“Every problem always has a solution—simple, convenient, and, of course, wrong.”
—Henry Louis Mencken
The sweltering summer days were growing shorter, yet the capital of the Vellian Empire seemed oblivious to the approaching chill. Though the harvest month was coming to an end and autumn promised to be rainy, the city dwellers were buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming festivities. The end of summer didn’t just mean dreary weather; it also marked the start of the most joyous month, proudly called the Season of Pilgrimage—or, as the common folk dubbed it, the Fading Month. It was a time when nearly all the nobles and highborn set off on journeys to holy sites, while daily celebrations erupted in towns and villages. But could such things really surprise the average person? Ha! As the wise ones often said, a true reveler would party hard even at their mother-in-law’s funeral. No, the capital was abuzz with excitement for a different kind of entertainment!
The Emperor was marrying off his only daughter.
Right after the Season of Pilgrimage, a grand wedding was expected—an event so widely gossiped about that it had taken on an international flavor.
“What will this marriage bring? Peace and prosperity? Or a new war?” This question was debated everywhere, from the imperial palace to the shabbiest tavern in the slums.
Meanwhile, Vlay, the capital, was in a frenzy of preparation for the celebrations.
The hammers of builders rang out without pause. Roads and inns were being hurriedly repaired, stables expanded...
Yet only a handful of people in the empire knew the truth—it was all for nothing. There would be no festive proclamations, no dynastic marriage... and no freedom!
They say rulers are trained from childhood to face any surprise without betraying their emotions. In sorrow or joy, they must remain unflappable, but sometimes there are exceptions—moments that court etiquette manuals conveniently forget to mention.
Maldrab the Fourth, Emperor of the Vellian Empire, secretly believed that each of his ancestors must have had their own deeply personal reasons for unbecoming behavior. Oh, how he understood that now! When the foundation of your life, built over more than half a century, comes crashing down, decorum takes a backseat. So does restraint.
“It’ll all work out,” said a dark-haired man of about thirty, his pointed ears betraying his elven heritage, in a calm tone.
He stood by the lone window of the Southern Tower, where His Majesty had convened a council. An unofficial one, of course, with only a single advisor present—a man who also served as the court physician and had been the Emperor’s friend for decades. The absence of a second close confidant was precisely the topic under discussion.
“He’s not coming back!” Maldrab exclaimed for the umpteenth time, wrapping himself tighter in the crimson cloak of a ruler. “Never... Not in a million years... No one could!”
“Krezin will manage, Your—”
“Quiet, Dison, I didn’t ask for your opinion! Was it you who put him up to this? Don’t shake your head—I won’t believe for a second that Krezin came up with this... this... this suicide mission on his own!”
The outburst didn’t faze the elf in the slightest.
“His decision caught me off guard too, Maldrab. I’m not lying. Our friend is acting of his own free will. I appreciate dark humor as much as the next guy, but I’d never send someone to their death. I’m a healer, not an executioner, Your Majesty.”
“How could this even happen?!” The crimson fabric of the Emperor’s cloak swirled with his agitated pacing. “Has he lost his mind? Does he think he’s Lan, the legendary hero? Decided to play the Savior of the Nation? He could’ve at least warned us—we’d have prepared some eulogies!” Maldrab the Fourth broke into a nervous cough. “Gods, why me...?”
“He’ll come back, Vivi. And if worst comes to worst, they’ll bring him back.”
“I’m not five years old, and I’m done with ‘Vivi’!” The Emperor barely restrained himself from grabbing Dison by his frilly collar and shaking him with all his might.
Then again, to an almost immortal elf, Maldrab would still be a foolish boy even at ninety.
“Radis is a recluse, but he keeps tabs on current events. He won’t harm a friend of the Vellian Empire’s ruler. He might give him a scare, that’s all,” the advisor mused.
His Majesty shook his head, marveling at his friend’s optimism. Imagine that—an elf who’s lived through five centuries, outlasted several generations of the Villay dynasty, and still so naive...
Or maybe he’s just pretending.
“If you caught a thief in your house, would you stop to figure out whose friend, enemy, or relative they were?”
Shaking the elf’s confidence was no easy task.
“If Krezin doesn’t do anything stupid, they’ll send him back.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of—that they’ll send him back!” the Emperor snapped again. “In pieces, or missing a few parts, or with some extras... Do you realize he’s gone up against the most powerful human mage alive? My father said even Lan treated Radis with extreme caution, and that says a lot. A whole lot!”
“It only means that Starilis had a wise ruler. Once upon a time... Unfortunately.”
The conversation fell silent. The two men stood by the window, gazing somberly at a dark, almost black cloud rolling in from the northwest. From the direction of Klus—the stronghold of Radis, the last of the First Mages. The great Radis!
***
Ancient legends tell of a time when magic was beyond human reach, until one day a young man appeared, around whom strange things began to happen. What kind of things? The tales remain silent on that, but it’s known that his six sons ushered in a new era. More precisely, the era of magic began about fifteen years later, when the young men discovered an extraordinary power within themselves.
The stories describe those events in different ways.
Some claim the brothers immediately understood their purpose and set out to do good deeds. Their power was so immense that the First Mages could move mountains, create oceans, ignite stars, and even restore life. They reclaimed vast swathes of the continent for humanity and might have completely wiped out the non-humans if not for Lan.
No one knew anything concrete about him—only terrifying rumors circulated. Lan divided the brothers and killed them one by one. Even their names have been forgotten.
Humanity’s future hung in the balance, but one mage remained among them—a young Radis! Where did he come from? Perhaps the roguish father of the six First Mages could have answered that, but by then, he had long since joined his ancestors. It was Radis who managed to negotiate an end to the war with Lan.
Other legends tell a very different story. They say the new mages, intoxicated by their unprecedented abilities, turned ancient forests into a vast desert, and the Edge Mountains didn’t form on their own either. Then they decided to conquer the entire world, and to ensure the non-humans didn’t get in their way or remind them of the rights of sentient beings, they set out to exterminate them completely.
That’s when Lan appeared. From where? That remained a mystery to humans. He killed the brothers, and the non-humans recognized him as their ruler. A hunt for the human race began... But Radis remained—a skilled and incredibly powerful mage, a mere boy of eleven. He had a clear sense of right and wrong and found a way to Lan’s heart. Yet peace between humans and non-humans was no more.
Lan established his own nation, Starilis—known among humans as the Strange Forest—which spanned the eastern part of the continent. Radis went northwest to the city of Klus, which soon grew, expanded, annexed surrounding territories, and became a haven for mages. The land of sorcerers took on the name of its capital. Here, anyone with even a hint of magical talent was warmly welcomed. Here, there was no place for non-humans.
Klus was renowned for its artifacts. Magical items fetched astronomical prices, and some were considered priceless—like the fabled Well of Cherished Wishes, created by Radis in times long forgotten. Rumor had it there was no wealth equal to its value! And it was for this very treasure that Krezin was hunting. He must have already decided on his cherished wish. Only a miracle could save the nation, and the advisor was determined to make one happen.