Chapter 10 History of Valoria 07/08/908


    Yonas moved through his morning training with a growing sense of frustration. His feet shuffled across the uneven ground, his sword tracing hesitant arcs through the air. No matter how many times he repeated the drills, his movements felt stilted, his steps uncertain. He could not recapture the fluidity he had felt only days before.


    His mind worked against him, a torrent of strategies and overcomplicated plans that bogged down his every action. He found himself two, sometimes three, steps ahead of his own body, his thoughts stretching into imagined futures that never came to pass. His foot would slip, his sword would overextend, and he would find himself off balance, exposed.


    Nasir watched quietly, his expression neither encouraging nor condemning. When Yonas finally paused, his breath ragged, Nasir only offered a single line: “To move, you need to take the first step. But to take the first step, you need to move.”


    The words only added to Yonas'' frustration. He clenched his sword tightly, the leather grip biting into his palms. Without warning, he threw his head back and screamed, his voice piercing through the quiet of the forest. The sound echoed, startling a flock of birds into the sky. When his breath ran out, he stood there, chest heaving, the tension slowly ebbing from his body.


    “Alright,” he muttered, more to himself than to Nasir. “Again.”


    This time, his movements were calmer. His mind still buzzed with strategies, but he forced himself to focus on the present. One step, then another. His feet moved with more intent, his strikes becoming less about the outcome and more about the process. He did not achieve the same flow as before, but it was a step forward, and for now, that was enough.


    After breaking camp, they set off deeper into the Eldergrove. The forest stretched endlessly around them, every tree a clone of the last, every path swallowed by the same thicket of undergrowth. The air hung heavy, a stillness that pressed against their skin. Yonas felt a creeping unease, not from any visible threat but from the sense that the world around them had paused, waiting for something to happen.


    Nasir led the way, his steps sure even as the landscape refused to change. His eyes darted to the ground, where Yonas only saw dirt and leaves, but Nasir seemed to see more. His fingers occasionally brushed a broken branch, his gaze lingering on worn patches of earth. Signs of movement, of life, hidden in plain sight.


    “To get to the capital, we need to go through the Eldergrove,” Nasir explained, his voice breaking the silence. “And there’s no better place to train than where the monsters are.”


    Yonas nodded, though his mind drifted. He knew that to truly become stronger, he needed to understand not just the dangers of the forest but the very kingdom he aimed to protect. There was more to being an elemental swordsman than battle—it was about knowing the world he lived in, the history that shaped it, and the people he would one day fight for.


    To pull him from his thoughts, Nasir began to speak, his tone slipping into the cadence of a storyteller.


    “Valoria wasn’t always governed by a council,” he said. “Once, we had a king—a ruler so cruel that his name is no longer spoken. He ruled with fear, beheading anyone he thought might rise against him. He killed five of our ten strongest warriors, leaving our kingdom vulnerable. It was his tyranny that led to the council''s formation.”


    “Did it work?” Yonas asked, his curiosity stirring. “The council, I mean. Are they better than a king?”


    Nasir hesitated, his steps slowing. “For the most part, yes. The council brought stability. We haven’t gone to war since they took over. But not everything is perfect. Many of them care more about securing their own wealth and power than serving the people.”


    “But how do they get away with it?”


    “The council operates behind closed doors. Votes are secret, and the only rule is that disagreements are never discussed publicly. One in four council members speaks for the people—the rest align with the powerful. The common folk don’t see it. They see peace, safety. They think the council is working miracles.”


    Nasir explained how Valoria was divided into four main sectors, each with its own strength. Aegisfell, where the strongest elemental swordsmen were born and trained. Zephyros, where elementalists pushed the boundaries of magic, even now working to materialize elemental energy to make it more accessible. Pyrenhold, the kingdom’s beating heart of craftsmanship, where weapons of legendary power were forged. And Thalrune, the educational hub, a place of knowledge and strategy.


    These four sectors surrounded the kingdom''s capital, where the grand castle stood. It was a fortress not only of stone but of politics, housing the council members and the powerful dukes who wielded influence over Valoria. Beyond the walls of the four sectors lay the Hinterlands, a sprawling region home to the common folk. While the inner sectors thrived with prosperity, the Hinterlands bore the weight of the kingdom’s neglect, vulnerable to threats from both monsters and bandits.


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    Nasir spoke of Baldric Emberforge, the master craftsman who could infuse elemental energy into weapons, and Eldric Loreweaver, the living archive of knowledge. He told of Thorin Wyrmcall, the rank 8 elementalist whose small, strategic victories kept the kingdom alive in the war against Draeven.


    Thorin Wyrmcall was more than just a rank 8 elementalist—he was a force of nature. His command over wind and storm was unmatched, allowing him to call forth tempests that could shift the tide of battle. It was said that during the darkest hours of the Draeven war, when Valoria''s forces were cornered against the Silver Ridge, Wyrmcall stood upon the cliffs and summoned a storm so fierce it tore the Draeven ships to splinters. The wind howled with his rage, and lightning struck with pinpoint accuracy, each bolt guided by his will. His control over elemental energy was not just a skill but an art, each motion a brushstroke that painted the battlefield with both destruction and salvation.


    Nasir pulled a worn, leather-bound book from his satchel as they walked through the dense underbrush of the Eldergrove. The book''s edges were frayed, and its cover bore deep scratches, signs of both age and adventure. Yonas had seen it before, always tucked close to Nasir''s side, but this was the first time he had shown it openly.


    “This is my monster book,” Nasir explained, holding it out for Yonas to see. “Every creature I’ve encountered, every threat I’ve avoided—it’s all in here.”


    The book felt heavier than it looked when Yonas took it in his hands. The leather binding was smooth from years of handling, but it retained a weight that seemed more than just physical. It was a magical book, one that responded to thought. Nasir explained how he could think of a particular creature, and when he turned the pages, the book would flip to the right entry on its own. It was an expensive artifact, a small fortune spent to ensure survival.


    The reason the book could also act like a normal book, allowing Nasir to flip through the pages manually, was more practical than magical. Nasir explained that if he ever forgot something he had written down, he wouldn''t be able to recall it just by thinking of it. By allowing him to look through the book like a traditional tome, he could rediscover old knowledge, ensuring that nothing important was ever lost to the passage of time.


    Nasir opened the book, the pages rustling with a life of their own. Neat, slanted handwriting filled the parchment, accompanied by detailed sketches of creatures and plants. There were maps too, rough but clear, showing the territories of certain monsters and the safest routes through dangerous areas. Annotations crowded the margins, small notes that marked changes in behavior or new discoveries. The book was alive with knowledge.


    “Do you only write about monsters?” Yonas asked.


    “No,” Nasir said, flipping to a page showing a cluster of glowing blue vines. “I include plants too. Some are dangerous, like these Luminth Vines. They lure creatures in with their light and then constrict, draining their life force. Others are useful—herbs that can numb pain, mushrooms that enhance night vision. The forest is as much an ally as it is an enemy, if you know what to look for.”


    Yonas traced a finger over the inked lines, feeling the slight raise of the ink under his touch. Each page was a story of survival, a testament to caution and preparation. “Have you shown this to anyone else?”


    Nasir shook his head. “I work alone. Most wouldn’t believe what’s in here anyway. People in the capital, even some in the Hinterlands, think the Eldergrove is just an old forest. They’ve never seen what it hides.”


    The pages turned to a sketch of a creature with sinewy limbs and translucent skin. Its eyes were dark pits, its mouth a maw filled with needle-like teeth. “Shade Stalker,” Nasir said. “It lives in shadows, blending in until it strikes. I watched it take down a boar without a sound.”


    “Did you fight it?” Yonas asked, his voice hushed.


    “No need,” Nasir replied. “Not every battle is worth fighting. Sometimes the best move is to avoid danger altogether. The Shade Stalker hunts by sound and heat. Staying still, keeping quiet—that’s how you survive.”


    The book also held secrets about harmless creatures. Nasir showed him a drawing of a small, rabbit-like creature with three eyes and long, delicate ears. “Fae Hares. Their fur can be used in potions to enhance hearing. Harmless, but rare.”


    Yonas’ curiosity grew. “How does the book work? There’s no way it has enough pages for all of this.”


    “It doesn’t,” Nasir said with a smile. “It’s enchanted. The book remembers. When I write something, it’s stored within, and when I need it again, I think of it, and the page appears. But if I ever forget what I wrote, I can turn it into a normal book, flipping through each page in order. It’s saved me more than once.”


    Yonas’ mind raced with possibilities. He thought of keeping his own book one day, of recording not just what he saw but what he learned. The idea settled in him, a small flame of inspiration that warmed against the cool air of the forest.


    “There are still blank pages,” Nasir continued. “This forest, the world—it holds more secrets than I could ever write down. Every day, something new could appear. A new monster, a new plant, a new danger.”


    He closed the book, the leather cover soft in his hands. “It’s not just about knowing what’s out there. It’s about being prepared. Knowledge is as much a weapon as any sword.”


    Yonas nodded, his grip tightening on his own sword. The weight of Nasir’s words hung in the air, a reminder that strength alone was not enough. He needed to learn, to see, and to remember. The monster book was a path, not just to survival but to mastery.


    As they continued through the forest, Yonas found himself looking at the world with new eyes. Every rustle of leaves, every strange plant, every flicker of movement—it was all part of a story, a page waiting to be written. He would listen, he would learn, and one day, he too might hold a book filled with the secrets of the world.