Come closer. Everyone here is cold and a wanderer. The winds whistle strong, story is long, and this is only the beginning. So, share your warmth, you don’t need to be afraid. The noises of the unknown can’t reach us in here. You are safe, and you are with us. Leave it all out of mind, your fear, feel it crawling down your spine and down to the ground. Mother earth will take it, all of it.

Like it took the fright off of the chest of the princess, from high up in the trees. Each step a new one towards something, somewhere. Echoing in her chest as the night took her in too. But her steps were not the only taken that night. No. Our story is as entangled as the roots far underneath us.

We can’t speak of the pillars of a new society, without talking about the Houses that rebuilt it. When the four original Houses fell and chaos emerged, those who didn’t flee to the forests, were still left with the remains of a failed society and all of its problems.

When the spirits laid waste to all land, for a time, there was no longer offense, there was only defense. People seeking shelter from the terrors of the night. The plots against the crowns served no purpose if troops would lose to a third, unbeatable, opponent. So, for a period, strange peace settled the dust of revolution. If peace is what it could be called. Demons, at dawn, still raided the ruins of the past Houses, royals or not, it didn’t matter. Victims were victims, and safety became the priority. Two grand shelters surged from devastation, hosted by powerful families with land, food and medicine. But most importantly, with willingness to share it with others.

This, is how two Kingdoms rose.

The next key piece of this story, comes from the host of one of these shelters. Rising from the ashes of Palirmyn’s lands, a family, powerful even before the Houses fell.

Palirmyn, prior to the war, was powerful and rich as a result of their mines, steel work and blacksmiths. The previous rulers were relentless against their land, devastating even their own crops to get to the precious metals. Lucky for them, other Houses needed these, and would exchange their produce for them. The people of Palirmyn were known to be stubborn, skilled and strong. Their weapons were unmatched and their army feared.

The Healer’s village had no chance.

When the Houses fell, the Palirmyns were of the first royal heads to roll. Their army was the only one, of the past Houses, that sided with the people and turned against them. And the Palirmyns too, stood no chance.

In the wake of their crimson red flooding the streets, Palirmyn fell and so did their walls. Sickness and famine had no mercy and neither did the spirits. Even the wealthy, close to the royal family, couldn’t battle the anarchy and lack of resources. Metal and money would not fill their stomachs, and it would certainly not keep the hungry and lawless away.

Only one big factory stood, a family of blacksmiths that built their empire from the ground up. Luckily for them, the father and head of the family had always been very well read and, more importantly, very paranoid. As a wise businessmen, he had predicted the rupture of their society long before it happened. And he had taken the measures to protect his land, and family, for many years before the war even broke. The blacksmith sent for tall, sturdy, steel walls to be forged around the perimeter of his lands and factory. He hoarded food and hoarded seeds. The blacksmith grew his own fuits and vegetables, and the blacksmith took care of cows, sheeps and pigs. He had a medicine garden and had forced his entire family to read medicine books and recipes.

The crown had looked down upon his reserves, not minding the warnings he had so subtly given among the years. About the thinning of their resources and disregard for their land, the intimidation from the crown to other Houses. Even advising against the invasion of the Healer’s village. He was ridiculed for years, however, him and his family. Never truly estranged due to them being the forefront of the metal industry, but tore down behind their backs. Thankfully, he never cared for the high society and the opulent lifestyle. He was born poor, and he never let himself or his family be dazzled by shiny things and big castles. He was centered and hardworking, values he made sure to install in the family he built.

The blacksmith had been called crazy, paranoid and idiotic. He was judged for spending so many resources into things other magnates called “useless” and “unimportant”. But the blacksmith was the last magnate left, with a head on his shoulders.

And so, though his metal empire would fall with the Houses, his reserves would become a Kingdom.

News reached the blacksmith, of a crowd venturing into the thick, dark, forest in hopes of finding a promised land that would save their children. However, a crowd wasn’t everyone, outside there were still people. Those who didn’t want to leave their land, where they were born, where they grew, where they buried their loved ones. Those who didn’t leave because a safe haven in the forest was only promised in a song, and they didn´t believe. And those who simply didn’t even hear about the migration. Scared, hungry children, on the other side of those metal doors. He was once one of them. Fear and disdain from the rejection of his own nation had made him forget that he was once looking for safety and food himself.

As he watched her two daughters play around the beautiful garden, something in him shifted. A lonely tear traveled down his aged cheeks, something had to be done.

That same night, as he sat down with his wife and daughters, he spoke about opening their gates and letting people in. The girls were excited, naïve about the dangers of anarchy and war, only thinking of new children to play with and share their knowledge of the land. The wife, however, voiced her strong refusal.

She was scared for their safety, specially their daughters’. She was scared for the animals and the plants, for their beautiful home being wrecked by ill-intentioned people. But the blacksmith promised to first find soldiers, loyal ones that would serve as a filter for who could come in and who couldn´t. Soldiers that would keep order and that would guard the only entrance. He himself would take a couple of the men from their staff, that worked for them before war and they let live inside their safe lands, and venture outside to find the soldiers the next day. He was sure to find good men and women.

 You see, soldiers from Palirmyn weren’t chosen, but raised since childhood. Educated to be objective and serve their people, with a strict code of honor and a heightened respect for values that would assure the survival of their House.

During the discussion of an invasion, the officials that raised these worthy soldiers, denied the crown’s petition to use them for such a dishonorable action. In consequence, the greedy crown created a new unit, new troops that would agree to invade the Healer’s village, behind their officials back. Which is why Palirmyn’s troops were the only ones to turn against their royals.

The wife had pleaded for him not to, nonetheless. It was too dangerous, and they didn’t know if the soldiers had kept their values in the face of famine and war. The blacksmith reminded her then, that those horrible things also came for children, just like their daughters. She had stayed silent for the rest of dinner.

The next morning, the men mounted the only horses they had and opened the metal gates for the first time since the Houses fell. Days went by and the wife, the girls and their staff, mourned the blacksmith and the men, thinking the worst of the delayed return. They were self-sufficient and instructed in how to survive and keep their system going, but they didn’t mourn a wise leader and his staff. They mourned a husbands, sons and fathers.

On the 9th day, the gates were knocked on. A secret knock that promised their men were back, and they were successful. The few men left in the lands were ordered to open the gates by the wife, and three tired horses would come in. Three of seven that had left.

The three riders hopped off and kneeled before her, with open hands to the ground and heads low. Children, women and sick people were still at the door, waiting for the wife’s grace. It was her husband’s last wish, they said.

The pain and shock began to shut down her body as she heard how spirits had attacked them and taken four men, including the blacksmith. His last words had been to continue the mission and beg for her wife’s understanding if they completed it. So here they were, in his memory. Victorious and expectant of something to come out of what now is only the shell of a woman, holding her youngest daughter as she loudly cried.

Night was beginning to fall, and the only thing heard in their lands was the young girl’s gut-wrenching cries. They were all willing to respect the wife’s wishes, no matter what they were.  Even if they were to close the doors, with everyone still on the other side. That was the level of respect they had for this family, who had saved them from the dread of war outside.

But the wife could say nothing, do nothing, only stare. And the eldest daughter could not