The atmosphere in the port city of Cecilia should have been jubilant. After all the annual Festival of Absolution was the most important holiday after the National Day and the monarch’s birthday. And, as the first festival after the new queen’s coronation the mayor and the council pulled out all the stops to ensure this was a festival that would be immortalized.
So then, why were these same people panicking and running around all over the place? Well, usually for these festivals the royal court sends a delegate to bless it. These delegates are usually mid-ranking court officials of some importance and little power. The officials of Cecilia are fine with this since they prefer to royal court and its troubles away from their humble city.
Unfortunately, the delegation this time was headed by the royal family and not just any member but the Queen herself. The poor mayor of Cecilia, Vincent Axel was said to fainted multiple times when he heard the news. Now, don’t look down on the mayor because it’s been over 500 years since a reigning monarch came to the city for official business. Poor Vincent had never seen a high-ranking let alone a member of the royal family, and now he hosts the Queen.
But fortunately, the royal court didn’t trust him and his council to do the job properly, so they sent officials and servants to organise it. His job became just giving his signature and he was happy for it. The issue was that his nervous energy was transmitted to his subordinates and from them to the public. So what should have been a wild and unrestrained week became a polite imitation. At least the crime rate was down and very little property had been damaged. The reason for that was probably the imperial guards took a less restrained but efficient interpretation of law and order than the usual city guards. So, the festival ended without anyone important being offended.
Vincent was in the office relaxing having taken the morning after the festival off. He had given his staff the day off and the only person with him was his assistant who refused to let him suffer alone.
“I feel like I aged 20 years over this week.” Said, Vincent smoking on a dwarven cigar. He had a bottle of an old elven wine opened on his desk and reclined his chair with his eyes. Vincent was a massive man both in height and mass, which always threw off people when they met him. He had a bald head with a long brown beard tied up in a braid. Most thought he was half-dwarf and half-giant but actually, he was just a fan of dwarven culture due to a summer he spent in the dwarven city of Ironhold. Something that he mentioned so much that it became his personality.
Spread out on his couch and lost in the smell of the wine was his assistant. Adriana was the best assistant that Vincent could have hoped for, meticulous and professional as can be but with no ambition so he could trust her to stay with him and not go off to the capital.
“It has been stressful but this wine is worth the trouble” mused Adriana. “At least Her Majesty offered compensation for the mess she and her entourage caused.”
“Please keep your words to yourself, or else this wine will be the last good thing we consume.” Said Vincent, though his posture was still slumped. “If this is the last thing I have, then that is not a bad death,” Adriana said as she sipped the wine.
“Well, we still have to be careful as most of the delegates are still in the city while Her Majesty is dealing with her original goal.”
“What is the reason Her Majesty came?” asked Adriana.
“This doesn’t leave this room,” said Vincent now sitting up “but Her Majesty's original purpose was to meet with the Lord of Erebus”
“Erebus!” choking Adriana nearly spilling her wine. “Why would she go there herself? I thought the Royal Family pretended that Erebus didn’t exist. You know out of sight, out of mind.”
“She didn’t tell me the reason why and I’m worried that this means Lord Emile is becoming active.” Said Vincent rubbing his face with his hand, the tranquillity from the wine all but disappeared. He hoped that nothing bad would happen.
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The kingdom of Avalyn is a strange country, whether its population or territory it is dwarfed by its fellow memberships of the supreme council. In fact, some of the vassals were larger than it by double the size. So why is such a kingdom feared and respected across the world? Well, the simplest reason that is given is that the quality and strength of its mages and knights are significantly greater than that of other nations. The kingdom has enjoyed many peaceful transfers of powers while many of the empires had civil wars. When these civil wars ended it wasn’t unusual for supporters of the losing sides to be imprisoned, exiled or executed. This led to these empires having fewer stronger and older mages after each reign, though this tradition stopped after the strength of Avalyn became clear.
Avalyn’s lack of constant civil wars means that it has the highest number of archmages per capita in the world. Some of these mages have been around for several millennia and have invested their time and resources back into the nation. They have constructed academies, guilds and towers throughout the kingdom, which has made Avalyn the magical hub of the world. This at least is the story that everyone tells and accepts as the true reason for Avalyn’s status in the world. But it’s not the sole reason why no one dares to declare war and invade it Avalyn. The real reason is Erebus.
Off to the west of Avalyn, past Cecilia, is an island with a massive mountain in it. Considering the name of the island, most people assume it is a barren, volcanic island. However, the island is filled with life and is mostly covered in a forest. On the east of the island was a large city enclosed by a massive black wall and manned by armoured constructs. This was the City of the Damned, and it was the gathering spot of people with unorthodox magic and disciplines in the western hemisphere.
The reason why it is called City of the Damned is that it provides refuge for the people that aren’t accepted by the rest of the human world. These are dark mages, assassins, mad scientists, forsaken alchemists, poison makers and oaths breakers. Provided they hadn’t committed unforgivable crimes like genocide, then they were allowed to stay in the city as long as they kept to themselves and didn’t bring trouble.
The reasons this city was allowed to exist are one, the unwanted are kept out of the mainland. Two, the island lords have always been some of the most powerful magic users in the world and fighting was not without dire consequences. And three, it was the first line of defence against the monster continent.
Past the city near the mountain was a gigantic black castle on a big hill. The sky above the covered by dark clouds but there was no rain or lightning. The size of the castle took the breath of visitors away as they were confronted by its enormous wall and great towers. It didn’t help the forest surrounding that castle stopped a kilometre before the castle itself. So visitors travel the last bit of the journey in darkness with no animals or trees, driving or walking past massive statues of fallen foes.
After that, they would drive across a moat filled with luminescent giant eels and come in front of a 10-metre-tall gate. Above the gate perched all along the wall are creatures with a human, the head of a beast and the wings of a bat. The gargoyles were the eternal observers of The Stygian Castle and watching grass grow had made them bored.
“I think my patch grew 0.5mm today.” Said the gargoyle with a cow head. “I think that makes me the winner.”
“Actually, Lion said he had 1mm earlier today, so your streak is finally done” smirked the snake-headed gargoyle.
“What! That idiot ruined the soil beneath his patch, there is no way in Erebus that his grass could grow as well as mine.” Shouted Cowhead with outrage.
“Are you suggesting he is cheating?” asked Monkeyhead with mock horror.
Unaware that he was being goaded, Cow-head started to build up steam. “Yes I am, I know for a fact that because he tried to use hydra manure, the acidity of his soil is too high for grass to grow.
“But you forgot the regenerative effects of hydras. Even if the soil is too acidic for the grass, the grass would have a small growth burst.” Explained Monkeyhead, she paused to ensure that Cowhead reached the conclusion first, and as his eyes widened she continued. “Enough of a grow burst to beat your streak.”
“What the fuck!” shouted Cowhead, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by Snakehead.
“Enough of your games, it's time to look sharp.” He said as he gazed down the road. “It seems we have guests. And these are not the usual ones.”
All the gargoyles at the front of the castle turned their attention to the small procession heading their way, and the eyes of Snakehead narrowed as he saw the insignia of the carriage riding behind the squad of knights. It was of the royal family of Avalyn.
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