Prologue: Faith

I

In a half lit room, two man sat, one opposite the other. One of them had a huge pile of paper in front of him.

“I highly value your time,” said the paper man.

“I know,” replied Prince Davram. “The story I’m about to tell is a true one, for the most of it I was a witness first hand. Some parts were told after some time, but I remember them well. The parts where I’m not in them are told in third person and the pasts where yours truly is are in first person.”

“Shall we get started?”

“Yes,” was the reply.

II

Three hundred years before the Hal Emperor ascended into Heaven. Shadow of the dark slowly falls on the world, somewhere in the High Mountains, in a dangerous place even for those who are prepared for the worse, a place where wolf come only to mate and raise their young, a piece of unexplored wilderness hidden from the eyes of the curious world.

A thunderbolt danced across the murky, night sky. Signaling, that a storm would soon follow, it always does. The forest was silent, silent as a grave. Nothing moved, everything was silent, the whole world was silent. Or was it? A single candlelight shined brightly from one of the windows a small house.

The windows were plain and simple, but strong enough to withstand the merciless blows of the wind. There was nothing strange about the house; it looked like any other house to the normal observer. But on closer inspection, the house was anything but ordinary. The front doors were large, wooden and strong to withstand repeated blows from Eathir, the newest and largest model of a siege ram ever created. What was so interesting about this house? Maybe, it's the simple design of the house, or the house is architectural wonder. Nothing of the both, the house was an important place on its own. Emperors of the Idar Dynasty have been born here since time immemorial, a tradition that is still passed down from generation to generation. The old ways are slow to die.

A man, hidden in the shadows, stood on the porch. His gaze was fixed on the crimson red moon, a sign of wars to come. He never believed in folk tales and never will. There were, too many, uncertain things in their stories. Whatever the moon represented, it was nothing good. He stood there, waiting for it to start. The birth ceremony, as they call it now, a fancy name for deciding a faith of a child. He waited. The night was quiet.

A woman opened the door, looked at him. Only then, she did move a step closer. He turned his head; his blue eyes were uneasy. She was the first to break the silence:

"You think it will work out?"

"I don't know," he replied, "we can only wait and see."

"That's what worries me."

"I know."

"There is nothing that I can do."

"We wait."

She returned to the door, opened it, and turned once more towards him. He stood there like a statue.

"It's time," he said softly. He moved to the door, looked at the moon, and entered first.

The hallway was large and dark. They walked silently. He suddenly stops. His gaze wonders from shadow to shadow. It was just the wind. They continue onward. The room was lit only by candlelight. The man knelt in front of a woman that was ready to give birth. The agony lasted a few minutes until the birth started. The child was born, the future emperor. The gods will decide what will happen next.

The man took the child into his arms; his face was stern. The child looked at him with curious eyes. There was something unique about this child. The woman moved closer, in her hand; she held a small bucket filled with water. The man held the child to the edge of the bucket, the water moved. Small circles appeared on the water's surface. The child looked with amusement. His eyes followed the irregular patterns that burst on the wild water's surface. The man moves a bit forward, his face was shocked. Their thoughts were united as one. The man knew, what happens next.

A figure appeared from the bucket, lifted itself to their height.

"It's time," he said, "to decide. None can go against faith. None can."

"It's not in our hands," the man said.

"Let's begin."

The water moved, divided itself into three parts. The first part transformed into letters with sharp edges, the second became astral signs with rounded edges. The third part, the largest, was a mix of them, the edges were a mixed.

They hold their breath. The signs are always different, depending on the generation.

To them, it lasted for an eternity. The room was silent. The man looked in every direction. Nothing moved.

"It's over," the figure said. "The child's faith is decided. A new dawn rises."

"A dawn of the future," the woman said. "The spirits have spoken."

"I know," the man said, looking at figure that returned to the water.

And, it was so. The child will grow to be the light that will guide the people to a new and better land. His way won't be easy, but he will succeed or die trying, there is no other option. And so it was that a child, named Davram, was born. That child would be the salvation of light and of the people that still remembered the old ways.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now, we wait."

The emperor looked at the child at slept in his lap. Everything depended on that small newly-born child. Everyone in their line had experienced nearly the same destiny, and yet again, his fate was different.

And so, thus, our story begins. The land was at peace, the towns were flourishing. A shop here a shop there, the towns were ever-changing. A time of peace ruled throughout the land. For how long will it last, nobody knew, most didn't care, they were living in the present and the present was pleasing.