~.✧ Ethira ✧.~ [COMPLETE]

~.✧ twenty-seven ✧.~

While the war was one of the shortest in the history of the Great Lands, only lasting approximately two weeks after the attack on the camp at Ethira's border, the aftermath was far more substantial than anyone had wanted.

We'd remained at the camp for a couple days after I'd awoken until I was strong enough to be moved. I'd told Varien that I would be fine heading back to Ethran without him to receive the better care I needed, and I could see him torn between wanting to stay with me and needing to finish his duties at the camp. I had little desire to separate from him either, but the healer that had been tending to me had insisted that I reside in better conditions than a torn up soldier's camp.

Gentry had stepped in and suggested I be moved to a nearby city for care so that Varien could still visit me when he got the chance but could return hastily if needed. I'd wanted to crush her in a hug for the suggestion but had refrained.

After a week in Partridge Hill—the province of Saliper's largest town—Varien had come to retrieve me, saying it was time to go home, that Qyunt had successfully helped us defend off Brikenfolt from our border. The carriage ride home was long, but I'd enjoyed every moment of it with Varien, savoring the time I'd almost never had with him.

In the following days, after Quynt ravaged a severe attack against Brikenfolt near their capital, a letter of official surrender was brought by personal messenger to Varien. Not only had it included an announcement of peace, but of the inner turmoil that had gone on during the war in King Solanus' house.

I suppose with so much hate in one's heart, it would only be fitting that one would go from heart attack. It'd been surprising news, sure, but had been followed by a wave of relief from not only me but most of those I'd encountered with the news. Tentativity lingered in the area of how to deal with them now, as the man responsible for these horrible acts had already paid his punishment and his son, once Prince but now King Marcellus, had taken his place. For the time being, King Marcellus seemed quite the opposite of his father. He couldn't have been more than ten years older than Varien but his urgency was unmatched as he immediately began calling for reparations to be paid. His letters were a constant stream onto Varien's office desk and were soon accompanied by gifts. Fine metals dug from their rocky mines stacked high in wagons plus a few certain foods that were only able to be grown in the marshy run off lands at the bottom of their snow-capped mountains in the spring.

Internally, the kingdom of Ethira settled into a time of ease, even the wind seemingly breathing a sigh of relief with each breeze from the coast. The provinces that had once shown disdain and skepticism for Varien's kingship now smiled and rejoiced, or at least respected him more than they once did. He'd led them through war without a commoner injured. Few questioned him now.

Yet while no common civilians were lost, many soldiers—brave men who'd chosen to sacrifice their lives—had been. Varien barely had to say a word before his Advisory agreed to funds being drawn to build a memorial for all those we'd lost. As Varien stated, it would never gain back their lives, but he hoped it would allow those in future generations to reflect with gratitude and find respect for the men who'd died for their safety.