To understand the weight and significance of the Arcane Council, one must go back two millennia — to the very foundation of the Kingdom of Elveron.
The Kingdom of Elveron lies on the continent of Aldebaran, alongside two other great territories: the Kingdom of Aláfia and the Empire of Alexandria. But before these names earned their place on any map, there was only one vast, uncontested sovereign power: the Celestial Empire.
Officially called the Magical Empire of Celestial, its structure was governed almost entirely by mages. Nobles without magical talent also had their place, but their role was clear: to fund, support, and serve as political pillars for the mage class. Still, the final decision on any matter — law, war, or economy — always fell into the hands of magic practitioners.
Upon the throne sat Archmage King Bennes I, whose reputation endured through centuries as that of a just ruler. Benevolent to both mages and non-users, Bennes I understood that harmony between the two groups was essential for the Empire's survival. For this reason, he established an unbreakable principle: the emperor's or empress's spouse could never be a magic user. Thus, the bloodlines and alliances between mages and non-mages would be united not only by treaties and promises, but also by family and succession.
In that era, magical and non-magical populations were almost evenly balanced, reinforcing the effectiveness of this policy. The imperial marriage became a living bond between two worlds — and although it was often a political arrangement, genuine affection was not unheard of.
This equilibrium sustained the Empire for over five centuries. Under such order, the throne stood firm, magic thrived, and internal disputes were contained by a shared sense of unity. But all began to crumble in the year 501 of the Imperial Calendar, when the son of the last emperor to uphold the tradition broke the ancestral pact — and in doing so, ignited the spark that would end the Empire.
The heir's name was Justo César, son of Emperor Bennes XXI. Like his mother, he too was a magic user, already placing him at the center of a rare and delicate precedent — for the ancestral pact required the imperial spouse to be a non-mage. His engagement had been sealed with the daughter of one of the four ducal houses: Yasmin Elveron, heir to Duke Edward Elveron, whose name — centuries later — would be given to the Kingdom of Elveron itself.
In 501 IC, with his father's death, Justo César was crowned Emperor Bennes XXII. It did not take long for the young ruler to shatter centuries of political balance. Days after his coronation, he broke his engagement to Yasmin Elveron — severing not only a marriage promise, but a vital bond between two of the most influential powers in the Empire.
Duke Edward Elveron was no ordinary man. Beyond being an Arcane Swordsman — which by today's standards would place him among the First Hierarchy — he commanded the second wealthiest house in the Empire, surpassed only by the mighty Duchy of Alexandria.
The insult became greater still when Bennes XXII publicly announced that he would take as his empress the daughter of the Duke of Alexandria, openly admitting that their relationship had existed long before his official rupture with Yasmin.
Summoned to the palace, Duke Elveron demanded an explanation. The words he heard from the throne would echo like the first drumbeat of war:
"I am the new Emperor, and I make whatever choices I wish. In fact… I have always betrayed your daughter with the daughter of Alexandria."
It was more than a personal insult — it was a direct strike against the honor of one of the oldest and most influential houses in the Empire. The result was inevitable: the Duchy of Elveron severed all ties not only with the throne, but with Alexandria as well, opening the way to a war that would consume the realm.
In those days, power was divided between four great duchies: Elveron, Alexandria, Aláfia, and César. The imperial throne was decided by vote among the four dukes, alternating each reign between a mage emperor and a non-mage empress. The act of Bennes XXII did not merely break a political pact — it destroyed the trust that had sustained the Celestial Magical Empire for half a millennium.
With the treaty broken, the Duchy of Elveron declared war on the throne, Alexandria, and César alike. Isolated, Edward Elveron knew he could not stand alone against three of the Empire's greatest powers. Thus he sought an alliance with the Duke of Aláfia — a non-aggression pact sealed with a new political marriage: his own son wed Lilia Aláfia, daughter of the Duke of Aláfia.
The wedding, held weeks later in Elveron territory, was not celebrated as a union, but as a silent vow of war.
Within months, the threat turned to open conflict. The first battles were marked by bloody skirmishes, nighttime ambushes, and clashes that claimed hundreds of lives on each side.
The combined army of Elveron and Aláfia numbered seven hundred thousand soldiers, three hundred thousand of them mages trained in various arcane arts. The imperial side was larger still: one million one hundred thousand soldiers, over four hundred thousand of them mages.
Yet the disparity was not as great as it seemed. A significant number of the Empire's own mages turned against the throne, unable to stomach the dishonorable way the engagement had been broken and the ancient house disgraced. Many saw in Bennes XXII's actions not just an insult, but the promise of a tyrant's reign. They deserted, rallying under Elveron and Aláfia's banner, lending them power nearly equal to that of the Empire itself.
The defectors had one demand before swearing allegiance: that the system of alternation between mage and non-mage rulers be preserved, ensuring balance between both classes. The duchies accepted without hesitation.
But war did not yield to promises. For three years, the continent bled. Tens of thousands of non-magic soldiers fell, but the mages paid in equal measure. Desertions from the imperial side continued. Soldiers and spellcasters alike abandoned the banner of Celestial, driven as much by revulsion as by strategy.
Bennes XXII, once heir to a respected line, descended into paranoia and tyranny. He ordered the execution of anyone who dared oppose him — nobles, generals, mages… even his own uncle, whose only crime was to advise temperance.
When it became clear the Empire was on the verge of collapse, the Duke of Alexandria — father to the empress — acted. Seeing his son-in-law marching toward defeat and the ruin of the throne, he secretly offered Elveron and Aláfia a bargain: he would remove the emperor himself, take the throne, and end the war. In return, he would cede all territory won by the duchies and recognize their independence — with the right to call themselves kingdoms.
Edward Elveron resisted, for to him, vengeance was a matter of honor, and nothing could erase the stain on his house. But after days of negotiation and pressure from the Duke of Aláfia and the mages in their ranks, he relented.
On the 3rd of November, 504 IC, Bennes XXII was found dead in his chambers. Two days later, the Duke of Alexandria ascended the throne, decreed an end to the war, and formally recognized the Kingdoms of Elveron and Aláfia. As his final act, he renamed the realm he ruled: the Celestial Magical Empire ceased to exist, giving way to the Empire of Alexandria.
And thus the Kingdom of Elveron was born — the same land that, two millennia later, would become the stage for Elian's return to life.
The birth of the Arcane Council dates back to the first years after the Kingdom's founding, when the dust of the three-year war had finally settled.
The new monarch, honoring every condition set by the mages who had defected from the Empire, established an unprecedented pact: a tower would be built where only mages would rule, free from nearly all interference by the nobility. In return, those same mages would not directly involve themselves in the kingdom's political decisions. It was a fragile balance, but necessary — for both sides knew the war had only ended thanks to the unlikely alliance of magic and sword.
Five years later, the promise took form. In the newly counted Year 5 of the Royal Calendar — which began from zero after independence — the Tower of Wisdom was founded. It was not merely a seat of study, but a bastion of arcane authority in the realm. Its first leaders were eleven elders: veteran mages of the war, recognized for both their age and their strength.
For a thousand years, the tradition remained unbroken. The circle of eleven ruled the Tower autonomously, and harmony with the crown was seldom disturbed. There were incidents, intrigues, and disputes, but never a conflict great enough to threaten the balance or rekindle war.
But no peace is immune to decay. Within the Tower itself, fissures formed — not of blood or ambition, but of thought.
On one side stood the traditionalists, for whom the essence of magic lay in the pure manipulation of raw energy, shaped by will.
On the other, the Mystics, who saw magic not only as a power to be controlled, but as a path to self-knowledge and spiritual transcendence.
The Mystics turned to ancient symbols and doctrines, studying the Tree of Life and the Tree of Death — known as the Sephiroth and the Qliphoth. Their studies sought to understand the bond between power, soul, and destiny, though many looked on them with suspicion.
No civil war broke out, but the lines were drawn. Without formal decree, the Tower of Wisdom came to shelter not just a governing body, but two philosophies that would shape the magic of Elveron forever.
The divergence among the three currents of thought within the Tower grew silently over centuries, until the split became inevitable.
From the right-hand path, three elders departed, taking disciples and ideals with them to found the Golden Dawn — devoted to the Tree of Life, the Sephiroth. Ten years after the separation, it was officially recognized by the kingdom as one of the supreme orders, holding close ties to the crown and unmatched prestige.
From the left-hand path, four elders took the opposite road, founding the Dark Throne — devoted to the Tree of Death, the Qliphoth. Recognition for them took a century, during which they survived in the shadows, branded a dangerous sect and hunted by mages and soldiers alike.
The tide only turned when a new war erupted. For nearly all its history, Elveron had lived in peace with its neighbors, settling disputes through diplomacy. But over a trivial matter — long forgotten by most, yet costing thousands of lives — the Kingdom of Elveron and the Empire of Alexandria went to war.
The Dark Throne, masters of the magical arts of combat, remained neutral at first. Their focus had always been on the inner war — the battle for personal transcendence. But if their philosophy was forged in conflict, there was no reason not to temper it in real war.
As the war dragged on for nearly a decade and defeat loomed, the king turned to the Dark Throne's elders, offering payment for aid. They refused — but made a counteroffer:
Official recognition, placing them alongside the Golden Dawn and the Tower of Wisdom as one of the three pillars of the realm.
The offer was accepted without hesitation.
The Dark Throne's entry into the war was devastating. In seven months, their mass destruction magic — capable of leveling entire cities — reversed the tide. Alexandria was forced to retreat, and the Dark Throne's name was etched into both reverence and fear.
When the war ended, the king summoned the leaders of the three great orders, rewarding each with riches and lands. Each order was granted an autonomous territory, where not even the crown could intervene. But to ensure the balance of power remained intact, a joint body was formed: the Arcane Council.
This council would hold one representative from each order and one from the crown. And, to guarantee absolute neutrality, it was built on land belonging to neither mages nor monarchy. All matters concerning relations between magic users and non-users would be debated and decided there.
And it is precisely to this place that Elise and Elian now go — toward a meeting that may change the course of their lives.