The continent of Aethelia was split in two by the Great Mountain Range that ran right through its center. On the far eastern edge of the continent lay the Palsur Eastern Empire, while the far west was home to the Farsas Western Empire alongside various nations, both large and small. Nestled between these great powers, occupying a strategic valley at the northern tip of the mountains, was the Kingdom of Kayşahr.
Kayşahr was a protected natural wonder hidden behind steep slopes. The imposing mountains surrounding the valley had shaped the character of its people; the locals were as proud and rugged as the peaks themselves, yet deeply bonded to one another. Stepping into the cities, the first thing that welcomed you was the kingdom's renowned stone and woodwork. Kayşahr's artisans carved the rough mountain stones as if they were fine cloth, adorning mansion facades and marketplace arches with handcrafted engravings.
The streets were always bustling; shouting merchants called out in covered bazaars where the scent of spices mingled in the air, and heated chess matches took place outside coffeehouses. Guards glided through the crowds in their light chainmail and flowing military robes, while the spirit of ancient tradition and discipline unique to this land could be felt in every corner.
Rising along the hillside and overlooking the capital, the royal palace stood as the pinnacle of this aesthetic. With its expansive courtyards, high-ceilinged pavilions, and tile-covered walls, the palace looked from the outside like a symbol of grandeur and unshakable power. It resembled neither the suffocating stone palaces of the east nor the cold fortresses of the west; it was a center of governance where intellect and elegance blended seamlessly.
Yet, behind this glittering facade lay a harsh reality driven deep into the heart of the kingdom. In stark contrast to the artificial vibrancy of the streets, the prices of basic foodstuffs in the shops had skyrocketed, leaving the common folk quietly struggling to make ends meet. Behind the grand gates of the palace, the state treasury was almost completely empty.
Despite occupying a critical buffer zone right between massive geopolitical forces, Kayşahr lacked the economic flexibility to counter the looming external threats and burgeoning military dangers along its borders. Though the country appeared to be an unyielding fortress from the outside, it stood on the brink of a massive economic and political collapse that could bury it in the dusty pages of history.
Time to Leave the Academy
The morning after the graduation party began with a familiar, rhythmic sound echoing through the corridors of the Muruıre Academy guesthouse.
Tap... tap... tap.
When no response came from inside the room, a heavy thud followed three seconds later, announcing that someone's patience had officially run out.
"Kaahn! Get up already, the sun is high in the sky!"
The massive heap of blankets on the bed shifted subtly, followed by a thoroughly exhausted groan. Having raised glasses with his friends until late last night—amidst endless well-wishes of "So you're finally leaving, huh? Don't you dare forget us!"—Kaahn felt like a walking corpse. He buried his head beneath his pillow, muttering a string of incomprehensible complaints about the cruelty of mornings.
The door handle clicked down sharply, and Akça burst into the room holding a parchment scroll that mapped out their travel plans. Rolling her eyes, she marched straight to the head of the bed and crossed her arms, looking down at the disaster before her.
"Ugh, you're still in bed," she sighed. "You've grown into a literal mountain of a man, Kaahn, yet I'm still the one who has to drag you out of sleep every single day."
The moment Kaahn heard Akça's disciplined voice, his military academy instincts kicked in, and he bounced up as if struck by lightning. Eyes half-open and hair completely disheveled, he sat cross-legged on the mattress. Taking in the sight of Akça standing over him, a sleepy, charming grin spread across his face. He smoothly placed a hand over his heart.
"If I knew I'd see an archangel the moment I opened my eyes, I would have stopped dreaming of heaven, Lady Akça. A very blessed morning to you."
Akça didn't buy the sudden flattery for a single second. She knit her brows slightly, though she couldn't entirely hide the faint, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Listen to me, Crown Prince," she said, leaning forward and flicking his forehead with just enough force to make him wince. "If you think you can smooth-talk your way out of your responsibilities this early in the morning, you are sorely mistaken."
"Ow! Hey, take it easy! This is a royal forehead, have some mercy!" Kaahn rubbed his head, pouting.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? The coachman downstairs is exhausted from tending to the horses, the luggage is fully loaded, and our dear crown prince is still enjoying his morning lounge." Akça let out a sharp breath, waving the parchment right in front of his nose. "Besides... I believe you're forgetting there's one last place you need to stop by before we head back to our homeland? Or were you planning to leave our little songbird behind without even saying goodbye?"
Kaahn sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. Akça was entirely right. No matter how much he wanted to laze around and ignore the world, he owed a proper farewell to the eccentric friends who had made his academy years bearable. Dangling his legs off the edge of the bed, he looked up at her with a wry smile.
"Seriously, Akça... instead of wishing me a peaceful morning, you've completely dismantled me. I'm only human, you know, not made of mountain stone. If I had even a quarter of your terrifying energy, I would have walked all the way back to the valley by now."
As Akça walked toward the door, she paused, turning back to flash him a quick wink.
"You're all talk when it comes to boasting, Your Highness, but when it's time for actual movement, you vanish beneath the blankets. Come on, you have exactly five minutes."
Kaahn raised his hands in a lazy gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright. I yield. Just let me pull myself together."