CHAPTER 35: THE CRADLE OF AN EMPIRE (2)

Lyrria, sitting across from me, clenched her hands on her thighs, her fingers tight, but her gaze never left me. Her eyes reflected a mixture of fear, defiance, and a strange interest, as if she were trying to decipher the invisible thread.

Oranna, behind her, jaw clenched, chest rising quickly with each breath, seemed to struggle to keep her composure.

Zae, slightly in the background, furrowed her brow, watching my every move with the caution of someone calculating the exact moment to strike... or to yield.

I raised my hand slightly, a slow, almost imperceptible gesture.

Immediately, the silence grew even heavier. The crack of a torch flickering in the wind echoed in the room, but no movement broke the chiefs’ attention.

They were there, exposed, physically and mentally, and they knew it.

— So... he murmured in a low, tension-free voice, almost a whisper, — here we are. The Gorge, your clans, your lives... everything is here, before your eyes.

A shiver ran through the circle. Some straightened slightly, instinctively ready to flee or attack, but my gaze froze them. Every breath they took betrayed their bodies, every tense muscle told of their fear and their unconscious desire to understand what I was offering.

— You may think I came to force you, he continued calmly, letting his eyes slide over each of them, — but that’s not the case. I am not here to break this circle... not yet.

Neyvara let out a sigh, her full breasts rising more sharply, as if holding back words.

— You really think... she murmured, voice strangled, that we can trust you?

I tilted my head slightly, sketching an almost imperceptible smile.

— Trust... is not something I give. I forge it. And for that, you must first see, feel... what I intend to accomplish.

The silence stretched, heavy and thick. Each chief assessed the others as much as she assessed me.

The tension became almost tangible, as if the very air vibrated with latent energy, ready to explode at the slightest misstep.

Their bodies betrayed the truth: fear, fascination, and that dangerous curiosity that made them vulnerable and... strangely alive under my gaze.

I inhaled deeply, my hands resting on their knees, fingers brushing the sand. I stood slowly, each movement measured, letting the impression linger that I controlled every microsecond, every breath, every gaze.

The chiefs followed my movement, tense, but unable to look away.

— Listen to me, I finally said, my voice firmer.

— What I am about to show you is not a threat. It is... a path. A choice. But to take it, you must first understand where we stand. And to understand, you must look, really look, at what lies before you.

The circle was frozen, but the silence vibrated, almost suffocating. The torch flames cast glints on tense faces, making sweat shine on the chiefs’ skin, and each chest movement, each breath seemed to amplify the anticipation.

Lyrria was the first to break the calm. She furrowed her brows, hands clenched on her knees, and finally dared to speak:

— And if... if you were right? she murmured, her voice trembling. Can we really believe this valley could become anything other than... this endless battlefield?

Oranna crossed her arms, watching Lyrria with a cold, sly smile.

— You believe too quickly, Lyrria. You know what it costs to follow someone... especially a man.

Zae stepped forward, clenching her fists.

— But look around us... how many times have we lost over rivers, fields, clan disputes? If everything could change... if we could actually... survive differently...

Neyvara, fingers brushing her thighs, finally spoke, hesitant.

— I’m not saying I believe it yet... but I cannot deny... that this vision... tempts me. I refuse to be destroyed in another pointless battle.

Lyrria shrugged, a spark of defiance in her eyes.

— And if it’s only an illusion? If we all end up hanged for believing in a dream?

Oranna cut her off with a dry laugh. — Hanged or not, we’ve lost far more than that before. At least here, there is a plan. A strategy.

Zae bit her lip, eyes fixed on Sora. — But how can we be sure he won’t betray us? I mean... we are all warriors, and he... he already has our valley. He could reduce us to dust if he wished.

— Exactly, murmured Neyvara, almost to herself. But... I feel he won’t do it. Not yet. And I cannot ignore this chance.

The other women present began murmuring among themselves, exchanging glances and hesitations. An older one, with silver hair, jaw tight, almost spat:

— Maybe... maybe he is right. Perhaps this madness is what we have always needed.

A younger, impatient, impulsive one stood abruptly, legs crossed, and said:

— So what are we waiting for? For him to crush us so we understand? I want to know what we could become.

I remained silent, watching them all, letting the silence weigh on their shoulders. Then, in a calm but sharp tone, I spoke:

— You cling to your fears. You fight for what you believe you protect... and you forget what you could build. I do not ask you to follow me blindly. I only ask you to look around you, to measure what we could become together.

Lyrria stared at me, torn between curiosity and pride.

— And if we accept... I mean truly... what will become of our clans? Our lands?

— Your clans will not disappear, Sora replied calmly. You will be their founders, their guides. But you will no longer be pawns. You will be architects.

Serenya tilted her head, scrutinizing.

— Architects... or prisoners of this valley?

— This choice is yours, Sora replied, almost a whisper. But look at your hands, your bodies, your instincts. Do you still feel free in this circle? Or do you already feel your destiny being decided here?

Neyvara lowered her eyes, but her fingers trembled slightly on the sand.

— I... I’m beginning to understand. Not by your words, but by what you show us. We are no longer alone.

The circle came alive, murmurs mixing with short breaths. The chiefs debated among themselves, some shouting, others laughing nervously, some still biting their lips in almost shameful fascination. The tension was palpable, vibrant, and Sora did nothing but watch them, letting every reaction merge with his vision, every whisper confirming his hold over their minds.

I let the silence linger a moment longer, savoring the weight of every gaze upon me, before breaking the tension with a calm, sharp, yet low voice:

— Before we go further, I want someone else to speak. Someone who knew this valley before all of us.

A rustle came from the shadows, and a heavy step echoed on the sand. Raknar finally appeared, framed by the flickering torchlight. Her face bore the marks of time and battles, her steel eyes seemed to pierce every body, every thought. The chiefs froze, some paling at the sight of the former leader of the Split Spine, others straightening, impressed.

— I have been defeated, said Raknar in a grave, measured voice, commanding silence. But what you are about to hear, you must consider carefully. Sora does not act for himself. He has seen what we here never knew how to protect. He understands what this valley can become, and what we could all become with it.

Drazira blinked, surprise mingling with newfound fascination.

— So you... you approve of his plan? she murmured, hesitant.

Raknar tilted her head slightly.

— Yes. Not because I approve of all his methods... but because the vision is right. The valley will not survive our endless quarrels. If we continue as we are, we will all perish. And you, Lyrria, you and the others... you are not made for destruction. You are made to build.

Oranna crossed her arms, frowning.

— And you really believe one man can... change all that? That we will follow?

— I do not ask you to follow blindly, Raknar replied firmly. I only ask you to watch. Observe what he proposes. Observe that his plans do not aim to destroy you... but to save us.

Zae bit her lip, eyes shining with a new light.

— If what he says is true... if we unite our forces... we could truly stop the cycle of losses and wars. We could prosper.

Neyvara tilted her head, still wary but intrigued.

— And if we fail? If his promises collapse?

Raknar stepped toward her, her imposing presence seeming to fill the room.

— We fail if we remain divided. We have already failed a thousand times due to pride and fear. Sora offers a chance to change that. You do not need to follow him... you need to understand that this is not a personal maneuver. It is a survival plan.

The chiefs’ breaths became more audible, some exchanges of glances turning into discreet nods. The circle seemed to breathe as one. Even skeptical Oranna could not ignore Raknar’s authority.

— I... I’m starting to see, murmured Zae, her fingers brushing her thighs, nervous but captivated. Not a man... not only Sora... but a plan. A structure for all of us to survive.

Lyrria nodded, more firmly this time.

— We have spent years fighting among ourselves, protecting what only served our ego. If this is a chance to change that... I am ready to listen.

Raknar stepped back, leaving room for silence. Her eyes shone in the shadows, and for the first time, each chief seemed to feel the weight of her words: this was not whim, nor desire for domination, but a strategic vision. A possible survival for all.

I, still seated, observed this subtle change. Breaths had calmed, tension was no longer just fear or fascination: it was reflection, the beginning of adherence. The moment had come to lay down the rules, to move from words to action.

— You heard Raknar, I finally said, voice low but firm. What we will build here will not be fragile. But for it to work... you must follow my decrees. To the letter.

The circle grew denser. Gazes crossed the flames, hands gripped the sand. The future had imposed itself in the burning air of the valley, and each chief knew, deep down, that there would be no turning back.

— Listen well. Here are the rules we will follow from today. They are non-negotiable. They are not here to restrain your strength, but to build a future where we will no longer destroy each other.

A slight shiver ran through the circle. Lyrria crossed her arms, brows furrowed, ready to contest, but intrigued.

Sora began with the first decree:

— Decree number one: no one shall privatize water. Wells, rivers... belong to all, to every clan, to every person in this valley. No one shall appropriate the life of others.

A murmur ran through the circle. Some chiefs nodded cautiously, others squinted, reflecting on what this meant for their former privileges. Lyrria, jaw clenched, murmured:

— Finally... the end of petty games of possession.

Oranna furrowed her brows, fingers gripping the sand.

I moved on to the second decree, taking another small fragment of abyssium from my pocket and letting it shine in the torchlight.

— Decree two: all discovered minerals, especially abyssium, belong to the Gorge. They shall neither be smelted nor sold without my or the council’s approval. Those who dare to hide or betray this rule will be hanged.

The shock was palpable. Some bit their lips, the weight of the prohibition and strategic importance pressing on them. Zae swallowed hard:

— All... all this is beyond us... but I understand. It is... vital.

Neyvara, eyes fixed on the black fragment, murmured:

— We have never had such responsibility... nor such concentrated power in our hands.

My voice took on a sharper tone:

— Decree three: internal wars cease immediately. Anyone raising a weapon against a sister or brother will be executed. From now on, the clans form a single people.

A shiver ran through the room. Some chiefs clenched their teeth. The threat of collective death was heavy, but logic imposed its weight. Oranna exhaled through her teeth:

— Peace... or destruction. There is no middle ground.

The fourth decree followed, more concrete, harder to imagine:

— Each clan will work the land. Fields and livestock will be shared according to effort. Laziness will be banned. Work will be rewarded.

Drazira let out a small, dry laugh, incredulous but not mocking.

— Share... everything? The harvests, the animals... even our lands?

Sora nodded.

— Yes. All who contribute will benefit; all who shirk... will quickly learn the cost of staying aside.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the women’s breaths and the crackling fire. Some began to perceive the logic, the calculation behind each rule.

Finally, I approached the last decree, the most delicate:

— Decree five: the valley’s warriors will no longer live as beasts. Each may rise according to their strength, their loyalty, regardless of gender.

A slight shock passed through the circle. Some chiefs tensed, surprised by this break from traditional order. Others, inwardly, smiled, aware of the potential it opened. Neyvara let out an almost admiring breath:

— So strength, and not rank or gender... will be the only truth.

Zae crossed her arms, looking at me, a mixture of doubt and interest in her eyes.

— It is... fair. But it overturns everything.

Serenya, eyes sparkling, leaned slightly forward, a thin smile on her lips.

— Fair... and necessary. We no longer have a choice.

I let the silence stretch, letting each decree imprint on minds, letting each chief measure the weight of my choices.

Bodies remained tense, gazes fixed, but beneath apprehension, a glimmer of understanding, of respect, began to appear.

The Empire I promised was not just a dream: I had just laid the foundations, cruel but indispensable, for this valley to survive and prosper.

Lyrria was the first to break the silence, her voice slightly trembling, but defiant nonetheless:

— And the warriors... if some men are stronger than women? Do you really intend to let them rise, regardless of age or gender?

I nodded slowly.

— Exactly. Strength, loyalty, intelligence... that is what will count. Nothing else. Those who refuse to submit to this rule... will face the consequences.

A murmur ran through the circle. Some chiefs exchanged a quick glance, weighing this upheaval.

Oranna, brow furrowed, intervened:

— And the distant clans? Those villages that know only their own laws... How can you guarantee their loyalty? Their obedience?

— Each small clan will be integrated under the authority of a great clan, I replied, voice low but firm. Each great clan will have its region to govern, its villages, its harvests, its troops. The leaders of these small clans will answer directly to their superiors. Thus, unity will be maintained, and any act of rebellion can be sanctioned before it becomes a war.

Neyvara lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip.

— So... you centralize, but do not completely break our local powers... I... I understand... but it remains risky.

— Risky, yes, I conceded, but necessary. The valley will not survive if we each continue to fight over a well, a hill, an honor that will fade with us.

Zae clenched her fists, breath short, eyes fixed on Sora.

— And if some leaders refuse? If one of the more distant clans decides to remain independent?

— Then we will act, I replied, voice calm but sharp. The troops will march, the villages will be pacified, and the decision will not be negotiable. But I do not wish to reach that point. My goal is not to sow terror, but to unite. Fear is only a last measure.

A tense silence followed. The chiefs stared at each other, some arms crossed, others hands clenched on their knees, weighing words, weighing implications.

— And the men in the ranks? Lyrria dared again, gaze burning. If we raise them according to strength... some women will never accept...

— Too bad for their ego, I said, without a gesture of anger. The valley will not be ruled by the weakness of pride. Those who accept to follow our rules will prosper. The others will vanish into oblivion.

I let the warmth of the fire embrace the chiefs’ faces, letting them digest the weight of these words. The murmurs gradually turned into collective reflection. Some nodded almost imperceptibly, others mentally scribbled the conditions of loyalty.

Lyrria let out a small dry laugh, half incredulous, half admiring.

— And you really think we will accept all this... without resisting?

I sketched a thin, almost cruel smile.

— You can resist. You can try. But each attempt will make you lose what you hold most precious: control over your own future. Or you choose to enter this system... and then you will shape History at my side.

The chiefs exchanged long glances, weighing their ambitions, their pride, and the consequences of disobedience. The flames danced on their tense bodies, shadows accentuating the nervousness and fascination. Each felt that the choice was no longer merely political: it was vital, strategic, almost carnal in the tension crossing the circle.

Time seemed to stretch, heavy, burning. Then, in a shared whisper, Lyrria concluded:

— Very well... we will listen. We will... try.

Oranna nodded, forehead still furrowed, but resigned:

— Let’s try. For our clans, and for what you propose.

Neyvara breathed deeply, a new flame in her eyes:

— Then we will follow... and we will watch.

Each chief, and the women present, then agreed.

I let the silence stretch, observing the circle of tense, fascinated, excited, and nervous faces. Each of the seven chiefs now felt the weight and possibility of this pact. The fire flickered, casting shifting shadows on their tense bodies, their labored breathing, the sweat beading on their shoulders and thighs, the palpable tension of a nascent union.

Then, slowly, almost instinct