Ashborn Primordial 4: A Progression Fantasy Epic by Vowron Prime

Author:Vowron Prime [Prime, Vowron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2025-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Still in a daze, Vir had mobilized the army, ordering them to follow him into the nearby forest, where he promised shelter and safety.

He still couldn’t comprehend it. He’d braced for hatred. For insults and accusations of him abandoning his people during their most desperate hour.

He’d received none of that. The reluctance and fear that had been present in the troops only hours before had vanished, replaced by a sort of reverence. They began nodding, averting their eyes, and some even outright bowed when they approached.

While Vir certainly wasn’t about to complain, he did feel awkward at this change in dynamic.

I suppose I ought to get used to it, as Cirayus said.

“Ahem,” someone nearby cleared their throat, prompting Vir to look up.

It was Balagra and Malik, and neither met his gaze.

“Not you too,” Vir groaned. “I’m the same person I was this morning, you know?”

“I, er, beg to differ, your Eminence,” Malik said, prompting Vir to roll his eyes, “but you are most certainly not. This morning, we’d thought your Eminence was simply another demon. A powerful one, perhaps. But now? How could we possibly treat you the same?”

Vir wanted to rip his hair out. He’d teased Maiya about her title of the Blessed Prophet, finding her situation hilarious. Now, having to deal with it himself, he found the humor completely absent.

“Alright, first of all, you are not calling me ‘Eminence,’ or anything of the sort. Are we clear?”

“Even if we were to ignore that you are the Akh Nara—something that cannot be ignored, I’m afraid,” Balagra said, “as the son of Maion and Shari Garga, you are Gargan royalty. You are quite literally a prince. To refer to you by any other means would be improper.”

“Is that right?” Vir said, growing irritable. “Well, this prince is ordering you to call him by his real name. Your choices are Vir, Vaak, Sarvaak, or Neel.”

Malik and Balagra exchanged concerned glances, clearly wishing to speak their mind, but unsure of whether it would be proper to do so. Despite Cirayus’ warnings, Vir found himself at a loss for how to deal with this situation.

“Look,” he said after a moment. “Formality and honorifics have a time and a place. I’ll not deny you that. But keep in mind that I grew up as the son of a lumberjack. Nobody has ever treated me that way, and it makes me uncomfortable. If I can’t even consult with my closest generals without them stepping over themselves, how in all the realm are we supposed to lead an army?”

“May I at least call you Prince Sarvaak?” Malik asked, earning him a sidelong stare from Vir. The demon cleared his throat. “Just Sarvaak, then.”

“I’m afraid it’ll have to be Akh Nara for me,” Balagra said. “At least for now. As I said before, this is your fight. Not mine.”

“You say that, but I question whether you truly mean it,” Vir said, looking the Naga in the eye. Balagra glanced down immediately, perhaps thinking it improper to make eye contact with one such as him.

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