Year 1461 – Shersian Orphanage
"Seven Virtues, seven gods," Father Corwin said, tapping the chalk against the board. "Repeat with me."
"Seven Virtues, seven gods," the children echoed, some in bored singsong, some only half-awake.
Alaric sat in the front row, hands folded on the table. Rin slouched beside him, doodling a spear on the edge of her slate. Mira sat straight, eyes on the board. Kellan was in the back, yawning wide enough to swallow his own hand.
Corwin drew seven simple symbols in a circle: a sword, a heart, a set of scales, a book, a cup, a flame, and a dove.
"Veliana, Goddess of Courage," he said, tapping the sword. "Cordelia, of Love. Aequira, of Justice. Sophis, of Wisdom. Temperia, of Temperance. Fidessa, of Faith. And Elyss, of Hope and Peace."
He smiled faintly. "They watched over the Hero, and they watch over us still."
"The Demon God," someone said in the back.
The room quieted.
"Yes," Corwin said softly. "The Demon God of Fear, who long ago sought to drown the world in terror. But the Hero, blessed by the Seven, defeated him and cast his darkness away. We mark our years 'After Deliverance' because of that victory."
Alaric traced the outline of the sword symbol on his slate.
Defeated. Dead. Gone, the stories said.
His mind flickered to Shuru. To the way Valen had given the order, bored, and how everything burned because of it.
Even with the Demon God of fear gone… fear still moves people the most.
Fear of enemies. Fear of hunger. Fear of losing power.
He pushed the thought aside before it could grow teeth.
Corwin moved to a crude map drawn on the other side of the board. "This is our kingdom, Shersia," he said, circling a region with a stub of chalk. "To the north lie Horsin and Buckland. To the south, along this coast, is the old demonfront by the sea. Further north on this continent stands the great empire of Knustedia. To the west are Norsmouth, Tisexa, and other lands. Beyond the seas, on other continents, there is the Berusia Empire, the Cherian Tsardom, and more—but for now, this is enough."
Alaric leaned forward.
Horsin was a small patch on the map, dwarfed by Buckland to the north and Shersia to the south.
From up here, Shuru would be just a dot. A smudge of chalk.
Easy to erase.
He clenched his chalk a little too hard; it snapped. Rin snickered. Mira nudged him a spare piece without looking away from the board.
Corwin talked about trade routes, demon raids in the south, how Shersia and Buckland had once fought side by side.
"People change," he said. "Kings die. New ones take their place. Alliances break. But the Seven, and fear, and human foolishness… those seem to stay."
The class laughed weakly.
Alaric didn't.
He watched the map until every line was memorized.
This time, I'm not going to be someone who only exists as a dot that gets wiped away.