Doyenne of the Shantium Clan for thirty years, I was about… hmm, actually, I couldn’t even remember my age. I was an old woman. I had lived through many adventures — not all of them pleasant. Since joining this clan, I had always been careful with my words and actions. I didn’t want to relive the hell that was my youth.

The world I lived in was built on war and conquest. It had been that way long before I was born. Stories said that our planet had once been overcrowded; conflicts became harder and harder to manage. So, some so-called geniuses came up with a “great idea for entertainment”: split the people into various clans. Each clan could then choose whether to pursue a peaceful life or go to war — without facing any consequences.

Many clan wars broke out, and the population dropped drastically. But the clan leaders weren’t entirely stupid — they didn’t want to wipe out everyone. Their thirst for battle was so strong that they needed enemies to keep fighting. To avoid the death of too many children during conflicts, every newborn was sent to a special facility — called Center Mathesia — where they grew up, from infancy to adulthood, meaning 22 years old. There, they primarily studied the art of war. When they became adults, the best student from the Center was granted a wish. The others were generally sent back to their original clan — or to whichever clan needed 'fresh meat.'

Today was the induction day of our new clan leader. Top warrior of her generation, she had been assigned to our clan. What had her wish been? And why, of all clans, had a true “war queen” been sent to this small village, lost in the mountains? Maybe she intended to drag us into yet another clan war. But despite my doubts, as the Doyenne, it was my duty to welcome her. Being the oldest person here, I had to introduce her to our way of life, our surroundings, our strengths and weaknesses — so she could rule us as best she could. After that, she could do whatever she wanted.

The bell was ringing. She had arrived. I walked, with the slow rhythm of an old lady, to the village entrance. The whole clan was gathered to welcome the newcomers.

Young soldiers stood ready for battle, while others were simply dressed in their finest clothes. Sometimes, a few warriors prepared to fight by challenging the new leader, hoping to take their place. Our new leader was the best of her generation, but the rules allowed such attempts — even if they were pure nonsense.

Other soldiers were already thinking about how to please her — hoping to become her lover and secure a good position at her side.

The huge iron doors in the wall opened. Five men and five women entered. A meager promotion, I thought.

Three of the men wore simple combat armor and carried spears. Another one was dressed in light leather and had two daggers at his belt. The last, brown-haired and wearing glasses, was wrapped in a long magician’s robe. He seemed to radiate a significant magical power.

As for the women, three wore ordinary village clothes. One of them, dressed in brown leather and also carrying two daggers, wore glasses that gave her a scholarly appearance — but her gaze was more like that of an assassin on the hunt for blood. She stood beside a rather imposing woman clad in fine armor. Her auburn hair, long but tied back in a ponytail, revealed the muscles of her shoulders. She exuded both respect and fear.

Her face looked familiar, though I couldn’t say why.

The clan welcomed the newcomers. One of the group’s soldiers stepped forward and shouted:

“PLEASE WELCOME, AS SHE DESERVES, THE GREATEST WARRIOR OF HER ERA: VALENSIA!”

The clan shouted her name in unison. She showed no emotion, merely scanning the crowd, scrutinizing each face.

Then, a soldier from the clan stepped forward to challenge her. The others took a step back — perhaps they sensed Valensia’s power and weren’t foolish enough to oppose her. But this one, clearly too proud or too reckless, stood tall and declared:

“A woman has no place leading this clan! We deserve a strong man at the head!”

Silence fell over the crowd.

Valensia sighed and looked at him, unimpressed. Her soldiers moved into a defensive stance, but she raised her hand to show it wasn’t necessary.

Then she spoke her first words here: “I don’t like fighting. Don’t waste my time with your childishness!”

Wounded in his pride, his face turned red and he charged at her, shouting.

She sighed again, waited until the very last moment, dodged, tripped him, and landed a punch in his stomach. Despite the armor, the soldier doubled over from the blow and collapsed, motionless.

“Anyone else?” she asked, still wearing that tired expression.

No one answered. The clan resumed its cheers.

She was so strong. I stared at her. “Really… she looks so familiar,” I thought.

Despite all the excitement, I still had to fulfill my role as Doyenne. I slowly moved toward the newcomers, bowed, and said:

“Welcome to the Shantium Clan. My name is Viera, Doyenne of the village.”

I lifted my head and continued speaking. Valensia’s weary expression had vanished — her eyes were now fixed on me, sharp and piercing. It made me a little uneasy, but I pressed on:

“We’ve prepared a banquet in your honor. The road must have been long. I can take you to your rooms so you can rest a bit before the meal — unless, of course, you’d prefer to eat right away.”

One of the young soldiers scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m actually starving!”

“Oh, shut up already,” another soldier told him.

Valensia stepped forward, her gaze still locked on the old woman I was. She took my hands in hers — large and firm — and said:

“Finally, we’re here…”

There was a brief silence before she added:

“Show me to my quarters, please, Elder. Those who are hungry, go eat and enjoy the banquet. I’ll join you all later.”

“I’m coming with you, Valensia,” said the intimidating woman with glasses.

“Asra, no,” Valensia quickly replied. “I want to speak with the Doyenne alone. Go, enjoy the food with the others.”

“Roger…” she muttered, disappointed.

I felt relieved. She had been here only a few minutes, but the atmosphere was already heavy.

I learned a few days later that she was Valensia’s right-hand woman — and that she excelled in the art of assassination.
Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps.

I was guiding Valensia to her quarters. They were on the other side of the village, near the southern ramparts.

I had always thought that placing the quarters so far from the main entrance — and so close to the least protected part of the wall — was a careless decision. But someone once told me it was the sunniest part of the village, and that the village’s founder had loved spending time in the light.

“I'm so sorry I'm moving so slowly… but I'm not that young anymore.”

She stared at me and smiled. "Really? And how old are you, Elder?"

As I said before, I had lived so long that I couldn't remember my exact age.

"Come on! Asking a lady's age? How rude!" I replied, feigning indignation.

She smiled again. The cold demeanor she'd had upon arrival had vanished, and I felt more at ease around her... but something inside her still scared me. I couldn't quite tell what it was.

The tour of her quarters went quickly. I showed her the desk, the welcoming space, the kitchen, her bedroom, and a few other rooms.
She asked about the former clan leaders and how they had managed things. I gave her information on the terms of governance, the external environment, and provided her with various documents to read.

Once the formalities were done, Valensia sat behind her desk and stared at me.
“Do you need something? I can bring you to the banquet if you'd like.”
After a short silence, she replied,
“Tell me about yourself, Elder”

“I'm just an old lady. This village has been very peaceful for a looong time and…”
“I think you’ve told me enough about the village. Elder, I want you to tell me about your life.”
“I…” I didn’t have much to say. “I’ve been here for about thirty years; I help with medicine and cooking.”
—and most importantly, I stay discreet, I thought.

“Do you have any magical powers, since you work in medicine?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.
It took me a moment to answer.
“Nothing worth mentioning.”
“Really…?” she said, unconvinced.

At that moment, the man in the magician’s robe entered, accompanied by a villager.
“Valensia, we’re waiting.”
Valensia’s jaded expression returned.
“Ah, yes… the banquet. I’m coming, Astur.”

She stood up, walked past me, and whispered:
“Elder, This conversation isn’t over…”

Then she left the room with Astur.
“Let’s go eat,” she said.