Chapter Two: The Uprising
He reached the riverbank, where a crowd had gathered beside the bridge. Pushing his way through the throng, he finally arrived at the horrific scene that had drawn the people together.
A pool of blood streamed into the river, its source a heap of lifeless bodies—three children executed by a single bullet to the head. Daniel stepped closer until his legs could no longer bear him; he sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the cruelty before his eyes. Among the dead was a boy whose forehead had been split in two. He wore Daniel's favorite coat—one Daniel himself had worn at the age of seven. It was his younger brother who had been wearing it. Daniel's face turned ashen. He froze in disbelief, struggling for more than a minute to comprehend the truth: was this real? Could it be that he would never again see Arkin's smile?
Among the Ornis people—sorcerers stripped of their power since the dawn of the new age—in Daniel's village of Neuville, tradition dictated that when several die on the same day, they are mourned together and laid to rest in a single ceremony. All would wear white so the dead might find peace and prepare to meet the angels in paradise. This custom stood in stark contrast to the Zyrak people—the worshippers of the Old Gods and the ruling bloodline—who wore black to signify grief.
At the burial, three men stood together by the graves: among them the elder of the Orfield family, a man of fifty-five, and the elder of the Northwood family. After the final prayers, Daniel felt a shiver run through him as his gaze fell upon a man whose features would never fade from his memory. Around sixty years of age, dressed more finely than the villagers, he stood silently beside Arkin's grave. Daniel approached and said:
"I see you return after five years away from our mother."
The man replied softly, "How are you, my son? May patience fill our hearts so we might endure this trial."
Daniel's voice trembled with anger: "Does it matter how I am? My brother died without seeing his father even once."
"You know I cannot be with you," the man said. "That was the agreement I made with your mother, if you recall. And… how is she?"
"She is still suffering from illness."
"Then may Ornis and the First God grant her healing. I return to the city today. If you need anything, tell me before I depart for Castel."
Daniel's reply was bitter: "We need nothing from you."
After his father left, Merion, thirty years of age and brother to the Orfield elder, approached Daniel. "I want to see you tomorrow at Janschalt School. We will hold a secret gathering. Come alone. Tell no one."
Daniel frowned. "And what is the purpose of this meeting?"
"I cannot tell you now."
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It had been a day of tragedy for the entire town—yet for Daniel, a day none would envy. Exhausted from the burial and rituals, he still could not sleep. He sat in the kitchen, staring at a candle burning itself away to light the room. Inside, he too was burning, but without flame—only darkness. His thoughts swirled: Why did this happen to me? What was Arkin's sin? The memory of that grotesque scene clawed at his mind until he nearly lost his reason. And the sight of other children, lifeless beside his brother, made the weight unbearable. Few souls could withstand such a vision, especially when it struck without warning.
For nearly an hour he sat, consumed by grief and guilt. Yes, guilt—for he believed himself to blame. What if I hadn't taken him with me to work? What if I hadn't stopped to buy food? Then Arkin might be alive now, asking for a bedtime story. Instead, Daniel told himself a different tale: What if… Curse those thoughts.
The candle went out, but Daniel's sorrow, anger, and hatred did not. At last, sleep overtook him unawares.
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Though Merion had told him not to inform anyone, Daniel confessed to his friend Reno. He trusted him deeply and dared not attend the secret gathering alone, wary as he was of unknown plots. Reno did not hesitate; he went with Daniel to the school.
[Geographical & Historical Context: In this era, the year 3489 N.E , the world was entering the dawn of modernity. The first engine had been invented fifty years earlier. Gunpowder was still a recent discovery. Houses bore tiled roofs, weapons were crude—rifles, pistols with rotating chambers, cannons, and grenades. Blacksmithing was the most common craft, coal mines were plentiful, and clothing was classical with a faint touch of modern style.]
The Janschalt School stood at the far end of Daniel's neighborhood. As his feet crossed its threshold, grief and dread washed over him—memories of Arkin's first day here rose to his mind. Together with Reno, he entered the great assembly hall. The tables had been pushed together, wooden chairs arranged around them. Nearly thirty men were gathered. Among them Daniel recognized the Orfield elder, Merion, and many familiar faces from town—including a father who had buried his son only the day before.
The Orfield elder stood at the head of the table.
"Perhaps not all here know why we've gathered. But all of you know what happened yesterday. Some say the king ordered the children's execution because two days prior they scrawled upon the school walls: The king is a tyrant and a deceiver. Whatever their reason, it cannot justify the killing of innocent children, unaware of their actions. And this is not the first outrage. Just last week, a man was beaten and robbed by royal knights, and doubtless other crimes have gone unseen.
Until now, we have been forbidden to act—our pact with the kingdom forbids interference with its soldiers. But today, that ends. We thirty men shall form The Guardians. Our purpose: to protect our land and our rights. First, we will cleanse this town of the king's knights, then govern it ourselves."
Sath of the Orfield family spoke: "Are you saying we stand on the brink of war with the kingdom?"
"In a way," replied the elder. "I doubt the kingdom will unleash its full strength at first. We must be brave, face reality. We will not remain their slaves."
From the end of the table, a man of the Deras family shouted angrily: "Is this why you summoned us? Yesterday's blood has not dried, and today you would spill more! This is a war we cannot win!"
Saron rose. "Even wars we lose leave lessons for our sons and grandsons. But this war has become inevitable. For more than three thousand years, we and our forefathers have lived in humiliation, ruled by the nameless worshippers of the Old Gods, though it is we who carry Ornis' blood. All because of the mistakes of our ancestors. Shall we let shame endure? No—better to die holding to our principles than live as slaves."
The hall erupted in cries: "May the blood of Ornis prevail! May light overcome the darkness!"
Saron continued: "And our vision is greater than mere defense of our dignity. We will seek the royal house itself—and claim the Ancient Book."
A storm of whispers broke out: "The Ancient Book! Is he serious? No one has touched it in three thousand years. The royal family guards it with their lives… Could it be? Has the prophesied day come?"
"It will not be easy," Saron declared. "Not in a day, a year, nor perhaps in our lifetime. But if we seize it, our power to break the laws of reason will return. The tide of fate will turn, and the age of the sorcerers will rise again."
At his signal, a man at the door ushered in ten others, each bearing a chest of weapons. Merion began distributing them.
"Most of you know how to wield arms," he said. "We summoned men who once served the kingdom, along with a few young ones new to battle. They too will be trained."
When Merion handed a rifle to Daniel, he saw the young man's uneasy face. "What's wrong? The gun won't fire on its own." He laughed and moved on.
Soon, the youths—including Daniel—were gathered and led to a cave at the town's edge to begin training.
[Historical Note: "Breaking the Logic " was the magic once wielded by the Ornis bloodline. Magic was nothing more than mastery of the elements by bending the very logic of the world. Ornis, their god, was the first to break Logic.]
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Two days passed in training. Exhausted from rifle practice, Daniel returned home and sat to dinner with his mother and sister. Suddenly came a knock at the door. He stepped outside to find a man of fifty, dressed in clothes too fine for village life, a strange insignia pinned to his shoulder.
The stranger removed his hat and held it behind his back—a sign of respect and of requesting a moment of one's time, a common custom. Extending his hand, he introduced himself:
"Good evening, Daniel Calvin . I am Brant Ashvin , a Special Investigator . I've come to look into the case of the murdered children. May the gods have mercy on their souls—or, as you say, may Ornis receive them. I came on the recommendation of an old friend, Cairo Calvin. I believe you know him." His voice carried a mocking edge.
Daniel's thoughts churned: Ashvin… a family of royal blood. Do they know of the Guardians' plans? Is he truly here to investigate? But wait—the king's own knights killed those children. What game is this?
The investigator smiled. "Do I unsettle you by mentioning your father? I know relations between you are… strained."
Da
niel forced a calm reply: "No problem. Please—come in."
To be continued…