Peace

A lonesome stagecoach rattled violently over the western countryside. Below darkening afternoon skies, both sets of eyes riding along those highways scanned the horizon relentlessly for signs of movement, and listened closely for any sounds that were out of the ordinary. Dorma knew how easily one could be ambushed by Demons if caution wasn't exercised. Without a focus for spellcasting, it was unlikely that she or Din would be able to fight back, and as she had learned well enough already, running away simply wasn't an option in most cases.

"Are you from Khazman, Dorma?" Din asked out of the blue.

"Hm? Oh- yes. I am." Lowering her guard, the sorcerer smirked, "What gave it away, I wonder?"

"Ah, no… I didn't mean to-"

"There's no need to apologise, Din." She interrupted, "It's true that Khazmani are a rarity in Tor. While its borders with the Lunar Dominion remain open, it can't be denied that a cultural rift continues to foster a kind of uncertainty between the two."

"I can't help but feel as if there's some kind of unresolved tension between Tor and Khazman."

"We may be allies, but it's no secret that both countries are competing to become the world's most dominant power." Dorma explained, "Whether it's determined by population, wealth, or influence, the most powerful country will always have the largest sway within the Alliance. It purports to grant each of the world's leaders an equal voice, but the etiquettes of inner government will always subvert fairness. It's the way of our kind--humans, Elves or Onda, to exploit opportunities, even to the detriment of our allies."

"Hm…" Din didn't seem particularly thrilled by the idea, "Then, why are you a member of Tor's council, instead of supporting the Lunar Dominion?"

"I may have been born in Khazman, but my mother fled the country alongside many others during the last Demon Age." She answered, "The situation was handled poorly. Only a handful of those seeking asylum were allowed entry, and many who were refused simply crossed unguarded areas of the border, where they were branded as criminals and denied entry to cities. Relations between our people declined rapidly--the people of Tor were seen as tyrants incapable of sympathy, and the people of Khazman were called subhumans and cowards for entering the country illegally to escape Demon attacks."

"What about you?" Din tilted her head.

"We were lucky. My mother was a seamstress--and a talented one, at that. Gria was in need of workers to fashion tunics for the army they were raising to defend against the Demons. But even for those of us who were allowed entry, the discrimination did not cease. I was turned away from the city's magical academy, you know? When I was a young lady…"

"That's horrible…" Din muttered, "But- if that's the case, then why do you support Tor now?"

"With the position I hold, I can guarantee that no such thing will ever happen again. Not without severe opposition." She continued, "Thankfully, with passing generations, the intolerance between the people of Tor and Khazman has settled down. When Osman Faraaj-Im Kazhan was dethroned as Shah, open trade became more commonplace, and efforts were made on His Majesty's part to promote the de-escalation of soldiers stationed near the Tor-Khazmani border."

"Do you think…" Din lowered her head, "-No, never mind."

"If you have something to say, you should speak while you have the chance."

"Mm…" She paused, "I was going to ask if peace--true peace, is possible. Not a 'period without conflict' but an age of togetherness. How can we be allowed to maintain our own beliefs and cultures unopposed? Even the slightest difference between humans and Elves--our ears, for instance, is enough to have us branded as 'less than human' and treated like inferior creatures."

"That depends on your definition of peace."

"I don't think it's a difficult thing to understand." She replied, "A lot of things are more complicated than they first appear, but 'peace' is the opposite. When someone advocates for 'peace', their intentions are clear. But how misguided and unrealistic is a world free from any conflict whatsoever?"

"The nature of morality is a difficult one to pin down for certain. For every set of beliefs, there exists a singular 'evil' which stands to oppose it. The creation of 'evils' and their consequences are perhaps the truest expression of intelligence. An animal cannot perceive evil. It can only follow the whims of an underlying dogma--those delivered by instinct."

Pausing for a moment, Dorma continued, "But then, there are outliers to this rule. Beasts given purpose--their savagery transformed into an instrument of purposeful destruction. Creatures such as Demons, and… and people like myself. Like Barion. The 'evil' known as heroism."

"Heroism…" Din muttered, "A few days ago, you said Barion wasn't human…"

"Ah, don't get the wrong idea, now. I didn't mean it in that way." Dorma corrected, "Barion is… a special case."

"Special?"

"Yes. He's like…" Dorma thought about her next words, "-A converging point. A singularity. From the beginning of his very existence, his destiny was to become a Hero. The beauty of a life--sometimes, is being aware of the future's uncertainty. We never know what tomorrow will bring. But Barion… it's as if he was created to serve a single purpose. Perhaps that's why he doesn't quite fit into the world doing anything else."

"That's true. He didn't seem like the merchant type, when we first met." Din sighed, "I'm sorry for prying. I'm sure you'd rather talk about something else."

"You're quite polite for a former thief."

"You would be polite too if you were speaking to one of the Three Heroes!"

As if only just acknowledging her own words, Din thought for a moment before continuing, "-Speaking of which… who was the third Hero?"

"A girl named Shilahi." Dorma answered, "She was a sailor from Fleecia who commandeered the ship we used to confront Leviathan, one of the Four Heavenly Kings. She decided to join us afterwards, and ended up at our side when we confronted the Demon King."

"Is she still alive?"

"Who can say? If she is, I certainly haven't heard anything about where she might be." Dorma replied, "Shilahi was the quiet sort, so it doesn't surprise me that she hasn't garnered much attention since then. If she is still alive, that is."

"It sounds like you all went through a lot together."

"The Hell we endured to ensure a future for this world is one I would rather not repeat." She declared, "If we can find Barion, it may be possible to end this Demon Age before it truly begins, and prevent history from being set back once more."

"It's not just the greater world at risk anymore." Din replied, "Now that Aelf'ahlnohma has been revealed, Elvenkind has just as much of a stake in this as anyone else does. If we don't succeed this time, we'll lose everything--even the archives that allow us to preserve information between Demon Ages."

"When the last age began, the world was moved to petty conflict…" Dorma recalled, "The threat of Demons only served to push us apart. But now, with the Holy Alliance in play, it will do the precise opposite, as it was always intended to. A pure, unfettered 'evil', one so malicious and unforgivable that no living creature could bear to witness it… the desire to see a world free of war will unite us."

From the beginning of her journey 500 years ago, that was all Dorma had wished to see--a world undivided by hate or discrimination. Having witnessed the fruits of her labour over the course of those centuries, that zeal had only grown in her heart. Not only would humanity overcome this age of strife, but she was certain--abnormally so, that somehow, it would be the very last time the world would be threatened by Demons.

"Will we really find what we're looking for in Anjima?" Din asked.

"There's no telling where Barion's ended up. I could cast a scrying spell, but that would require both a focus and a lock of his hair to do so."

"Do you have a lock of his hair?"

"Regretfully, no." She answered, "Why did you phrase that in a way as if I might have one?"

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"That's no reason to be holding onto someone's hair as a memento!"

"Actually, in Aelf'ahlnohma, it's common for a woman to give one of her hairs to a suitor. Because they're easy to lose track of, holding onto it is seen as a sign of a man's dedication."

"I suppose that means Her Majesty has entrusted you with one of hers?"

"Wh-" Recoiling, Din attempted to hide her surprise, "O-Of course not! The Queen's body is sacred, and that includes her hair! Gifting me one would be like handing the city's treasury over to a commoner!"

"You don't have one?"

"Nnh…" Fiddling with her hands, Din's voice lowered, "I do…"

"All the gold in the world is worthless compared to love, after all." Dorma smirked, "Well, Her Majesty can do whatever she pleases with her hair or her lovers. A woman so bold could scarcely be the daughter of anyone other than Barion."