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Episode 1
● Prologue: The Song of the Dying Moon
Flutter, flutter……
The sound of wings flapping echoed loudly in the middle of the desert. The occasional harsh wind carried the small falcon’s wing beats across the vast expanse of sand. The descendants of the ancient glory that once existed in this wide wilderness now wrapped their bodies in old, dirty clothes, with their falcons perched on one arm.
‘Director.‘
A word that was the name of this highland, and also the name of our tribe. It also refers to a type of falcon that inhabits the desert. The oil that the falcon secretes to keep its body clean scatters light, shining with a blue-indigo hue. That’s why the falcons have beautiful blue-indigo feathers. My father, the chieftain of the Director, said that this beauty is our tribe’s pride, and this nobility is our tribe’s hope.
“Watch carefully. The falcons, having lived out their lifespan, will now soar into their sky. It is a struggle to return to the side of the great Eph Iles Han who created them, a yearning for freedom and the absolute, and the courage to not yield even in the face of death.”
Lies. I scoffed. They have a yearning for freedom and the absolute? If so, why do they let themselves be tamed by people? They have the courage to not yield to death? If so, why do they only soar towards the sky when it’s time to die? They are just taking flight, driven by their aged and failing sense of balance. Towards the blue sky! The reason you don’t know that is because you are ignorant. Aren’t you just escaping reality by placing your poverty, ignorance, and absurdly pure innocence onto those birds?
Flutter, flutter, flutter……
Soon, the birds all took flight into the sky at once. Ignoring my childish envy, they soared into the high sky, into the proverbially ‘piercingly’ blue sky. I threw a sneer at those birds, and then……
The birds fell from the sky, pathetically.
● Meeting and The Beginning
The Stone of Life is formed by the hardened, pure sap of the World Tree. This stone bestows blessings upon all living things, purifies the tainted land, heals wounds, and makes water clear.
1. The Meeting of Perahav and Dahan
“Perahav! Wake up already!”
“huh… Just five more minutes…”
Just from the dialogue, it sounds like the cheesy lines newlyweds exchange in the bedroom upon waking. However, the speakers here were the mysterious Mr. Ferahav, curled up like a caterpillar in his blanket, and a Dwarf gentleman with a shaggy gray beard and rough skin.
Even if love transcends all barriers of nationality, time, space, race, gender, and so on, it cannot transcend appearance. Even in a world rife with homosexuality, that’s something only those with a certain look engage in. So, what am I trying to say here?
“Eeeek! You wretched little brat! Get up before I put you on a chopping block, dice you up, and boil you into a stew!”
With that, the dwarf pulled out an exceedingly sharp silver axe. Even in the forest where sunlight barely penetrated, the axe glinted with killing intent. It was a splendid axe that seemed like it would work well for shaving and could easily sever a person’s neck. As expected of the Dwarf race, is it all about the axe?
“What?! You cannibalistic dwarf!”
The young man called Perahav sprang up in indignation, only to hit his head hard on a tree branch. At that, his unexpectedly beautiful long hair, a contrast to his husky voice, swayed, rippling like a willow branch in the wind.
“You dare call me a cannibal dwarf? Hehehe… Do you not know my greatness? Does not all of nature know it? That very tree, enraged by your rudeness, struck a blow in the name of justice! Puhahahahaha!”
“Shut up!”
Perahav rubbed his reddened forehead, picked up the blue robe he had been using as a blanket on the ground, gave it a flick, and draped it over himself. The motion was so graceful, so full of nobility, that one wouldn’t think this was the person who had just headbutted a tree. He pulled the robe’s hood over his head, completely covering his skin.
“Huh, wearing a robe in this humid and hot jungle, even though we’re well into autumn. You must be determined to get yourself steamed to death. If so, how about offering up your body for breakfast, Perahav?”
The dwarf man said this while wiping away sweat. In front of him, something was bubbling in a round, shield-like bowl, presumably breakfast being prepared. Seeing this, Perahav burst into a laugh that sounded like swallowing gravel.
“Kwahahahahaha-hat! You fool, Bergen, a priest of Elbaine, lighting a fire! You could have just boiled the water with the Heat Metal spell!”
“Boy, this is the romance of camping.”
The dwarf, unwilling to admit his foolishness, stubbornly threw another log onto the fire.
White clouds drifted across the water’s surface. The water in the canals, spread out like a spider’s web, was as clear and clean as could be. Of course, the pathways alongside them were also clean and tidy. The beautiful autumn sunlight danced upon them, and children ran along, shouting with joy. About half a dozen boys and girls of various races ran, ignoring the hot weather, chasing a yapping puppy. Perhaps they were having a race. From a dark room, watching the children through the window, a person wore a contented smile. A bead of sweat rolled down their face, tracing a path down their cheek to gather at their chin.
“Ah… These droplets of sweat shed from doing rewarding work. How fulfilling.”
Here, Romyesen, the capital of the Durain Kingdom, was one of only two trading ports on this vast continent of Emencerus. Naturally, it was a metropolis where wealth and power were concentrated, and a tremendous number of citizens lived here. Usually, in cities with high population density, fatal toxins like water pollution and epidemics arise, but the city streets of Romyesen were free from such worries, thanks to the astonishing technology of the High Humans of old.
How remarkable! The blocks laid on the roads thousands of years ago were still so sturdy they wouldn’t crack even if struck by an axe today, and even after a downpour heavy enough to flood the entire city, the streets would be as dry as a duckling’s down the next day. Moreover, not only did it have various water supply and sewage systems, but the web-like canals crisscrossing the city were also highly developed, earning Romyesen the nickname “The Water City.”
Being such a developed city, various religious orders naturally vied fiercely to spread their teachings. The most famous among them was the Order of Burnadium, which served Burnadium, the God of Justice. However, its fame was not due to the large number of followers adhering to its doctrine.
The doctrines of Burnadium were very strict, and as it was the state religion of the Durain Kingdom, corruption among its clergy was also quite severe. However, the Order of Burnadium had a paladin so famous that he blew away all these negative factors… his name was Dahan Peirus.
The second son of the old knightly House of Peirus, he had thick, honey-blonde hair, clear blue eyes, a well-proportioned, athletic build that was neither too slender nor too bulky, and a face to match. On top of that, his exceptional swordsmanship talent and courage had made him famous even before he came of age. He possessed the Aura Blade, said to be granted only to paladins personally chosen by Bernardium, and also commanded a white celestial horse, Pegasus (one of the fastest creatures in Emencerus, capable of speeds up to 48 yards per second), also bestowed by Bernardium. Furthermore, he was not yet fifty years old, and considering the average human lifespan of two hundred years, he was a young man destined to gain fame and stir the hearts of countless women for the next century.
In short, he was a young man who seemed like a hero straight out of a story brought to life. So popular was he that whenever the bards of Romjesen composed and sang a new song about him each month, it would instantly become a hit.
Just now, having received a mission, he emerged from between the marble columns.
Saaaaaaa……
Perfect timing! A cool breeze blew in. Dahan’s hair fluttered in the wind, catching the light beautifully, and his clear, deep blue eyes sparkled with vitality. The platinum armor encasing his statuesque, finely trained body clicked lightly and reflected the sunlight. And that skin, so white! Against the backdrop of white marble columns, his skin was so fair it made the marble seem dark—a true paragon of a classical hero. Yet, his face was clouded with worry.
“Why was I excluded from the difficult mission?”
No matter how much the Durain Kingdom boasted of peace, this Emencers was a land far too vast for humans alone. Darkness certainly existed in the world, which was why Dahan, at such a young age, had been able to achieve enough feats to become a main subject for the bards. And recently, it was said that werewolves had appeared in the settlements upstream of the northern Igrate River, harming people.
So why send Templars under the priests, leaving behind such a powerful paladin? The difference between a paladin who has undergone rigorous training and the Templars composed of people under the priests is immense. The number of casualties in operations Dahan participated in could always be counted on one hand, whereas the Templars often suffered double-digit, sometimes even triple-digit, casualties.
Well, the reason was actually simple. He could no longer accumulate merit. He was so popular that the king and the priests had no choice but to keep him in check. Besides, with his innate talent and handsome looks, he captivated the hearts of all women—truly, he was “every man’s enemy”! The fact that merchants had sprung up in the city’s shadows selling dartboards with Dahan’s face on them speaks volumes about how many men were jealous of him. Dahan was intelligent enough to realize this, but then he would startle himself and mutter.
“Great Bernardium! Your servant momentarily doubted his brothers. May everything unfold according to your will…”
The paladin Dahan Peirus ended up thinking this way.
‘No, the task assigned to me is of utmost importance. Is it not escorting the High Elf council member? That is incredibly important for peace with other races! But surely she would have brought her own bodyguards…’
Thinking this, he pictured in his mind the High Elf council member, Lair Eunasia. Dahan had seen her once the previous year at the Demi-Human Council. It happened during the merchants’ grand water festival; Dahan had participated in a swordsmanship competition then, won, and met her, who was attending as a council member.
Lair Eunasia. She had black hair, rare among Elves, black eyes, and a beautiful appearance. And more than anything, unlike the other pale aristocratic ladies, she was a woman full of vitality. Dahan also remembered hearing that her swordsmanship skills were exceptional. When they met, she had reluctantly exchanged greetings with Dahan but hadn’t seemed particularly pleased. If that were the case, could being assigned to escort her now be a scheme to get rid of him?
“Ah! Doubting the Order again! Oh Dahan, Dahan, you have truly become tainted with sin!”
After repenting for a while, he mounted his Pegasus, Erite. The silver armor Dahan wore was enchanted, so unlike other knights, he just needed to mount using his own strength. For this reason, Erite lifted her head even more proudly and soared into the sky.
