Way of Overlord
Chapter 69: Son of Storms

Chapter 69: Son of Storms

As Fareon grew older, his focus shifted from trying to unite the vast expanse of the Great Steppe to the pressing concern of succession within his tribe.

The weight of responsibility bore heavily upon him, and each day brought with it a nagging worry that the tribe he had painstakingly built would crumble once he passed from this world.

Despite the toll that age had taken on his body, Fareon mind remained as sharp as ever, and as always, a keen observer of the intricate webs of power and ambition that surrounded him.

He had noticed that none of his sons satisfied him.

Once he called upon them

Seated in his majestic tent, his weathered face etched with lines of wisdom, he called upon his sons for counsel.

He asks them what they would do, whose tribes should they attack, whose tribe they should allied with, these and many more questions.

Yet, even in these meetings, he could discern the looming shadows of his wives and the clans they represented, casting an ever-present influence over his sons.

Even the sons who sought to remain removed from the intricate politics of their mothers’ clans could not escape suspicion in Fareon discerning gaze.

The trust he once held for them waned, for he sensed their allegiances subtly swaying towards their mothers’ causes.

His heart yearned for a son who possessed an independent spirit, one whose thoughts and desires were untainted by the complex machinations that plagued the tribal realm.

Restless nights filled with contemplation and worry consumed Fareon until, one fateful day, a mysterious figure appeared on the outskirts of his tribe.

One day, a Norn from the West came to his tribe. As customary, Fareon met with him. And in meeting him, he was very taken aback

The moment he met that old an, he felt a pulling force in his heart he never felt before. He believes it to be a sign

He accorded the Norn with the highest respect, slaughtering hundreds of sheep and livestock to feast with his tribe.

Some of his advisor feel that this is absurd but Fareon trusted his feelings. And when the advisor met the Norn, they felt the same feeling and they also believe that this is the signs of the Divines and celebrated the Norn

The Norn simply smiles and speak little during the feast.

What is this appearance of this Norn that captivates the entire tribe?

The Norn is an old man having the wear and tear of countless years. He is a man well into his twilight years, with a stooped posture and a slightly hunched back.

He is shrouded in the frailty of age, with thinning silver hair that hangs loosely around his shoulders.

His beard, also silver and wispy, cascades down to his chest, giving him an air of wisdom and experience.

Wrinkles and age spots line his face, tracing the map of his life’s journey, while his eyes hold a deep, piercing gaze that hints at a vast reservoir of knowledge.

He wears a humble and threadbare robe, faded with time and patched in various places.

The colour seems to has dulled over the years, lending it an earthy and weathered appearance.

The robe loosely drapes over his aged frame, reaching down to his shins, and is tied together with a simple rope as a makeshift belt.

Underneath, he wears plain tunic and trousers, both showing signs of wear but carefully mended.

His shoes are worn leather, scuffed and worn thin from countless steps taken in realms far and wide.

He carries a wooden staff, worn with age and etched with intricate and mystical symbols.

The staff seems to be his walking aid, supporting his slightly unsteady gait.

Attached to the staff is a small, weathered satchel, containing various trinkets

Within the satchel, one might find a handful of runes, a small vial of herbs, or the things of the Norn that common people might not understand

As for his demeanour, he is unlike any other Norns, or Ashana, or Wizancai that Fareon has ever met before

He moves slowly, his steps deliberate and careful, as if each one carries the weight of his accumulated knowledge.

Despite his apparent frailty, there is an undeniable air of authority that surrounds him, suggesting a hidden power that lies dormant beneath the facade.

He speaks with a voice that resonates with age, each word carefully chosen and delivered with a wisdom that only comes with centuries of existence.

His eyes, though aged, sparkle with a profound depth, revealing his true identity to those who possess the insight to see beyond the disguise.

The feast ended the night deepens and all went to sleep.

During the night, as Fareon slept, he was awakened by the cry of a raven. Intrigued, he stepped out of his tent to find the old Norn standing in the distance, supported by his staff. Two ravens perched on nearby tree branches, while two wolves gathered around the Norn’s feet.

The Norn now is blind in one eye, a hole in his left eye socket.

Fareon could tell that it is something mystical, something weird and something strange. The old Norn did not say anything but gesture him to come to him

Like he was being pulled Fareon goes to him

Fareon came to him and the moment he arrives near a speaking distance, the old Norn spoke

"Say what your heart desires"

And Fareon could tell that the Norn could probably understood what he is thinking. With no hesitation, he asked for a prophecy for his nine sons.

The Old Norn smiles and laughed

"What a greedy man you are Fareon of the Great Steppe" Hearing this Fareon fear that he had offended the old Norn

But the Old Norn laughed and then said

"You have extended great hospitality to me, an old wanderer," the old man continued, his voice laced with a tingle of mischievousness.

"Such acts of kindness and respect are rare in these troubled times, yet they are sacred in the eyes of the Gods. I shall honour your generosity by bestowing upon you a prophecy, but not for all of your sons. Instead, I shall reveal the destiny of one among them, the most promising of your children."

This revelation sparked excitement within Fareon, as he had long been troubled by the issue of succession among his equally talented sons.

In any other family, this kind of worries is a blessing.

But in his tribe, this kind of matter is harmful. If eight of them are dull and only one of them is talented, then the succession is easy. And even the tribe could stand behind that person.

But when all of them are talented, everyone will have their own ideas. His sons have their own ideas.

Why should they labour under their brothers when their talents are the same? They are all his sons and because of that they are all prideful

It is the same for the clans and tribes behind his sons who also did not want the child of the other wives lorded over them.

This plays into the tribal mentality that Fareon had realized

The old Norn then spoke

"In a realm where empires lie in scattered lands, the wind whispered"

"From one of your sons, there is a great destiny. One of your sons will sire a great descendant"

"One of his descendants would rule a large vast of land, from the distant lands of Yan to the Caput Mundi of Roma"

"One will rule from the lands of those thousand hands Gods and Goddesses, blue in appearance, frightening and beautiful.

"One would venture far north and met the people of the North and people of the cold, where the lands is full of snow, face pale white like the snow"

"One of them would rule an Empire filled with sands, ruling the people of Parsae, and people of the sand"

The old Norn stopped and smiles. And for a moment Fareon was shook.

He does not know whether to believe it or not. The Old Norn look at the sky, the raven squawk and the wolves’ growls and the Norn nodded. And then he said

"And this all will be foretold when he meets the Sons of Storms"

Fareon hearing this does not understand some of the words that the old Norn spoke

"Who is the Son of Storms?"

The old Norn smile and he look at the moon above his head and the clouds parted away, the moonlight shines to the ground

Then he sang.

The Song is long and melodious and for a moment Fareon felt like he seen the song unfolded in front of his eyes.

"A great man of the era shall rise, with heart fierce and bold, His destiny untold, waiting to unfold.

Amidst the vast plains of the Great Steppe’s domain, the Son of Storms shall rise.

Destined to unite tribes, their voices as one.

From distant horizons to lands far and wide, His dominion shall stretch, with unstoppable tide.

Blessed from heaven to his queen mother

The Sons of Storms will bring unity to blue sealed Marynku, uniting the Ashran and conquering the Eresian

The bearer of the eternal Blue Sky, the lord of All Marynku. The Great Supreme Lord of all Chiefs.

Called by the Heavens, Bestowed to enrich the world, The Lord of the Blue Marynku

The king of the great Marynku, The king of the blue world, The scourge of the Eternal Blue Heaven

Knees be knelt and heads be bowed, Declared the empire with law and order

Unify the kingdoms with arms and conquer the world from horseback, He’ll forge an empire, revered and feared.

Through battles and strife, he’ll gather his might, Uniting the tribes, bringing an end to their fight.

Through the valleys and mountains, his armies will roam, Across rivers and deserts, he’ll conquer.

From unknown to leader renowned, His name, like thunder, shall resound."

The Song ended and like he was being released from a spell, Fareon shook his head.

"The Son of Storms" he muttered and the old Norn nodded

"That is the Son of Storms, a man who is born on a stormy day and the Heavens bestowed"

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