Where Oaths Are Unmade

THE ERA OF WARLDENS

Prologue: A Golden Age with Cracks Beneath

The Era of the Warldens was celebrated in every corner of Zenilry. Songs were written about it, painted banners flew from every tower, and merchants spoke of the capital as though it were a living jewel.

Gold moved easily through hands. Taxes were lighter than they had been in generations. Laborers earned five zen more than before, sometimes more, and trade routes bloomed like spring vines. Foreigners arrived daily; scholars, merchants, investors, and diplomats each drawn by opportunity.

But prosperity did not silence fear.

Some locals watched outsiders with narrowed eyes, whispering that their own chances were being taken. Others feared that wealth would rot the kingdom from the inside. And beneath the glamour lay something older and heavier: tradition.

Zenilry was still a land where women were expected to serve quietly. Though laws no longer forbade them from working or leading, most families still clung to the past. In schools, hospitals, guilds, and courts, women were rare sights.

Yet change had begun.

And it wore the name Warlden.