Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

"So Mythra, I am soon going to leave this place...as you must be aware, by now, that I am a traveler," said Akorak.

He was chopping some dry wood to put it in the fire. Mythra was assisting him. They were cooking a soup made from the leaves and herbs which they had garnered, earlier in the day. So far it appeared to be stimulating. The aroma of that delicacy made him remember his grandmother's cooking.

"What are you going to do?" he asked Mythra. Mythra was flustered. He knew he couldn't go back to Lothar because it was captured by the Parso Empire. But he had to find his family. Were they even alive? He thought. He was desperate to ensure that Aerytha was safe. He was yearning to meet her.

"I don't know. I will probably head towards Lothar. I need to find Aerytha and Herios...Do you think you could take me there?...I don't know the way," he replied.

"You are just eight Mesha old, Mythra. Even if you find your sister and your brother...how are you going to save them?" asked Akorak. Mythra sighed.

"I don't know what to do anymore..." he said, perplexed. Akorak could realize the dilemma in which Mythra was trapped.

"Well if you want, you could come with me," he said. Mythra looked at him, confused.

"Come with you? What about my family?" he asked.

"I will drop you in our capital city, in safe hands. Our Ethnarch must be planning for a retaliation to retrieve the kingdom of Lothar from the conquerors," he said. Mythra was still confused. He had no idea where the capital city was and who was the Ethnarch.

"Trust me...I know it's a lot to take in...but at least you would be in safe hands...our Ethnarch is a generous and righteous ruler...I can assure you that he will save the kingdom from this invasion," spoke Akorak. Mythra thought about it for a while. He knew that going to Lothar, alone, was a futile attempt of saving his family.

"Fine," he agreed, diffidently.

After a while, the soup was ready and Mythra, as always, was voracious. Akorak took a receptacle, filled it with the soup up to the brim and handed it over to Mythra. Mythra stared at the sweltering receptacle filled with the succulent soup. His mouth was watery and his stomach was growling with hunger. When he was about to taste the delish soup, he halted and kept the receptacle on the ground.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" asked Akorak. Mythra denied.

"No, it's not that. If my granny was here, she would have smacked my hand and made me sing the prayer," replied Mythra. Akorak was impressed that Mythra remembered his grandmother's teachings even when he was hungry. Both of them clasped their palms and closed their eyes. They recited the prayer in primitive Isharian.

Vinākyndā vylā kitā nā myśa śherośā ki
Sehajedenā hitā nemā ga tepenkān chi
Jevana kertā shaeshā narrii jo ikśi neki
Udirā berini konā nā myśa systarani

As soon as the prayer ended, Mythra lifted the receptacle and started sipping the hot and piquant soup. He savored every sip of that delicacy.

"It's appreciative that you know the prayer by heart. But do you know what it means?" asked Akorak.

"No I don't..." replied Mythra. He was engrossed in drinking his sapid soup.

Akorak chortled. "Well do you wish to know?" he asked.

"Nope," replied Mythra tersely. Akorak was entertained by Mythra's blithe prayers. Mythra realized that he had been brusque to the man who had offered him the soup. "Well. I mean...I never cared to know what it means as long as I got the food, which came later," replied Mythra, wittingly.

"Fair enough," said Akorak as he took a long sip of his own soup.

"Well...what does it mean?" asked Mythra, curiously.

"Glad you asked. It's actually a prayer to Mother Systara and to Lord Seros," he said.

Every morsel that I consume, I owe it to you Lord Seros, for keeping me alive.
I present my gratitude to your name, the protector of our world.
I thank mother Systara for cultivating the fruits that satisfy my hunger.
I thank mother Systara, the mother of all creatures, for preserving life in our world.

Akorak translated the verse from primitive Isharian into the vernacular tongue. Mythra was intrigued. It was a prayer of gratitude which was presented to Lord Seros and to Mother Systara.

"Well along with them, I wish to thank you too, 'Lord' Akorak," replied Mythra after thinking about the prayer.

"Lord?" Akorak chortled on hearing that title. "Why thank me?"

"Because you are the first stranger who gave me food...without expecting me to do anything for you in return," he said, remembering his unfortunate past when he was tricked by the owner of the eatery to labor for him, in exchange of giving him some food.

"Well...you have nothing to fear from me, kid," replied Akorak.

At the break of the next dawn, they packed their things for their trip. They had a long journey ahead to travel on foot. Akorak had stuffed his backpack with medicinal herbs, some old parchments and a cylindrical pitcher filled with water. Mythra was carrying the food and other supplies for their travel. After strapping the bags on their back, they finally took a last glimpse at the hut. The bag was quite heavy for Mythra because of his impaired foot. Akorak had made a small, wooden staff for his comfort and convenience.

"Are you sure you would be able to carry that?" asked Akorak.

"Yes, I'll manage," replied Mythra.

Finally, they left the hut which had provided them with shelter and protection for the last two Deven. The weather was pleasant and the sky was clear when Seros was just sneaking above the horizon. Mythra could see some stars on the opposite side of the rising, as if they were eavesdropping. He could see the waning gibbous of Arkā, while Vaerūn appeared as a fine crescent. Prohor could be seen in a waxing gibbous phase. The wintry winds danced around the milieu, spreading their cheer all around the trees and the hills.

The surroundings resonated with the chirps of Korka and the calls of the other beasts, as they celebrated the rising of Seros. Mythra saw the hill tops, obscured by the misty clouds, while the precipitous slopes of the mounts were covered in a greenish blue blanket, lush in vegetation. The rivers played and chased each other through the ridges and the valleys of the hills. He felt as if he was in the bosom of mother Systara.

"Heart-warming, isn't it?" asked Akorak as he saw Mythra, staring at the rising of Seros. Mythra didn't respond. His eyes were fixated on the horizon as that bloated ball of fire, gradually ascended between the hills and as it rose, the waters of the river glittered with its rays. It was as if Seros had been chasing the river for the entire night and it had finally found her by sneaking through the mountain slopes.

"I have never seen a rising so beautiful..." said Mythra, intrigued and engulfed by the beauty of it all. For a moment, he had forgotten all about his past life, he had forgotten all about his sorrow, his pain, his solitude and about his family. He was laconic and equipoise, staring blindly towards the end of those mountain ranges. He felt a deep longing inside his heart, like an old and distant memory, faded through time. He felt as if he had belonged to this moment since eternity.

Mythra had seen many risings through the window of his room, but they were mostly observed with a motive of getting ready for a break feast or to run the errands of the day. For the first time in his life, he witnessed the rising with no expectation and with no motives. He was at peace. Just as Seros was rising above the horizon, the reflection of the star was rising in Mythra's eyes. He was not afraid to go blind, he was not afraid that his eyes would get burned.

Today, he was not afraid of anything. He was invincible. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like he was the 'Child of hatred', as his birth had destined him to be. Today, he felt like the 'Child of the light'. The morning cries of the beasts, the chirping of the birds, the sound of the river water, the rustling of the leaves, the whispering of the winds---he felt like he had known all of this for the longest of time.

"Makes you forget everything, doesn't it?" asked Akorak. Mythra agreed with a nod. He was speechless.

"It makes me realize that no matter how dark and cold the nights may become, no matter how long they shall last...in the end, there will always be a rising, to give us the warmth of the day and the light of our eyes. All we need to do is be patient...and have faith," spoke Akorak. No words could have been more judicious to describe the meaning of what Mythra was witnessing with his bare eyes.

He closed his eyes and joined his hands, as he offered to pay his respects to the star, not because his grandmother told him to, but because he experienced it today --- the meaning of being alive. He wished that Aerytha and Herios would have been there with him, to see this majestic scenario but unfortunately they weren't. This assured Mythra that he wasn't dreaming and all of this was real.

"Shall we proceed? We have a long way to go," said Akorak. Mythra agreed. Both of them began their journey to the north eastern direction, towards the capital city of the Traetos province --- The City of Harāpiā.

On their way, while walking in the canopy of woods, Mythra was quite curious about their destination.

"So where exactly is this Harāpiā? And what is so special about it?" he asked.

"You don't know about our capital city?" asked Akorak. Mythra denied, overtly.

"Well...what do you know about our motherland?"

"Not much," replied Mythra. It was quite blatant for Mythra to be oblivious to the geography of their continent. He hadn't even begun his primary education. He was merely eight Mesha old.

"Alright...So let me first tell you about our continent," said Akorak. Mythra hearkened, while they continued walking through the woods.

"Avestriā, as the name suggests, comes from the word Avester which means to blossom. 'Avester Safornym' is the name of the flower that grows predominantly on our continent and hence the name of our continent is Avestriā," he explained.

Mythra wasn't even aware that the continent had a name. Now he was aware about the meaning of the name as well.

"Our continent is a home to four provinces....how many?" asked Akorak, ensuring that Mythra was really attentive.

"Four provinces," repeated Mythra.

"Yes...the largest of these four provinces is the Puntos province to the east," explained Akorak. This was new to Mythra.

"The second largest is our own Traetos province to the south, followed by the Land of Anvos occupying the central region and lastly, the Balenor province to the North," narrated Akorak.

"Puntos to the east, Traetos to the south, Balenor to the north and the Land of Anvos at the center," Mythra revised it quickly.

"Very good," appreciated Akorak.

"Every province is ruled by an Ethnarch, who is the proprietor of the entire province...So there are four Ethnarchs on our continent, one for each province."

Mythra was hooked. He was hearing all of this for the first time.

"Four provinces, four Ethnarchs, quite easy to remember," he murmured.

"In a province, there are smaller kingdoms which are ruled by an Autarch..." he said. Mythra was flustered.

"Who is an Autarch?"

"An Autarch is a ruler of a kingdom. An Ethnarch is the ruler of an entire province, comprising many such kingdoms. An Ethnarch is superior to the Autarch and the Autarch is answerable to the Ethnarch," replied Akorak.

Mythra finally understood the difference between the Autarch and the Ethnarch. Ethnarchs were the supreme kings, ruling over entire provinces.

"So who is the Ethnarch of our province?" asked Mythra.

"I was expecting that question," said Akorak.

"The Ethnarch of our Traetos province is Vetrovius Neraepherus," replied Akorak. Mythra halted at his place as his bones stiffened.

'Neraepherus? As in, My brother---Herios Neraepherus? ' he thought. Akorak was flustered. He thought that Mythra was already exhausted from carrying the backpack and that he wanted some respite. But Akorak realized, soon enough, that Mythra was surprised on hearing the last name of the Ethnarch.

"What happened?" he asked. Mythra was astonished. Neraepherus, it was the last name of his brother--- Herios Neraepherus.

"My brother...the one I told you about...His name is Herios Neraepherus," said Mythra.

"Is it?" asked Akorak, surprised.

"Does that mean...my brother is related to our Ethnarch? Is he a prince or something?!" exclaimed Mythra, flabbergasted on thinking about his possibility. Akorak chortled.

"Hold your horses. Just because your brother has the same surname as our Ethnarch, doesn't mean that he has a prerogative on the throne," replied Akorak. Mythra was perplexed.

"I don't understand,"

"Neraepherus is definitely a high born family name...It has an ancient lineage and a royal bloodline...The house of Neraepherus is one of the Eight Elder tribes of the continent...However___" he paused. Mythra hearkened, attentively.

"Not every Neraepherus has a right to the throne. You see, there is a 'head' family....and there are 'branch' families. There are probably hundreds of branch families of Neraepherus, out there...and although they can claim their right to the throne, it's still a long competition..." replied Akorak. Mythra was nonplussed on hearing this.

"A competition?...A competition for what? Doesn't the son of a king become the next king?" asked Mythra, curiously.

"No... It's not that easy," he added, "As per the laws mentioned in the Testament of Senotahn...Edict two...our monarchical system is not based on inheritance alone...but also on succession," explained Akorak.

"What's the difference?

"Inheritance is a prerogative. Succession --- it is passed down either by appointment or by election," replied Akorak assertively. Mythra was still confused.

"I still don't understand,"

"Fine...Let's take an example...imagine a situation, where an Ethnarch is ruling over a certain province...The Ethnarch has a younger brother...the Ethnarch also has a son of just Eight Mesha, of your age, say...In this case, the Ethnarch and his direct bloodline becomes the Head family while his brother's bloodline becomes the Branch family...So far so good?" asked Akorak. Mythra nodded.

"Now let us suppose that the ruling Ethnarch faces an untimely death...In such a dilemma, his son should be enthroned as the next Ethnarch, right?" asked Akorak.

"Yes, I guess," replied Mythra, skeptically.

"No...the son of the Ethnarch is merely eight Mesha old. You cannot possibly expect him to rule over an entire province. He hasn't even had his primary education yet..." explained Akorak.

"So then, what happens in such a case?" asked Mythra.

"In such a case...the younger brother of the Ethnarch is crowned as the new Ethnarch...This is called claiming the Throne by succession...and now, his family becomes the Head family," replied Akorak. Mythra was amazed when he understood what succession really meant in their monarchical system.

"However there are many complications in here as well...imagine what would happen if the younger brother also has a son of his own? And when he dies...who would get the throne?...His own son or his elder brother's son?" explained Akorak.

"Or yet another case is...What happens if the Ethnarch doesn't have a son, whatsoever! Now that's quite a quandary, isn't it? Who would be crowned after him then?" spoke Akorak.

Mythra started cogitating on all these situations. He was intrigued by the depth of the law that must have been introduced in the Testament of Senotahn.

"Well I digressed from the main question. All in all...What I mean to say is, just because your brother has the same last name as our Ethnarch, doesn't mean he has a claim to the throne...there are hundreds of Neraepherus families, as I said earlier...especially in Harāpiā, because Harāpiā is their ancestral home," explained Akorak.