"OPERATION BISMARCK," was written in large black letters on Queen Theresa's yellow folder. For the third time today, the Queen sat down and reopened the folder. Inside the folder were only three items. On the very top was an A5 paper, written on both sides from top to bottom. She had already read it three times; it was as clear to her as the first time she had read it.

"INSTRUCTIONS FOR READING MUNDSK," read the title. The rest of the text was German rambling about some breathing techniques, focus, and relaxation of the mind. She recognized the handwriting. She set that paper aside for now. The second paper worried her greatly. It was twice as large as the previous one, occupying almost all the space in the folder. Also, it was surprisingly thick, nearly 5 cm. Unlike the "INSTRUCTIONS," which was clearly plain white German-made paper, this paper had a yellowish-green tint. Yet, that was not even close to the strangest thing about this item. It was written in the strangest language the Queen had ever seen, and on top of that, the text was simply… ALIVE! Dashes and lines wriggled all over the paper, disappearing only to reappear elsewhere the next moment.

Drawings of small squirrels jumped from dash to dash, leaping off the edge of the paper and completely disappearing, only for more to appear on the opposite side. Every 5 minutes, the entire text would vanish completely and be replaced by a river, the water also made of commas and dashes, only to revert to its original state the next moment. She didn't believe that anyone could read such a thing, even with the instructions.

Finally, the third item was... a painting? But it looked too real, with no trace of oil or paint anywhere. It was very smooth to the touch, with the texture of a pear leaf on the back and an inscription in German: "Crew of Operation Bismarck, third week spent with the Mundi tribe"

In the picture itself, 14 white men are seen sitting at a long table. There was some kind of roast on the table, maybe venison? It was hard to tell. It looked like a celebration, and the crew certainly seemed to be having fun. They were hugging, drinking, and eating. They were not alone in the picture. All around them, a crowd of natives mingled. Some were eating with the crew, others were bringing more drinks, and some were just talking among themselves. The whole scene reminded the Queen of a German wedding.

Queen Theresa crossed herself. Operation Bismarck had long been written off as a failure. The very idea was madness from the start. If it hadn't been for the charming skills of Edward Mustang, the captain of the crew, the operation would never have even begun. The operation aimed to finally discover the truth: does this world have an end? Of indefinite duration, the chosen crew was supposed to travel until they found the edge of the world, or the Other World, or Hell, or the Great Abyss, or whatever the foolish people believed in at that time. They had been absent for four years. All the sailors were listed as lost in service, and a good sum of money was paid to their families. And that was supposed to be the end of it. Until last night.

The previous night, the ship "Lucia," which had taken the crew of Operation Bismarck four years ago, docked. The original crew of 14 members had increased, and 21 people arrived in Portugal: 13 Danes (the original crew), 1 German (Captain Edward), and seven Mundi. One of the seven Mundi was Kasara Veteres, the chief's son and prince of the Veteres tribe. The other six were the prince's entourage: a doctor, a translator, three warriors, and the prince's advisor Frejo.

The Mundi, along with the crew, were already on their way to bow to the Queen. The next day, after resting from the long journey, the Queen of the Habsburg Monarchy would have a meeting with the Mundian prince. She did not look forward to it.

The Mundi had left a strong impression on her. Their magic was almost... fairy-tale-like. The words of Captain Edward still echoed in her mind: "Mundian magic has its roots in their nature goddess Bereginij. They believe that their ancient chief gained her favor by saving her daughter, Oloro. As a token of gratitude, the nature goddess Bereginij taught the ancient chief how to use magic. The chiefs of all Mundian tribes are closely related. The Great Chief is the spiritual leader of all the Mundi. He teaches his sons, who are the chiefs of individual tribes, the secrets of magic, which they then teach their subjects. It is strictly forbidden for anyone who is not a chief to teach others magic. The punishment for this is exile, often something worse."

Edward had been babbling about similar things for hours to the Queen and her record keepers. After two hours, Theresa had a headache and went to her chambers to rest. She couldn't listen to him anymore.

Her chamber was directly above the hall where Edward was speaking. The Queen lay with her eyes closed, but she could still hear Edward's distant voice: "Ice, Thunder, Summoning, Fire, Blood, and Eldrika are the branches of magic in which the Mundi individually specialize..."

"Summoning? Eldrika? Blood?" asked a curious record keeper. "Summoning, or Invocation, is the process of creating objects or phenomena using pure magic. It requires a lot of focus and an enormous amount of magical energy, but it is entirely possible to make something out of nothing. Eldrika and Blood are dubious cases. Blood Magic is considered taboo in Mundi culture; only very rare individuals delve into it. Despite this, the Mundi do not allow knowledge of it to disappear. Although it is probably the least useful, the Mundi ensure that there is always at least one master of that branch of magic, who will pass on their knowledge to the next," Edward paused there to drink some wine. His throat was starting to dry.

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"Eldrika is... special. Only the Great Chief and his apprentice know it. When the apprentice masters Eldrika, the most difficult and powerful magic, he becomes the next Great Chief," one of the record keepers then stopped: "How long does it take them to master Eldrika? What if someone very young masters the spells?"

Edward laughed. "The fastest recorded mastery of Eldrika took 33 years." The record keeper nervously nodded. "You must be a fool to spend your life on that," second record keeper thought.

"And what if the Great Chief dies before the apprentice masters the magic?" asked the other record keeper.

Edward gave him a strange look, frowning in confusion. "FREJOOOOO," Captain Edward shouted at the top of his lungs. BRANGAaaAAAa! A powerful thunderclap in the room momentarily blinded the record keepers, and the gust of wind that followed tore the papers from their hands. Where the lightning had struck stood a short, dark figure. Luxurious, long, black, and curly hair began beneath the bright yellow scarf of this man. His face was very beautiful, with almost feminine features. He was dressed, like most Mundi, in a suit entirely made of tanned leather, with a heavy cloak over both shoulders that reached down to his calves. "You called for me, Edward?" the figure asked. He had a very high-pitched voice. Although it was hard to tell, he must have been very young. One of the record keepers raised a hesitant finger and, with a trembling hand, pointed at the Mundi: "Y... Y... You..." he stammered.

"I apologize if I frightened you. I assume you weren't present at our welcome where I demonstrated my thunder magic," Frejo grinned at them, "consider this your first encounter…"

"YOU SPEAK DANISH?" the record keeper managed to shout. Edward chuckled again: "Pick up those papers and start writing, I can't believe I didn't tell you this," the record keeper managed to collect himself, arrange the papers, and dip his pen in ink, ready to write. Edward nodded for Frejo to sit next to him.

"The Mundi use magic in every aspect of their lives, including conversation. Their language is impossible to understand unless you are a Mundi, but with the help of magic, they can speak all languages…"

"That's not quite true," Frejo interrupted him. The two record keepers exchanged glances. They were instructed to write down every word of this conversation. The first wrote "That's not quite true" in Danish, the second in German.

"I'm speaking Mundian all the time. If I infuse enough magic into my speech, everyone will hear it as their native language. You said I was speaking Danish, may I assume you were born there? I'm sure it's a lovely place," Frejo smiled at the first record keeper, who nervously wrote it all down.

"Uh… Mr. Frejo… Why do the Mundi specialize in only one branch of magic? Why doesn't one person learn more?"

Frejo nodded: "Excellent question. There isn't a special reason. It simply takes a very long time to master each branch of magic individually. After spending your entire childhood using only one type, the others start to feel unnatural, almost foreign. Those who manage to master two branches at a young age are very rare. In all the Mundi tribes, maybe about ten such people are currently alive...". record keepers are working overtime today.

The Queen couldn't believe it; she couldn't find peace even in her own chamber. She sighed and got out of bed. She looked out the window; the sun was already beginning to set. The meeting with the Mundian prince was starting soon.

As the Queen's attendants helped her dress, she realized that she had never been told he was actually a prince. She had given him that title in her mind. His companions most often referred to him simply as "Teacher." But he was the chief's son? And the chief was like a primitive king? So he was a primitive prince? That was another thing she had to ask Edward.

"Edward... He's changed so much, acting like another man," the Queen thought. He used to visit her bed often. The Queen knew it was for personal reasons, but it didn't bother her. However, it stung how he now didn't give her the attention she was accustomed to. He just kept babbling about those damned Mundis! Defiantly, she exhaled, "I am the Queen for God's sake!"

Once they finally dressed her, her retinue led her to the meeting room.

The Mundians were 23 minutes late. The meeting room was a huge square space, 32x32 meters. In the center of the room stood a massive wooden table covered in leather, with metal details all over it. Tall windows on the left wall allowed thin rays of sunlight through silk curtains onto tapestries on the opposite wall.

The double doors were opened by a pair of servants. Three Mundians entered. The prince bowed slightly, Frejo knelt in his homage. The third figure remained unmoved. Frejo tugged at his coat, "Kneel, you're before the Queen!"

There was no response.

"kneel," the prince hissed authoritatively. With a deep sigh, Ater Arbor knelt to the ground.

At this moment, Ater looked much younger. The first and greatest difference was his face. It was... normal. Without scars, wounds, white and blind eyes, without all the bleeding, without wrinkles... A clean face with soft black skin adorned the Prince's Physician, who had been chosen to accompany him on this journey into an unknown land.

Arbor wasn't much differently dressed than he would be later. He still wore the same black coat, black and white boots, white and black gloves, a black cloak, green belt... The only addition to his attire was a black book hanging from his belt. The book itself didn't stand out much. Clean, well-maintained black covers without a title... Dictionary? Diary? Logbook? Only Ater knows. Ater's eyes were a deep brown. He wasn't wearing a hood, and his shaved head reflected light.

The Queen paused in front of Ater. "What an interesting looking person," she thought, but she didn't dwell on it. However, his hesitation during the homage wouldn't be forgiven easily.

"Please, sit, dear guests. I'm sure we have much to discuss," the Queen smiled and gestured towards the table.