Royal Kismet

The Fall of Antartashi The 1500s Three men fled for their lives from Antartashi. One was severely injured, and his two companions struggled to support him as they hurried through unfamiliar terrain. Blood stained the wounded man's clothes, and his weakening legs could barely carry him any farther. Suddenly, he collapsed. "Blake! Hang in there. We're going to survive this!" Bliz cried, dropping to his knees beside him. "Help me!" Millean, the eldest of the three brothers, urged. "Blake must not die. We have to get him out of here!" Together, the brothers tried to lift Blake, but his strength was fading rapidly. "Elder brother... Second brother..." Blake whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't think I can make it. My only regret is that... my time was too short." "Don't talk like that!" Bliz protested, tears filling his eyes. "You're going to survive. Do you hear me? You must survive!" Blake attempted to smile, but he no longer had the strength. His eyes glistened with unshed tears before his hand slipped from his brother's grasp and fell limp. For a moment, neither brother moved. "No!" Bliz screamed, crumpling beside Blake's lifeless body. "No, Blake! You can't leave us!" Millean bowed his head, struggling to contain his grief. With trembling hands, he gently closed Blake's eyes. Tears streamed down his face as the unbearable truth settled over him. Their brother was gone. Before they could mourn him properly, a shout rang out from behind them. "There they are! Capture them!" "Capture the refugees! Don't let them escape!" The voices of their pursuers grew louder. Millean looked at Bliz. Neither brother needed to speak. They both knew what they had to do. They had already lost Blake. They could not afford to lose their own lives as well. With heavy hearts, the two brothers fled in opposite directions. Millean headed east, while Bliz ran west, leaving their beloved brother behind without even the chance to give him a proper burial. They ran with grief weighing upon their hearts, carrying the memory of the brother they had lost and the desperate hope that, somehow, they would survive. Neither could have imagined what the future held. Centuries later, their descendants would establish kingdoms that would rise to prominence, preserving the legacy of the three brothers. To the east, the Kingdom of Riveria emerged. To the west, the Kingdom of Armanstane rose. And to the north, where Blake had breathed his last, the Kingdom of Gomdam would eventually be established. Though Blake had never lived to witness the future, his memory would not be forgotten. His sacrifice and the bond shared by the three brothers would become part of the history passed down through generations. Their descendants would tell the tale of three men who had faced tragedy, separation, and uncertainty. They would remember the brothers with reverence, honoring them as the True Brothers. Their story would endure for centuries. But the legacy they left behind would become far more than a tale of brotherhood. It would shape the destinies of kingdoms and the royal families whose lives would one day become entangled in the threads of kismet.