Chapter Three: (History Repeats Itself)
Ilmar continued speaking, his tone laced with both caution and disbelief:
"How did he return? And when?"
The guard avoided eye contact as he replied:
"After the news of King Ra's death spread, it wasn't long before the Envoy appeared…"
Ilmar interrupted him grimly:
"Ugh… Fine. Where is Prometheus?"
The guard hesitated for a moment, stuttering.
Ilmar's irritation flared, and he shouted:
"I'll ask again… Where is Prometheus? Or at least, Kaweh?"
The guard bowed his head and said:
"When we heard about the Envoy, we went to Prometheus, and Kaweh was with us.
But when we entered his house… we found him sitting in his chair, head lowered,
and a knife stabbed into his chest… motionless."
Ilmar's eyes widened in shock.
"What?! What are you saying? When did this happen? How?!"
The guard replied anxiously:
"We don't know, sir. But we've deployed soldiers throughout the kingdom to catch the killer."
Ilmar lowered his head for a moment, then spoke in a voice full of rage, as if addressing fate itself:
"Always… the long-awaited days never come without a new curse.
Fine… issue an official statement.
We reject his claim to the throne—declare him a curse that has befallen the kingdom."
The guard spoke cautiously:
"Sir, I think otherwise. As you know, the Envoy always brings prosperity and abundance,
even if his tale ends in death or chaos.
The people love him… they won't accept anyone else,
especially with Prometheus gone—dead—and Kaweh untested.
I believe the wiser choice is to spread rumors discreetly—
about Prometheus' murder. That alone will plant doubt in the Envoy's identity."
Ilmar waved his hand harshly.
"Enough! I don't want to hear more.
Execute my orders…
Publish the statement, and make it clear:
He is a curse, not a savior."
"Your orders will be carried out, sir."
[At Loki's house]
In one of the old neighborhoods surrounded by black olive trees,
Lenora stood before her mirror, brushing her shiny black hair that fell over her shoulders like a waterfall.
She whispered:
"Where is Osir?"
"He's outside, reassuring the people… under his new rule."
"Strange, this love the people have for the Envoy…
even though his arrival always ends in the ruin of the kingdom."
Loki laughed, his voice carrying the bitterness of wisdom:
"It's he who dies, not the kingdom.
After his death, it's only a matter of days before the new ruler surrenders—
in the war sparked between the Envoy and some other kingdom.
He pays a bit of gold, buys a fake peace…
then years pass, and another Envoy appears—
bringing life again, planting hope…
then war… then death… and it all repeats.
The true loser is the Envoy, not the kingdom."
"But why does the Envoy enter a war every time?"
"History repeats itself, Lenora…
Haven't you ever asked yourself why you were the first to recognize him as the Envoy?
Why you've been watching him since the beginning?
Why you feel this strange concern toward him?
And why our family—specifically—is always the one to host him in every cycle?"
"Because we want to change history.
We want him to stay alive—not to die."
Loki smiled bitterly:
"Impossible."
She looked at him, her eyes glowing with rebellion:
"And why should it be impossible?"
"Because we walk the path of a fate written long before we were born…
Haven't you read the family book?
It's always been the women of our bloodline who cared for the Envoy and feared for him…
And that's exactly what you're doing now."
Suddenly, the castle bell rang violently.
The windows shook.
Loki and Lenora rushed outside toward the castle.
A crowd had gathered in the main square.
All eyes were fixed on the castle's peak, where a soldier stood holding a long scroll.
He began reading aloud in a booming voice:
"Listen, listen… a message from King Ilmar to you all:"
Everyone fell silent to hear the soldier's words:
"What mind seeks hope…
from one who carries ruin in his gaze?
Where did he come from? Who sent him?
And who gave ash a tongue to speak in the name of the kingdom?"
The soldier paused for a moment, then continued in a deeper tone:
"Kingdoms have fallen before him,
and now he comes clad in tales of salvation.
But I see him…
a spear from a bygone age,
marching toward a chaos that bears no likeness to peace."
He ended the statement with:
"Let his name be recorded in the archives:
The Envoy… the Cursed.
He has no rule here—
No throne, no sword, no voice."
A moment of silence followed…
These words were no ordinary statement.
They were a direct challenge from Ilmar to Osir.
All eyes turned to Osir—
awaiting his response.
An invisible tension crept across his face,
as if he were fighting a war inside his chest.
He hadn't expected such a public attack…
and not at such a moment.
But…
Before a few seconds passed,
the square exploded with a thunderous laugh—
a laugh everyone recognized: Loki's.
"Is your king so afraid to face us?
He sends a soldier to shout hollow words?
Let him face us himself!"
He paused briefly—
then Osir's voice rose confidently:
"Before all the people, I call upon Ilmar…
to a public trial,
here before the castle, two days from now.
And let the decision of who shall rule… be made by the voice of the people—
and no one else."
The crowd erupted in a single voice:
"The Envoy!"
Excitement surged across the entire square,
as if an unseen call had announced the start of a new era that history would never forget.
Loki and Lenora returned home.
Loki spoke first, smiling slyly:
"He's clever."
"You mean Osir?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Didn't you see what he did?
He flipped the whole game.
You know that in a trial, it's the judge who declares the verdict—
and Ilmar will certainly bring a judge loyal to him.
But when Osir said the people would decide,
he was really saying this:
'My family will rule.'
Because the people will never accept Ilmar as king…
and they will choose Osir.
Now Ilmar can't refuse the challenge—
because if he does, it'll look like he despises the people.
And the people… will never forgive that."
Lenora sighed and said:
"I admit—he's smart.
But what if they accuse him of killing Prometheus?"
Loki laughed confidently:
"Did you forget… I'll be speaking on his behalf at the trial?"
Lenora laughed too, then said:
"And yet…
what will you do if they accuse you of killing Prometheus?"
He glared at her and said:
"I could convince you right now that you're a man."
She burst out laughing:
"Shut up!"