Chapter One

Hidden deep in the hillside, miles away from the City of Argonia, that all-seeing utopia, an amiable farmer and his family celebrated the coming harvest of his lands through burnt offering, as was the old custom. Arktos and his dear brother-in-law Philos shared stories of their heroic youths, now long past, to any that cared to hear. Their fire pit before them illumed their faces. Within the pit, the flames charred the fatty flesh of a red-hide-boar, a pleasing offering to the Water Goddess to be sure.

Across the flames, Sula, Arktos’ barefooted she-cub of a daughter, chased down Kaleius, the youngest of Philos’ four sons, and tackled him to the ground. The boy’s father let out a loud, mirthful laugh as he stood from the log beside Arktos and swooped toward them. He grabbed Sula by the collar of her tunic and peeled her from her prey. Arktos smiled on as Sula continued clawing at an invisible enemy. Carrying Sula to his seat, Philos sat and cradled her wriggling body on his lap.

“Stubborn little cub, how un-little you grow by the day. I can barely catch you in my cub traps anymore. How old must you be by this point?” Philos asked the squirming body in his arms.

“Nine,” She answered proudly, “but Papa says I’ve the strength of nine nines.” As soon as he finished, the girl slipped her chin under Philos’ forearm and bit down. The pain made Philos jerk and broke his hold.

“Ah! And the cunning of ninety nines,” Philos said, shaking off the hurt. Now escaped from his clutches, Sula leapt from her uncle’s arms and danced before the fire. “Little bear, don’t you ever rest? Please, sit down. I did not trap you in punishment. Come, listen to our tales. You like stories, no? The old tell the best stories.”

Sula balanced herself on one foot, rocking forward and back on her heel as if weighing the options. For a brief instance, she seemed inclined to dart away and begin wrestling again, but, seeing the sincerity in Philos’ eyes, she conceded. She fell straight to the ground and splayed her legs wide. In one second she had become a demanding and large audience. Arktos thought he saw her ears twitch in anticipation beneath the curtains of her ruddy-brown hair, but he couldn’t know for sure.

“Alright, but I get to pick the first story!” she shouted, stern and unfaltering.

“Of course, though I offer my stories to the Goddess above, I still want a pleasing tale for the warrior below,” Philos said. “Now, little one, what story do you choose?”

“Tell me about when Papa met Mama!” she shouted, her eyes shining with the constellations above.

“Come now, Sula. You always ask for that story,” Arktos added. “Don’t you wanna hear something new? Like a story about warriors.” He knew his daughter well and knew the suggestion would normally put a smile on her face, but on this occasion, Sula shook her head, adamant. So, with no other options, Philos began his tale.

“The story begins in the old days, long before the war between North and South and before this land came to be called Argonia, when I was a young child, not unlike yourself. In those days, when there was no work to be done around the house, your mother and I would play about a nearby thicket. Deep inside that labyrinth of trees was—and still is—a secret spot where the Khaita River ran, winding like the curls of the Water Goddess’ hair. We spent many afternoons swimming and playing in its current.”

Philos pretended to swim. When Sula joined him in the motion, he feigned a splash at her. Though she knew there was no water nearby, Sula still jumped. She only just regained herself when her uncle continued. “Well, lo and behold, one day as the Sun’s golden chariot began its descent into the horizon with the Moon hound fast on its heels, I crept out from the foliage to find a heinous boy casting lascivious eyes upon my sister bathing in the river.” Philos winked at Arktos. Sula’s Papa began to protest, but before he could, his cub piped up.

“No, no. That’s not right! What’s a lasivius?” Arktos could tell by the heavy furrow in Sula’s brow that the offense had been felt. “Papa tells the story much better!”

“And what does Papa say happened?” Philos asked, eyeing Arktos who began to squirm. “W-well, you kno—"

“Papa says that he heard the most beautiful sound that he ever heard as he was walking through the woods one evening.” The girl, again cut her father off. “Andandand—he wanted to investigate the voice—andandand—he thought he heard the Water Goddess herself—andandand—when he saw Mama he fell in love!”

“Did he now?” Philos chuckled. “Well, back in those days there was no Wat—”

“Cautious what you say to the little ones,” Arktos said with a glare. Heeding his warning, Philos considered his words carefully before continuing.

“What I meant was, no one had ever heard the Water Goddess’ voice before. What did your ‘Papa’ tell you happened after that?”

“Papa told me that in his moment of weakness, a wicked fiend attacked from behind and pinned him down, until Mama stepped in and wrestled him free!”

“Is that how he tells it?” Philos laughed. “Well, Sula, I think you will agree that I’m no fiend.” She shrugged, half-accepting the statement. “And to tell the truth, when I attacked your father, he got the better of me and threw me to the ground. It wasn’t until your mother came to my rescue that we were able to pull your father off. That’s right, your mama saved the day from, not for, your father.”

“Is he lying?” Sula asked Arktos with a huff. Arktos shook his head and admitted, “It’s sometimes hard to remember all the details. It was so long ago.” Sula crossed her arms and her shoulders fell.

“On the bright side, cub, after the scuffle ended, the three of us laughed at the whole thing. That is the true story of how your mama and papa met. And afterwards, your father and I joined the military together.”

“Can you tell that story next?” Sula asked. Arktos looked at Philos pointedly, afraid of what his brother might say. Though they were not near the city, they were also not far enough away to escape the ears of Prince Argus II. If Philos let the wrong thing slip, anyone might report him. It was not unheard of for a son even to bear witness against his own father. Paranoia overtaking his senses, Arktos shifted his eyes to the ignorantly young Kaleius, who had taken a seat beside Sula.

Philos marked his brother’s gaze. A fire far hotter than the pit filled his eyes at the simple glance’s implication. Philos might have leapt upon Arktos as he had when they first met if not for Sula’s interruption. “C’mon, I want the military story!” With the distraction, Philos’ anger was tempered.

“Of course, cub, I can tell some stories of war, though I’ll avoid those unsuitable for young ears,” Philos said.

Sula huffed. “But you said so yourself I might be ninety nines.”

“Unfortunately, even that is too young for such stories,” Philos lamented. After a moment of consideration, he began with one he thought appropriate for his young listeners. “Your father and I joined the Tarvonian vanguard. Have you heard of Tarvonia, cub?”

“Like Tarvo?”

“That’s right! We named your cousin Tarvonikles after the name for Tarvonia. It was what they called this country when Argonia and the Southern Kingdoms were united.”

“Argonia and the Southern Kingdoms used to be together?” Sula asked, “What happened?” Arktos shot a grave look—or as grave a look as he could muster—at Philos.

“That’s a story for another day cub. For now, just know we were in the Tarvonian Vanguard when the great war began and the foreign powers invaded our lands and divided our people. Your father and I were tasked with guarding the border against those in the Southern Kingdoms who had allied with the foreign powers. We lost many men and more than a few great leaders, but by sheer will, the border held and the southern invaders were driven off. Your papa himself slew the leader of the Southern Kingdoms’ forces.

“However, we had little time to celebrate our victory, for we began to hear reports that the foreign powers had entered the north as well and our allies were suffering heavy casualties. It was around this time that your father was made commander. He was a natural born leader, a trait he has surely passed to his cub. Even a King would fall to his knees and dig until his fingers were bloody if your father asked.”

At the compliment Sula sat up a little straighter, thinking of all the times she had led her imaginary ranks through the woods against the noisome band of river-ewes that kept the whole countryside awake with their frothy bleating. Philos, for his part, gave Arktos a knowing smile. He could not believe how much the girl resembled her father in her mannerisms. Many times he had seen his best friend lost in his thoughts with the same slight frown Sula wore.

“Now now, cub, don’t get too lost in your thoughts. I’ve a story to finish and the best part is still to come.” Philos’ promise of more excitement regained Sula’s full-attention and he continued where he had left off. “Your father decided it best to march north and aid the northern effort, as we could spare the men. When we reached the north, all was in chaos! Only a few sparse tribes had managed to resist the foreign powers. It wasn’t until we arrived and combined the tribes with our own forces that we were able to mount an offensive. With the help of the Heavenly Founder Argus, who had been leading one of the more successful tribes, we established the borders of Argonia.”

“Wait, if you were so important, why did Argus become the Heavenly Founder and not Papa?” asked Sula.

“It’s because your uncle has a talent for embellishment and delusions of grandeur. He certainly knows how to tell a tall tale!” Arktos dismissed Philos with a wave of his hand.

“It’s the truth,” Philos said. “I swear by it. You know, I ask myself the same question. Perhaps it was because around the time he was asked to lead this new nation, your mama’s belly grew full.”

“Huh?”

“With you, Sula. That’s how important you are to him. Your father would have made a far better ruler than the egomaniac imposter that sits his a—”

“Philos!” Arktos shouted. “The wind. It carries words that shouldn’t be said by a member of the Divine Guard, let alone a Captain.”

“Forgive me. It must be the season. I am speaking madness.”

“And yet, rarely is it the madman that speaks a heresy, Phil. Leave such ideas to those who do not throw family and position into the pin when they wrestle the bull,” Arktos whispered to his brother before turning to his daughter. “Now go, my little cub. Play with your cousins.”

Sula leapt to her feet and rushed the tallest and oldest of her cousins, Tarvos. It did not take long before she had wrestled him to the dirt. Arktos let out a sigh and looked into the fire. He noticed that the ashy cinders that rose with the wind were the same color as Sula’s eyes. The same color as her mother’s, his Diantha’s eyes had been. Philos drew closer to Arktos and lowered his voice so that it was barely audible over the crackling of the flame.

“I’m sorry, Arktos. I forget my tongue. I imagine I am worried knowing what tomorrow brings. The festival and that damned sacrifice. I just look out over my sons and Kaleia and your Sula—even you, Brother—and think, what if one of them is chosen? I don’t know what I would do.”

“Good Brother, have faith in the Goddess,” Arktos said. “She has been kind to me. To both of us. Don’t forget, had I not prayed to the Water Goddess each day for three years, I would never have had my blessed Sula."

“And I would never have lost my sister!” Philos shouted, his withheld anger rising to the surface. Arktos went silent, his attention lost in the ashes. Philos apologized with a shake of his head. “Forgive me, I really am not in my right mind.”

“Sula and I will return home then. Hopefully a night of sleep will get you your wits about you,” Arktos said. Both men rose to their feet and grasped each other’s forearms. Philos, dissatisfied with such a small show of affection, released Arktos’ arm and embraced his brother in a vice grip of a hug. Philos leaned into his ear.

“Make an offering for us tonight, Arktos,” he whispered.

“I do every night, Brother.”