Gates to Renascence

by Material Defender

I: Whispering Sands

C h a p t e r 1 :

W h i s p e r i n g S a n d s

---

The realm of dreams portends a great many things to the experienced eye: caution on desires and awareness of fears among many other things, but sometimes, very rarely, you will see visions. Magic can affect ourselves as much as it affects the world around us, and can occasionally bring the sense of premonition to a person in the form of a dream. Whether or not those dreams should be acted upon is still a topic to be debated.

-Magic and the Realm of Dreams, Grand Scholar Ebon Sol Mahim, 1350 RY

---

Another gust of wind threw obsidian sands into the lone man’s face. He wandered through the landscape, a monochrome desert painted in the washes of black and white, a sea of desolation that he dragged his feet through in an attempt to reach a destination that not even he was aware of. He wondered if there was some reason he was here, alone in this forsaken realm, or whether if he had originally set upon himself a goal to accomplish.

The thought of his existence within the realm brought forth an eerie sight, as if on cue: a large city, sitting under the dead sun and sky, appeared before him, as if out of nowhere. Walls obscured a great deal of his sight, for the city was massive, a true example as to the skill of its creators to make a city that would withstand the test of time as a monument to the glory of its people.

It was a strange that he did not know such things until he saw it with his own eyes.

Disgruntled at the flash of information in his mind, the loner continued forward, passing under the gargantuan gates of the city, itself decorated with two ornate columns with a massive arch sitting on top. The feeling it brought forth to him was unlike any other, and he was unable to withstand its seemingly inviting nature to explore the city within.

He knew that this was the city of Renascence, the capital of the Renascent Empire.

Yet another thought planted into his mind through mere sight alone, a fact which disturbed him greatly.

For what manner of worlds could tamper with a being's mind through vision?

He continued forth, venturing through the many worn districts of the city, devoid of any other life save for himself. The presence of nothing but emptiness put him at an unnerving calm, as if he were being watched. He was quite sure that he was, if not for the appearance of signs of being tailed: little things, like the smallest detail out of place, a print in the ground, or the faint sound of something shuffling in the distance.

The martialsword he had was drawn, an ancient and mastercrafted weapon passed down from son to son by those that came before; it surprised him to see that it was the only source of color in an otherwise straightforward world. Holding his precious weapon at his side, he continued forth, determined to find out what lay within the heart of this great city... and what it held for the one man that journeyed through its confines.

A single growl brought him out of his stupor, and he turned to see the origin of the noise: a single quadruped beast, similar in form to a wolf... except it seemed be covered with a consuming shadow, giving it a fearsome and ghastly appearance. He could not see its teeth as it snarled at him and pawed at the ground, preparing to charge him. Anticipating the attack, he calmed his muscles, slowly bringing himself into a combat stance to fight the beast.

The martialsword was a terrifying weapon in the hands of a true master. Unlike the standard combat of ages old, the martialsword was, in function, simply an slightly elongated longsword, but given a clearer purpose: to destroy the enemy through precision, and thus had no secondary aid like a shield or parrying dagger. The master of the martialsword was a master of himself and the battlefield around him, able to rely on instinct and experience to anticipate and brutally counter the enemy's attack with strikes designed to exploit weaknesses and blind zones to devastating effect.

He could feel his perception of time slow as he saw the beast charge. It stepped forth, trailing its paws on the dead stone beneath, red eyes glowing with true malice, and jumped as it reached halfway between its original position and the loner. The martialsword moved to counter, and he felt his feet slide. A single reckless charge delivered the beast straight into the killing blow of his sword.

Within the span of less than a second, he had sidestepped the beast's line of attack, deftly rotating his body while drawing his blade up into the air. Too late did the beast realize that it had charged straight to its death, and its clumsy attempts at readjusting in midair was cut short as he brought the blade swiftly down upon its neck.

It was a short, quick, and violent yelp, as the beast's head landed several lengths away, its headless body flailing wildly for a moment before stilling itself. Suddenly, it glowed bright, disintegrating as it turned to dust and faded away in the desert winds.

"Hmm, not bad, mortal." The new presence startled the loner, as he looked around him for the source of the voice; around him in the building, above in the spires, and further into the skies. He found nothing.

"Who are you?" He looked back down the street, seeing nothing but shadows and sand. "Show yourself!" he demanded. He had been so sure that he was alone in this city for the longest time... only to have all of that shattered in mere moments. Then a voice showed up, laced with the tone as if this whole spectacle was a game, and he was nothing but a plaything. He could feel his blood boil with anger.

"How... insolent. Not entirely unexpected, of course... your kind were always so persistent in trying to rebel against my generous rule. And now, you have all earned my ire... do not expect me to have forgotten what you've all done." The loner began searching for the voice, traversing up steps and searching in alleyways. He found nothing but hideous laughs and dead ends waiting for me.

Eventually, silence replaced the voice as his companion, the jeers replaced by winds flowing through the sandstone streets around him. Each step brought him closer to his goal, his original purpose: the great palace of Renascence, situated on a mountain in the heart of the city, an impressive spire of architecture visible from every point in the city.

The palace steps stood large, ascending in a clockwise fashion around the mountain with several walled checkpoints built as a sturdy defense against any invader. Such architecture was necessitated following the end of the Trickster Era, when the Paragon of the Sun had first arrived in the Empire and managed to aid the humans in reclaiming what was left of their lands, as the Trickster's minions still thrived in the lands north of the Empire today. They had taken to calling themselves 'griffons', and adopted a creed of honor and military tradition soon after they settled.

Which, of course, only enraged mankind even further upon seeing its own systems adopted into use by the Trickster's followers, which they viewed as a mockery of their upbringing. Animosity only grew between the two factions throughout the centuries, and mankind sought to forge itself into the one thing the Trickster could not break: honorable, strong, and organized people, rising from the ashes to bring about, by their own hands, a rebirth of their lineage. Such was the origin of the name 'renascent'.

The capital of Renascence stood as a testament to their hard work and dedication, rumored to be larger than the largest city in the nation the Paragon of the Sun retired to following her liberation of humanity's lands. With her aid, they reconstructed settlement after destroyed settlement, painstakingly using every moment of free time they had to return to normalcy. With the aid of the Protector of the Night, they learned how to live again, learning to treat each other with honor and integrity, but also love and respect, the lessons of justice and law inherited from the Protector and the first ruler of the Trickster Era that had perished in the conflict serving as their guiding light towards a better future.

All of these lessons and more should have been habits exemplified by the guards that would have normally been standing in legion on these very steps, but with every step forward, it only gave him more reason to doubt his willingness to see the end of the path. He was no fool, and he wasn't disinclined to believe that he might have just been walking into a trap. He continued up the spiral staircase, martialsword gripped tightly in his hand as he passed by an open door looking into an empty barracks.

He held his breath as he reached the top; his helmet was stifling and his body felt as if it were on fire. Gallantly continuing forward, he put a single hand on the massive double doors that led into the palace's throne room, and gave a hard push. A rush of wind flew past his head as he ventured inside, meeting the darkness within head-on.

"Where are you, stalker?" he shouted. "Show yourself!"

"I will... but only since you asked so nicely... Light slowly began to fill the room as the torches throughout the room began to light one by one, the lines converging on the center of the circular throne room and ending right at the massive throne's pair of braziers. A single being sat on the throne, clapping derisively as he stood.

The loner stared at the man as he descended the steps of the throne. "You... who... are... you...?" he asked.

"Who else would I be?" He laughed again, the power behind his voice shaking the room and causing flights of dust to trickle down from the ceiling. "I'm you, of course. Look at how well we've done ruling this forsaken piece of dirt." His armor was pure black, a far cry from the loner's own white plating. "Come now, fool. Let us end this..." The impostor drew his own sword; not a martialsword, but a jagged and rusted blade, a tool made to be both intimidating and deadly in combat. Its effect, however, was lost on the loner standing before him.

"The Trickster," the loner hissed. "I know who you are. And I will stop you!"

"Hmm... I don't think so. You seem to forget, my 'prince'..." The loner gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he felt his hand rise to slowly grasp the tip of the blade that protruded through his chest. Looking up, he saw that the impostor was no longer standing at the foot of the throne, but now standing behind just, just off his side... holding the blade that impaled him. "...this is my world, so you play by my rules. It won't matter in the end, anyway... you won't remember this little dream after you wake up. It's merely just... playtime... before I return to cause some real chaos and terror..."

The loner could feel his right hand begin to lose grip, and before long, he heard the sound of his sword clattering into the ground. He feel into a kneel as the impostor painfully ripped the blade from his body and walked in front of him. "I... will... stop you..." he uttered, feeling the last of his life leaving his body.

"Will you, now...? We'll see about that..." the impostor said, laughing madly.

The insane cackles were the last thing the prince remembered before his world went black.

---

Prince Kandro awoke with a fright, clutching his chest in an attempt to alleviate some phantom pain that should not have been there. His dream was... he did not remember his dream, but for him to have woken up this way could only mean ill omens in the future. Looking around on the table he fell asleep at, he noticed that everything he left there the night before was still intact: his martialsword, his study notes, and his half-eaten dinner from the night before.

"No need to put it to waste..." he said to himself, turning his previous dinner into today's breakfast only after he had taken the proper time to freshen himself up first. Sitting down and taking a bite of the first morsel of sustenance for the day, he looked over his notes: as usual, every possible lead that he investigated towards solving the Empire's magic crisis led him nowhere. Most of the land was dead without the lifeblood of magic flowing through it, and was the single effect of the Trickster Conflict that the arcanists had yet to solve.

The only actual nexus of magic still intact in the Empire was the capital of Renascence, which devoted most of the energies to sustaining the remaining fertile farmland in the countryside surrounding it. The lack of magic also presented a lack of true arcanists that could aid in solving the problem; Kandro was lucky to have been born into nobility, and was tutored in the use of magic from a very early age. In towns and cities without magic, they simply had to make do without it, and those with magical affinity became a dying breed in this day and age.

Following several prolonged conflicts with the griffons that sat as the neighbors of the Empire to the north, Kandro had taken it upon himself to divert the crown's resources in an attempt to expedite the search for a solution. All it seemed to do was bring him to failure after failure even faster, and even the best of solutions proposed had been based entirely on myths and superstitions revolving around ancient artifacts. The Empire would die within the next century if he could not find a solution to their predicament.

Magical transfer, artificial sources, archaic rituals... all of them and others presented more than just a single problem that severely detracted from their usefulness in saving the land. Some paths had even ended in disaster with loss of life and property, only pulling further funding from the efforts of every researcher, including those who would rather see only safe solutions considered.

He found himself only growing frustrated in his short attempt to further his research, and so found it more fitting to simply head outside for fresh air. Lanterns swayed in the hall as he sheathed his sword and gave a quick check in his mirror to see that he was at least remotely presentable; he was, after all, a prince, but soldiers were never really attentive towards looks... unless they were his father’s personal guard, of course, but they were a different story.

The blinding desert sands immediately outside the reaches of Fort Kahir were the first thing to greet his eyes as he exited his quarters. His transfer to Kahir was a specific one: the fortress was located right on the eastern fringe of the Empire, at the entrance to Kahir Pass, the only known safe route to the nation of Equestria. The eastern gates of Kahir had remained locked, though, since there had never been need to open them; the Empire’s citizens were not given to relying on others for help... amusing, considering that their vehemence in solving their own problems was what nearly wiped them out during the Trickster Conflict.

“My prince!” Kandro turned to see the western gates of Kahir closing, and a messenger sliding to a halt on his sandrunner mount. “Prince Kandro! Where are you?”

“I’m right here, messenger,” Kandro responded. “You seem to be in a rush. What urgent news do you bring with you on this fine day?”

“A message!” the messenger echoed, holding his charge in the air: a scroll, wrapped tightly with red wax and marked with the seal of Emperor Nazhrus himself... Kandro’s father. “A message from the Emperor for you, my liege!”

“He does well to send a royal messenger with the best sandrunner the crown can buy,” Kandro said, earning a laugh from the soldiers in the yard. “Tell me now, how is he?”

“He is ill, sire.” A deathly silence befell the whole courtyard. “He is ill,” the messenger repeated. “And he wishes to have you at his bedside... immediately.” Kandro quickly descended the steps from his second-floor abode, slowly taking the scroll from the messenger’s extended arm. Meeting his eyes, Kandro could tell that the messenger was serious: his father truly was ill... and yet he had been fine only half a year ago. What had happened?

“Creatures!” a soldier shouted from the walls. The messenger looked around wildly as soldiers grabbed their weapons and charged up to the walls, Kandro among them.

“Scout, report!”

“Seven chaos creatures, on the boundaries of the southwest oasis tree!” the soldier replied, handing over the telescope to Kandro as he entered the guard tower. “My liege, they are headed for the city of Talon’s Reach. Best estimates show around a half hour’s ride until they meet the walls.”

“Have the Reach guards been notified?”

“No, sire.”

“Then we will ride to meet them,” Kandro said, pushing the telescope into the scout’s chest. An outfitter quickly brought him his helmet from the armory, scurrying up to meet him as he descended back into the courtyard. “Ready sandrunners!”

“Who will go with you, my prince?” asked the garrison commander, who waited at the bottom of the steps.

“Give me the best ones you can muster under my command,” Kandro said, as his own sandrunner beast exited the stable of its own accord. Climbing atop the saddle, he patted the reptilian beast on the back of its head before looking behind him to see a line of riders ready to follow him out the gates. “Excellent. You do good work here, commander. Keep the base on high alert in case more of them show up.”

“Yes, my liege,” the commander said, bowing. “May your sword strike true.”

“And may the blood of our enemies flow on the sand. Now, soldiers, let us ride!” The gates cracked open as the line of riders charged out, their bearing on the road that led to Talon’s Reach unchanged as they picked up a trail of dust behind them.

---

Tiny blots on the horizon were the only clues that Kandro had as to the position of the chaos beasts. Despite their land’s ever-decreasing energy, the presence of the Trickster so long ago had not seemed to have diminished in the slightest, occasionally spawning beasts much like the ones they tracked now. It had been much terrifying back then when the Trickster was at his greatest, and he led entire armies of such fearsome creatures against the human armies of old. It did not amuse him to think that they might one day suffer through such battles again.

“Talon’s Reach, sire, up ahead!” called the soldier behind him. “They raise the red flag, sire! They see the beasts!”

“Then let us hope they can close the city’s gates in time!” Kandro called over his shoulder. “Ride fast! Swords drawn!” He unsheathed his own martialsword, letting his arm drop low for a prepared swing.

The heads of people could be seen scrambling into the city gates as they began closing in on the countryside. Kandro cursed; at the rate that they were going, several might die before they could even make it past the outer homes.

“Swords ready, my liege!”

“Prepare to engage!”

The riders shouted a war cry as their small group finally rode past the last of the rural homes, their lines quickly fanning out to avoid running into each other. Reach guards were easily visible from their charging views as several attempted to deflect the lumbering creatures’ blows with their own shields, with one faltering and falling to the ground in the process.

The fallen guard clutched his arm screaming, his shield splintered to pieces as the beast’s right fist grotesquely expanded into some monstrosity of a weighted weapon, and prepared to bring it down on him. He scrambled back unsuccessfully, too handicapped by his own injuries to move any quicker, and brought up his one free arm in a desperate attempt to block the blow.

Suddenly, a mass of steel flew forth from the gates, above the fleeing masses and slamming straight into the face of the beast with a plated boot. The new warrior brought down his weighted staff into the monster’s face, imploding it with impressive force and covering his golden armor in blood.

Kandro veered his squad left to engage the other creatures, leaving the warrior to his own devices, only to have his intended targets exterminated by the warrior as he again leapt into the skies, staff glowing with combat magic and accelerating his blow into another beast’s face.

“Come, beasts!” the warrior bellowed, slamming a gauntleted fist into his breastplate. “Let me send you to meet the god you so dearly worship!” The beasts, now numbering five, issued a roar in response, and though it couldn’t be seen, Kandro was sure the warrior was wearing a grin on his face.

As the distracted monsters focused their attention on the burly warrior triumphantly gloating from atop the corpse of one of their own, Kandro jumped to his feet on top of the saddle of his sandrunner, letting his own crimson garb flow under his golden armor as he readied his stance and cleared his mind. A beast stood directly in front of him, and he fully intended to deliver a killing blow in a single strike.

That, however, was thrown askew as the monster promptly turned its head towards him, parting its mouth in an ugly grimace full of blood-stained teeth. It roared again as its head convulsed and shifted into an armor plate of sorts, to deflect Kandro’s blow. That did not deter the prince, but merely put his plan down a different path with identical results: the beast still had to leave its eyes vulnerable in order to see.

His sandrunner gave a screech in agreement, sensing Kandro’s imminent flight as he simply dove off of the saddle, blade poised in the air as the monster charged forth... only for the creature’s form to disappear in a cloud of dust. Kandro lost his bearing and transitioned into a roll as he bounded over the creature’s body, the form of the warrior and his staff clear among the smoke.

“Apologies, my prince!” the warrior called out. “But you seem to have arrived at a bad time. You see, Talon’s Reach is under my protection, and as its guardian... I am tasked with protecting its citizens personally.”

“Well, to be honest...” Kandro said, gesturing at the body of the beast with his sword. “I hadn’t expected the great Quartermaster Tehin to appear so far east. It is not everyday that one sees a great Pillar of the Obsidian Spire venturing in the fringe territories.”

“The Obsidian Spire does not need its guardians when there is such strife going on in the east,” Tehin responded, lighting his staff a hue of purple with another flare of combat magic. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my liege, I have a problem to solve.”

“Go, Tehin,” Kandro said, chuckling. “I will be waiting here when you are done.”

Tehin hopped off of the corpse, his heavy form slamming into the ground with a thud as he turned to see a group of riders fending off one of the beasts. Utilizing his magic, he moved forward in a blur, unbecoming of his size, and delivered a direct blow to the creature’s knees and knocking it down. A final drop of his staff on the face of the creature ended its life, as he turned around to shrug at Kandro. “Hehe, business as—left, sire!” he shouted, pointing.

Kandro looked left, and saw a creature stampeding for him, and adeptly rolled out of the way, letting his own combat magic kick into gear to enhance his movements to clear a greater distance. It was part of the reason why many of the more talented fighters in the Empire were magic-wielders: combat magic could turn the tide of any battle when used right, but was insanely hard to master, drawing upon the user’s own affinities to work. The better the affinity, training, meditation, and experience the user had, the better the magic would work. Only the greatest of combat magic users could be considered viable candidates for being a Pillar of the Obsidian Spire, one of the greatest military honors a soldier could receive.

Kandro was in no need of such titles: he was, after all, nobility, and learned from some of the best combat tutors in the Empire, but it was only when he led his subjects to war against the griffons did he truly learn how to master the blade. Mastery that became extremely useful against uncommon and dangerous enemies such as chaos beasts.

With steeled concentration, he bid his magic to flow into his blade and felt the air around himself suddenly grow hot as his martialsword charged with latent energies. The beast stood momentarily, his head arching around to look for the prince when its prey decided to strike back. A focused strike, combined with the energies in his blade, allowed Kandro to cut clean through the beast’s leg and forcing it on the ground as he quickly repeated the process on its arm on the same side.

A clamor above him followed by a single rushing sound signaled to Kandro that the guard had loaded and fired a ballista at one of the other beasts. A single resounding roar in response let him know the bolt had struck true, and most likely crippled its target. Kandro walked around to the beast’s head as it sluggishly flailed about, its size too large for it to support itself properly without the aid of its limbs. Kandro stood perpendicular to its neck, and prepared a decapitating strike. He held his breath as the sound of Tehin and the soldiers around him continued the battle, letting his own blade charge up with energy... and sighed as he brought down the blade, the indigo mist of combat magic trailing in the wake of his final swing.

Martialswords favored utility above all else. Quick and painless deaths were part of that.

“He’s down! Charge the brute!” he heard a soldier shout, turning to see the only beast still left standing being swarmed over by soldiers stabbing it in any way they could. One even flailed about the beast’s head as the man attempted to slit the throat, only to be unfashionably knocked off and left to wallow about in the sand. The soldiers eventually began moving away as the beast’s steps grew erratic before slamming into the ground, having bled out due to all the stabs it suffered.

“Amazing...” Tehin said. “Is this daily business for the east? I should really visit these lands more often... Reugas keeps telling me that complacency is going to be the death of us all. Judging by the laughable reaction from the Reach guard, I’d have to say that he’s right.”

“There’s obviously more to this...” Kandro said, walking up beside him as they surveyed the carnage. “What are you doing here, Quartermaster? Surely you must have other business than to be stuck guarding a city on the eastern fringes?”

“You are correct, prince,” Tehin said, nodding. “And don’t call me ‘Quartermaster’... I haven’t been called that since my time in the army years ago.” Carts began rolling out to ferry the dead monsters to locations where they could be disposed of, as a group of doctors approached to help wounded guards. “Empress Aleyia bid me to come out here... to escort you back. The messenger was merely there to lure you out.”

“So is my father truly ill, then?” Kandro’s sandrunner approached from his side and nudged him in the arm, sitting there looking out at the rest of the scene with them. “He knows that I do not enjoy being in the capital.”

“He is ill... and you know you can’t keep dodging your status, Kandro,” Tehin said. Being a Pillar granted a soldier many privileges, one of them being allowed to talk freely in the presence of royalty. “I’ve known you since you were a boy running around trying to play soldier with wooden swords. You can’t run from your duties forever.”

“You’re about the only one who still remembers that, Tehin. And duties...” Kandro muttered, scoffing. “I am going to become Emperor, and you call it ‘duties’... I don’t want to rule, Tehin.”

“Then who will do it then?” Tehin asked. “You’ve been groomed since the day you were born for this position. You’ve shown exemplary command of your soldiers during the war with the griffons, and judging from your relief efforts in the north, you know what the people want. The nobility respect you. The soldiers respect you. Your lowly subjects respect you. I will not push the issue any further, Kandro, but... you are prepared.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Kandro said, patting his sandrunner along the bridge of its nose. “But I’m in no rush to ascend to the throne. Being surrounded by the Council all days, running the affairs of the Empire... it’s not my idea of a good life.”

“Perhaps once you get married, that’ll change,” Tehin teased.

“Can we talk about something else?” Kandro said bluntly. “My father has called me back to the Empire. Fine. Let us depart immediately.”

“Willing to depart so soon, my liege?” Tehin said, patting Kandro on the back, a feeling akin to being tapped on the back with a hammer. “Very well. Let us gather our supplies before we venture out... and I need to tell the Reach watch captain to increase the guard, anyway.”

---

It took them several days to reach Renascence. They were met at the gates of the city by a whole unit of the Emperor’s personal guard, clad in ornate crimson and gold battle regalia, and escorted through the city and up the spiral staircase to the palace. The city was abuzz with rumors, but the known fact was that Emperor Nazhrus was ill... and Kandro was soon to take his place.

The Paragon of the Sun had only begun lowering her charge when Kandro and Tehin had arrived at the top of the palace steps, and Kandro removed his helmet to preserve his sight in the evening, taking a deep breath as the capital’s airs and dry winds bombarded his nose. Awaiting them was Captain Ghiraza, the leader of the Emperor’s personal guard, and his mother, Empress Aleyia.

“Captain,” Kandro said, giving a solid handshake to the aged captain as the grizzled man simply gave him a respectful nod. Ghiraza was a true veteran and honorable soldier, having served under Kandro’s father in a multitude of conflicts before finally settling with being commander of his personal guard. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“It’s a pleasure, too, my liege,” Ghiraza responded in his gravelly voice. “But I’m afraid things are far more dire than we had originally thought.”

“Kandro!” Aleyia stepped forth, enclosing her son in a tight embrace before parting, her face clearly written with worry. Her attire was unkempt and her mood entirely devoid of her usual cheerful demeanor. “Kandro... it’s... it is very bad. Your father, he...” she trailed off.

“What happened to father?” Kandro asked, looking between his mother and Ghiraza. Tehin stood behind him, shifting uneasily in his armor as Aleyia merely broke into quiet sobs. Ghiraza merely sighed and looked at the ground.

“We know not what it is, sire,” said a man appearing from one of the sandstone columns behind Ghiraza. “But its origins are not of our own. It is not poison, but something... worse. I myself cannot seem to find any remedy to his ailment, but he has been calling your name for quite some time now. It must be important if he wants to reveal something only to you.” The man stepped forth, his scholar’s robes partially tattered along the legs and arms, bandages clearly present on his extremities.

“This is Keeper Artim, of the great scholar school of Lherren in the northwest, and a keeper of the Great Library of the Empire.”

“And a Pillar of the Obsidian Spire,” Kandro finished. “It is an honor to have an arcanist join us.”

“Please, my prince, do away with the pleasantries. Our Emperor is in dire straits, and no one, not even one as well-learned as myself, knows the answer to this impossible question.” He stepped forth, letting the light shine over his bandaged face, giving him the appearance of a robed mummy walking among the living. “Oh, don’t pay these bandages any mind. It’s an... unfortunate side effect of mixing elemental and combat magic. Incredibly effective, but it only took me many failures before I learned the secrets to it... oh, and how are you doing tonight, Tehin?”

Tehin shook his head, the tassels on his helm flipping around as he did so. “The east is full of chaos beasts. It shames me to think that I hadn’t thought to visit until sooner. You win this bet... this time.”

“And I’ll be waiting to collect after this whole business is over,” Artim said, giving a curt laugh before turning stone-faced again. “Come. The guards have been maintaining watch over your father for a while now.”

Ghirza offered his arm to Aleyia, and as a group, they all followed Artim through the halls as the scholar delved into all his possible theories and assumptions as to how Nazhrus could have fallen ill. His irritation at not being to solve it was clearly shone in his responses.

“...magic. It’s not magic, at least not the kind of magic that I’m used to, and I’ve been exposed to practically every single kind of magic there is. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and it’s utterly... infuriating,” Artim concluded. “Ah, here are the last of our guests. Please, my prince, may I introduce you to the final three members of our little organization...”

They stood outside the door to Emperor Nazhrus’ chambers, where a trio of members and a pair of guards awaited their arrival. Upon turning the corner, the first of the three, a man wearing the famous ranger’s armor stepped forth, giving a little wave as he introduced himself.

“Name’s Reugas, my liege,” he said. “I am a ranger from Kradrin. You might know the township as the one that’s in charge for the upkeep and protection of the Obsidian Spire when it is not currently staffed by one of us.”

“I take it the Spire is fine?” Kandro asked. The absence of all five Pillars from the Obsidian Spire was of great worry, as usually the protection of the monument dedicated to the deeds of the Paragon of the Sun outweighed any domestic concern unless it was critically important.

“It is fine, sire,” the second member responded. She stepped forth and gave a short bow, her conforming armor blending in with the increasing darkness of the halls. “I am Sehyia, and I am a blade dancer. It is an honor to meet you. I give you my deepest condolences with your father, I...” She paused, nervously fiddling with her fingers. “...we all respect him, very much.”

“Your blade...” Kandro commented. “It seems familiar. Blade dancers are rare, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Sehyia confirmed, toying around with her ponytail as she continued. “But our form is nowhere near as refined as the art of the martialsword. Such mastery is beyond our capabilities, since it requires such intricate use of magic. We merely use our own magic to nimbly move across the battlefield.”

“Oh, don’t let her modesty fool you, prince,” Reugas said. “She’s perfectly capable of killing all of us here if she wanted to, and nobody would know until the cleaners came in the next morning. Those assassin types, you know?” His smile didn’t even falter as she stared daggers at him. “What? You know I’m right!”

“And who is the last of our guests?” Kandro asked. The reputation of all the others meant that Kandro had some semblance of who they were... but the last one yet to reveal himself had a clear and terrifying reputation on the frontlines for being the bane of a griffon’s existence, a walking hand of death on the battlefield.

“...the disciple, Yhimit,” he whispered. The silent figure merely stood with his arms crossed, giving a slight nod to confirm his presence to Kandro, his infamous dual swords slung across his back. “Does he speak?”

“No, he does not,” Artim said. “He’s undertaken an oath of silence. What it’s for, we don’t know, but I wager it might have something to do with griffons,” he said, accentuating the final word. “Now that we’re all properly introduced, we must head inside. Time is of the essence.”

---

The bedroom was filled with the smell of incense, an indicator to Kandro that the doctors had simply run out of possible treatments, instead simply falling back on ancient homeopathic remedies of old... which also didn’t seem to work. His father breathed softly, his chest rising up and down, no longer the well-built ruler that all of his subjects remembered him as.

“That’s odd...” Aleyia said. “This is the first time I’ve seen where he hasn’t been shouting or rambling in some form or another.”

“Then that means things have changed,” Ghiraza said, as they all stood in the doorway. A four-man group of guards stood in a half-circle around the walls of the bedroom, protecting their ruler. “Go ahead, sire. None of the others save for your mother and the doctors have been able to speak to him.”

Kandro swallowed nervously, placing his helmet on the railing immediately to his right before stepping forth, his footsteps on the smooth and blackened stone floors the only sound present as he stepped forth through the smoke. When he reached the bed, he simply took a seat, staring in disbelief at the man that lay in the bed before him.

“Father... what happened to you?” he whispered, removing his gauntlets and tenderly picking up his father’s hand. It was wrinkled and felt like rough leather, and his face weary and eyes bloodshot, a huge contrast to the large and jovial man he had once been. “I am here now, father... what is it that you wished to speak to me about?”

“Kandro...” he croaked, moving his other hand to place a single shred of paper into Kandro’s. “Stop... Trickster... elements... harmony...”

“The Trickster?” Kandro asked, looking down at the crumpled piece of paper and back to his father. “Elements? Harmony? I don’t know what you’re talking about, father. Please, clarify. If the Trickster is truly behind this, I... I had thought we had eliminated him long ago.”

“No...” Nazhrus said, slowly shaking his head. “Blackridge... Mountains...” Kandro nodded, thankful for the direction; the Blackridge Mountains were what comprised the entire eastern border of the Empire, filled with turbulent winds and deadly sandstorm, making Kahir Pass the only route possible to travel to Equestria. “Paragon... Sun... discord...”

“The Paragon of the Sun?” Kandro leaned forward, determined to learn as much as possible. “Is she involved? Did she do this to you? And who or what is this ‘discord’ of which you speak?”

“Paragon will... help...” Nazhrus coughed several times, and Aleyia responded by quickly bringing him a small bowl of water, which he drank from deeply. “She will help us...” Nazhrus continued. “I—agh!” He began to convulse as Aleyia settled him back into his bed.

“I’m afraid our time with him is running short, Kandro. He will need his rest soon,” Aleyia said. “My beloved, please...” she gently cooed, running her hand across Nazhrus’ cheek. “You must rest.”

“Soon, Aleyia... soon... Kandro,” he said, turning back to his son. “If all else fails... find... the... legacy...” His hand grew limp and fell to the bed, and Kandro stood, worried that his father had passed away... only to see his breathing return, a faint wheeze as Aleyia lighted another set of incense.

“Why do we use the incense?” Kandro asked. “Will it not do more harm than good?”

“It is the only way we can keep him conscious,” Aleyia stated. “The roots for this type of incense go all the way back to the Trickster Era, when they were used to keep bad spirits at bay. Up until we lit these all around the room, your father would be in a coma, unable to speak at all.”

Kandro nodded, then unwrapped the piece of paper in his hands, reading the small note within: talk to the Paragon about Discord. “What is this Discord?” Kandro asked, walking back to the Pillars and Ghiraza. “What do any of you know about this?”

“That depends, sire,” Artim said. “We did not eavesdrop, as this conversation is between you and your father. But if he has imparted a clue to help you, then it is your choice to decide whether or not you want to share it with us. As far as I know, ‘discord’ seems to be another name for chaos... unsurprising, as it now seems that the Trickster is behind this.”

“We are dealing with an incredible evil,” Reugas said. “But I feel that this may be the Empire’s greatest challenge yet since our ancestors went to war against the Trickster’s armies. He has returned, and he wishes to wipe us off the map.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “But like our ancestors, we’ll break his legs and bloody his nose. We won’t go without a fight.”

“Very well,” Kandro said. “Do any of you know anything about the words ‘elements’, ‘harmony’, and... ‘legacy’? His messages were cryptic, and that was all that I was able to receive from him.”

“Well, it’s quite clear what the first two mean,” Artim stated. “He means the personal arsenal of the Paragon of the Sun, the mighty weapons she wielded against the Trickster and his minions when she and her army came to liberate our lands... the Elements of Harmony. Surely your father means you to call the Paragon to our lands to help us, or at least for you to bring back the Elements themselves so that we may use them.”

“She has done enough for our people already,” Reugas said, snorting. “Let her rest. She saved our skins once, and the Trickster was and has always been our fight. And it’s been thousands of years! Who knows if the weapons are still around today?”

“You dare go against the Emperor’s words?” Tehin said. “If our dear ruler truly believes this to be our best course of action, then we will carry out his orders to the best of our ability. Or did you forget your oath already, Reugas?”

“I know, I know, Tehin...” Reugas said. “But, honestly... I suppose we must be deeper in hot water than we thought if the Emperor himself has to resort to calling upon outer aid. And who knows? Maybe the griffons are behind this, too. And if they are...”

“...then they will answer for their crimes,” Kandro said. “What else do you know of the last word, Artim? My father said that it should only be considered as a last resort.”

“The word ‘legacy’...” Artim said, rubbing his chin. “Well, in all the studies at Lherren, there is only one thing that could possibly mean: your father means us to use the Legacy of the First Emperor, should our attempts to gain or use the Elements of Harmony fail.”

“The Legacy of the First Emperor...?” Kandro shook his head. “No... those are just myths. Just like the Lost Expedition. We aren’t going to waste our time chasing a mythical tomb just for the slight chance that it might contain what we need to stop the Trickster. Besides, wasn’t it meant more for bringing magic back to our lands?”

“That would be the public reasoning, yes,” Artim answered, folding his arms. “But think of it like this: why else would your father personally fund these scholars—I have the ledgers back in Lherren to prove it—if he did not think there was something else to it? The Legacy must be some kind of weapon, an ancient artifact that the First used to destroy the evil after the Paragon weakened it, before he himself was killed. That weapon must have been buried in the tomb.”

“It seems a little far-fetched,” Sehyia agreed. “But he knows more, more than he lets on. It’s all we have. Let us prepare for our journey to Equestria as soon as possible.”

“Well...” Artim said, crossing his arms. “Has anyone here ever been to Equestria?” Looking around, he received no answers. “No? Well, then... this will be one incredible treat for you all. I’ve been there, you see, and I should warn you right now... it is a place unlike anything you have ever seen.”

Comments

[BioChemicalWolfGear]

well....I'm really bored right now. That prolog seems like a lot of unessisary back story that no one's going to care about in the future.

[Killbot3.0]

1644642 Seriously? Whats the point of a story without a backstory! Obviously this is going to be a long tale and the backstory is going to make it more immersive and enjoyable. This is frankly one of the better written stories on this site, you sir dissapoint me.

[Sketchy Markks]

1644642 BAD DOG, BIOCHEMICALWOLFGEAR! BAD!

I simply adore this backstory. It is one of the best backstories I have ever in my fanfic reading life had the pleasure of feasting my eyes upon.

Thank you.

[Beyond the Horizon]

Ahh backstory. . . the essential backbone for all good stories.

-Sets Blitzkrieg down and picks up the book-

Now then, what do the next chapters hold. .?