Angelina

The Call, a mission to join

It was snowing, she remembered vividly. The ground was packed solid and no matter how much she tried, she did not have enough strength to bury him deep enough. Her officers, her sergeants, warned her that she couldn’t stay - the enemies were closing the gap. Her knuckles red and raw, she could not fathom why they thought she cared. She loved him. They were elves. To die was to return to where they came, the very soil that nourished the groves and the lush vegetation that made civilization possible. To leave him would be to disgrace him, but she supposed it was too late for that. She had told him that he would be okay, and she never thought she would become a liar.

God bless her, she would bury him by his proper rites. His body in the soil, his blood joined in the ocean, and his heart burned to ashes carried away by the winds of his homeland.

Zenara Kallis was no stranger to war. Daughter of a war hero and sister to another one, the drums of battle were in her blood. She was born after the last great war where a mad emperor once held the world hostage as he halted the very descent of the sun for five years and watched the world burn. Even in the aftermath of recovery, there were still those hungry and willing to entrench themselves into the jaws of various wars once more. She did not understand, but she was a soldier. She did not need to understand - only to contribute to its end when it came her way. One more battle to end the war, they said, and once upon a time, she believed it too. But it was only now and here, in the snowy plains, that she finally grasped the truth.

If she held the sun in her hands, she would hold it for an eternity until the world incinerated to ash. And even then, she knew it would not be enough to redress the void in her heart.

That was the first truth. It would never end. Her grief, their grief, it held a chasm that could never be filled. She could strike down the one who killed her boy, but it would not bring him back.

The second truth was his beautiful face yesterday morning, youthful and naive yet fearful of her answer, he whispered, “Is it possible to be redeemed? I wanted to save - to protect lives - yet all I seem to do is take and no matter how hard I try, I can’t return them.”

She had told him a predictable answer. One ingrained in books and priests, a repetition of empty phrases to memorize. “Of course, Kalmor, all can be redeemed under Aros’ light, but they must choose it. Work toward it. That is why true redemption is priceless.”

He had smiled softly at that. “I wonder. If it is priceless, can it be earned? Or can it only be given?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that.

Zenara Kallis was the daughter of a war hero, and she was expected to walk in those footsteps. But today, in the snowy plains, she realized she did not want to be known for the blood that’ll run down her blade. Instead, to the disbelief of her people, she abandoned her post in the midst of a civil war, and rode west with a small loyal regiment. She would build a city, she vowed, known as Kalmor on the Isles of the Forgotten. A rocky island previously used as a dumping ground for exiles, criminals, and derelicts. It was ruled by a Pirate Lord known as Dio of the Ash and Embers who rallied the men under his banner, promising that all those who sailed the western seas would know their name. He was a general nuisance and threat to commerce for many merchant guilds and notoriously hard to kill despite his outrageous bounty. The idea that a traitorous elven hound could walk into his turf and take his throne was laughable.

A traitor she may be, but Zenara was known as the Angel of Aros and cared as much for pirating and stealing as a farmer did on the intricacy of international finance (none). A title reserved for the aasimar paladin of Aros, the God of Justice and Redemption, and though an unknown on the world stage, the elven hound was preferable to the cur. With the merchant guilds funding her venture, Zenara usurped the Pirate Lord and to his men, she offered them a gift of choices: to be redeemed or to be forgotten.

Where the waves crashed into the rocky cliffs, she sprinkled Kalmor’s blood into the ocean. Where it joined the water, she built the port city of Kalmor. Arising from the ashes, the port city of Kalmor took years to build, but it is now a singular place of tranquility amidst hostile seas. Unprecedented, it is the only locus where all banners and races may live, trade, and enter with unparalleled equality. The orc by the dwarf, the elf by the human, and the goblin by the gnome. All may be redeemed under the burning silver eyes of Aros, and once you enter Kalmor, you have no past - only a future. No, she fiercely noted, it does not mean your past is erased. Never. No one’s past can escape them, but that does not mean a future cannot be had. Under the Halls of Justice, no entering man or woman may spill blood on sacred grounds and no lies may be uttered. Merchants clamor to Kalmor for its promise of safety and unbreakable trade agreements, and even pirates and outlaws enter its shores for the same.

But Zenara Kallis clamored to Kalmor for a different reason. As a daughter of the last great war, she could feel the brewing of the next one - the next great war that will envelope the world. The mad emperor, before his halting of the sun, rode east to the distant lands of Hanoi to marry into an ancient bloodline tied to Angela, a near mythological hero whose namesake this world dedicates itself to. He believed that it would provide legitimacy to his rule, his actions, and his ascension. And now, centuries later, scions follow in his footsteps. In Zenara’s homeland, the false elven prince who engulfed her home in a civil war that has lasted decades, had chosen to ride south to court the Sister Queens of Hanoi in a likely bid for an alliance for resources and legitimacy alike to crush his opponent. In the warring human principalities of where the fallen Empire of Kalos laid, the Great Prince of Julius has ridden east for the same reasons. Soon, it will be followed by others. For Hanoi has resources and the blood to lead a road to Paradise for all of them. But Zenara has made a bet.
She bet that the Sister Queens of Hanoi had never met Kalmor. Zenara plans to send no princes nor kings as they did not exist on Kalmor, but instead, she will send missionaries. These missionaries will not only court their people, but also their ladies of court and blood to marry into something far greater than blood: The Covenant of Tomorrow. An agreement between states of sovereignty to cooperation and collective security, to foster a world where the benefits of peace outweighs war, and to enforce a series of codified treaties governing standards to be upheld in wartime regarding civilians and soldiers alike so that what occurred under the mad emperor could never repeat itself.

For Hanoi to join the Covenant of Tomorrow is for Angela herself to bless its conception, for the world in some ways, to choose an avenue other than war. For Zenara and those that believe in Kalmor, it is to convince the world that the profits of peace outweighs the profit of war. An impossible effort, but one that must be attempted. These missionaries must brave into the ancient land with a foreign matriarchal society and monarchy ruled by two sister queens, one that holds primeval secrets behind its borders, and a people who are known for their stubbornness. It would be no easy feat.

Sometimes, Zenara thinks that if the Queens of Hanoi had an opportunity to see Kalmor smile, they would be hard pressed to say no. But perhaps, the real question is, what led you here to the great sea walls of Kalmor? How had it even come to this? Recruited for a mission like this was almost impossible to imagine, and now somehow the fate of Kalmor, of so many who would never know your name, rest in your hands. Why had you listened, why had you agreed to this? Likely you may never see home again... all for what? Glory? Riches? Certainly more lucrative jobs in the merchant guilds. Perhaps power? Or guilt? Love? Or is it just to strive towards a vision, to be a part of something, if however brief?

Questions that are hard to answer, but you have a bit of time to mull over them. A respite to mingle with your fellow missionaries before you step on Darla’s Pride, a galley set to row across the sea, toward the lush fields of Hanoi under nervous skies.