TYRANNY: HOW TO CREATE A WORLD

Beginning

Dugut Calendar, 713.

Today, the palace was different from its usual state. Servants rushed through the palace's grand corridors, which could easily accommodate a few elephants, carrying trays of food, pitchers of drinks, and various decorations. They were all mostly running to the same place. The throne room.

Inside the corridor leading to the throne room, aside from the servants, there was a mother and her son. The mother had brown hair that was braided back. She wore a dress with a wide skirt and a tightly laced bodice. The dress, in a shade of turquoise, had white silk tulle at the bottom that constantly brushed against the red carpet on the floor.

The woman's hand was being held by a young boy. Although referring to him as a "young boy" might seem rude, it would be more accurate to call him a beautiful young man. His long hair, much like his mother's, was braided and draped down his back. The only difference in their beauty was that his hair was as white as clouds, unlike his mother's. At the moment, he was holding his mother's hand so tightly that his small, fair fingers had turned bright red.

They reached the massive door that led to the throne room in a short while. By this point, most of the servants had entered, and the door remained closed as no one had exited yet. As they arrived in front of the door, the young boy felt a sense of unease about entering, causing him to hesitate.

His mother tried to pull him along by his arm. "Come on, my son, everyone is waiting for us."

The little boy had a troubled expression on his face. The only emotion that could be read on his reddened face, which seemed to be embarrassed, was shyness. Moreover, his indecision was cemented in his young mind when he saw the servants coming to dress him.

"Mom... Can't we not go?" The young boy asked with hope in his eyes. He wanted his mother's approval so desperately that he might have been willing to go without drinking milk for a few meals.

The woman smiled gently and cupped her son's little face in her hands. Then, in an encouraging tone, she spoke, "But everyone is waiting for us. Without the little prince, what meaning would the feast have?"

Perhaps at that moment, thousands of thoughts ran through the child's mind, but he couldn't accept any emotion other than a smile on his mother's beautiful face into his own little pride. He simply lowered his head and silently endured.

Then, the woman stood up and once again took the little boy's hand, opening the door slightly. Despite the door being at least four times larger than a regular one when the woman applied a slight force, it effortlessly swung open as if someone else behind it was also opening it simultaneously. Two spear-wielding guards, sensing a hand at the door, grasped the large handles of the door and pulled them apart.

Both guards were dressed exceptionally today. These guards, who usually wore shiny steel armor, had donned leather armor specially for the feast. Their leather armor, adorned with plush fur around their necks and chest areas, was the primary ceremonial attire used for celebrations in the palace. It was evident that these armors provided a significant amount of warmth, as evidenced by the sweat dripping down their foreheads being embedded into every droplet.

As the young boy entered the grand hall, he lowered his head in embarrassment. In front of him stood at least twenty unfamiliar faces, including other white-haired individuals like him.

As soon as the mother and son entered through the door, they became the center of attention. More than forty people seated around the massive rectangular feast table turned their heads in unison towards them at the entrance.

While the mother smiled and slightly inclined her head in response to the attention, the little boy lowered his head due to embarrassment. He clung a bit tighter to his mother's skirts and pressed his body closer to her.

At the far end of the table, there was an individual with short white hair, almost at the end of his fifties. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and the excess skin hanging from the edges of his chin made him appear ten years older than his actual age. The crown on his forehead, adorned with gold and rubies, harmonized well with his white hair and overall appearance.

With hands adorned with precious rings, he gestured widely and addressed the young boy who stood at the entrance, casting embarrassed glances around.

"My son! Won't you come to your father?" The smile on the old man's face was a brief indication of how much love he held for the boy. Since the feast had begun, he had rarely smiled, and now it was perhaps the second or third time.

The little child had a desire to run to his father, but the big men sitting at the table were causing his shy nature to be fully on display. He stole a glance at his mother and when he saw her smiling and encouraging face, he ran towards his father. Even the servants moved aside for him, so he reached his father's arms unscathed. The old man kissed his cheeks(face) and fed him a grape from the table. Embracing his son tightly, the young boy, despite his shyness, had gained extra courage from being in his father's embrace.

While the little child was in his father's embrace, one of the nine white-haired men at the table, including the little child and his father, spoke. They were all seated near the head of the table, four on the right and four on the left. The ninth child was in the lap of the old man.

"Little brother, won't you welcome us?" Faced with this question from an unfamiliar person, the little child was surprised, and the half-eaten grape remained between his fingers.

The person speaking was the one in the third row from the left. In contrast to the little child, the answer to this question came from the white-haired man right in front of him. He appeared to be around twenty years old and had an imposing physique. Among the three or four robust men seated at the table, he was one of them.

"Seventh brother, don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? You're expecting the youngest sibling, whom you've seen for the first time, to recognize you?" The demeanor of the imposing young man resembled that of an honorable knight. He always sat upright, his facial expression was stern with furrowed brows, yet he revealed no emotions.

"What's gotten into you, third brother? Did I ask you? I'm sure we were all more refined at your age and never compromised our noble demeanor. Why can't the ninth sibling be like us?" The young man referred to as the seventh brother looked at his third brother with a stern expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed like swords and spoke without caring about his imposing physique.

"Pah! Look at your lies! I even changed your diapers! Until you turned ten, you couldn't even deign to speak to Father!" The third brother retorted in a fit of anger. His brows furrowed even more intensely than before. He seemed ready to fight at any moment.

In the meantime, another white-haired man interjected, "I believe both of you should remain silent. It's not appropriate to use such sentences in the presence of our father and eldest brother."

The person speaking was the second white-haired young man from the right. His long hair, reaching down to his shoulders, concealed his blue eyes that radiated a delicate sense of calmness. Anyone who looked into his eyes could easily find tranquility.

"What's it to you? Mind your own business!" The seventh and third brothers turned to the young man who spoke at the same time and joined forces. Meanwhile, the white-haired young man seated in the fourth row from the left got involved in the argument. "I agree, you should both be quiet."

"Shut your mouth, you little brat!" The white-haired young man in the first row from the left immediately responded and joined the argument. Within a short time, the debate among the seven white-haired young men filled the banquet hall. After a few minutes, as profanities started to fly, the old man seated at the head of the table slammed his fist, adorned with rings, onto the table.

"Bam!"