Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: The Bathalumean Great Concordium: Architects of Unity

The cobbled pathways of Alunsina hummed beneath my feet, the evening air thick with the scent of rain-kissed stone and incense from the distant temples. The city was alive—more than usual.

Lanterns swayed overhead, casting golden halos on the streets where students in ceremonial robes hurried between dormitories, discussing theories of Loom Weaving and Diwa Manifestations with an urgency that bordered on reverence.

The Academy loomed ahead, its towering spires piercing the heavens, a bastion of wisdom in a world still trembling from the dangers lurking in its corners.

Yet tonight, there was a fresh charge in the air.

Excitement.

Hope.

In the distance, near the Great Forum, a group of merchants had gathered, their voices rising in an almost ecstatic chant.

“Sa Ilaw ng Tatlong Kaharian, isang Bathalumea! (By the Light of the Three Kingdoms, one Bathalumea!)”

A tremor ran through me. That phrase again. It was older—older than any living scholar, whispered in the shadows of history yet never lost. It had been a war cry, a plea, a promise.

And now, it returned with a force that threatened to shake the very foundations of the current divided kingdoms across Bathalumea.

I turned toward the massive scrying obelisk near the Forum, where a hundred voices had gathered, eyes lifted in unison toward the glowing crest that shimmered upon the monolithic stone. The air pulsed with an unseen force as the announcement began.

“People of Bathalumea, hear these words as they echo from the heart of the Three Kingdoms!”

The voice, magnified through unseen means, boomed across the land. It was neither harsh nor commanding but carried the weight of something divine—an utterance woven into the heart of the people and Bathalumea itself.

The Holy Priests and the Grand Concordium declare that unity remains, and spread this news across the lands! The corrupted rule that once bound us may have fallen and divided us, but Bathalumea still stands!”

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Even in the lower settlements—those beyond the Academy walls, beyond the sprawling estates of nobles—ears turned toward the wind as if the very air carried the weight of the declaration.

“The Great Concordium, forged from the embers of war, stands as a testament to our will to endure! The Twelve Grand Council of Bathalumea—twelve pillars of civilization—each a beacon of strength, spread equally across the three great kingdoms!”

A low murmur rose as the obelisk pulsed with light, and ghostly sigils formed in the air—twelve grand symbols that had long governed the land, each representing a crucial aspect of civilization.

“In the Kingdom of Layagkaw, the halls of wisdom and healing guide our spirits! In the Kingdom of Lihimna, the fortresses of order and industry safeguard our people! The Confederation of Sandigsal forges its future through discovery and military artistry.”

Every kingdom held four of the twelve great pillars, a balance maintained despite the fall of the Sovereign’s Rule.

This was why—despite division, despite the passing of a thousand years—the ancient structure of governance endured. Because even as the empire crumbled, its foundation remained intact, woven into the very soul of Bathalumea.

“No longer three broken realms, but three mighty hands; we will weave into one destiny!”

The streets of Alunsina erupted into cheers, the chant from before growing louder, shaking the ground with its fervor.

“Sa Ilaw ng Tatlong Kaharian, isang Bathalumea!”

Even the most hardened faces among the scholars softened. Merchants raised their cups, strangers clasped arms, and for a moment—even for those who had known only hardship—the dream of unity felt real again.

“And on the coming Day of Oaths, the Holy Priests shall convene within the Grand Concordium to enact the next step in our unity. We shall call—not just the noble houses, nor the scholars and warriors alone, but the people! To every soul who calls this land home!”

The announcement rang across the entirety of Bathalumea, carried by crystal obelisks and enchanted echoes that reached even the Level 0 Settlements, where hope was often a fleeting thing.

“Rejoice, children of Bathalumea! Our unity and fate are not yet severed! This new era shall lead us back to greatness!”

The voice faded, but the echoes of its words remained imprinted upon the hearts of thousands.

In the heart of Maylikha, the grandest city of the Sovereign Kingdom of Lihimna, the streets burned with golden light.

The scent of blooming Sampaguita and fresh incense flooded the air as thousands lined the major thoroughfare, awaiting the procession of the Holy Priests.

Atop a grand carriage—a towering edifice of ivory and gold, draped in embroidered sigils of old—the High Priest stood, adorned in robes woven from the finest dusk thread. The very fabric shimmered as if embroidered with celestial constellations.

Children clambered atop their parents’ shoulders to glimpse the sacred figure. A mother whispered a silent prayer. A warrior placed his fist over his heart, his eyes locked upon the crest of the Three Kingdoms emblazoned upon the carriage.

The air thrummed with something unseen, something ancient.

Drummers pounded the rhythm of the Sovereign’s March, a beat older than the divide, older than the fall. A chorus of voices lifted:

“Sa Ilaw ng Tatlong Kaharian—”

The voices surged together, shaking the very air.

“Isang Bathalumea!”

Coins showered from balconies, blessings from merchants and nobles alike. A cascade of silk banners unfurled along the streets, each bearing the crest of the Twelve Departments—the very foundation upon which Bathalumea stood.

Scholars in Lihimna’s Grand Lyceum debated the significance of this additional step toward unity, their voices thick with awe. Craftsmen hammered their forges with renewed purpose, whispering of a future where their art might serve something greater than gold.

Merchants in the marketplaces, beneath vast pavilions where spices, artifacts, and relics were traded, bartered not just in coin but in hope.

“The Grand Concordium has spoken!” a potter declared, raising his voice above the clamor. “Let the three kingdoms rise as one!”

The air pulsed with electric anticipation, an energy that transcended distance, wealth, or bloodline.

For a few decades, the dream of unity had faded into whispers.

But tonight—tonight, Bathalumea rejoiced with a renewed sense of hope for unity.

The streets of Maylikha roared with life, the pulse of a nation beating in unison beneath the towering spires of the Grand Cathedral.

A sea of banners unfurled, each marked with the sigils of the Three Kingdoms—Lihimna’s rising sun, Layagkaw’s shrouded moon, and Sandigsal’s iron wreath—woven together in an unbroken emblem of unity.

At the city’s heart, the Grand Plaza stretched wide, a colossal marble expanse that now overflowed with thousands upon thousands of souls. From traders to scholars, warriors to common folk, they stood shoulder to shoulder, eyes lifted toward the gilded arches of the sacred halls. Incense coiled in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh bread and festival spices as merchants seized the moment, peddling their finest goods beneath woven canopies of indigo and crimson.

Newspapers fluttered through the hands of the eager, ink still fresh with the morning’s headlines:

“The Concordium’s Oath: A New Dawn for Bathalumea!”

“Gathering of the Holy Priests—The Will of Three Kingdoms to be Renewed!”

“A Call to Arms? What the Meeting of the Twelve Could Mean for Our Future!”

Even the street criers, draped in the blue sashes of the Maylikhan Courier’s Guild, shouted fervently:

“Witness history unfold! The Holy Priests have spoken—Bathalumea’s fate is upon us!”

The chant of the people, rising and falling like the tide, wove through the celebration.

“Sa Ilaw ng Tatlong Kaharian, isang Bathalumea!”

Drums thundered. Horns blared. The rhythm of thousands of voices filled the air, cascading across the city like rolling waves.

And then, as if the heavens themselves had commanded silence, the cathedral bells tolled.

Twelve solemn chimes.

All eyes turned to the grand stairway.

The towering double doors of the Grand Cathedral groaned open, revealing the four Grand Luminaries as they stepped through the sacred halls.

The first was draped in a dress of woven gold, the fabric glimmering like the dawn over Bathalumea’s endless seas.

The Radiant Oracle of Fate, the voice of the Holy Priests, moved with the grace of someone who carried the weight of divinity itself.

Beside her, wrapped in deep emerald, The Shield of the Faithful, carried an air of unwavering resolve. His presence was a fortress unto itself, the foundation upon which Lihimna’s laws were written.

Following was the Keeper of the Sacred Scrolls, adorned in robes of indigo, eyes sharp beneath the hood of wisdom. The scroll in her hand was no mere parchment—it was a tome of decrees, a chronicle of the kingdom’s past and its yet-unwritten future.

And finally, The Hand of Equilibrium, clad in the red of a setting sun, strode forth with a commanding air, the scent of steel and battlefield echoes trailing his every step. Where he walked, the air seemed heavier, as if the very world bent beneath the weight of his presence.

The crowd hushed. The torches lining the sacred halls flickered.

Then, in unison, the people fell to one knee, heads bowed in reverence.

The stage was set.

The future of Bathalumea will be decided today.

The grand halls of the Great Concordium shimmered beneath the golden glow of enchanted chandeliers, their light cascading over the banners of the Three Kingdoms.

From the gilded arches, a procession emerged—the Grand Concord of Dayawdan, Bathalumea’s supreme merchant council. Clad in robes of crimson and gold, their presence was unmistakable. These were the lords of trade, the unseen hands that dictated the flow of wealth across the lands.

Behind them, the three factions of power followed: the prominent officials of Layagkaw, Lihimna, and Sandigsal—each kingdom’s finest minds in governance, diplomacy, and war.

The council chamber, vast as a celestial dome, resonated with murmurs as they took their seats.

It was here that the fate of Bathalumea’s coming years would be shaped.

At the center of the grand table, a sacred weave of light floated above a polished obsidian slab, shifting in patterns known only to the most learned scholars of the Loom. It depicted Bathalumea’s twelve governing pillars, the twelve departments divided equally among the three kingdoms—a reminder of balance, a fragile harmony upheld by joint effort.

“The Awakening Year approaches,” a minister from Lihimna began, adjusting his mantle. “As always, the Academy is at full capacity, and our scholars are expecting greater turnouts. We must expand the awards granted to talents this cycle—our finest minds should be nurtured.”

“Astute as ever,” a representative from Sandigsal agreed, his voice deep with measured authority.

“The Confederation has already pledged an increase in scholarships for the arts of war and discovery. However, funding must be balanced. It would be unwise to invest solely in the Loom System without strengthening our infrastructure and trade.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the chamber.

The Grand Concord of Dayawdan leaned forward, fingers adorned with rings of wealth.

“We are willing to bolster the funding for all twelve departments,” their spokesperson declared, a merchant’s smile playing upon his lips. “But our interests must also be considered. Trade with external lands remains…delicate. We need better assurances from our treaties.”

“And what of the rising tensions beyond our borders?” a Layagkaw councilwoman pressed. “We cannot ignore the whispers from the Western Realms. If the tide of war shifts, Bathalumea must be prepared.”

A hush fell over the room.

It was in these silent moments that Bathalumea’s future was decided—not by grand declarations, but by the unspoken weight behind them.

Finally, one of the Holy Priests, the Radiant Oracle of Fate, spoke, her voice an anchor against uncertainty.

“The Concordium shall deliberate on these matters further. For now, let us reaffirm what we stand for: stability, progress, and unity. We must not let shadows dictate our course.”

A collective nod. The meeting was adjourned.

As swiftly as they had arrived, the representatives departed—kingdom officials to their lands, merchants to their halls of trade.