A Kingdom Without Walls

After taking a brief rest in the small village, Liora and Elowen resumed their journey, entering what they hoped would be the final stretch before reaching the High Chief's place.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the winding dirt path as the carriage creaked steadily and rhythmically like an old lullaby.

The air was alive with the mingling scents of blooming wildflowers and damp earth, a testament to the recent rain.

Golden sunlight filtered through the sparse canopy of trees overhead, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Birds chirped melodiously in the distance, their songs blending harmoniously with the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the ever-present wind.

It wasn't just wind—it was *Windoria's breath*, a constant reminder of the kingdom's namesake spirit. Liora, feeling more at ease after her earlier turmoil, leaned out of the carriage slightly to take in the scenery once again.

his time, however, her curiosity outweighed her insecurities. Turning to Elowen, she began peppering her with questions about Windoria. "What's it like there? Are the people friendly? Do they have wars too? Will I have to fight again? And what kind of monsters threaten them?" Her voice carried both apprehension and excitement—a mix of fear for the unknown and preparation for whatever lay ahead.

Elowen chuckled softly, amused by Liora's relentless curiosity. "One question at a time, flower girl," she teased gently before launching into an explanation.

"Windoria is… different from Sanctora. Imagine a vast expanse of land covered in grass and tall weeds, dotted with rolling hills and crisscrossed by beautiful rivers. There are patches of jungle here and there, but nothing too dense—just clusters of smaller trees. From above, it looks like a green carpet spread over the earth."

"Some call it a 'flying green carpet' because the wind never truly stops blowing. It's not a gale, mind you, but it's more than just a breeze." She paused, letting Liora picture the scene in her mind.

"As for the people, well, they're unlike anyone you've met before. They're loud, strict, proud, and fiercely competitive—but don't mistake that pride for hostility. They value humor, though it might take some time to earn their trust or respect."

"Foreigners aren't exactly greeted with open arms, but they won't harm you either. Just don't expect big smiles or hugs on your first visit." Liora frowned slightly, her confidence wavering again.

Sensing this, Elowen pressed on. "But let me tell you something important—they're incredible warriors. Or rather, they prefer to call themselves hunters. Unlike typical hunters who rely on ranged weapons, these folks are masters of close combat. Daggers, small axes, even short swords—they wield them with unmatched skill."

"Their mages? Equally impressive, specializing in wind-based attack spells. So to answer one of your earlier questions, no, they're not currently facing any major threats from monsters. Those beasts know better than to pick a fight with Windorians."

"In fact, the hunters often hunt *them*. Think of it as a game of hide-and-seek—if the seeker happens to carry sharp daggers and knows how to use them." Elowen grinned mischievously at her own analogy, earning a hesitant laugh from Liora.

"And one last thing," Elowen added, her tone turning thoughtful. "Unlike other kingdoms, Windoria doesn't have walls or fortresses. Instead, they live in structures called 'gers.' These are large, portable tents that function almost like houses."

"They can assemble and disassemble them easily, pack the parts onto horses or donkeys, and move whenever they please. Every few months, they relocate within their territory, setting up camp somewhere new. It's practical, efficient, and deeply tied to their way of life." Liora's eyes widened in amazement.

"So they're like… nomads?" she asked, struggling to imagine such a lifestyle.

"In a sense, yes," Elowen replied, nodding. "Though they'd probably bristle at being called that. To them, it's about freedom and adaptability."

Still curious, Liora pressed further. "And what about leadership? Do they have a king like other kingdoms?"

Elowen shook her head. "No kings here. Leadership rotates among High Chiefs—usually three or four at a time. However, right now, there's only one: High Chief Altan."

"The others passed away due to old age, and the next selection process isn't scheduled for another couple of years according to tradition." Liora tilted her head, intrigued.

"What about religion? Do they worship the Lord of Light like we do?" Elowen burst into laughter, clearly enjoying herself. "Oh no, dear. They worship the Lord of Wind. And their funerals? Well…" She leaned closer, lowering her voice dramatically.

"…they practice air burials. That means they leave the bodies on top of hills and let vultures eat them completely." Liora gasped, her face paling instantly. "You're joking, right?"

Elowen laughed harder, shaking her head. "Afraid not. Welcome to Windoria, where death meets the sky!" Liora shuddered visibly, clutching her staff tightly as if seeking comfort from its familiar presence.

Not long after Elowen's unsettling revelation, the carriage crested a hill, revealing the breathtaking expanse of Windoria below. Just as Elowen had described, the land stretched endlessly before them—a verdant sea of green interrupted only by gentle hills, sparkling rivers, and occasional clusters of modest trees dotted the landscape, their branches swaying lazily as if waving hello.

A soft breeze swept through the area, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers and fresh grass. Liora stuck her hand outside the window, letting the cool wind brush against her skin.

She marveled at how different this land felt compared to Sanctora. Where Sanctora was fortified and structured, Windoria seemed fluid and untamed—like a living entity that refused to be confined.

Her gaze swept across the horizon, taking in the endless expanse of green. The sight filled her with a sense of awe but also unease; beauty often masked danger, a lesson she had learned all too well during her trial before.

Her earlier anxieties melted away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe.

Turning to Elowen, she smiled brightly. "It's so beautiful," she said softly. "Different from Sanctora, but still… stunning." Elowen watched her fondly, silently hoping that this moment of joy would serve as fuel for the challenges ahead.

Their peaceful interlude was abruptly interrupted when they descended the hill and spotted a lone figure atop a horse waiting for them. As the carriage drew closer, the man rode forward to meet them, his demeanor stern and unsmiling.

His piercing gaze swept over the carriage, lingering briefly on Liora before dismissing her entirely. He sat tall and rigid atop his horse, every line of his posture radiating authority—and perhaps a touch of arrogance.

His leather armor gleamed faintly in the fading sunlight, adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of countless battles fought and won. A small axe hung at his side, its blade polished to a mirror-like sheen, a silent testament to his prowess as a hunter.

Pulling alongside the carriage, he introduced himself in a clipped tone. "Evening, Lady Elowen, and companion. I am Batu Erden, one of the generals of the Hunters. High Chief Altan has tasked me with welcoming and escorting you to our gers."

Elowen nodded politely, masking her amusement at his lack of warmth. "Thank you, General Batu." Without another word, Batu turned his attention to the coachman, issuing instructions in a similarly curt manner.

Inside the carriage, Liora's newfound happiness evaporated as quickly as it had arrived. seated within the confines of the carriage, couldn't help but shrink back slightly.

Her fingers tightened around her staff, knuckles whitening as she struggled to steady her breathing. She glanced at Elowen, seeking reassurance, but all she saw was calm composure.

She stared wide-eyed at Elowen, trembling slightly. "He's so… unfriendly," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Elowen placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Don't worry, Liora. This is just how hospitality works around here. They value strength and directness above all else. You'll get used to it."

Despite her mentor's calming words, Liora struggled to muster even a semblance of a smile. Batu's demeanor reminded her of the nightmare she'd experienced days earlier—the same cold, calculating gaze that had judged her harshly in her vision.

Was this how others would see her if she failed? Would they dismiss her as weak, unworthy of trust or respect? These thoughts swirled in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her. Her grip on her staff tightened involuntarily as anxiety gnawed at her resolve.

The journey to the gers felt interminably long under the watchful gaze of General Batu, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his helmet. To outsiders, his demeanor might seem cold, even unwelcoming—but it was nothing personal.

In Windoria, hospitality wasn't measured by smiles or pleasantries; it was demonstrated through action. By escorting these visitors safely to the gers, he fulfilled his duty.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something significant loomed on the horizon. The arrival of an outsider bearing sacred power was unprecedented, and the implications weighed heavily on his mind. What did it mean for Windoria? And why had the Six Great Mages chosen someone from Sanctora—a kingdom often dismissed as weak and naive?.

When they finally arrived, the sight awaiting them did little to ease Liora's nerves. A crowd had gathered near the largest ger, including several imposing figures clad in leather armor and adorned with weapons.

Among them stood High Chief Altan, flanked by additional generals. As Liora stepped down from the carriage, she kept her head bowed, clinging timidly to Elowen's shadow.

High Chief Altan approached them with a warm smile, his demeanor far friendlier than Batu's. "Welcome to Windoria, O Green Mage," he greeted Elowen warmly, using her other nickname with evident respect. "I apologize for not escorting you personally. My age makes such journeys difficult, but I hope you understand."

Elowen bowed slightly, her expression courteous. "There's no need to apologize, High Chief Altan. We're honored simply to be here."

With a hearty laugh, Altan gestured toward his ger. "Come, let us speak inside. Much awaits discussion." As they followed him into the spacious tent, Liora allowed herself a cautious glance around.

Though the atmosphere remained intimidating, she couldn't deny the craftsmanship and functionality of the gers. Each structure seemed designed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, embodying the very essence of Windorian resilience and adaptability.

For the first time since arriving, a flicker of admiration—and perhaps even hope—began to stir within her.