The brief, startling interlude with Professor Dianna ended as the classroom door opened again. This time, Professor Inka Thorkelssoon strode in, her presence alone enough to command silence, a palpable shift in the classroom's atmosphere. Her tall, powerfully built Drakarian frame filled the doorway, clad in dark, practical robes that seemed to absorb the light, and her sharp, uncurled horns gleamed faintly. Her expression was a familiar, unyielding mask of discipline, as tense and formidable as Gustav, my old trainer. She moved with the controlled power of a coiled spring, her gaze sweeping the room with the intensity of a general surveying a battlefield. My eyes, however, couldn't help but notice the way her crisp white shirt, worn beneath her robes, strained ever so slightly across her undeniably ample chest. Good gods, I thought, a fresh, humorous, and slightly terrifying realization dawning on me. If I ever tried to sleep with Professor Inka, she wouldn't just seduce me like Selyra or Dianna; she'd probably just pin me down and annihilate me with sheer Drakarian strength and... enthusiasm. She's far more direct and dominating than any Iskiran woman, seductive in a completely different, overwhelming way. I briefly recalled the castle maids I'd... comforted back home, their own Drakarian figures often just as formidable, and a nervous chuckle almost escaped me. "Good morning, first-years," she began, her voice a deep, resonant rumble, like grinding stone or distant thunder, confirming her role as our second class instructor. "Today, we delve into the History of the War: The Convergence War, to be precise."
Her crimson eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the students, making even the most restless fidget. The air in the room seemed to grow heavy, as if the weight of history itself was pressing down. "It all began approximately fifty years ago," she stated, her voice devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable gravity, "when King George, the first king of humans, audaciously declared war on every other nation, intending to conquer the entire world. His ambition knew no bounds, a hunger for dominion that threatened to consume all of Eldorian in a conflagration of his making."
A collective gasp rippled through the classroom, a few students exchanging wide-eyed glances. Even Henry, usually so composed, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "His initial major act of aggression was to attack the Iskiran sacred lake, the Lake of Eden," Professor Thorkelssoon continued, a grim note entering her tone. "He sought not just conquest, but to force Queen Yvonne into marriage, to subjugate the Iskiran people through their very queen. He deployed a massive army, ten thousand strong, their ranks stretching across the land like a blight, laying siege to the lake. The Iskirans, known for their peaceful nature and ethereal beauty, found themselves under relentless, brutal assault, their cries echoing across the water."
"During this siege, Queen Yvonne herself, driven by desperation and a fierce love for her people, entered the battle," Inka recounted, a flicker of something akin to respect in her stern eyes. A faint, almost ghostly blue mist seemed to swirl around the projection she conjured, showing a serene queen amidst a chaotic battlefield. "She unleashed her mist bind, an ethereal, disorienting power that enveloped the human forces. Thousands of soldiers, bewildered and lost in her enchantment, their minds clouded by illusion, wandered blindly into the Lake of Eden, a thousand of them drowning themselves in its sacred depths. Their screams were silenced by the water, their bodies vanishing beneath the waves. From that day, she earned the fearsome title: Yvonne the Mist Queen, a name whispered with both reverence and terror across Eldorian." A few students shuddered, visibly disturbed by the chilling image.
Professor Thorkelssoon's voice deepened further, echoing the grimness of the historical events. "The war raged for a grueling year. The Iskiran fortress at Lake Eden was under constant siege, almost half of it utterly decimated, reduced to rubble and despair. Legends say the Lake of Eden itself turned into a sea of blood that year, its pristine waters stained crimson by endless conflict. Even now, the lake remains perpetually covered by an ethereal mist, a haunting veil that serves as a permanent scar of that devastating siege, a memorial to the fallen."
"After a year of this devastating siege, a new player emerged in the human kingdom," Inka stated, her gaze unwavering. "Prince Arthur, who had been exiled, returned from the wilderness with his own company, a formidable force that notably included Merlin, the Arcane Bearer, a wizard of unparalleled might, and Gallahad, who is now our current Headmaster, a warrior of immense skill. Prince Arthur harbored strong disagreements with his father's destructive war, and his return ignited a bitter feud within the human royal family. This erupted into a bloody civil conflict that tore their kingdom apart, culminating in Prince Arthur ultimately slaying his own father and declaring himself king, seizing the throne in a coup born of principle and bloodshed." Whispers spread through the class, a mix of shock and fascination at the regicide.
"However," Professor Thorkelssoon emphasized, her voice hardening, "the siege of Lake Eden still did not cease. Not until King Arthur received shocking news: the kingdom of Dorrin, the impenetrable fortress of humanity, a bastion thought to be unassailable for centuries, had simply vanished in a second, by the power of only one individual – King Sigurd himself. The fortress disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only an empty expanse of scorched earth, as if it had never existed. Legend says Merlin, intrigued and perhaps wary of such unfathomable power, then sought out Sigurd and had a crucial, unrecorded conversation with him, the contents of which remain a profound mystery. Following this, King Arthur, recognizing the terrifying, absolute power he faced, immediately recalled all his human armies from Lake Eden, ordering them back to the capital in a desperate, panicked retreat." My own heart hammered in my chest. My ancestor. My power. I felt a strange, cold pride, mixed with a chilling sense of the Void's true, destructive potential.
"Some said Queen Yvonne, still seething with vengeance and deeply distrustful of humans, was already preparing a massive counter-attack on the human capital, a storm of retribution, her mist swirling with her fury," Inka continued, her voice painting a vivid picture. "But then, a truly unprecedented event occurred: King Sigurd suddenly materialized from thin air at her throne, without anyone noticing his arrival, not even the elite royal guards of Iskiran, who were renowned for their vigilance. He asked Queen Yvonne to halt her plans. Queen Yvonne, attempting to control him, cast her powerful mist bind to enchant King Sigurd, but it was utterly pointless. No bind, no power, could hold King Sigurd, as everything simply dissolved in his presence, swallowed by the void. His power was absolute, a negation of all others." I felt a shiver run down my spine, a strange mix of awe and trepidation. Dissolving any bind... just like my own, that one time. The weight of my own potential, dormant yet terrifying, settled heavily upon me, even as my gaze, almost involuntarily, drifted to Professor Inka's chest, her white shirt still stretched taut beneath her robes. Even while recounting such grim history, she's... distracting. Drakarian women.
"We don't know the full details of what transpired," Professor Thorkelssoon admitted, a rare hint of mystery in her voice, "but it's said that before Queen Armania took the throne, Queen Yvonne still longed for Sigurd's return. She supposedly wrote many poems dedicated to him, waiting for his return, a queen consumed by a singular, unrequited obsession, her heart forever yearning for the Void Walker." I thought of Selyra, of her passionate embraces and declarations, and felt a strange pang of understanding for the ancient queen's longing, a connection across centuries.
Professor Thorkelssoon then shifted, her broad shoulders squaring, her gaze moving to another section of the room as if mentally projecting the next battlefield. "On another side of the conflict, King Blitz of the Kaynari, driven by ambition and a hunger for power, discovered rare resources within the Aetherian holy land, Mount Haart. He first approached the Aetherian King, King Seraph, seeking permission for exploration, but was flatly denied, the Aetherians fiercely guarding their sacred ground with divine resolve."
"Undaunted, King Blitz, known for his relentless will and formidable Kaynari ingenuity, then deployed his formidable machinery army and armored beasts directly to the Aetherian capital," Inka recounted, her voice taking on a harder edge, metallic and unyielding. "King Seraph, known for his unparalleled prowess and divine heritage, personally entered the fray, a blur of golden light and fury, a living storm. This particular war raged for thirty intense days, a relentless, brutal grind of steel against spirit. Legend claims King Seraph annihilated half of the Kaynari army by himself, a whirlwind of destruction with his halberd and a speed that no mortal eyes could perceive, leaving a trail of shattered metal and fallen foes. After this devastating display, his halberd, which was originally gold and silver, turned a crimson blood color, stained by the countless Kaynari he slew. The legend says this blood color could never be erased, a permanent mark of his terrifying power, a testament to the sheer scale of his wrath." My mind immediately went to Raika, and then to Seira and Seina, their blue hair connecting them to this ancient, devastating power. A halberd stained crimson... I thought, remembering the weapon I'd wielded against the groundwolves, a faint unease settling in.
"Eventually, this conflict too came to a halt when King Sigurd intervened," Professor Thorkelssoon stated, her voice firm, "appearing at King Seraph's throne just as he had with Queen Yvonne, forcing a cessation of hostilities with his undeniable power, a silent, absolute command that none dared defy."
"After all these separate conflicts had been quelled by King Sigurd's intervention," Professor Thorkelssoon concluded, her voice echoing the gravity and finality of the events, her gaze sweeping across the now-silent classroom, "the Peace Treaty of Eldr was held. King Sigurd effectively forced every nation to sign it, convening them in the capital of the Drakarian kingdom. This marked the definitive end of the Convergence War, a peace born not of diplomacy, but of overwhelming, unchallengeable power."
The class was silent, absorbing the incredible saga. The professor's words, delivered with grim authority, painted a vivid picture of a world reshaped by brutal war and the terrifying, almost divine power of individuals like King Sigurd. The thought of my ancestor, the Void King, simply making an entire fortress disappear, and dissolving any bind in his presence, sent profound shivers down my spine. That's my power, I mused, a mix of awe, fear, and a strange sense of destiny swirling within me. And the sheer, devastating power of King Seraph and the subtle, terrifying enchantment of Queen Yvonne were equally awe-inspiring, making the legends feel incredibly real.