A warm breeze picked up and pushed through the open windows of the carriage. “I’ve met with the poor. I’ve met with the freed slaves.”

“But you yourself have no concept of the idea,” Indenuel said, looking back up at Martin. “No idea the desperation one is driven to. I would hope by ending this war, I could also help those in the poorer class not feel so alone. And for the slaves to not just be free, but to live comfortably.”

“The prophets… didn’t mention anything like that,” Martin said.

Indenuel’s face was steady. “I don’t care. It’s how it should be.”

Martin let out a slow breath. “Alright. It is certainly noble of you. Once we end this war, we shall investigate what it would take.”

“We should leave Kiam alone, once we’ve conquered it.”

The smallest wince crossed Martin’s face. The Warrior shouldn’t be tied up in the political aspect of war. Indenuel, with his youth, simply didn’t understand. They couldn’t win the war and leave Kiam alone. The economical standpoint alone meant if they didn’t get something from Kiam, they had wasted time and resources on nothing. “In order to have this peace you want, we need to know more about their religion, more about their culture.”

Indenuel met Martin’s eyes. “Then we do it carefully, respectfully, and diplomatically. We do not put a toe out of line. If I am to end a war, I want to end all of them. For good.”

Martin watched the boy, curious. He had grown in the two weeks since they had left from Mountain Pass. There was of course the physical growth. He wasn’t the starving boy anymore. There was something besides skin and bones on his frame. In another month or two he might even get some muscle. He wasn’t nearly as jumpy and didn’t speak in whispers so much. He spoke with quiet conviction, but there was still a haunted look in his eyes. It would take longer than two weeks to heal whatever caused that.

“I agree with you. And I will do what I can to help you with this noble aspiration you have,” Martin said, doing everything in his power to make himself smile.

Indenuel did not smile. Instead he gave a small bow of his head. “Thank you, Martin.”