Prologue
The sun hung high over Demacia, casting its radiant glow upon the city's High Silver Walls. Polished stone gleamed like a beacon of hope, a bastion of renown, while banners bearing the greatwing sigil fluttered proudly in the breeze. To any outsider, the city was a symbol of unshakable unity, an impenetrable fortress of order, justice and a safe haven from the dangers of the world. Though to Caelum, it felt more heavy like armor worn too long, its weight seeping into his bones.
The Citadel loomed ahead, its spires piercing up into the bright azure sky. Caelum's boots echoed against the marble floor as he passed through its grand halls, where every inch seemed to shine with Demacian pride, paintings of all the great heroes and warriors gilded on the walls. It felt claustrophobic, the capital was not to Caelum's liking, preferring the openness beyond the walls. He was young but already renowned among the ranks, his skill with the glaive and his unyielding resolve marking him as a rising star, the house of Veridic had never had such a young and renowned warrior in its young history. Today, however, he felt an unease that no accolades nor the pride he had for his house could quell.
When he stepped into the throne room, he found himself before two of Demacia's greatest figures: Jarvan IV, the crown prince, and Jarvan III, the king, the might of Demacia personified, two stunning warriors; Their presence commanding, their armor gleaming as if untouched by the dirt of the battlefield, two radiant figures that stood forthwith against Demacia's enemies. The hall was silent but for the faint rustle of banners above, the fresh air pouring into the windows danced across Caelum.
"Caelum," Jarvan III greeted, his tone warm but measured. The King leaned forward on his throne, his sharp gaze taking in the young soldier. "Your performance during the skirmish at Ardent Fields was exemplary, the men hailing you a true hero. The bandit threat has been quelled, and your leadership ensured minimal casualties among your men. For this, you have my commendation young warrior. Demacia thanks you for your service."
Caelum bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Highness. I only did my duty though, the men were beyond brave against the onslaught."
Beside the king, the crown prince nodded approvingly, his arms crossed over his chest. "Duty well executed Caelum. Your actions reflect the ideals of Demacia,strength, discipline, and unity. However…" The prince's voice lowered slightly, his blue eyes narrowing. "A soldier's greatest strength is their loyalty to command. I've heard whispers that you…" Jarvan IV gulped almost as if he was nervous to speak "hesitated when ordered to press the attack."
Caelum straightened, his expression calm but his chest tight "I made a judgment call, my prince. The enemy was retreating, and pursuing them further would have risked unnecessary lives, chasing them into the mountains might have led to an ambush. My priority was to protect my men."
Jarvan IV's brow furrowed. "The battlefield leaves no room for hesitation, unfortunately Caelum. An order must be followed, it is not for us to question the chain of command, an order is an order my friend."
The king raised a hand, silencing Jarvan IV's rebuttal. The king studied Caelum intently, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface, it was like the king could see through Caelum. "Tell me Caelum," he began, his tone softer but no less firm. "Do you believe our ideals to be flawed?"
The question hung in the air, its weight far greater than the gilded armor Caelum wore. He hesitated for a second, not out of fear but out of the growing conflict within his heart. "No, Your Highness," he answered carefully, however his heart and mind burst forth with his truth, his belief and what he had seen. "Demacia's ideals are noble. But here are times my king when the execution of those ideals can overshadow their purpose. Justice should guide us, justice should not be something we wield as a weapon, but a shield."
Jarvan IV's jaw tightened, but the king merely leaned back in his throne, his expression unreadable, his eyes deep within Caelum. The room was silent save for the distant hum of the city beyond the walls, it was awkward for a moment before the king spoke again.
"An interesting perspective," He finally said. "But be careful, Caelum. Ideals are fragile things, when we question them too much, they risk shattering, duty, justice and order are what makes Demacia."
"Yes, your Highness," Caelum replied, though the unease in his chest remained, he was nervous about speaking his truth, nervous of what might happen.
However the meeting ended with a curt dismissal. Caelum walked out of the grand hall feeling neither pride nor satisfaction. While his victories had earned him recognition, he felt like a soldier walking a tightrope, one misstep away from falling into a chasm of doubt, one leap away from destroying his image that his father and mother worked so hard to build. Demacia's unyielding laws, its fear of magic, its obsession with order, all of it weighed on him like a stormcloud on the horizon. His heart wanted freedom, his heart wanted a Demacia for all breaking down tradition and woven fears that had built Demacia.
Outside, the banners of Demacia fluttered against the wind. To the world and to its people, they were symbols of strength and freedom from oppression. But to Caelum, they looked like wings stuffed in cages, trapping the very ideals they claimed to protect.
He looked towards the large golden mirror that stood firm and strong against the polish walls. He studied himself the tall frame, the short curly blonde hair clean without a single strand out of place, the green eyes a traditional trait of his house seemed to drift. The son of Veridic, their own guiding light, a warrior to bring their house further into Demacia's light.