Menym grew weak. He sacrificed much to keep alive, fearing to leave his people. But as a result his body was broken and frail, and he was surrounded by attendants, more often than not. Still, many turned to him for his wisdom. But, in his feeble state, many of the younger generations began to doubt him and his worries. They didn’t see a veteran hero, but just a withered old man who worried and fretted. To them, the world was a safe, bright place, ripe for the taking. In their youth, they looked towards expansion, rather than huddling together safely. With all the monsters already slain, and no sign of dark magic, the world continued to heal over its own scars. Trained from an early age to defend themselves, groups of young adults spread out and started their own settlements, far from the brooding predictions of their elders.
Time spoils even the best of things. After so many years of unimpeded success, the people became confident, then arrogant. Many of the people who had been through the mage wars had died, and a lot of their children were now old. Each generation had moved further away from the fear. For a while, there had been a vast difference between those in the capitol, and those in the outlying lands, but as the oldest two generations passed away, the schism faded slightly. Now everyone was just as distant from the awful past, and though they knew of it in their minds, to them it was dead history, a lesson to never repeat itself. The focus of the people came into the arts and more hedonistic pursuits. Indulgence was common, and diligence became centered on the self, rather than on the community as a whole.
Even after all that time, Menym was still alive, if only barely hanging on. Unless he was needed, he slept for hours at a time, sometimes even for days. But very few people still cared what he thought, and some even believed he was holding the people back. Whispers of rebellion sparked through the people; they wished for him to be gone, removed from his seat as an adviser. When rumors of an assassination plot leaked to some of his faithful followers, they took action and secreted Menym away from the central palace. Afraid for their beloved hero, and still believing that Vynera would return someday, they gathered together and made plans to leave Ivelcour. It was hard to do; their grandparents and great-grandparents had worked so hard to rebuild, and now they were ripe for the picking.
Menym bemoaned not being harsher on the people, thinking that even more discipline was necessary. Bundling him up to protect him, his followers carried him over the eastern mountain range. In the distant past, far before the war of magic, the land had been settled, but a volcanic eruption had made the land uninhabitable for a long time. By the time it was safe to return, no one had the inclination; everything they had needed was right in front of them, and so the lands were largely ignored. After all, the mountains were hard to pass, and there was no guarantee that there was anything of value left. But Menym’s followers didn’t need a luxurious land; in fact, a harsh environment would suit their purposes better. They didn’t want a new paradise; they wanted a place to fortify themselves for the future. Paradise had only invited in corruption.
When they arrived on the other side of the mountain, they were surprised at how well the land had recovered without any human aid. In fact, they were dismayed at how much it had flourished; it wouldn’t at all be the harsh environment they were looking for. But a few of them realized it was for the best; Menym wasn’t doing well at all. But a lot of magic was lying latent under the earth, untapped by humans for some time. Settling into a vast, fertile plain, they began to plan a city. With time on their side, they made sure that it was more of a fortress than a place of beauty, a city built along straight, sturdy lines with no extra frills or art to break it up. At first they lived in tents, gathering together to make their plans. Menym slept through a lot of this, but he was healthier than he had been in a long time, soaking up the magic that ran in currents beneath him.
Following the ideals of community, order, and obedience, the people of the plains were pragmatic and strict. Everything, everyone, needed to have a place and a purpose. They believed it was the only way to stop the children, and further generations, from straying into the path of decadence. Alas, Menym did not live long enough to see the fortress completed, but, before he died, he gave them the name Solumina with his last breath. Taking it to heart as a sign, they named their land, and capital, as such. It was a grim and orderly place, but even with the severe ways of the founders, there was still light and hope among their children. But the parents carefully applied a strategy of indoctrination to their children. Freedom was dangerous; only compliance would bring them safety and stability. Even with such a rigid dogma, the people were not overly harsh with their children. They wanted to inspire a true belief in them, not a frightened response triggered by fear of parental reprisal. After all, Vynera was the hidden threat, the true enemy.
Once Solumina was established, they sent delegations of people back across the mountains to try and reason with the people of Ivelcour. These individuals tried to convince the people not to forget Vynera, to rally together with them and fortify their towns and cities. But, each time the delegations were received, it was only with laughter and derision. The people of Ivelcour thought the belief in Vynera’s return was foolish and antiquated. It was too easy to dismiss the uptight delegates, and though they didn’t believe anymore, they didn’t see the harm in meeting with the people of Solumina. Feeling that no one was taking them seriously, the delegations returned to their homes, reporting back about what they witnessed and experienced in their original homeland.
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In time, the people of Solumina became as prosperous as their western counterparts. Or, at any rate, they had a steady population and people weren’t starving or otherwise impoverished. But there was very little emphasis put on personal gain; the community was meant to be everything. Even so, it wasn’t because they wished to diminish the worth of an individual; instead, they wanted to ensure everyone’s survival. They knew a threat was coming, and were determined to protect that which was precious to them: their land, their families, their livelihoods. Ranks were based on merit, never on birth, and merit could be found in many areas. A farmer with a large plot of land was just as respected as a strong military leader, or powerful wizard. Teachers were venerated. There was no idle nobility, though some families were seen as stronger if they had a lot of members that contributed greatly to the society.
Every decade, a delegation was sent back to Ivelcour. As much as the people of Solumina disliked their neighbors, they knew that the children were innocent, and couldn’t help how they were raised. The diplomats were careful not to push too far; they had no desire to start a war. Fighting amongst themselves was a fast way to invite trouble, and it would weaken the strict order that they had been trying to perfect over the years. But with each decade that passed, the rift between the two places became larger. The folks of Ivelcour became more wrapped up in self-indulgent pursuits, while the people of Solumina became more vigilant. In time the gap was so wide that the two people could barely stand one another. What started as snide tolerance soon devolved into hate. Eventually Ivelcour chased all people of Solumina out of their cities and put up guard posts to stop them from crossing through the mountains. Saddened by this rejection, and what it signified, Solumina gave up, and turned their attentions to protecting their own.
A hundred years passed from the time that Vynera went underground. The people of Solumina became restless, watching for any sign that Vynera had awoken. Again they tried to send a delegation to the people of Ivelcour, this time heavily armed to avoid any loss of life. However, they found that even the guard posts had become unattended. The silence from across the mountains had made them even more relaxed in their duties, and most military efforts were focused on small time threats, such as thieves and vandals. When the news of a hundred year’s passage hit their leaders, there was a momentary panic. The people had not completely forgotten the past, no matter how much they tried to cover it up with vain pursuits. To them Vynera’s return had become nothing more than a myth, but it was a myth they never wished to face.
In their panic, the leaders begged the delegation for help, flattering them and making many promises if only they would give aid to them. The delegates didn’t trust the overtures of the leaders of Ivelcour, but they were earnest in their desire to help. Loss of human life was taught to be a serious crime among them, and they didn’t believe that even the people of Ivelcour, vain and haughty, deserved to be eliminated by dark magics. However, Menym had underestimated Vynera’s power, and he had truly believed that her disappearance couldn’t have lasted more than a century. It was this miscalculation that caused another rift between Ivelcour and Solumina. The people found it difficult to rouse themselves into the more ascetic way of life that the delegates of Solumina were preaching. No matter how noble the intentions of the Solumina people, they couldn’t help but look down on the people of Ivelcour, and this, of course, rubbed them the wrong way.
After a few years of trying to improve themselves, the people of Ivelcour became discouraged. No evil magic had struck their cities, no monsters ravaged the countryside. There were no ill omens or mysterious plagues. In fact, there was not the slightest tremor of danger to indicate that anything was going to change. The people seamlessly backslide into their old ways. Only a few people took the delegates seriously, and when they were finally ridiculed out of the kingdom, those few believers went with them, barely causing a ripple with their departure. No one in Ivelcour cared; if some people wanted to throw away their luxury and wealth to chase phantom threats, that was their business.
The same could not be said for the newcomers to Solumina. They knew that the people were strict, by how the delegates had acted, but they couldn’t have predicted how severe the ways of the people were. Their beliefs were tried, over and over again, as they tried to fit into a new way of life. And, with such a strong tradition of indoctrination, the people of Solumina found it hard to open their arms to foreign ideas. Some individuals got discouraged and returned home to Ivelcour. The rest managed to struggle through, finding whatever solace they could in being so well protected if a trouble did arise. But, those people from Ivelcour, even if they didn’t intend it, brought with them different ideas, ideas that they passed down to their children. And, slowly, there became tiny cracks in the single-mindedness of the people. Cracks that were nearly invisible at first, but gradually widened into something else.
But, even though the exact years had not given them the signs they were looking for, there was still the lack of magical backlash to suggest a powerful source of magic had died. The wizards with the highest skills were always on alert, looking for signs of trouble, and they never let up. Delegations continued to go to Ivelcour, largely prompted by those who had come from there more recently, believing it was their duty to keep trying. While this was largely seen as a hopeless cause, the people of Solumina were proud in their own ways, and couldn’t stand to be seen as not following through with their obligations. Those who returned from this mission often became despondent, or redoubled their efforts to keep things strict. Although this wasn’t orchestrated by design, the presence of the people of Ivelcour left their mark.