Despair and Hope

The constant murmur of the fortress buffet filled the air. Long wooden tables stretched across the room, crowded with soldiers and trainees sharing their meals. Yet, every time Axel walked past, the voices dipped, not out of hostility, but out of expectation. Eyes followed him—curious, cautious, and tinged with something he couldn’t quite name.

Pedro had asked them to gather at a table tucked against the wall, beneath a row of faded banners. A steaming bowl of soup and a piece of bread sat untouched in front of him as he waited for the others to settle. Luz leaned against his side, Lucy and Lexus sat across from them, and Axel found himself at the end of the table, still trying to piece together everything that felt too heavy to understand.

The noise of the buffet slowly faded into the background as Pedro spoke. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that cut through the air like steel.

“What I’m about to tell you,” he began, his tone grave, “isn’t just history. It’s a burden we’ve been carrying for a hundred years. And if you don’t understand it, Axel, you’ll never know why you’re here.”

Axel gave a small nod. The bread on his plate remained untouched.

Pedro drew in a deep breath, as if the story itself demanded strength from him, then began.

Nearly a century ago, there was one single kingdom. A land where villages lived in relative peace—until Alexis III poisoned that calm with his greed. First, he raised the taxes. Then, he claimed the farmers’ harvests, saying that a ruler deserved a richer life in order to “make wiser decisions” for his people. In truth, while he slept in silk and feasted on wine, his people starved.

“That’s how anger began to grow,” Pedro said, fists tightening on the table. “At first, it was whispers. Then, secret meetings. And finally, groups rose up to fight him. When they overthrew him, everyone thought peace had come.”

Axel frowned. Lexus leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Pedro.

“But what came next was worse. Without a leader, the kingdom fractured. The very groups that had fought side by side couldn’t agree on who should rule.”

Pedro told how two factions were born. One believed in absolute authority: a single ruler so powerful no one would dare to oppose him, someone to lay down a law that all must obey. The other believed in democracy: that power should belong to the people, that leaders should be chosen by vote.

“At first, they argued with words,” Pedro continued, his voice lower now, as if haunted by echoes. “But soon… those words bled into violence.”

The buffet, once alive with chatter, seemed to fall silent. Even those pretending not to listen were clearly hanging on every word.

Pedro went on: civil war tore the kingdom apart. Families shattered. Villages burned. And slowly, two kingdoms were born—the authoritarian realm, and the one Pedro and the others now called home: the realm of democracy.

But over time, ideals faded. Hatred remained.

“The enemy stopped being someone with a different belief,” Pedro said bitterly. “They became monsters. Something to destroy.”

Axel’s chest tightened. He could almost feel the centuries of pain buried beneath Pedro’s words.

Pedro didn’t stop. He told them about the atrocities, of women taken, children murdered, entire towns erased from maps. Every single person sitting in that hall had lost someone. And Pedro was certain the other side had scars of their own.

Then came a shift in his tone. A flicker of what once might have been hope.

There had been a chance for peace. The former Axel—leader of their people—had tried to negotiate with the father of the current enemy ruler. Together they had planned a joint council, shared trade, a new life without war.

“For a moment,” Pedro said softly, “it seemed possible.”

But it was a trap.

The woman Axel loved was murdered in front of his eyes. He snapped. Driven by rage, he killed the enemy leader and his wife in a single violent act. And with that, the fragile dream of peace was shattered forever.

“Everything crumbled after that,” Pedro muttered, lowering his head. “The new authoritarian leader struck back. And with a plan no one saw coming… he killed Axel.”

The words hit the table like a hammer. Luz squeezed Pedro’s hand tightly. Lexus looked down. Lucy exhaled slowly, her arms folded across her chest as if holding in something she didn’t want to feel.

Pedro pressed on, though his voice cracked. He spoke of decline. Of cities burned. Villages plundered. Soldiers slaughtered. Women taken as hostages. Every victory the enemy won pushed their people closer to despair.

“After Axel’s death, faith was broken,” Pedro said hoarsely. “Hope vanished. People no longer believe we can win.”

Finally, his gaze lifted, locking on Axel. And in that moment, Axel felt the weight of a hundred stares from across the buffet pressing down on him.

“That’s why you’re here. To be the face of hope reborn.”

The hall froze. Axel swallowed hard, his throat dry under the heaviness of expectation.

“I know you doubt this,” Pedro continued, his tone both firm and pleading. “I know you wonder if we’ve lied to you, dragged you into a war that was never yours. And I won’t lie—we never wanted to bring an outsider here. But we’re desperate. And we need your help.”

Silence fell again, deeper than before. Axel stared at his untouched soup, at Lexus’s sharp eyes, at Lucy’s clenched jaw. Questions piled up in his head, but answers were nowhere in sight.

Then Pedro spoke once more, his voice nearly a whisper.

“You’re not our Axel. We know that. But still… we need you to become one worthy of him.”

The phrase rang in Axel’s mind like a bell that refused to fade. Worthy of him.

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of it all press against his chest. When he opened them, he let his gaze drift across the buffet: soldiers, trainees, cooks. Every one of them pretending to focus on their meal, yet every one sneaking glances his way. Watching him.

In that moment, Axel understood. He wasn’t just Axel anymore. He was a reflection, a symbol, an echo of the man they had lost. And whether he wanted it or not, that weight was now his to carry.

Pedro’s story ended there. But no one in the hall thought of it as an ending. Everyone knew this was only the beginning.