Sons of Chenia

Chapter 15

Red and brown cloths flowed over every brick and wrought-iron balcony that lined the thoroughfare. Flags and ribbons danced in the wind. Giggles and cheers permeated the constant rhythm of boots pounding over the cobblestone streets. These were the sights and sounds common to Orvahn every Ring Day.

Ring Day was a Czarian holiday marking an ancient alliance that harked back some fifteen hundred years. Legend stated that the kingdoms of what would become Czaria and Chenia warred incessantly in those days. After the death of his son in battle, King Charislav, the father of Czaria, extended an olive branch to the kingdoms of Chenia by offering them rings of gold tinted with Czarian uranium. It signaled a truce between the kingdoms that resulted in two decades of subsequent peace. In the years that followed, Czarian leaders would wear such rings when fighting broke out along their borders and they had to call their brethren to defend the motherland. Thus, such rings came to symbolize not only peace, but also the noble efforts of Czarians who fought for the country's freedom.

On this Ring Day, citizens lined Orvahn's streets to watch the parade of soldiers march from City Hall to the Crimson Citadel. All of the procession's attendants boasted rings of their own, but only the highest ranking officers and member of the city's aristocracy could afford gold rings tinted with uranium. Among those who sported such a traditional sign of patriotism was Stalgrave.

Stalgrave's ring glinted in the midday sun as he stood on the balcony overlooking the Crimson Citadel, his hands on the railing, watching the soldiers stream into the square. He donned the ceremonial general's uniform of black trousers and crimson shirt lined with golden cuffs and a collar. Five small steel daggers – awarded only to those who displayed leadership and courage in military service – stretched horizontally over each shoulder sleeve. Sewn onto his shirt, directly over his heart, was the most distinguished of military honors: the Delmian copperhead. This medal, cast out of black steel, represented an extinct species of serpent that once inhabited Orvahn in ancient times when the city was but a collection of huts on a marshland. During the summer, Delmian copperheads flourished in the heat and were caught by local chieftains who used their skin to decorate their belts, sword hilts and knife sheathes. Just as with the rest of his medals, the Delmian copperhead signaled a rank and status only a few in Czaria could claim.

Stalgrave was familiar with the prestige that each emblem and insignia bore. Every one of them boosted his confidence and added to his stature, to the point where he felt that every stare of admiration, every awe of his power by his soldiers and fellow citizens was his birthright, not a privilege. His command was divine.

Stalgrave's past – his real past, not the propaganda he spread – showed little hint of his future grandeur. In fact, his name at birth was not Stalgrave but Anatoly. His father was a brute and a drunk, the type of man to knock his wife and children around whenever he felt like it. He farmed their little homestead in Western Czaria, working long days for little in return, only to spend the family's earnings at the local tavern or gambling hall. His mother proved little better. At times she was loving, but she often turned cruel at a moment's notice, without provocation. Anatoly could easily expect a warm embrace and a hard slap all in the same sitting at the dinner table.

Such a bipolar environment made for a cold atmosphere for Anatoly and his two siblings. One was his brother, Antovich, younger by only eleven months, and the other was his sister, Zafra, born the day after his fifth birthday. Zafra never made it past age six. She died under mysterious circumstances when a tree branch fell on her during a sudden windstorm. Her death, along with rumors spread by the townspeople that one of the family was responsible, sent Anatoly's mother into madness, which continued to plague her intermittently for the rest of her life.

Soon thereafter, their parents sent the two boys off to military academy, where the dual appeal of ridding the house of two mouths to feed and receiving a stipend for their sons' military service ensured that Anatoly and Antovich would never see home again. They proved to be average students in their academics but managed to shine a little more in athletics. This was especially true for Anatoly in regards to the Czarian hand-to-hand combat art of Jambiya, a discipline taught to all up-and-coming cadets of the Czarian Guard. By his second year at military academy, Anatoly had become the best Jambiya student there, defeating boys older and much more experienced in the art.